Naomi and Mateo pass some notes to each other while in class. Prompt: Writing. Set pre-series.

Naomi didn't know what Mateo did in the evenings that left him so wiped out during the school day, but she hoped that whatever it was was worth risking trouble for dozing off in class. This was the third time this week, and this time, there was no way he wasn't going to get caught. Well, whatever, she'd be nice. She drummed against her desk to try and get his attention, but the sound bled into the background noise of pencils scratching against paper and Tulio's droning voice as he rapidly neared the end of his assigned section (and by extension, Mateo's doom), and Mateo didn't stir. Naomi tapped a little louder, but Mateo just snorted softly, his head drooping a bit further. She was going to have to do something more obvious, wasn't she?

Barely containing a sigh, she pulled a blank page out of her notes and scribbled Hey sleepyhead, you're up next, adding page 25, paragraph 3 as an afterthought, and as soon as Sra. Díaz turned her back to add another note to the chalkboard, she crumpled the page in her hand and pitched it against Mateo's arm.

Ah yes, very discreet.

Mateo jolted upright and shot her a baffled look, which only grep more confused as he watched Naomi pointing down toward where the note had fallen. He shrugged helplessly, and Naomi dropped her face into her hands, muffling an exasperated noise.

Okay, she'd try again. Look down, she mouthed, jabbing a finger toward the ground again, and Mateo dropped his eyes to his desk, and then his lap, and finally to the note on the floor, and with a quick thumbs up to acknowledge he'd seen it, he slumped in his seat to scoop it up and carefully unfold it under his desk.

All at once, the situation seemed to hit him, and he snapped his attention to the back of Tulio's head before flipping frantically through his textbook, grimacing, and Naomi covered her mouth to stifle a laugh as he got to the right page just in the nick of time.

"Thank you, Tulio, that will be all," Sra. Díaz said, crossing one last 't' on the board and turning to her students. "Mateo, please start from the next paragraph."

Mateo nodded and began to read, but not before casting a relieved smile in Naomi's direction.

It kinda became a thing after that.

Mateo had passed the page back to Naomi with a thanks scribbled on it, and really, he could've communicated that much without the note, but it was kinda funny, so when Naomi felt bored to tears by the biology lesson an hour later, it seemed natural to write some snarky commentary and pass it back to Mateo, and he'd snickered and added his own thoughts before giving it back, and then—

And then. By the next week, they'd gotten creative, both in their conversation topics and in how they passed the scraps of paper around. Gossip, weekend plans, tic-tac-toe—anything was fair game, and sometimes they'd even say something relevant to the lesson. Mateo seemed to have made it his personal mission to make Naomi laugh in the middle of class, judging by the way he kept sending her dorky jokes and goofy doodles, and of course, it was only natural to add something to the drawings before flicking the note back onto his desk. And then Mateo would add more nonsense to the drawing, like it was a battle of some kind, sticking the page into a book and handing it to her, and Naomi would spend grammar lessons planning how to best retaliate.

You're not worried about getting caught? she scribbled onto the bottom of the page, leaning over to pass it into his hand.

And then—

"Señora, Naomi and Mateo are passing notes," Tulio drawled, turning in his seat to raise an appraising eyebrow in their general direction. Naomi glared back at him, certain her face was beet red already. Oh, if looks could kill.

"Is that so?" Sra. Díaz asked, turning on the pair herself. "Anything you two would like to share with the class?"

"Not really," Mateo replied, and their classmates giggled around him as Sra. Díaz stiffened and marched over to his desk, holding her hand out expectantly. Sinking down into his seat and looking like he wanted to be anywhere else, Mateo slowly handed her the scrap of paper he'd been writing on.

With a sharp nod, Sra. Díaz lifted up the paper, adjusted her glasses, and read aloud, "'Kind of, but talking with you is the best part of class.'" She tutted and folded a crisp line in the paper before staring back down her nose at Mateo. "How sweet," she remarked, "now please pick up your things and move to the desk by Celia. And Naomi," she added, turning to stare her down as well, "I don't know how things worked at any of your previous schools, but here in Avalor, you're expected to respect the dignity of the classroom."

"Yes, ma'am," Naomi mumbled, feeling her cheeks burning. Sra. Díaz returned to the lesson, and the other students snickered again as Mateo slunk across the room and settled in at what was apparently his new desk, looking sheepish.

Naomi felt sour for the rest of the day. So much for that.

It was barely two days later when Naomi was interrupted from reviewing a math worksheet by something sliding under her desk and tapping against the side of her foot. The offending object looked like a small piece of paper, neatly folded into a tight square. Curious, she picked it up, unfolded it, and—

She'll have to try harder than that to keep me down!

It was Mateo's handwriting, for sure—she knew it well by this point. But there was no way he could've gotten it to her from the other end of the classroom, right? She glanced over at him, and was surprised to see him watching her expectantly. He waggled his eyebrows as they made eye contact, grinning. Unbelievable.

Naomi snorted and scribbled you're either a genius or insane onto the back of the paper, and with a deep breath, she folded it into her palm, grabbed her pencil, and stood up to head for the sharpener by the door. She technically had her own that she could use, but Sra. Díaz didn't need to know that, and Naomi easily dropped the paper directly onto Mateo's desk as she passed by, shooting him a sly smile.

It was definitely a thing after that.

It wasn't even so much about holding a conversation as it was about finding the most absurd ways to do it: sliding tiny paper packages across the floor, dropping them into each other's bookbags, finding every excuse possible to get up from their seats, subtly scooting their desks back just enough to give them a clear shot to literally just throw the notes at each other. Anything. They weren't especially inconspicuous, but they were spared from further public shame by a combination of good timing, better hiding spots, and the good graces of their classmates, who seemed to be getting enough entertainment out of their game to refrain from turning them in. At least Tulio sat in front of them, the tattle-tale.

At one point, Celia had sneezed loudly enough to draw Sra. Díaz's attention away from the board and toward that side of the room, and in a panicked scramble, Mateo shoved the note he was reading into his mouth. Naomi had nearly fallen apart right there. The strained look on his face was just too much, and she choked back laughter and had to wipe tears from her eyes at the sight.

I have paper cuts on my tongue, now, was the note that followed, accompanied by a dramatic frown. Not that it stopped him, though, because barely a half an hour later he'd gotten yet another note to her.

Grinning, Naomi unfolded it with a strange sense of anticipation that immediately burst into something bigger as she saw what it was, and her breath caught, the feeling foreign in her chest.

It was her.

Mateo was far from a spectacular artist, but he had a steady hand, and a decent enough eye that the subject was recognizable. It was definitely her, smiling with barely restrained laughter, with the window beside her framing her like a portrait. There weren't any gags or quips around it, or any trace of irony at all, and she found herself staring at it much longer than she'd expected, dumbfounded. She was very careful in folding it up and concealing it.

What was the drawing for? she asked later, on another pencil sharpening run, because her heart was still stuttering weirdly and she couldn't not know. Mateo already had his response prepared when she headed back to her seat.

I just thought you looked really pretty.

They kinda became a thing after that.

Not formally, but there was definitely a shift in the tone of their notes. There was still the usual fare of snarky jokes about the lesson or their classmates, and there were still Mateo's silly puns and their doodle wars, but there was the added element of the occasional line that was way too sweet to be casually passed between friends. It was mostly Mateo—he was a bit of a sap, it turned out, and he seemed able to pull mushy one-liners out of thin air, but Naomi wasn't exactly discouraging that attention. She'd tried it out herself, once, sending him a similar line, and he'd been all smiley and ridiculous for the rest of the day, and just—okay, fine, so he was cute, and sweet, and actually pretty funny and—

Yeah, okay. This was a thing.

The game had changed again—they couldn't afford to be so blasé anymore. As embarrassing as it would be to have to explain one of their weird, convoluted drawings in front of the class, it would be infinitely worse trying to explain why they were flirting by passing notes, of all things.

Oh, jeez, they really were flirting, weren't they?

So now they erred to the side of discretion, trying to get the more sentimental notes to each other in passing, as they entered or left the classroom, or on the more legitimate trips across the room, or even just outside of class outright. Which, at that point, they might as well drop any pretense of not being a thing, right?

At least, that was what Naomi was telling herself as she shoved another note into Mateo's hands while they were relaxing out in the school courtyard during a break.

I actually really like you.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Mateo raised it up, but turned away and looked pointedly ahead as he was reading it, feeling uncharacteristically fluttery. Hearing crinkling beside her, she took a bracing breath, expecting to feel paper against her palm, but instead, Mateo's fingers grazed against hers, and then threaded between them, clasping her hand in his.

They were definitely a thing after that.

Don't you just hate when teachers do that thing? Y'know, that thing? Also, don't worry - the note Mateo almost hecking ate was *not* one of the floor notes.