A/N: I said this was a ficlet collection but this idea really ran away with me, so here, have 2000+ words of fluffy shenanigans :P
Scenario: I moved into your old house and we keep getting your mail AU
"Huh." GoGo's father grunts as he sifts through the mail that morning, hunching over the table and adjusting his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"What's up?" asks GoGo, sliding his standard cup of tea in front of him.
"We got someone else's mail," answers her father, leaning back in his chair and holding the envelope up to the light spilling through their blinds. He squints at the lettering. "Honey, does 'Cassandra Hamada' sound familiar to you?"
GoGo's mother shuts off the faucet, shaking her hands dry. "Hamada…that's the family we bought the house from, isn't it?"
A quick survey of their records reveals that GoGo's mother is right (as always). Further snooping reveals that the Hamadas have relocated to 337 Skyline Boulevard, and GoGo is only half-surprised when she gets assigned to deliver their mail.
"Be back in time for lunch," says her mother, pecking her on the cheek.
"Right," GoGo mutters as she pushes her bike down the steps, the door shutting behind her. Before she hops on, she flips the envelope over, studying the neat, blue-inked scrawl and the carefully-placed stamp. She shakes it a little, bringing it to her ear, and hears nothing of interest. Just the standard letter, then. Probably something well-wishing, or maybe it's a friend from long ago, which would explain why they didn't get the memo about the Hamadas' updated residence.
Either way, it's a standard delivery, no different from the countless others GoGo has made. She tucks it in her bag and starts down the street.
Let's get this over with.
o.O.o
337 Skyline Boulevard turns out to be a large white and blue building. It even has turrets. Fancy. GoGo enters Lucky Cat Café with some trepidation, because places like this mean lines and lines mean waiting and, well, her parents like to joke that she came out of the womb "ready to roll," so.
She heads to the counter, where a woman with a mop of brown hair bustles happily, humming something under her breath. "Oh, hey there!" she chirps, upon seeing GoGo, "what can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for a Cassandra Hamada."
"That would be me," the woman answers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "And call me Cass! Here, sit down." She motions to one of the stools in front of the counter before darting away to take an order. Just as quickly, she returns, pulling her hair back with one hand and fanning herself with the other. "Whew! Never slows down around here. All right, what did you say you needed?"
"This is for you," replies GoGo, pulling out the envelope. Cass takes it, blinking rapidly as she catches the sender's address.
"Oh, wow. Haven't heard from her in a while," she laughs, tucking the envelope into the pocket of her apron. "Thanks, dear. What's your name?"
"GoGo," responds GoGo, getting ready to slide off the stool and head out.
Cass's hand on her arm stops her, though. "Not so fast. I have to make your trip worthwhile, right?" she winks. "Coffee?"
GoGo wrinkles her nose before she can think better of it.
"All right, hot chocolate then. Or how about tea?"
"Tea is fine," sighs GoGo, settling back into her seat. Cassandra Hamada is a whirlwind of a woman, and GoGo straightens a little in respect as she watches her work, whipping up drinks and dishing out pastries without thinking twice.
Somehow, Cass manages to keep up a conversation through her myriad responsibilities and wants to know all about the house—how it's doing, did they fix up the yard, and sorry for the awful shade of green in that one room (GoGo smirks, tells Cass that her father loves it, actually, and decided to paint his office the same color)—which is how GoGo ends up five minutes late to lunch for the first time in her life.
Surprisingly, though, she's okay with it.
o.O.o
The second time GoGo drops by to deliver the mail, Cass is nowhere to be seen. Instead, a boy is manning the counter, greeting every customer with the kind of smile that would make GoGo's cheeks hurt if she tried it.
GoGo takes a breath. Approaches. "Hi."
"Hi," he replies, arm snaking around her to push a cup closer to the edge of the counter, where a little kid reaches up to grab it. "What would you like?"
"Do you know where Cass is?"
The boy pauses, looking at her more closely. "Sure, yeah, she's my aunt. She's out buying groceries right now so you might have to wait around a little—"
"This is for her," GoGo interrupts, placing the envelope on the table and sending it spinning across the surface with a flick of her finger. "You might want to tell her to tell her friend that you guys have moved."
The boy studies the envelope, his black hair flopping forward a little, before he looks back up at her and tilts his head. "You live in our old house."
GoGo nods.
"I'm Tadashi," he introduces. "Do you want something to drink?"
"No thanks," GoGo says quickly, because she's not going to fall into the same trap, not a second time. However, Tadashi is already insisting, "Just something, as a thank you. How about tea?"
It turns out hospitality is a Hamada thing, GoGo thinks grumpily as a dainty porcelain cup is pushed toward her. She isn't strapped down, but she might as well be, what with the look on Tadashi's face that is practically a glowing neon sign for: warning, about to initiate conversation!
"So, do you have a name?" he asks, pulling out a rag to wipe down the counter.
"I go by GoGo," GoGo answers, then grimaces at the unwitting repetitiveness of her statement.
Tadashi notices it, too, shooting her a sideways grin. "So, GoGo, what do you like to do when you aren't delivering mixed up mail?"
"You don't have to flirt with me, you know."
Tadashi's hand freezes mid-wipe, and he looks at her wide-eyed, the tips of ears going red. "I wasn't—I'm not flirting!"
"Good, because you're terrible at it," comments GoGo. Tadashi opens and closes his mouth, furrowing his eyebrows before attacking an invisible spot on the counter more vigorously, and GoGo bites back a laugh. "Relax," she finally says. "At least you didn't try a pick-up line."
Tadashi finally looks at her again. "Do you hear those often?"
"Only from Fred."
"Fred?"
"He's a friend," discloses GoGo, and she honestly doesn't know why she's telling Tadashi this, but he just has an easy air about him and if she's going to be here until she finishes her cup of tea, then why not? "Terrible jokes and gag-worthy pick-up lines are his lifeblood."
"Let's hear one, then," says Tadashi, resting an elbow against the counter and smiling at her.
"A joke or a pick-up line?"
"Either." He shrugs.
"Are you a banana? Because I find you a-peeling," she says, and, okay, so maybe her delivery is a little lacking, but Tadashi's chuckle almost convinces her otherwise.
"It's kind of endearing, if you think about it."
GoGo just snorts and rolls her eyes, because who even uses the word endearing out loud anymore, except for grandmothers? "Right."
"Right," confirms Tadashi, "so, GoGo, as payment for subjecting me to such an awful pick-up line—and for that cup of tea, which you are clearly enjoying—you owe me a straight answer this time: what do you like to do for fun?"
It's not the smoothest, as far as segues go, but GoGo humors him. "I like riding my bike."
And when Tadashi asks, "To where?" she answers that, too.
o.O.o
It becomes a weekly thing, because apparently Susan Woodward doesn't understand the concept of moving, or something. But GoGo gets free tea out of it, so she doesn't really complain. Maybe she should feel a little bit guilty, but her Saturday mornings ought to be worth something, right? And on her fourth delivery session, she meets the last of the Hamada clan.
"So you're GoGo," says Hiro, hunched over and tinkering with a tiny robot in his lap.
"Yep."
"Tadashi tells me you live in our old house?"
"Yeah," says GoGo, gaze sliding to where Tadashi is busy icing a cupcake; she jerks her attention away quickly when he looks up.
"Who has the blue room?"
"Me," says GoGo, focusing more fully on the gap-toothed fourteen-year-old in front of her. "Why?"
"That was my room," Hiro tells her, setting his screwdriver down and frowning. "Anyways, there's this panel, toward the back of the closet, where I used to stash all my stuff, and I was wondering—"
"Hiro," Tadashi says sharply, glaring from his post.
Hiro rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish, but the minute Tadashi turns his back, he leans over the counter, shielding his mouth with one hand and whispering, "Anyways, I think I might have some spare parts still lying around there, and it'd be really cool if you could check and let me know and bring them next time."
"I'll look," agrees GoGo.
"Thanks, GoGo, you're awesome!" says Hiro. "Don't tell Tadashi, though, 'cause he thinks it's rude that I'm asking you this, or something. Whatever. You don't have siblings, do you? Older brothers are kind of overrated."
"They are," GoGo says, smirking into her cup and exchanging a look with Tadashi, who just throws his hands up in the air and mouths, "Unbelievable."
o.O.o
"Try this!"
The fruit tart is shoved in front of her before she can react; GoGo opens her mouth to object, but Tadashi bends over the counter and whispers, "You'd better do as she says. Aunt Cass is going to be heartbroken if you don't."
So GoGo takes a bite. And then another.
"Yes!" cheers Aunt Cass, fist-pumping. "Am I a master, or what?"
"It's good," nods GoGo.
"Better than good, I'd say," says Tadashi. "I mean, GoGo's actually eating it, and we all know how hard she is to impress."
GoGo sticks her tongue out at him, not caring that she probably has pastry flakes stuck to the corner of her mouth.
Aunt Cass laughs, shaking her head. "You kids. Tadashi helped me with the crust, you know."
GoGo pushes the plate away, trying to look as bored as possible. "In that case, it's passable."
"Passable?" objects Tadashi, crossing his arms and looking offended.
"Passable," confirms GoGo, swiping some custard with her finger and licking it off slowly.
"I suppose the custard part's 'passable,' too," sniffs Tadashi, and GoGo likes riling him up more than she'd like to admit—
"It's delicious, actually." She holds up a finger. "Want some?"
Tadashi draws closer, wary, and with good reason, too, because as soon as he's within range, GoGo smears some across his nose.
"Oh, you're on," he says, eyes lighting up as he reaches behind him for the whipped cream, but Aunt Cass blows back into the scene before it can escalate, waving her arms.
"Hey, hey, hey," she scolds, wagging her finger, "Tadashi Hamada, behave yourself! No starting food fights with customers, especially when it isn't even after-hours, yet! Goodness, boy, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"I'd say GoGo's more of a fixture, at this point," Tadashi teases over Aunt Cass's head, and GoGo's never really noticed how tall he is, until now, but she shoves that thought down and wrinkles her nose at him instead.
"Oh, hush," says Aunt Cass, turning to look at GoGo. "You're always welcome here, you know, with all your patience delivering our mail, not to mention putting up with him."
GoGo shrugs. "He isn't so bad," she says, and means it.
o.O.o
And then, one day, there is no letter.
o.O.o
GoGo stands under the awning of Lucky Cat Café, debating. Through the glass doors, she can see Aunt Cass weaving in between tables. Meanwhile, Tadashi stands behind the counter, and the whole scene is so familiar that she almost believes she can just breeze in and seat herself and things will unfold the same way they do every Saturday.
Except it's different, when she doesn't have the excuse of a delivery. Because without a letter for Aunt Cass, GoGo's just a girl dropping in for a cup of tea, and she doesn't know what that means.
She's not sure she wants it to mean something, yet.
o.O.o
"Mail."
GoGo has grabbed her jacket and is halfway out of her seat before she can fully think, and only her father's cleared throat stops her: "It's for you."
She sinks back into the kitchen chair, confused, and accepts the white envelope. And smiles.
Nerd, she thinks fondly as she tears open the flap, because who sends letters, anymore? She chalks off the thumping of her heart to the novelty of the whole thing, and not because of the sender or anything like that, because GoGo Tomago doesn't do…whatever this is.
The note spills onto her lap, and GoGo unfolds it, spreading it out on the table:
Do you work at Starbucks? Because I like you a latte.
Terrible pick-up lines aside, we've missed you these past few weeks. And I might have two tickets for a concert later this week, so what do you say you drop by for a cup of tea and then we could exchange numbers? Unless you prefer this whole snail mail thing.
-Tadashi
"Where are you going?" asks her father as GoGo shoots up, heading for the door.
"Delivery," GoGo shouts over her shoulder, waving the emptied envelope over her head.
She smiles the whole bike ride there.