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"No, no. You need to use /tú/. Usted is formal."
Ted's brows furrowed a bit, the corners of his lips turning a tad downwards. He nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course, I know. Tú, informal, usted, formal."
Marco couldn't help but give that smile of his, a small laugh escaping him. "You mustn't have it down if you keep using usted when you're not supposed to."
Opening his mouth to defend himself, the words never came as Ted was stopped by Marco shaking his head.
"No, how about we move onto something else instead?"
Ted almost shook his head, feeling the need to tell Marco that, no, I understand, let me try again, I'm Hispanic too, you know, but he gave in. He gestured at Marco and gave a sigh. He did agree to this himself. "Alright. Then you tell me something and I'll reply. Go."
Marco gave a nod of agreement, lifting a hand to rub his mouth as he thought. It took a moment but he shifted on the couch once he got it. The Cuban cleared his throat. "Okay. No estoy de acuerdo con la presidencia de Obama. ¿Y tampoco estás de acuerdo?"
Simple.
"Mhm, no estoy de acuerdo. Él no maneja bien las situaciones de hoy." Ted almost faltered but, hey, he did know Spanish, and after all, he did only need to practice a bit.
That smile returned to Marco's face. "¡Exactamente! Pero...creo que una presidencia de Hillary Clinton no sería mejor que la de Obama. ¿Sí?"
"Sí," Ted began, "ella mienta–"
"–Miente."
"...Miente demasiado. No es calificado–"
"–Calificada."
Ted cleared his throat. Having every small thing be corrected was not appreciated. "Gracias." It was a strained thank you. "Eh...no es calificada," he repeated, putting an emphasis on the correct ending, "para guiar este país."
"¡Genial!" Marco reached forward and gave Ted's shoulder a light hit. "See, I knew it wouldn't take too much to remember the language."
Ted's lips curled into that same small smile with which Marco was too familiar. "I told you I knew Spanish."
"Ay," Marco raised his hands in defense, "y nunca te dudaba, si soy hombre honesto." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was the competition, y'know, and I had to take advantage of what I could..." His eyes turned up to Ted's face. "You're my friend, Ted. I know you speak Spanish. But, you are a bit rusty..."
Ted rolled his eyes, reaching forward to slap Marco's knee but there was no harshness to it. He still had a hint of that smile on his face. "Don't compliment me just to insult me!"
Marco grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "¿Qué puedo decir? ¡Sabes que es la verdad!"
"Y dudo que me vayas a dejar convencerte de lo contrario," Ted countered, raising a brow. He got a small shake of a head as response. Sigh. Stubborn Little Marco.
"Let's stop arguing, then."
(It was hardly arguing – it was bickering, if anything.)
"Yeah. ...Yeah, y'know," Ted opened his arms, gesturing with his fingers for Marco to accept the offered embrace, "I missed you, Marco. The campaigning, it–"
Scooting over so he could comfortably reach, Marco wrapped his arms around the other man. "I know," Marco cut him off, settling down against Ted's chest and letting his head rest on his shoulder. "It came between us. But, está bien. Ha terminando – para mí, al menos."
Ted nodded, tightening his arms around him. Ah, it'd been a while. "And you did well."
Marco almost laughed at that. His campaign didn't exactly go well. But, no matter. It wasn't important now.
Ted couldn't help but notice Marco leaning heavier than usual against him. Not that...he cared. It was nice, and it had been a while. But he tried to pay no attention. Instead, he only focused on the man in his arms and trying to stop the fluttering of his heart in his chest.