He loves the smell of coffee in the morning. Loves the warmth seeping through the ceramic into his hands as he stands in front of the coffee machine and inhales the rich aroma. Loves the bitter taste on his tongue. But what Sam really loves is the living heat at his back, the arms leaning against the counter on either side of him, the sleepy purr as Tron rests his chin on his shoulder and asks, "What is that?"
"Coffee." He thinks about raiding Quorra's sugar and cream, and starting him on something light and sweet. "You're gonna love it."