Speedwagon preferred his coffee black.
That’s what he said, anyway, and Jonathan had never seen him prove otherwise; on the mornings where he happened to wake up before his partner, he watched him brew his coffee and drink it with no cream or sugar. He didn’t understand how anyone could like black coffee. It was so bitter and left an awful aftertaste lingering in his mouth. Personally, he liked his coffee with cream and sugar. Speedwagon would affectionately tease Jonathan for this, asking if he wanted coffee with his cream. It’d been habit since before they moved in together, even before they started dating at all, and it still made Jonathan dissolve into a beet red, stammering mess. It never got old.
This particular morning, though, Jonathan woke up quite a bit earlier than Speedwagon. He checked the clock on the nightstand beside their bed. 8:30. Usually he’d be awake by now…maybe he had been up late? Ah, it didn’t matter, now was Jonathan’s chance. He all but threw the covers off of himself and tip-toed down the stairs to start Speedwagon’s precious coffee. Unlike his coffee fanatic of a partner (surprising, really, that someone from Ogre Street could love coffee so much!), Jonathan was no connoisseur, but he at least knew that Speedwagon liked Arabica beans, but they didn’t stand up that well to creams, sugars, or cold brews.
So…Robusta it was.
Jonathan could only hope the sound and smell of him roasting and grinding beans wasn’t enough to wake Speedwagon up; for an ex-thug, he wasn’t the lightest sleeper, but the sound of Jonathan or Erina being awake was usually enough to rouse him from even the deepest of slumbers. He made sure the coffee beans were ground rather coarsely before putting the grounds in the French press, pouring hot water in and stirring it lightly before letting it steep. Three and a half minutes should work.
A couple of minutes in, heard footsteps coming down the stairs, too light to be Speedwagon’s. Jonathan turned to beam at his wife. “Good morning, Erina, my love.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips as she approached, eliciting a small and silvery laugh from her.
“Good morning, Jonathan,” she said, peering over his large figure at the French press. “You’re up early. Do you have to study today?”
Jonathan shook his head. “No, no. Only some of this is for myself, the rest is for Robert…I want to try something.” He pressed down on the plunger gently. “Would you mind getting some cups for us, dear?”
Erina was already rummaging through the cabinets as he asked. His smile only widened. She knew him far too well. The two mugs clinked against the counter, and Jonathan poured coffee from the French press into both. He then took three packets of sugar and added them as well. Two for him, only one for Speedwagon.
“Oi, what’s goin’ on down here?” Speak of the devil. Jonathan’s face ached from having a smile on for so long already, but Speedwagon’s very presence made the dull ache worthwhile. “You didn’t make me coffee, did ya?”
Jonathan turned to look at Speedwagon and handed him his cup. Brown eyes lit up at the sight, much to the other’s delight. “By God, you did! Mr. Joestar, you know you don’t have to do these sorts of things for me, mate.”
“I simply wanted to.” Jonathan shrugged, picking up his own cup and adding some cream before stirring and taking a sip. “And I keep telling you, it’s okay to call me Jonathan.”
“Ah, I’ll never get used to it.” Speedwagon chuckled, taking a slow drink of his coffee. His expression changed to one of shock, but his eyes lit up again. “‘S this Robusta, Jonathan?”
“I figured I’d let you try it. I hope that’s not too terrible of me.”
“Terrible? Mate, if it were terrible, I would’ve let you know. This ain’t half bad.” Speedwagon smirked, brow arched. “…ain’t black though, is it? Sneaky bloke, you.”
Speedwagon saw right through him. Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh, especially hearing Erina giggle as she prepared for breakfast. “Yes, well. Only a packet of sugar is all, black coffee doesn’t suit you very well, you know. Sweet tastes fit much better.” He watched Speedwagon’s brows arch and only then realized the flirtatiousness of that statement. “Wh-which…all I mean by that is…I—you just…ah, you understand what I mean…” Jonathan prayed his cheeks weren’t as red hot as they felt, but judging by Erina and Speedwagon’s laughter, they absolutely were.
“Ah, good ol’ Mr. Joestar.” Speedwagon kissed his cheek and rested his chin on the other’s shoulder. “I might have to start wakin’ up late more often, yeah? If I keep coming downstairs to little things like this, my heart might just burst.”
Jonathan turned to look at Speedwagon and huff a protest— Don’t say those things so casually, what if something did happen?! —but his parted lips were captured in a good morning kiss. Had he been as completely devoid of sense as he felt, he might’ve dropped his cup and let it shatter against the porcelain floor. But some gentlemanly part of him said that then Erina would have to clean it up, and that wasn’t fair to her, seeing as she was already making breakfast. He couldn’t help but chuckle—what odd things to think during a kiss with one of the people you love. And Speedwagon would likely be none the wiser.
Speedwagon pulled away, slow and gentle, with a glowing grin on his face. “Thanks for the coffee, dove.”
The ‘ I love you’ was silent, yet tangible. Jonathan closed his eyes, content, as Speedwagon rested his head on his shoulder.
“Anything for you, love.”