Unwind

Autumn shades adorn the walls. Potted plants, positioned strategically to fill corners, seem real. The light bulbs are bare and emit a warm, yellow glow above their heads. The din of conversation is pleasantly atmospheric.

Shadow takes a slow, steady sip of his coffee, his eyes fluttering shut.

"First-rate stuff, huh?"

The muscles in his brow grow relaxed, seemingly melting, blurring his typical frown until all that's left to see in his expression are pleasure and ecstasy. He sighs through his nose before he swallows, lowering his cup by a fraction, just enough to speak. "Very."

"You sound a little breathy, darling."

"I'm glad to be sitting down."

"Now, I am impressed." Bathing in steam that rises from a cup held aloft, Rouge thinks he's beautiful. "This looks like the start of a love affair."

"If it's any consolation," he murmurs, "I can't marry coffee."

"You probably won't marry me, either."

"Probably not. Although…"

"Ooh. Although?"

"Although…" He opens his eyes and gives her a humorously searching look. His smirk teases her from over his cup. "This is great coffee…"

"Humph! Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"Maybe."

"I make good coffee back home, y'know."

"You do."

"So, we can get straight to the point, then. Is my coffee as good as the stuff you're holding so close to yourself right now?"

"Hmm," he replies, feigning deep thought, at his leisure.

"You're having fun. Fun at my expense."

"You're asking for quick satisfaction."

"You know the answer. Or rather, you know what I want to hear, and yet you withhold."

"It isn't your fault that this coffee is superb."

"I can make better coffee."

"Can you?"

"Yes!"

"Coffee that's as good as this?"

"I said better, mister."

He chuckles quietly, huskily.

"You rile me up so easily, sometimes…" She sips her cappuccino.

"Only because you typically pretend to be riled. I think you enjoy this sort of thing…"

"Just a little verbal sparring." She huffs in jest, lightly pressing the toe of her boot against his leg, landing a soft kick under the table. "I'm still waiting for you to tell me that the coffee I make is the best."

"This must be very strange for you, this waiting."

"You're a tease. But I'm an alpha female. I'll come out on top in the end and win back your approval, somehow."

"You shouldn't be so invested in my approval. Especially when you already know how I feel about you."

She takes in a quick, harsh breath, her heart suddenly racing. "But how do you feel about my coffee? Mm?"

"You're losing composure," he muses aloud, his eyes tracking the minute, yet expressive motions of her facial muscles.

"You're deflecting the question."

"Are you blushing?"

"No." She stills her face, taking on a look of seemingly indestructible calm. "I'm fine. You're cruel."

"Ah." He finally puts his cup down. "Then let me ease up on you, for a bit."

"I'd appreciate it."

"The coffee here is excellent. A very exotic bean. But you know how I like my coffee, and that's meaningful because it means you remember."

"You corrected me often enough, when we first moved in together."

"That was years ago. Since then, you've been dependable, consistent. And you add certain… personal touches." He lowers his eyes, gazing into the warmth of his cup. "For instance, tiny marshmallows."

She can't stop the grin from prettily cracking her mask in half. "Only for you."

"Only for me. But see here, how small this cup is. The tiny marshmallows would hardly fit."

She giggles and he likes the sound.

"It's sociable, polite, potent to drink good coffee from a cup this small. But back at home, I get a mug. A mug of coffee that's brewed at home, using that archaic filter you like so much."

"It adds personality."

"It's a mess to clean. But I agree with you." He runs his finger across the edge of the saucer. "A serving like that, in a mug, makes the marshmallows seem even tinier. And the mug makes me feel manlier about having tiny marshmallows in my coffee. I appreciate the effort on your part."

She hides her gratification by sipping her cappuccino.

"Moreover, your coffee leaves me feeling satisfied and full. Not only because of the size of the mug. At the risk of sounding sappy, for something so simple, so habitual, it's still homemade. And with love."

"We're talking about love, now, huh?"

"This coffee, though, is a product I've bought." He now plays with his spoon. "Here, in this coffee shop, I know I'll finish this cup too soon, or it'll go cold. And I know I will feel none of that satisfaction or fullness once it's gone."

She blinks in response when his eyes dart upward, meeting hers with intensity he is known for, yet still, he surprises her.

"You and I tend to divide the expense of grocery shopping, so I can't call the coffee at home free, but it isn't expensive. And maybe the coffee back home is not as immediately tasty as this fancy, expensive stuff, but it's delicious anyway." His smirk remains, but it's quieter, more sincere. "More than that, your coffee feels and tastes like home. That's a special flavour, a special sensation. Right down to the tiny marshmallows swimming in the big mug. So…"

She inclines her head. "So?"

"Your coffee is the best, to me." His fierce eyes evoke quiet, sincere tenderness. "It's mostly because of you, I think."

She is stalled, but recovers enough to wink at him. "Thank you, hon."

"But, are you satisfied?"

"Extremely. You said that my coffee is the best to you. Your opinion matters, and so I consider it a win. And," she pauses for dramatic effect, "you don't look at that coffee, or any coffee, the way you look at me. So, I win again!"

"I suppose I'm willing to admit that you're significantly better than any coffee I've ever had, so far."

"So far, huh?"

"So far, yes." He allows her the privilege of reaching across the table to take his hand in hers, but feigns a scowl. "Why are you touching me? Use your words."

"Hush." She squeezes him. "I don't think I know the words to say to you, right now."

"I finally rendered you speechless? It's taken years…"

"Shuddup. Just enjoy the moment."

His thumb brushes across her knuckles in reply. He takes up his cup again with his free hand, the other content to remain in her grasp.

She glances aside, somewhere past his shoulder, her eyes evidently caught.

"They're here?"

"Prepare yourself. Indeed, the friends have arrived."

"Those two idiots, you mean."

"Be nice, honey."

"Lovable idiots, then." He turns to look where she sees, finding Amy and Sonic standing together in the light of the open doorway, both hedgehogs searching the sea of heads for the right table. "Do you suppose they got lost?"

"Maybe."

The pair soon notice Shadow and Rouge, then make something of an amusing embarrassment of themselves by waving exaggeratedly whilst hurrying over.

"They're certainly unfashionably late, for supposedly being so fast," says Shadow, giving them a nod before turning in his seat to gaze familiarly upon Rouge once more. "I think we should punish them by being our less fun selves throughout much of this occasion."

"You are feisty today."

"And you're still holding my hand."

"I am, yes."

"They might see."

"Maybe."

"Doesn't that worry you?"

"They already think it."

"But this might seem like confirmation."

"Y'know, we could just string them along…"

"Is this a ploy to teach them not to be late? If so, it makes no sense."

"Actually, it's a ploy for me to keep holding your hand."

For LK.