He never takes sugar with his tea. In fact, he doesn't even drink the tea that Hibari's troubled himself with and Hibari Kyoya makes tea for no one but himself.

Mukuro Rokudo is a peculiarity. He's infuriating and charming, bright but at times dense, critical but also impractical. He's a mystery of a man and Hibari has long ago given up on trying to find out why he is that way. He reasons that if he's meant to know about someone's personal life, he'd find out without trying. He didn't want to try anyway; it wasn't in his nature to go snooping around in other people's business.

Especially not some like Mukuro Rokudo.

And yet here he is, across the table and chatting idly about this and that and who knows what.

He always brings the warm cup of tea to his lips, quiet and deep inhales as he breathes in the aroma, but he never takes a sip. When he leaves to do whatever it is he does, his cup is filled with cold tea that makes Hibari think unnecessarily of the time he's spent in that prison he's heard so much about.

Cold tea is never good, at least in Hibari's humble opinion.

It wasn't in his place, maybe, when he asked why Mukuro never drank tea. They never actually conversed; Mukuro spoke and Hibari listened (sometimes, if he felt like it).

Mukuro's eyebrow raises in bewilderment, his jaw still hanging open and a sentence only halfway through his lips. "Excuse me?" he asks, confusion painted on his features and in his voice for a fleeting moment before it's masked once more.

"You waste the tea I provide you with," Hibari responds. "It's rude."

"I'm not particularly fond of tea," he replies, a placid look on his face as he leans forwards, resting his elbows on the shiny dark wood of the desk's surface, fingers interlaced in front of him.

Hibari feel's his eye twitch ever so slightly. "Then why do you always ask for tea?"

Mukuro makes a show of pondering, though Hibari is fully aware of the bullshit display. "Because it's made by the person I like," he says shamelessly with a bright smile on his face. "Why ever else would I ask?"

"Ridiculous," Hibari spits out, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, you're no fun," Mukuro laughs.

There is a lull in the conversation, and Hibari would have found it awkward if he were not already used to pregnant pauses.

Mukuro leans back and rolls his shoulders. "I suppose you could call it a form of aroma therapy. I do enjoy the way it smells, though its taste does nothing to please me," he replies in earnest.

"Hm," Hibari replies thoughtfully.

Hibari finds out, after weeks of one-sided conversations, that Mukuro would rather drink a cup of coffee rather than tea.

"What's this?" Mukuro asks, pleasantly surprised while he eyes the cup set in front of him suspiciously.

Hibari makes a show of being disgruntled and annoyed, but he may not know it himself he's a little bit nervous. He wonder's if it was a good idea to change their routine, but the deed is done and taking the cup back now would be too awkward even for him. "Something to be grateful for, I suppose," he replies, sitting across the Italian young man. "Don't waste it."

Mukuro sniffs at it cautiously before taking a sip. "Questo è disgustoso," he mutters under his breath, setting the coffee down in front of him as if he'd burned his tongue.

"Excuse me?" Hibari says this time, an offended look on his face. He's not quite sure what the other said, but the looks of it seems like it wasn't good.

"This is instant coffee," Mukuro says, pushing the coffee cup away from him. "It will never do" he shakes his head at Hibari like he's severely disappointed.

Hibari scowls at the cup, and then at the person who so rudely dishonored his coffee making skills. "I despise you."

And so Mukuro took him out to taste what real coffee tastes like. And that was perhaps the first date they had together, and one of many to follow.