For seemingly the hundredth time that day, Misael sighed to himself and dumped out the cup of coffee he had tried to assemble. This blasted human technology was completely infuriating! He had spent all afternoon preparing cups of coffee, trying to replicate the darkly sweet taste of the frilly drinks Durbe so loved to partake in.
Really, the man's consumption rate was ludicrous. He respected and loved him, but he was out of control. Every single morning he would be up at sunrise to order some extra tall mocha frappe-concoction or another, then another one or two throughout the day. He had never expected his superior to have such an addictive personality , but that was the only way to describe it.
One would think they were made of money, considering how much Durbe purchased. The fact of the matter was that his habits were starting to take a toll on their budget. Currency was hard to come by, especially since neither had the experience nor the technical skills to legally acquire more. The Barian lord and his knight were reduced to using thievery like filthy bandits. Something had to stop.
Which was why Misael was experimenting with different cost-effective ways of making Durbe's favorite drinks. It was a challenging process, as he only had the few sips he'd stolen from the other's cup as a base for his results. He was not aware of the differentiation between the blends and types and all that other nonsense. To top it all off, the materials he had pilfered were pathetically sparse. All he had to work with was a messenger bag full of packaged coffee, sugar, cinnamon, and a few chocolate bars.
Misael choked as he took a sip of his latest bitter creation. It was utterly disgusting! Nothing at all like what it needed to be, not even close. He turned to pour the failure down the drain when his wrist was suddenly seized by a strong hand.
"What are you doing?" Durbe asked, his nose scrunching up underneath the thick frames of his glasses.
"Pouring this out, what of it?" Misael snapped, moving to pull his arm away and continue. It was no use, however; Durbe held fast to his arm.
"If you do not want it, I will take it," he stated calmly, using his free hand to pluck the cup from Misael's grasp. Misael growled and tried taking it back, but Durbe spun to evade him and took a sip anyways.
"It is a failure," mumbled Misael. "Pour it out."
"It is perfectly fine," Durbe replied, smiling softly down at the cup. "And if you intend on pouring it out, then I will simply take it for myself."
Misael peered down at him, puzzled. "You enjoy it?" he questioned, and Durbe nodded earnestly in response. Feeling his heart leap in his chest, Misael smirked in triumph and proclaimed, "Then I shall make this for you every morning."
"You will?" Durbe said in a small voice, surprised yet pleased. He pushed off from the counter he was leaning on and made his way over to Misael. Lacing their fingers together, he nuzzled his cheek, rubbing their faces together as he would if they were in their true forms.
"I will," Misael murmured, tentatively pressing his lips to the other's as he had seen many humans do. The gentle, lopsided smile he received in return made all of his efforts completely worthwhile. He would try again and again for the opportunity to see those smooth cheeks light up in delight and those eyes sparkle in adoration.
Because with those tender looks, all the frustrations of a day spent blindly pursuing an impossible goal swirled out of Misael's body like coffee in the sink.