Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me.
Author's note: semi-sequel to Burn to Shine
"G'mrnen," Conner mumbled, stumbling into the kitchen.
Hayley smirked with cruel delight. "Busy night?"
"Coffee," was all he managed to bark out. Not so much a request, or even a desire for information as to coffee's whereabouts, but a sharp, primal lust for the one thing that could fill the void in his soul.
Hayley, serene, sipped her tea. "You should really cut back, caffeine boy. It'll stunt your growth."
"I'm taller than you." He rooted noisily in the cabinet for filters. His ability to banter seemed to stem solely from the imminent feeding of his addiction.
"Stain your teeth."
"Got some whitening toothpaste." He scooped heaping spoonfuls of grounds into the bin and poured water in the back. The ratio seemed disproportionate, given the small size of the coffee maker.
"You should drink juice. Juice is better for you. Made from nice, all natural fruit."
"Coffee helps stave off cancer, you know. Or heart disease. Diabetes." He shrugged, flicking the switch on the machine. "One of those. Whatever, you're just trying to drum up business for your juice bar."
Hayley just smiled enigmatically, the Mona Lisa of WiFi hot spots.
"Besides," he said, sinking onto the stool next to hers. He frowned, wiggling, because of course she'd taken the good one and left the one with the deformed leg. "It's not like I'm not there all the time, anyway."
"Well yes, but that's really for my stellar company than anything else—would you stop looking over at the coffee maker?"
"What? Sorry."
"That's sad, Conner."
He made a face. "I don't like mornings. They make you... get up."
"You get up for soccer."
"That's soccer."
"I see. So basically, you don't like getting up for things like school or work or anything that might be useful or make you a productive member of society."
Conner was back to staring almost lovingly at his slow drip. "Pretty much," he mumbled.
Hayley shook her head ruefully and took another soothing swig of hot, fragrant tea. She should be grateful she was getting conversation out of him at all. Conner was to mornings as a hippo was to ballet; it was an amusing combination, bordering on dangerous, but ultimately, he was inadaptable and one shouldn't bother trying. If he had to be placated with Colombian roast, so be it.
Still, "I worry that you love Juan Valdez more than me."
"Aw, baby, no." He lay his hand over hers, but Hayley whipped from her arsenal the neat eyebrow arch of doom. It was a gesture she'd practiced to perfection back in college, to counter some of Tommy's more ridiculous statements. It worked just as well on Conner, who backpedaled with an anxious, "Sweetie?" Simple maintenance of the doom brow was all she needed. Conner huffed in defeat and dropped her hand. "Hales?" Hayley generously smoothed her forehead of accusing wrinkles. "Anyway, I do not love you more than coffee. How could I? Coffee is what brought us together, after all. Although. Actually. That's a very convincing argument towards the wonders of the bean."
Hayley groaned.
"What? What'd I say?" Conner called plaintively as she got up and placed her mug in the sink. Further protests got lost in the penultimate gurgle of the finished coffee, and it was the equivalent of someone waving a shiny object in Conner's face. He was gone.
"Oh brother," Hayley muttered, more for her benefit than his. Conner had all but bounced over to the machine, using up the last recesses of his energy before they were artificially replenished. The rest of the world might as well not exist in the wake of his bitter brown tunnel vision. Still, she felt compelled to double back and plant a kiss on his cheek, more out of pity than anything else.
He reached for a mug with one hand, squeezed her fingers with the other. He even went so far as to offer her a sincere, albeit tired, smile. "Love ya," he threw out casually.
"More than coffee?"
This time, his grin was wholly cocky. "Maybe."
The burst of laughter coming from her was largely derisive, although there was some genuine affection mixed in. "Charming."
"You know me." He held the pot with great care, transferring the coffee to his mug with nary a blasphemous splash.
"All too well. I'll catch you at the Cyberspace later," she called over her shoulder. "Don't forget to turn it off before you leave."
As she gathered up her purse and fumbled for her keys, she heard Conner's fond murmurs, "Don't listen to them, baby. I won't ever let anyone separate us."