A/N:...and here's a more light-hearted modern!AU one. Who ever said that I'm incapable of writing anything happy (I did. But I try to write happier things once in awhile...)
"You say anything, and you're walking home."
"I didn't say anything." Kimblee took a sip from his coffee cup, shrugging. Envy watched incredulously– how did he manage to drink that stuff with such enthusiasm? Not to mention that Miles had just brought it over; it must be scalding hot.
"Why are you staring?"
Envy blinked. They hadn't meant… "I'm not," they said, a little more defensively than they should have. "I just… don't know why you like that stuff."
"It wakes me up," said Kimblee with a smile. "Does it need another purpose?"
"Well, yeah." Envy rolled their eyes. "Isn't taste a factor?"
"Perhaps to you," said Kimblee, casting a judging eye on Envy's mug. "But I suppose that I drink mine with a more… practical purpose in mind."
… there wasn't anything wrong with what they were drinking. But he still wasn't allowed to talk about it.
"Don't tell anyone," said Envy, wrapping their hands protectively around their coffee cup. "And don't talk about it."
"I wasn't," said Kimblee. "It's just cute."
The whipped cream was starting to melt away… but Envy didn't really want to drink it in front of Kimblee after all… wait, what? "What's cute?" they said contemptuously, swallowing their pride and taking a swig of coffee. No sense in letting Kimblee ruin their drink.
"You," said Kimblee, chin in his hand, elbow on the table. He idly stirred his coffee with his free hand (which he really didn't need to do; it was black, after all). "It's so silly. You act so horribly and harshly, and yet you enjoy sappy, sweet things like… whatever whipped-cream monstrosity you're drinking right now. It's not very fitting, but… I think it's very amusing," he ended with a smile. "I do love ironies."
"Shut up," said Envy, a response that was somehow becoming more and more frequent lately. They wiped the whipped-cream from their mouth with their sleeve (a very Tough, Not-Cute gesture that proved that they just didn't give a care about appearances– it's unfortunate that it would need dry-cleaning, though). "It's just what I like. There's nothing deep behind it."
Kimblee shrugged. "I'm only making observations, my dear."
They could never tell if he meant that nickname sincerely or not… best to ignore it.
"Do I have to walk home?" Kimblee asked, steepling his fingers. He glanced off to the side, his expression almost mournful. "Of course, I'm sure that I could use the exercise, so perhaps–"
"Nah," said Envy. They swallowed the last of their double-cream, double-sugar, double-everything with whipped cream coffee. "You're too pathetic to walk for two hours. I'd be giving you a death sentence."
"Glad to see that you think so highly of me." Kimblee got up from the table. "In that case, dear friend, perhaps we'd best be going? We have five minutes before rush hour begins in earnest."
"I guess." Envy got up from the table, making no attempt to clean up the mess that they'd left behind, leaving their chair askew– after all, they were a nasty, horrible person. No sense in disappointing everybody. But they left a dollar tucked inside one of the crumpled-up napkins. Maybe Miles would find it.
He'd made some pretty good coffee today, after all.
A/N: This is something that came out of nowhere after seeing an OTP prompt on Tumblr, and I thought that I'd have some fun with it. Kimblee's the black coffee drinker, and Envy's the one with an incurable sweet tooth.
Thank you for reading!