romaniantelevision replied to your post: ikeracity asked:[chants] coffee s…
"Must everything always be so—" and here Charles pauses, and Erik’s practically able to see that stiff upper lip curling, "—charred around here?”
"You do realize," Erik drawls with patience that can only be earned through 611 long, grueling years of existence, "we are in Hell.”
Charles’ mouth drops open, red and alluring. Erik’s wanted to do unspeakable things to it and to Charles in general since they met, 487 years ago. Not that he’s counting. “No,” Charles says, mockingly grave, eyes widened in pretend shock, “you don’t say. Is that where we are? I could’ve sworn we were in Florida.”
"What’s the difference," Erik mutters, and takes a long, rude slurp from his cup, the bitter coffee scalding nicely on the way down. Now that Charles mentions it, it does taste a little burnt, as if Azazel let it brew for half a century before deeming it acceptable to serve. Erik honestly wouldn’t put it past him.
"Of course I’m right," Charles informs him, his tail flicking against Erik’s leg in that smug little way of his, "I’m always right. I should’ve ordered tea. I’ve heard the Sinner’s Tears brew is particularly delightful."
"You’re the one who had to have coffee,” Erik reminds him, “we had to trek all the way across the Plain of Eternal Sorrows for this shit. I had to ask one of the Damned for directions, and she wouldn’t stop staring at my horns.”
"Your horns are lovely," Charles says absently, eyes glued to the TV screen above the menu board that, in true Hellish fashion, only plays an endless loop of the same three infomercials, "I cannot fathom why you’re so touchy about them."
"I’m not touchy about them," Erik snaps. He reaches up to make sure his hair falls appealingly around the curving spirals just in case. "I’m just aware that they’re not the usual pointed spikes everyone else goes on and on about. Which I don’t see what’s so great about those anyway, you know."
"I think yours are charming," Charles says frankly, turning his blue eyes back to Erik. Erik has a running theory that Charles is at least half succubus and just won’t admit it, because there’s no way those eyes could come from any other miserable species around here. “And when have you ever cared about what anyone else thinks anyway?”
"I don’t," Erik insists, and tosses back the last of his coffee and tries not to wince at the way it tastes distressingly like remnants of the tortured souls from the Inner Rings. Judging by how many teeth Azazel used to grin at him with from across the top of the register when Erik initially placed their order, Erik’s probably not far off the mark.
"So," Charles says after they’ve rewatched the entire Egg Wave infomercial, clearing his throat. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"
Erik considers. “We could go fester in the Pit of Hopeless Apathy for awhile,” he suggests blithely, assuming that as always, by your Charles actually means our, “or we could visit Raven, but if she wants to take a trip to the Physical World again then I’m out. My essence still hasn’t recovered from last time.”
"Actually," Charles says, swiveling in his seat to face Erik directly, "you know that practice they have in the Physical World, all about the, ah, what was it, real-world human connection?"
"Yes," Erik says stiffly, sitting very still on his stool and trying not to reveal just how high his levels of lust have shot up in the past three seconds.
"I was thinking we could go back to my place and…engage…in a little real-world human connection ourselves."
There’s a full moment where Erik can only stare at Charles blankly, wondering if the coffee here really is so bad that it’s causing him to have vivid hallucinations, but Charles must overhear that because he grins, sultry and wicked, his tail wrapping all the way up Erik’s leg.
"I’ve made a few certain observations," he says, wiggling his eyebrows, "and there are a few things I’m dying to try out with you.”
"Bless," Erik swears, earning himself several scathing looks from other patrons in the shop but he hardly cares, jolting up to his feet and grabbing Charles’ hand to pull him towards the door. Charles laughs as he follows along, and as soon as they’re outside he stops and pulls Erik down into a kiss, their first kiss, and if it tastes a little like burnt coffee, well, Erik’s a little busy feeling like he’s been lifted out of purgatory at long last to complain.
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