148 - Coffee

*Some of the best conversations I’ve ever had were with friends over coffee. Some of the best sex followed drinking with my husband and our partners. But the best memories came from the quiet moments spent with my loved ones. - Becks*

Camille was sitting at the kitchen island with her red laptop in front of her. Porthos approached her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Smiling, she leaned back into him and lightly grabbed his arms.

“I’m happy for you,” he told her.

“Same.”

“We’ve worried about you,” he admitted. “But now that we know Darkness is here to take care of you, I can relax.”

“I’m glad that you found your happiness.”

He chuckled, “I was so scared of coming out. Only to find out everybody already knew.”

“And as long as you’re happy, nobody cares. You should have known this from Clay and Trevor and Misty and her men and Molly and his pretties.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he squeezed her and pressed another kiss to the top of her head. Releasing her, he moved towards the coffee maker, “Decaf?”

Nodding, she sipped her own coffee, “Yeah, there’s real coffee pods in the bottom drawer.”

He opened the bottom drawer under the single serve coffee maker and made a sound of pleasure in the back of his throat.

“I remember that you like caramel.”

“It’s how I keep this beautiful skin tone,” he made a dramatic wave of his hand to show off his dark caramel colored skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, I know.”

After he brewed his coffee and found flavored creamer in the refrigerator, he came and sat down next to her. She finished up what she was working on before closing her computer and laying her head on his upper arm.

“When do you leave?”

“I fly out at noonish. Or at least that is when the plane is scheduled to take off.”

She laughed at him, “I understand that. I’m glad that you came down.”

“Me too, but I need to get back home. I don’t have much longer until Uncle Sam is going to tell me to go back to them.”

“How does that work?”

“They tell me where to go, when to go there, sometimes, they even tell me how and occasionally, not all the time, mind you, they tell me why and I’m the who. And then I do it.”

“No asshole,” she laughed. “You and him. What does the Army say about that?”

“Well, he’s an officer, so it’s usually yes sir,” he grinned into his coffee mug. “He really likes that.”

“And so do you.”

Smirking, he shrugged, “Won’t deny that.” Moving his arm, he tugged her barstool closer to his and then tucked her against his side. “And you? What do you call Darkness?”

“Mine.”

Tipping his head back, he laughed. “I’ve missed you, Worm.”

“I’ve missed you too. When do you get out?”

“Next year. He gets out in three years, we both signed up for straight time in, no reserve time.”

“You say that like I understand it.”

“When I signed up, I was offered four years active and then two years reserve or just five years active. And to be honest, when I signed up, I was not expecting to find a family. You guys became my family. And I sure as hell did not expect to find a whole other family.”

“Or be accepted.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’re doing great with Mitch. I wish I had someone to tell me that liking boys was not a bad thing.”

“You like boys?” Mitch asked quietly from behind them.

They both jumped and turned to look at him. He stood barefoot in his pajama pants with Deadpool and a matching T-shirt. The look on his face was both confusion and hopeful. Porthos turned back to the island, pulled out the stool next to him and patted the seat.

Camille looked at her friend and then also turned back to the island. It took a moment, but then Mitch was sliding into the seat on the other side of Porthos.

“You want some cocoa?” Camille asked as she slid off her own stool.

“Please,” Mitch said, and Camille nodded.

She grabbed the cup that her youngest preferred and put in the hot cocoa pod into the maker. As it brewed, she went and grabbed the caramel creamer and whipped cream from the refrigerator. Shaking the whipped cream can she walked over, took off the lid and grinned at the boy.

“Baby bird?”

“Tweet, tweet,” Mitch said and tipped his head back and opened his mouth.

Camille sprayed some whipped cream into his mouth as she laughed.

“Tweet, tweet, damn it,” Porthos chuckled. “Tweet, tweet.”

Camille sprayed a little into her own mouth before holding the can up and Porthos tipped his head back for her to spray into his mouth. When she was done and the three of them were laughing, she handed the can to Porthos.

“Tink in on his way down,” she warned.

“No,” Mitch laughed, “he’s like a missile coming in hot.”

The scrambling of dog nails on the floor as Tink fought for purchase after running down the stairs. When he finally got going in the direction of the kitchen, he did indeed come in hot. So hot that he was not able to stop and slammed into the stools in front of the island.

With a shake of his head as if to clear it, Tink sat in front of Porthos and eyed the can of whipped cream.

“Does he have to say tweet, tweet?” Porthos asked with a grin.

“Hold up the can and ask him what he wants,” Camille told him as she poured in the creamer into the hot cocoa and then handed it over to Mitch.

“Okay…” Porthos chuckled and held up the can. “What do you want?”

The dog barked twice, bouncing slightly with each bark. Smirking, he tipped the can upset down and sprayed the whipped cream to fall into the dog’s mouth. Tink snapped it up between his strong jaws and harp teeth. The cream formed a layer of foam in his mouth making him look like a rabid dog.

“Enough, Tink,” Mitch said and took the can away and took it back to the refrigerator.

“Thanks, zoon.”

Porthos looked at the now sad dog with the obligatory sad puppy dog eyes. “Don’t do that to me, he took it away,” he pointed at Mitch.

“He’ll eat the entire can if you let him,” Camille said.

“You got a lid for that?” Porthos pointed at the cup with Mitch’s hot cocoa in it.

Camille opened a drawer and rummaged through her collection of lids, “Yeah.”

“Do you know where it is?” Mitch teased.

“That was not the question,” she pointed out as she pulled out a lid. “Ah-hah!”

Porthos grabbed the lid and handed it to Mitch. “I need keys to your Jeep and we’ll go get some donuts.”

“They hang by the frond door,” she pointed to the row of hooks on the decorative board. “My Jeep keys have the red duck on them.”