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“What in god’s name are you two even talking about?” Cleo laughs. She’d been listening to Bdubs and Etho bicker pointlessly for the past ten minutes- it had definitely started on the topic of whether sweet tea could actually still be counted as a tea drink, but they’d now wandered through several more topics (that they were still bitterly divisive over) and ended up with something about the best material to properly clean crumbs off of a flat surface.
“Cleo,” Bdubs huffs, “Tell this horrible man that he truly cannot be using his bare hands to clean his counters in this day and age.”
“Oh no, I’m not getting involved in this. It’s much too fun to watch you two bicker. Have you made any progress?”
“He’s admitted sweet tea is no longer an actual tea.” Etho pronounces.
“I have not, mr crumb-sweeper.”
“Sweet tea loses sight of what tea originally is-“
“-sweet tea is obviously tea, Etho, it’s in the name-“
“-but not all names align to the actual thing’s contents! Orange soda has no actual oranges in it-“
“-you can’t even drink orange soda,”
Cleo gives a happy sigh from her spot reclining on the couch, watching her boyfriends argue. It was better than television, honestly.
“Sweet tea does actually have tea in it, as opposed to orange soda.” Cleo points out.
“So you agree with me?” Bdubs prompts.
“Oh, absolutely not. I’m British, love.”
Bdubs supplies the most betrayed expression Cleo had ever witnessed. Etho starts cackling, laughing so hard his arms wrap around his stomach, even as Bdubs exclaims in outrage and begins reprimanding him loudly. Cleo, giggling, abandons her post on the couch to pat Bdubs’s arm and kiss his cheek.
“We still love you, Dubs. Even if you’re wrong about tea.”
“I’m right about tea.” Bdubs insists, but he melts under Cleo’s touch, turning his face up to kiss her properly.
“Hey, don’t leave me out.” Etho steps over petulantly, and Cleo grants him a kiss on the forehead.
“You two argue too much.” She watches Bdubs pull Etho down for a kiss.
“I know for a fact you take glee in watching.” Bdubs pokes Cleo in the flesh ribs and she giggles.
“Doesn't mean I’m not right.”
“Maybe it’s good she doesn’t argue too, Bdubs. We’d have to bend to her obviously superior smarts.” Etho sighs, and Cleo jabs him in the side, following up with a kiss on the cheek.
“Obviously.”