Chapter Text
Cordelia sat at the kitchen-table in her nightclothes, exhausted after a night of patrol. She had been forced to slash through a positively squelchy demon three times subsequently with Cortana because it kept growing a new head every time she dispatched of the old one. It was nasty business, and while Cordelia often found the Shadowhunter life glorious, a life of heroism could indeed be rather dismal.
She sipped at a mug of coffee she had made for herself, barely able to keep her eyes open long enough to focus on the words swimming on the pages of her book. The roast was dark, bitter on her tongue and hot in her hands, and the mug itself was one that she favored because James used it so much. He was still asleep; she took comfort in its earthenware texture as she waited for him to emerge, call her his Daisy and kiss the top of her head.
She failed at her task of remaining fully awake. Even the coffee could not work such miracles.
The next thing she knew, she was sitting across from her husband with drool running down from the corners of her mouth. She wiped at them with great dignity, but James was already chuckling at her. His bright gold eyes shimmered as he laughed, and Cordelia couldn’t help but give him a sleepy smile. “Good morning,” she said. “I see that you have found me in quite the state. Can we start this day over?”
“Absolutely not.” James sounded horribly amused. And all over a bit of drool! But then she realized – no. He was looking at the mug beside her, empty and askew on the surface of their dining-table. “I cannot forget the transgression of you having stolen my favorite mug.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s unacceptable.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fussy,” Cordelia said. “I thought that our married state meant that what was yours was mine, no?”
“Generally speaking, yes,” he agreed. “But you put coffee in my favorite tea mug, Daisy. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I was horribly sleepy, and nothing works quite as many wonders for that as coffee.”
“Well,” James said, “I doesn’t seem as though it worked out for you, what with…” He did a horrendous impression of her sleeping face.
Cordelia giggled. “I do not look like that. Quit slandering me!”
“No, you’re right. You’re far prettier. But my point still stands: coffee?”
Cordelia picked the mug up. “Yes,” she said. “And, you know, I think that I’ll have some more. Until it wakes me up, of course.”
James shrugged. “I suppose I cannot truly stop you. The most I can do is make feeble protests that you are bound to ignore.”
“Yes,” Cordelia said, ruffling James’s hair on her way to the coffee pot. “That’s exactly right.”