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“I don’t understand how you can drink that.” Tango stuck his tongue out at Etho’s drink, childish as always. Etho smiled behind the mask, though. He always did.
“What, scared of some leaves?”
“I’m more of a coffee drinker! You know this!”
Etho nudged him, “I’m not sure it can be called coffee with all the sugar and milk you put in that thing.”
“Milk is good.”
“So is being able to taste your drink.”
Tango took a long, loud sip of his coffee, looking out over the balcony of his castle. The wretched spires of Decked Out 2 were just as haunting from above as they were from below. Yet, Etho had come to love them. He smiles and looks away, shifting his thermos in his hands.
“You’re the weird one in my book,” Tango starts, “That tea has to be at least an hour old. It tastes like metal. Just metal. And I like metal! But not your old stinky leaf juice.”
“What do you mean stinky? You smell worse than my tea!” Etho pokes Tango’s back and watches as his friend jolts away like a scared cat. “Seriously, Tang-Tang, when was the last time you washed these robes?”
“Only Zed gets to call me that,” Tango snaps as he holds his coffee out in hopes of not spilling any. Thankfully, he succeeds. He glares at Etho with eyes full of magic, threatening and yet a welcome sight to someone like Etho.
“When was-”
“WhEn WaS tHe LaSt TiMe? Shut up.” Tango interrupts Etho with a bad, mocking imitation of him. Etho laughs and Tango just glares harder before finally sighing and admitting, “Like, six months ago? It’s a coat, it doesn’t get dirty.”
“Of course it gets dirty, idiot!”
“Hey! I’m not the idiot here!”
Etho crosses his arms. “You so are, dork.”
Tango huffs and takes another drink of his coffee. The wind gusts around them, and Etho relaxes a bit. He pulls his mask down and takes a sip of his still-scalding tea, and sighs from the warmth.
“Man… the one thing I miss about being human… Hot chocolate.”
“Can you not have it anymore?” Tango asks with a raised eyebrow.
Etho shakes his head. “Nah. The whole werewolf thing means chocolate is off the table for the foreseeable future.”
“‘Foreseeable’? What are you, an english major?”
“You’re the one who went to college, not me.”
Tango laughs- actually laughs- at that one, and it brings a smile to Etho’s face. He was cute… Not that Etho would ever say that straight to his face. “You are so annoying,” Tango comments. He offers his mug towards Etho, but his companion shakes his head. Tango gives him a look that says your loss.
“Wait, so, if you can’t have chocolate, does that mean- You can’t even have chocolate milk?”
“Chocolate milk is gross!”
Tango gasps like he’s been stabbed. “You- How dare you! It is a marvelous drink! You just can’t appreciate it ‘cause you’re a… I don’t even know how to be funny about it, You’re just weird.”
“Loooooooser.” Etho teases. He takes another sip of his tea, and this time he’s actually able to taste it. It was rich and strong, and the bitterness of the leaves soaked into his mouth, leaving a soft aftertaste long after he swallowed.
“So, what, you’re a milk purist? Is that why you’re allergic to putting milk in your tea?”
Etho snorts loudly in a failed attempt at holding back laughter. “Milk purist?”
“Shut up! It was the best I could think of!” Tango huffed.
Tango drained the rest of his mug of coffee and stowed the empty cup away in his inventory before leaning on the railing. He looked over at Etho with that standard taunting look in his eyes.
Etho stuck his tongue out and looked away. The cold air bit at his face, a contrasting force to the warmth in his chest. Whether it was because of the tea or because of Tango, either way, it was nice. He liked them both.
“And my tea is good without milk. You get used to it!”
“Or you just burn your taste buds off,”
“You get used to it.”
“I wish you were normal.” Tango sighs and leans over the balcony’s railing with zero regard for his own safety. Etho has to grab the back of his coat and yank Tango back before he can topple over. However, Etho doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he takes another sip of his tea.
“No you don’t, you love me.”
“Loser.”
“You didn’t deny it,” Etho teases. Tango punches him in the shoulder, but he probably doesn’t mean it. Probably.
“And it’s not that bad! You just eat redstone all day and can’t enjoy real flavour. Plus, when it’s super cold, I can add a little maple syrup and brandy and nobody would know.”
Tango looks at him in silence, the gears in his head visibly turning. Etho covers up a laugh and smiles into his thermos. Tango asks, “So that’s not just tea?”
“Of course it’s not? It’s too cold for that.”
“Gimme!” Tango reaches for the thermos before Etho can even fight him off, and he watches as the fiery man takes a sip. Through a mouthful, Tango quietly complains, “Still tastes horrible.”
“You’re horrible! Give that back.”
Tango spits the tea out into the snow(he tries to be sneaky about it, but Etho sees him do it) as Etho frowns at him. “Why would you take it if you knew you weren’t going to like it?” Etho asks, looking grumpy. Not actually grumpy though. Tango knew him better than that.
“I wanted to know what you taste like!” Tango says confidently.
Etho paused. “And it’s... bad?” He asks, confused.
“Well- Etho, I was joking.”
“Your jokes are lame,” Etho points out as he regains his smug smile. He leans on Tango, burying his cold face into the furry collar of Tango’s cloak. One of the downsides to taking off his mask.
“Your humor hasn’t gotten any better since the year 2000,” Tango retorts. After a bit of silence, he turns and gives Etho a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You don’t taste bad. Still not giving you a kiss, though, loser.”