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Perpetua had smuggled you into the kitchens well past midnight, giggling like children out past bedtime, as if the kitchens weren't open to anyone who might crave a midnight snack. He promised to make you "his best cup of espresso" in exchange for all the coffee's you'd brought him while on tour, while busy writing, while he was detained by his papal duties. You shouldn't think of it as a coffee date, since you were just his friend, but you couldn't help yourself.
It had taken him all day to find free time and you knew he'd wake up early and groggy to get to work the next morning, but he still made time.
it was sweet. him trying to return all the favors you've done for him. you'd do them all again, even if he was whisked away for another tour before he could return any favors.
You sat with your legs dangling off the kitchen counter opposite to where Perpetua was fiddling with the imposing machine.
"How did you do this every day?" he asks, trying to pack the grounds into the portafilter and spilling them all over the polished countertops. "I have no clue how this thing even works."
"I don't either," you shrug, "I always make it on the stove"
He gives you a look after he fails to attach the portafilter to the machine. "Cara, we live in the future now. we can use machines" he points to the stainless steel box he still cannot get to pour a few ounces of inky gold. "You didn't have to do that."
You avoid his gaze and kick your legs out, trying to redirect the nerves bubbling in your stomach that arrive every time he uses a sweet name like Cara for you. He was just a charmer, you tried to remind yourself, it wasn't a sign of anything more.
"I like making it that way." You defend. "That's how I was taught growing up."
His shoulders fall from his ears and his gaze falls to the ground. You know talking about family is a touchy subject with him. His brother had been the one to show him how to use this complicated new espresso machine, albeit very terse and begrudgingly.
"Sorry-"
"Can you show me?" He asks.
You look back up and he's resigned the portafilter on top of the machine. He drifts closer to you with a pleading in his eyes you usually only see when he's asking you for something difficult. Like this wasn't something so simple you could do it asleep, and most mornings you practically did.
"Now?"
"Yes, please, Cara. You make the coffee to show me today and tomorrow morning I will come and make you some for breakfast."
"Pet, you're probably going to be in a meeting."
"I'll tell them to fuck off." he waves his hands off as if hes dismissing 'them' away from him now. "You deserve a good coffee in the morning."
Your heart feels like its boiling over. Instead of holding his gaze, you hop off the counter and shuffle in your slippers to the cabinet with the supplies you've carefully stashed away.
It's hard to pretend that Perpetua isn't watching you when he follows your moves around the kitchen like a cat twining around it's owners legs for a treat. He hovers over your shoulder while you show him how much water to add to the reservoir. He moves out of the way for your arm turning the knob on the stove. He grazes his finger over the packed grounds to wipe off the excess for you. He screws the halves together while you retrieve the final ingredients.
He sets the pot on the burner and you lean past him to flip up the lid. "Keep an eye on that, tell me when it starts to fill."
His brows bunch in confusion but flicks his gaze between the upper reservoir and your hands.
"We're only making two cups, so I use this little guy," You gesture with the measuring cup in one hand, "to make the espumita."
"...sorry, Cara. The es…perm?"
"Es-pu-mi-ta. The sugar."
His head cocks, "I thought it was sweet just because You make it."
Your blush is almost as hot as the burner, "shush, or I'll make you take it bitter."
"I'll take it however you give it to me, cara-"
"Hush!" You wield your teaspoon at him threateningly. "You just have to cover the bottom like this…" You pour out the sugar into the pyrex, "And when we get the first few drops of cafe, we use that to make the espumita."
"How long does that take?" His fingers squirm like spider legs in restlessness.
"However long it takes for you to get your lipstick wrong the first time you do it in the morning."
He narrows his eyes at you, "Is this how you speak to someone make your coffee tomorrow? Maybe I'll make you take it black."
"Pet, I'll always take it from you." You flirt back. Maybe it's your wishful thinking in the hazy midnight hours but his cheeks seem to redden under the remnants of his papal paints. His back straightens suddenly and he points to the pot, "It's ready!"
"See? Not that long." You pick up the pot with kitchen rag to protect your hand from the steaming metal. with your other hand, you guide him in front of the measuring cup. "I'll pour, you pick up the spoon and taka-taka the sugar until its frothy and light."
"Darling, what in hell's name is taka-taka?"
You mimic stirring the spoon with one hand while you finish off pouring a half ounce of coffee into the makeshift mixing apparatus. "Taka-taka! the sound of the spoon against the glass! Just stir, Pet, Satan save me."
He smirks while he hunches over the counter to stir the sugar into a blonde caramel whip. You let the smell of fresh brewed espresso wash over you and ease the tension in your muscles. Watching your love make your creature comfort fills your chest with a warm pressure that makes you feel like the boiling coffee.
When the pot whistles you pull it off the burner and gesture for Perpetua to hold the cup out for you. You inspect his work and nod while pouring the rest of the delicious coffee with the sweetener. You gesture for him to continue
You have to balance on the tips of your toes to reach the small espresso cups on the top shelf of the cabinet. Perpetua looks over while he stirs with the obvious want to help but you skillfully retrieve your ceramic bounty without it. You set the small dishware on the counter with little clicks of ceramic against the marble countertop.
At your approval, he pours the coffee carefully into the small cups. You pick yours up immediately to absorb the warmth of the fresh brew against your palm.
Meanwhile, Perpetua uses his long fingers to gently cradle the cup. You can't be jealous of a cup. He brings the rim to his lips to imbibe the ebony liquid.
His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a soft moan.
You shift and take a sip of your own drink, "See? I'm much better than the machine."
His eyes are still closed in his caffeinated rapture. "The machine is quicker."
You scoff, "Not when you don't know how to use it."
He smirks. "You're right, cara. You always are." Your face is warm and it has nothing to do with the warm drink in your hands.
He leans over an picks up your free hand, leaving a sticky sweet kiss to your knuckles. "Thank you, cara mia, for sharing this with me." His eyes sparkle with a look you've only allowed to envision in your dreams.
"Its just coffee." You try and shrug it off.
He shakes his head, "Not the coffee. For showing me. Teaching me. Thank you for sharing that with me."