AN:You know, I really need to stop writing fic at two o'clock in the morning, but since everyone else is writing coffee fic, I felt I had to as well.
Spoilers: Ha! That's a good one!
Disclaimer: So not mine. Though I do own a cup of coffee and am consuming it at present.
Summary: Whenever he can, he takes it with sugar.
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Black, Two Sugars
When it's morning and he's by himself and his alarm goes off much, much too early, he takes it black. He takes it black because it's faster that way, more effective. Somehow, when it's black, it jars him awake more quickly and puts his dreams out of his head and prepares him for the day.
When he's off world and he has to carry his own gear and every gram might be the difference between getting away from the Jaffa or getting scorched with a Staff Weapon, he takes it black. He takes it black because that way he can bring more of it with him. Somehow, when it's black, it remind him of Home, which reminds him why he's out here in the first place.
When it's late and he's stuck on some word in some language that no one has ever heard of and he knows he won't sleep anyway until he's got it, he takes it black. He takes it black because it reminds him of his days in Chicago, of the thrill of the hunt. Somehow, when it's black, those days don't seem so bad and he almost feels the nostalgia he was always told he would someday.
When she's there and they sit so close together that sometimes he forgets which one of them is which and the only sound is her breath, he takes it black with two sugars. He takes it black with two sugars because she makes everything different, better. Somehow, when it's black with two sugars, he knows that the world is as it should be: safe, good, and right here with him.
He takes it black with two sugars much more often nowadays.
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AN: I seem to be allergic to proper nouns. We all know what I am talking about, right?