Roses and dirty little notes on post-its

7

Magical Mugs was one of those hole in a wall cafés that you felt at home at. The warm atmosphere, laced with the smell of coffee and freshly baked brownies, along with the buzz of people providing white noise, brought a sense of comfort to Liam.

Which is why he insists that he and Theo do their work there on Saturday, Liam planning lessons or grading papers and Theo finishing up some project or another for his architecture firm.

[Honestly, if you told Liam that Theo would become successful as an architect back when he was in
highschool and still mad as fuck at Theo, he would have laughed. I mean, he could see it of course. But knowing your enemy (can you even call someone who risked their life to save you multiple times your enemy?) has talents is one thing. But admitting it was another matter on it's own.]

Liam looks at the papers he was grading, tempted to tear his hair out from frustration. Do his students know nothing? Isn't he doing all he can?

Liam growls quietly, putting his pen down. Theo makes an inquiring noise, looking up from his laptop and for a second, Liam was distracted by how hot he looked in his glasses.

"They're just so fucking stupid, I swear." He says, putting his forehead on the papers and groaning. He hears Theo chuckle and glares up at him, but since his face was smushed against the papers, he doubts that it was effective. True enough, Theo just laughs harder, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Liam's glare intensifies, although he hides a smile.

"Let's take a break shall we?" Theo says, shutting the laptop and putting it back in his bag. Liam does the same with his papers and sighs in relief at not having to do them anymore.

"Wanna eat something? You know what they say. When in doubt, eat."

"No one says that, Liam."

"Dean Winchester does."

"Your supernatural obsession is getting a bit out of hand."

"It's a good show! Now do you want to eat until we get into a food coma or what?"

"I don't think that's actually possible, you know, with our metabolism and stuff."

"Stop pissing on my parade."

"Okay okay."

Theo flags down a waiter, ordering them their usual. They sip at their hot chocolate while they wait, talking about everything and nothing.
Their waiter arrives, arms laden with plates and Liam makes a mental note to tip the boy generously.

He and Theo share their meal, bickering back and forth over mundane things like the right way to pronounce crossinant. And by the time they left the diner, bags over their shoulders, Liam's heart felt as light as a feather.