Status: C/U
Category: smut, fun, a present
Spoilers: general
Disclaimers: not mine, I’d treat them better
Rating: meh
Content Warning: slash
Summary: Daniel is a coffee whore. Paul drinks tea. The battle of the beverages has begun! 
Archives: Yes please, just tell me.
Dedication: to Xochi. Not quite what you asked for, but belated Happy Birthday, hon!

“Huh?” Blearily, Daniel looked over the rim of the biggest, baddest coffee mug he owned. Before him, dressed, shaved and far too alert for six o’clock in the morning, stood his beloved. 

Who would not be his beloved for much longer if he kept staring at his coffee pot as if it contained ebola. 

“I said,” Paul repeated slowly. “How can you drink this first thing in the morning.” 

Daniel regarded him levelly. “It’s coffee,” he said flatly. As far as he was concerned, that said it all. 

Paul swirled the coffee around the base of the pot, sniffed it, and wrinkled his nose. “This isn’t coffee, hon. This is battery acid.” 

The coffee mug hit the bench with a thud. “This,” Daniel said in the voice he normally reserved for explaining archeology to grunts. “Is the finest organic substance available over the counter. This is bliss in liquid form. This,” he drew himself up regally. “Is pure nectar of the gods.” 

“You kill gods for a living,” Paul pointed out. “And you could probably do it with this stuff, too.” 

“Why waste Columbian on them?” he shot back, surly at having his morning ritual so rudely interrupted. 

Paul put the pot back in its place. “Columbian. Of course. All the good addictions come from Columbia.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Coffee, cocaine and cocoa.” He pinned Daniel with a look. “I know you’re addicted to two out of three. Anything you’d care to tell me, hon?” 

Daniel walked around the counter and poured his second cup. “Yeah, I borrowed your credit card. Just ignore anything charged to Don Juan, okay?” 

Paul laughed as he pulled his own mug out of the cupboard. “If I didn’t know that was the name of the local chocolate shop, I’d be worried…what?” 

Daniel glared at him, hugging his coffee pot to the front of his bathrobe like it was a child. “Uh uh. No way are you having any of my special brew. Not after you called it names. No way.” 

Paul’s expression clearly said ‘I love you dearly, but you are a strange little boy some days.’ “Relax, Maxwell House. I’m not going to touch one drop of your precious acid.” 

“Oh.” 

Paul’s little grin was triumphant. “Yes. Oh.” With shooing gestures, he herded Daniel back to his spot before turning back to start futzing with the kettle. 

Caffeine was starting to trickle through Daniel’s bloodstream, allowing for more sophisticated thoughts than just ‘filter, water, spoon.’ “What are you doing in there, babe?” 

Paul turned around, steaming mug in his hands. “Making tea.” 

“Tea.” Daniel rolled the syllable around in his mouth. “Tea?” he tried again. It still didn’t sound right. He tried it in a sentence. “You’re making tea?” 

Paul’s expression now said ‘are you alright or should I call for a priest?’ “Yes, tea. Dried leaf-tips, hot water, a bit of sugar, maybe a dash of milk. Tea.” 

Daniel considered this as he stared at the dregs in the bottom of his own mug. “The only dried bits of leaves I consume are oregano and pot. One goes in spaghetti and the other goes in brownies.” Walking back around the counter, he stood in front of Paul and took an experimental sniff of the steam rising from the mug. “And that’s it as far as dried leaves goes.” 

Paul sighed dramatically. “I’m in love with an addict.” He leaned over and kissed Daniel’s forehead. “Pot brownies – why am I strangely not surprised?” 

Daniel shrugged and snagged his own mug. Rinsing it out under the tap, he cast his mind back to his first ‘greenie.’ “It was at Oxford,” he said finally. “It was kind of a morning ritual among the Masters’ students. A cup of coffee and a special brownie.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at Paul. “Maybe I should make some for morning briefing…” 

“No!” Paul’s voice was somewhere between scandalized and admiring. 

“…when the Joint Chiefs are visiting.” 

“You wouldn’t dare!” 

Daniel laughed and turned around to rest against the edge of the bench. “Have a brownie, General. By the way, I’m screwing your liaison and looking up porn on my work computer. What’s that sir? Another brownie? Certainly. The colour? Oh, it’s a special spice I have brought in from Abydos…” 

Paul was laughing so much he had to hold his cup at arms length. “Stop it!” 

Daniel was on a roll. “Great stoners on Abydos. I’m talking world class. They could give 60’s folk singers a run for their money.” He walked over to Paul, liberated the offending mug of tea and put it out of harms way, then pulled him into a hug. “And none of them drink tea.” He butted his forehead gently against Paul’s to reinforce the point. 

Paul rested there for a moment. “I bet they don’t drink coffee, either.” 

Daniel shrugged. “No coffee plants. No beans. No cappuccino machines, either.” 

Paul laughed. “And no tea plantations either, I bet.” 

Another shrug. “You can you brew cannabis leaves, can’t you?” 

Paul pecked a kiss to his lips. “Stoner.” 

Daniel pulled him back in for another kiss. “Tea drinker.” 

“Only in the mornings. Unlike you, I haven’t got a stomach made of cast iron.” 

“If we got up at 2pm, like normal people, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.” 

“Normal people don’t get up at two in the afternoon!” 

Daniel grinned. “They do in my world. And on weekends.” 

“Today is Friday, right?” 

“Yup. I’ll even bring you brunch in bed tomorrow to celebrate.” 

“Really?” 

Daniel smirked. “Yes. We’ll have brownies and black coffee.”