sumatran beans

Devin grimaced and shifted the bag up higher on his arm.  Rough burlap was all he felt and the sound of beans bouncing on metal filled his ears.  Another weird blend, another attempt to get the robust flavors of the Sumatran beans he had going stale with the vibrant smells and acid from some Guatemalan he’d picked up for cheap, and on one hell of a drunken whim.  Hell, at the end of the day he’d drink it if no one else would.  Which wasn’t much recompense.  He huffed, rocking his shoulder as the bag lightened, finishing and chucking the bag to a corner.  “Ya know how they say to follow your dreams and all that shit?” he mentioned, voice loud enough to carry across his shop to whomever was standing and waiting for a coffee he should probably be making.  “Yeah that’s all fucking rot.  Do whatever sounds cool.  S’how ya end up with the Panamanian Twist coffee blend and a load of folks hopped up on caffeine and wanting coconut scones.”  He grinned, kicking on the ancient roaster and reveling in the sound of gears and the first smells of heat.  “So you followin a dream or a whim?” he asked, turning to face the customer with a lazy grin.

hlorke  asked:

Imagine Magnus being clumsy in the early mornings and everything just slips through his fingers. So he ends up using magic for a lot of stuff, because broken mugs are just not worth it. Until Alec goes "why are you wasting magic" and makes him get out of bed. But then he sees Magnus' in all his clumsy glory, so he just sits him down and makes Magnus coffee so he can properly wake up :D Just.. Magnus asleep on his feet.. ;)

it’s not that he’s not a morning person, per se, it’s more that he’s always been a slow riser. it takes his brain minutes to catch up to the reality that his body is moving, and usually by then he’s already smacked his shoulder into a few walls, and fumbled his toothbrush into the sink more than once as he struggles to push the toothpaste out of the tube. whether or not he realizes he has clothes on takes just as long, but it’s not his problem if he has guests who show up announced. they’ll get the high warlock however he deems to carry himself when he’s still in a half sleep stupor. quite frankly, it just becomes easier to magic on his robe, to conjure up fresh breath, and to poof his coffee into existence than having grounds, or worse the remnants of another shattered mug, all over the kitchen floor. but alec spending the night changes all of that. suddenly magnus finds that he has agile shadowhunters fingers working around his waist–warm hands sliding over his chest, grabbing on to his hips–to secure a silk robe over magnus’ shoulders before he can stumble out of the bedroom naked. there’s toothpaste waiting on magnus’ toothbrush in the morning, and coffee hissing from the machine when magnus first cracks his eyes open. he can smell the richness of strongly brewed sumatran beans before his eyes are fully open, and that’s its own wake up call now. a siren of the sweetest voice, because it means alec is waiting for him. magnus rolls over, groaning in protest to the morning light, and the bed dips down next to him, a quiet chuckle wrapping around magnus just as softly as the silk robe alec likely has in his hands. “you have a meeting in thirty minutes, babe,” alec says. there’s more laughter and more warmth in his voice than should be possible for anyone this early. magnus wants to grumble, then alec’s fingers are running over magnus’ jaw—calloused skin catching on magnus’ stubble. “and you need to shave,” alec says–a definite laugh there that coaxes magnus’ eyes open just a bit more. “come on.” magnus allows himself to be pulled from the safety of his bed and into the bathroom. he doesn’t quite piece together how it all comes about—his mind still drifting somewhere in the embrace of dreams and peace and the echo of alec’s arms around him keeping him safe…. and maybe he hasn’t awakened into a harsh world at all, because there’s silk caressing his skin, the coolness of the counter on the back of his legs, and alec is between his thighs, one hand cupped around magnus’ hip, the other around a razor that alec slides with deft fingers over magnus’ jawline. magnus thinks to protest that he can do this with one snap of his fingers, but alec is a worrier, careful to protect magnus’ magic reserves for when they’re needed the most. and really, what is there to complain about when alec is leaning forward to place a soft kiss on every patch of skin he reveals with a swipe of the razor? magnus’ cheek tingles with each press of warm lips, his eyes closing as he chases away all thoughts of responsibilities and appointments and allows this strong, giving man to care for him. “i love you,” he whispers, the thought slipping past his lips as natural, as practiced–and as necessary–as magnus’ hands delving under the hem of alec’s t-shirt to trace the lines of powerful runes. “i love you too, sleepyhead.” alec kisses his nose with a laugh, and magnus snuffles in protest, but not really. if he has to be awake, then this is exactly where he wants to be