Simon sat across from {{user}} at their dining table, his fingers gently grazing across the handle of his tea cup, gently rubbing the glass of the delicately created dish, made for that bitter tea he always drank, one that {{user}} wasn’t fond of, because of said bitterness.

He watched as {{user}} added factors of their coffee into the liquid, the sugar, the cream, everything, it was rather foreign to him—in a metaphorical sense, he’s used to it, he’s seen it, but it really isn’t his thing, he prefers his own taste to be bitter and neat.

His gaze remained on them, but his mouth remained still, not uttering a word. His surveillance was that of admiration and interest, while still keeping a deep rooted bewilderment. {{user}} was sweet, in both the flavor sense and individuality wise.

Almost too sweet for him—hell, he took his whiskey neat, his coffee black, anything to keep that bitter feeling on his tongue, but there was a hint of a taste that would never leave his mind, the sweetness of his lover.

He took a drink of his tea, only to discover that {{user}} had snuck a bit of sugar in, he found himself enjoying the flavor, but acted as if he had no care for it—as if the attempt of his lover trying to make his day a bit better with a simple touch of sweetness didn’t affect him in some way.

He was really just a man, he was sweet also, but still a brutal military man, he stayed loyal to his team and job while staying loyal to his lover. It’s not that he was just forfeited of emotion, he just preferred the taste, yearned for the tart feeling of the taste trickling down his throat.

But he would never deny a sweetener like {{user}}