Wednesday, December 16, 2015

WIP Wednesday: coffee orders and hotel beds

I'm running late this week (lately when am NOT?), so I apologize for that. I'm hiding at my desk at the EDJ and doing this on my phone, so fingers crossed. *g*

Today we see Mateus and Crawford right after they've come back to the United States. They were hoping it would go smoothly, but of course it doesn't. They're stuck in the border town overnight until the immigration officer can see them the next morning.

Tall,  Dark and Deported

Mateus flopped down on the queen-sized bed, wrinkling his nose when he bounced instead of sinking into it. This was nothing like the feather-soft beds at [hotel name], though the rock-hard mattress and slick nylon coverlets were hardly a surprise for a place that rented for $59 a night.
Crawford had tried to book them into a nicer hotel down the street, but Mateus's pride wouldn't allow it. He'd been mooching off Crawford for too long—it was Mateus's turn to foot some of the bill for this, especially since they were stuck here overnight because of him. Unfortunately, he couldn't afford down comforters and 500-thread-count sheets. But the room did come with a free continental breakfast in the morning, which was kind of exciting.
He closed his eyes and listened to Crawford fumbling with the tiny coffeemaker on the bathroom sink. It was late, but he didn't say anything. He'd learned not to come between Crawford and caffeine, no matter what time of day Crawford was having it. [insert earlier snipy fight over coffee late at night]
Something clattered into the sink with an echoing thud and Crawford cursed softly. Mateus peeked open one eye in time to see him angrily shoving the piece back into the coffeemaker.
“I saw a Starbucks a mile or so back. I think I'm going to give up on this and make a coffee run. You want a decaf cinnamon latte?”
So maybe Mateus hadn't been the only one taking notes on beverage preferences. He tried hard to ignore the fluttery feeling he got knowing Crawford had been paying attention all those nights they'd stopped at the hotel coffee shop for a drink after dinner.
“If you're going out anyway. But don't make a special trip for me.”
Crawford snorted. “I've got about four hours of paperwork to get through tonight. Trust me, I'm going anyway. Possibly more than once.”
Mateus winced internally. Crawford had been so amazing through all of this, never once getting angry about how much this marriage had inconvenienced him. Even now, staying in a second-rate motel with a nonfunctional coffeemaker, he didn't snap or try to make Mateus feel bad. Instead, he offered to pick up his favorite evening drink while he went out to get coffee to fuel a late-night work session that was necessary because he'd spent all day doing things for Mateus.

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