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To Live My Life with You

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Speedwagon preferred his coffee black.

That’s what he said, anyway, and Jonathan had never seen him prove otherwise; on the mornings where he happened to wake up before his partner, he watched him brew his coffee and drink it with no cream or sugar.  He didn’t understand how anyone could like black coffee.  It was so bitter and left an awful aftertaste lingering in his mouth.  Personally, he liked his coffee with cream and sugar.  Speedwagon would affectionately tease Jonathan for this, asking if he wanted coffee with his cream.  It’d been habit since before they moved in together, even before they started dating at all, and it still made Jonathan dissolve into a beet red, stammering mess.  It never got old.

This particular morning, though, Jonathan woke up quite a bit earlier than Speedwagon.  He checked the clock on the nightstand beside their bed.  8:30.  Usually he’d be awake by now…maybe he had been up late?  Ah, it didn’t matter, now was Jonathan’s chance.  He all but threw the covers off of himself and tip-toed down the stairs to start Speedwagon’s precious coffee.  Unlike his coffee fanatic of a partner (surprising, really, that someone from Ogre Street could love coffee so much!), Jonathan was no connoisseur, but he at least knew that Speedwagon liked Arabica beans, but they didn’t stand up that well to creams, sugars, or cold brews.

So…Robusta it was.

Jonathan could only hope the sound and smell of him roasting and grinding beans wasn’t enough to wake Speedwagon up; for an ex-thug, he wasn’t the lightest sleeper, but the sound of Jonathan or Erina being awake was usually enough to rouse him from even the deepest of slumbers.  He made sure the coffee beans were ground rather coarsely before putting the grounds in the French press, pouring hot water in and stirring it lightly before letting it steep.  Three and a half minutes should work.

A couple of minutes in, heard footsteps coming down the stairs, too light to be Speedwagon’s.  Jonathan turned to beam at his wife.  “Good morning, Erina, my love.”  He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips as she approached, eliciting a small and silvery laugh from her.

“Good morning, Jonathan,” she said, peering over his large figure at the French press.  “You’re up early.  Do you have to study today?”

Jonathan shook his head.  “No, no.  Only some of this is for myself, the rest is for Robert…I want to try something.”  He pressed down on the plunger gently.  “Would you mind getting some cups for us, dear?”

Erina was already rummaging through the cabinets as he asked.  His smile only widened.  She knew him far too well.  The two mugs clinked against the counter, and Jonathan poured coffee from the French press into both.  He then took three packets of sugar and added them as well.  Two for him, only one for Speedwagon.

“Oi, what’s goin’ on down here?”  Speak of the devil.  Jonathan’s face ached from having a smile on for so long already, but Speedwagon’s very presence made the dull ache worthwhile.  “You didn’t make me coffee, did ya?”

Jonathan turned to look at Speedwagon and handed him his cup.  Brown eyes lit up at the sight, much to the other’s delight.  “By God, you did!  Mr. Joestar, you know you don’t have to do these sorts of things for me, mate.”

“I simply wanted to.”  Jonathan shrugged, picking up his own cup and adding some cream before stirring and taking a sip.  “And I keep telling you, it’s okay to call me Jonathan.”

“Ah, I’ll never get used to it.”  Speedwagon chuckled, taking a slow drink of his coffee.  His expression changed to one of shock, but his eyes lit up again.  “‘S this Robusta, Jonathan?”

“I figured I’d let you try it.  I hope that’s not too terrible of me.”

“Terrible?  Mate, if it were terrible, I would’ve let you know.  This ain’t half bad.”  Speedwagon smirked, brow arched.  “…ain’t black though, is it?  Sneaky bloke, you.”

Speedwagon saw right through him.  Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh, especially hearing Erina giggle as she prepared for breakfast.  “Yes, well.  Only a packet of sugar is all, black coffee doesn’t suit you very well, you know.  Sweet tastes fit much better.”  He watched Speedwagon’s brows arch and only then realized the flirtatiousness of that statement.  “Wh-which…all I mean by that is…I—you just…ah, you understand what I mean…”  Jonathan prayed his cheeks weren’t as red hot as they felt, but judging by Erina and Speedwagon’s laughter, they absolutely were.

“Ah, good ol’ Mr. Joestar.”  Speedwagon kissed his cheek and rested his chin on the other’s shoulder.  “I might have to start wakin’ up late more often, yeah?  If I keep coming downstairs to little things like this, my heart might just burst.”

Jonathan turned to look at Speedwagon and huff a protest— Don’t say those things so casually, what if something did happen?! —but his parted lips were captured in a good morning kiss.  Had he been as completely devoid of sense as he felt, he might’ve dropped his cup and let it shatter against the porcelain floor.  But some gentlemanly part of him said that then Erina would have to clean it up, and that wasn’t fair to her, seeing as she was already making breakfast.  He couldn’t help but chuckle—what odd things to think during a kiss with one of the people you love.  And Speedwagon would likely be none the wiser.

Speedwagon pulled away, slow and gentle, with a glowing grin on his face.  “Thanks for the coffee, dove.”

The ‘ I love you’  was silent, yet tangible.  Jonathan closed his eyes, content, as Speedwagon rested his head on his shoulder.

“Anything for you, love.”

Chapter Text

Oh, God, he was in tears again.

To be frank, as cathartic as crying was for him, Speedwagon did it a lot. Perhaps excessively, in his humble opinion. It wasn't like those around him minded or found comforting him to be tedious. Jonathan and Erina were all too eager to hold him close and press gentle kisses to his tear-stained cheeks and whisper that it would be okay, that it was over and they had won. It was nice, and he was eternally thankful for it.

But then there were times like this where the gravity of his trauma seemed to come crashing down upon him. All the things he'd seen, all the people he couldn't save because he was useless, utterly useless. He pressed a hand to his face and curled up on his bed, letting out soft sobs that he thought would be lost to the night, only for the moon to hear.

The knock on his door made him jump. His heart leapt into his throat, and it stayed there, racing, until a voice came from the other side: "Robert?"

Speedwagon let out a shaky sigh as he looked up. Jonathan...he couldn't deny that man if he wanted to, not after everything he'd done for him from the moment they'd met. Even so, his body felt weak, like if he tried to stand he'd dissolve before he could open the door. Instead he swallowed and responded with a timid "It's open".

Light seeped in from the hall, and Speedwagon squinted until Jonathan's broad silhouette blocked it out. Even in the darkness of the room, he could see the concern on his lover's features outlined in the moonlight. His eyes started to sting again, and he sniffed hard, turning away and laughing bitterly. "Ain't this a familiar sight?" he mused, hearing Jonathan step inside and close the door behind him. "I'm sure you must be sick of this by now."

"I don't mind." The bed creaked as Jonathan sat down on it. Speedwagon turned and moved to the edge of the bed so he could be beside his partner. Jonathan wrapped his arms around him, a particularly gentle one around his head and one around his waist pulling his head to his shoulder and stroking the long mane of blond hair. It was soothing, like a lullaby in movements. Speedwagon turned his head to bury his face in Jonathan's shoulder. He didn't deserve this, not from him. Not from someone so incredible that words couldn't do him justice. It was enough to make him choke out a sob; the tears left wet spots on Jonathan's shirt.

"God...damn you," Speedwagon murmured, sniveling again. "Damn you, Jonathan, you and your beautiful soul... Why can't you just leave my sorry arse behind...? You wonderful, foolish man..."

Jonathan only pulled Speedwagon closer by his waist. The motion was gentle and loving; it only made Speedwagon cry harder. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you." Despite everything, Speedwagon relished the feeling of Jonathan's warmth. He almost lost this, lost him, so many times. And despite Dio's apparent death, he was scared to lose him again. "You're always...so good to me. So genuinely kind. You never complain about me crying, you never see me for how rubbish I really am, you always treat me with kindness and I don't understand. You...you shouldn't waste your time—"

Jonathan released his loose hold on Speedwagon's head and tighter hold on his waist to lift his head and cup his cheeks. "Robert..." The way that name rolled so gently from his tongue made Speedwagon smile softly, even as tears rolled down his pale cheeks. "Robert, don't talk about yourself that way..."

It could've driven Speedwagon insane, how much he loved Jonathan. His mind told him to pull away and stop wasting his partner's time, but his body wouldn't move. It was so warm, and Jonathan's touch was so loving and soft—ah. He was crying harder now. It didn't even hit him until Jonathan's eyes widened and he rested his forehead against Speedwagon's, shushing him gently.

"I'm sorry," Speedwagon mumbled. "I'm an ugly crier, yeah?"

Jonathan laughed with him, then shook his head. "I don't care. You know I'd never judge you that, of all things." He tilted his head down to kiss Speedwagon, and the other relaxed slightly in response, letting Jonathan run his thumbs along his cheekbones. It was short, too short in fact, and Speedwagon let out a disappointed sigh when it ended. "Aha, you're too sweet..."

"Huh...?" Speedwagon sniffed and gasped softly when Jonathan reached down to hold his waist and pull him into a warm embrace. "Ah—Mr.—Jonathan..." His face grew hot, and his hands found purchase on Jonathan's broad back, which seemed to carry the weight of his own struggles and the ones of those he loved. If only Speedwagon could alleviate that pressure instead of seemingly aggravating it. "Jonathan...Jonathan, I love you, I love you so dearly, I'm sorry..."

"Shh. No more tears. Please, Robert, please... Only happy thoughts right now..."

Somehow, those words wrapped around Speedwagon's heart and squeezed it, forcing out another sob in the process. Jonathan's hand trailed up his lover's back and ran its fingers through his long hair. "It's okay," he whispered against Speedwagon's ear. He felt the other shiver and pull him closer, and he kissed his cheek. "It's going to be okay. You'll be okay."

Sobs eventually died into whimpers, and even though his whole body was trembling, Speedwagon managed to otherwise go limp against Jonathan, dropping his arms and letting himself be held and told that he would be okay. It was a little funny, in an odd way. He wasn't really sure if he would be okay in the long run, considering his state of mind. But if he had this, someone to run to when he felt like he was breaking, and would willingly hold him together out of the goodness of their heart, then maybe he didn't need to be okay.

Maybe he just needed to survive. That's all anyone asked of him, after all.