Chapter Text
If there was one thing Henry loved, it was being first in the break room to make everyone's hot beverages. He knew exactly how his friends liked their drinks. He lined up each mug along the counter with the precision of a scientist while he waited for the kettle to boil. Every now and again he glanced out of the window, anticipating someone’s arrival.
It wasn't long before he saw James approaching. Just in time he thought, as the kettle clicked off. He poured hot water over the strong coffee granules James liked, and added pink and white marshmallows. A sweet aroma filled the air as James’ boots clipped across the platform and the door swung open, banging into a nearby chair. James broke into a broad, white toothed grin. He grabbed his mug and a long handled spoon to mix the marshmallows with.
Henry loved the way James did everything with enthusiasm. He watched his friend take a long sniff of his coffee, steam curling round his face. A beautiful face, framed by thick, wavy, jet black hair. He always loved it when James looked up at him through his long, sweeping eyelashes as he was doing now, his iridescent amber irises glowing.
“Henry my man, you always know how to cheer me up,” James grinned. He took his mug over to a table where he sat down, spread his legs out and started playing with the froth on top of his drink, licking the back of the spoon with a perfect pink tongue.
Henry leaned on the counter with arms folded and smiled.
“Busy morning?”
James sighed gustily. “The worst.”
James did not look flustered at all. He never did. His red coat with gold trim was always pristine, there was never a hair on his head out of place. Even the smudge of coal dust on his cheek looked like it had been applied by a Renaissance painter. Henry rested his chin on his hand as James lifted the mug to his mouth and took a sip, leaving a glistening, sticky stripe on his upper lip.
“Dee-licious,” he declared. “I swear, Henry. You always know exactly how I like it.”
Henry said nothing, just smiled. He watched James for a little while more and then busied himself aligning the remaining mugs on the counter and refilling the kettle. Break room sounds filled the air. Drawers opened and closed, cutlery clinked, tinny music wimbled from a battered old transistor radio, a mix of classic and jazz. Henry bustled about, needing to keep busy. He knew that James would need him again soon, and sure enough-
“Ugh. My shoulders are so stiff,” James murmured, rolling his head from side to side. “Be a darling, would you?”
Henry smiled briefly to himself before leaving the small kitchen area. He loped across the room on long, muscular legs and took up position behind James. Gently placing both hands on James’ shoulders, he began to knead the tired muscles beneath the fabric with work-rough, practiced fingers. James sighed and lolled his head back against Henry's solid midriff.
“Perfect,” he mumbled. “Ah .. right there. That's the spot.”
“You mustn't let those trucks get to you,” said Henry, rubbing his thumbs either side of James’ neck. As always, he marveled at the silkiness of James’ skin. This wasn't the first time Henry had touched James, far from it. These break room massages were a regular occurrence and something Henry always looked forward to. He loved taking care of his friends in small, meaningful ways.
“I don't. But biffing them around is strenuous, you know? Little bastards need to be kept in their place.”
“Big tough James,” said Henry, softly. He swept a hank of long, auburn hair out of his own olive green eyes, leaned down and placed the whisper of a kiss on James’ neck.
“Oh my God,” murmured James. “What the fuck.”
“Too soon?” Henry said into his hair.
“Not soon enough.”
James reached up and cupped the back of Henry’s head, drawing it down. Their eyes met, and a gentle smirk played on Henry's curved lips.
“Come here, you ugly fucker,” said James, and engaged Henry in a slow kiss flavoured with marshmallow coffee and something else- something deeply alluring. Tongues met and writhed together, stoking the fires in each of their bellies. James moaned softly, winding his fingers through Henry's hair.
Henry slid one hand inside James’ coat and stroked his chest.
When at last they broke apart, James said huskily, “pull up a chair and sit with me.”
“Can't,” said Henry, mischievously. “The others will be here soon.”
“Screw the others,” James pleaded.
“I'd love to,” Henry joked. He gave James’ shoulders a last squeeze before heading back to the kitchen and his precious line of mugs, already anticipating their arrival. Edward drank tea with milk and one sugar. Gordon drank strong black coffee, sometimes with a sneaky splash of Scotch.
As for Henry, he drank whatever he was in the mood for, and he always made his own drink last, after he had tasted everyone else's.