Wren smirks and passes me a black coffee across the counter, adding a shit load of sugar to it before doing the same to his own. He looks at me and I hide a grin, reading his mind. He hasn’t taken his coffee without sugar since the day he accidentally took a sip of mine when we were having breakfast at Lucky’s Diner a few years back. He choked on it and told me I’d probably die of a sugar induced heart attack by the time I’m twenty five, then he swallowed the whole fuckin’ thing and ordered us another two.
“Have they not come down yet?” he asks Damon, dropping down in the seat next to mine.
“Nope.”
“The fuck’s takin’ so long? All they had to do was unlock the d–”
“Get off me, Kai,” Callie growls, kicking her legs out while he drags her downstairs with his arms locked around her waist. “I told you I wouldn’t really do it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t give a f–”
“Quit bein’ a brat and do as you’re told for once.”
“Call me a brat one more time, fuck boy.”
“And what?” he laughs at her, carrying her over to the kitchen. “You’ll shoot me?”
“You’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” she informs him, squealing when he tosses her down on Damon’s lap with a little more force than necessary. “Prick.”
“What’d she do now?” Damon asks him, sliding his hands around her waist to pull her back to his chest.
“Pulled a fuckin’ gun on her.”
“Snitch.”
“Brat.”
She shoots forward to try and smack him and he smirks, sliding her gun to Damon across the counter while he drops down in the empty seat next to me. Damon sighs and picks it up before she can snatch it, locking his jaw when he unclips the magazine to check it.
“It’s fucking loaded?”
“It’s always loaded,” she fires back, and I do my best to hide the way my lip twitches a little bit at those three simple words alone.
Good girl.
“Baby, you could have shot her.”
“But I didn’t shoot her,” she stresses, reaching over to grab the coffee slash hot chocolate Wren made her just now. “Mornin’, Wren.”
“Mornin’, Callie,” he sings back, playfully shaking his head at her when she grins like a pig in shit.
Bitch.
Wren looks at me like he heard me and she raises a cocky ass brow, dropping her eyes to my lap, and it’s only now I realize I’ve stolen his hand to lock my fingers with his, my short nails digging into the skin of his knuckles in a hard grip.
“You know I’m married, right?”
“You know I can’t stand you, right?”
She laughs at me and I roll my eyes, lifting my coffee to my mouth when I feel Wren’s eyes burning two holes through the side of my skull. I don’t look at him, but I don’t remove my hand from his, either.
“Gimme my gun back.”
Damon sighs but does as he’s told, looking it over a second before placing it in her hand. “Where’d you even get that thing?”
“Dean gave it to me,” she lies, forcing her features even when he cocks his head at her.