Morning Bevoreage

Shin sat at his desk, took a sip of his scalding hot coffee, then set the cup next to his keyboard, While his computer booted up, he let Eel and Kwa jump from his shoulder into his open palm. Kwa bounced and squeaked unintelligibly, pointing at the cup of coffee; meanwhile, Eel was exploring the giant palm in search of a good spot to snuggle in.
“No, Kwa,” Shin sighed. “You can’t drink from my cup.” He quoted in the voice of a very old man: « Tu es tombé dedans quand tu étais petit ! »
Kwa crossed his arms and pouted — he would have complimented his husband’s progress in French if it hadn’t been at his expense. He stomped across the palm and jumped onto the desk, then reached for the handle of the cup; it was slightly larger than him, but he managed to climb up.
“If you fall in, I’m not fishing you out. You’ll go down the gullet, one-way trip.” Shin knew his warning wouldn’t deter Kwa from causing chaos, but now his tiny husband knew what to expect. “Same goes for you, Eel, so be careful.”

Eel was curling up at the base of his thumb, his head resting on the soft muscle. Shin cooed at this adorable sight, but he would have to relocate the tiny pet so he could get to work.
“Where do you want to be, glasses or desk?” he asked as usual. And as usual, Eel gestured to his glasses — he enjoyed the giant’s warmth and the high vantage point from which he could admire Shin’s features up close; he felt dwarfed by the deep green eyes, barely moving, fixed on the screen while the gentle fingers clicked on the keyboard.

It wasn’t long before Shin saw Kwa slip and fall into his cup. Predictable when you walk along the rounded edge and there’s steam strong enough to disturb your balance — he would feel no regret carrying out the appropriate punishment. He thought about leaving his husband burn and beg for release from the scalding hot beverage, but the ghastly shrieks of pain were already getting annoying. A quick death would have to do.
He paused in his typing, stretched his thick arms to the ceiling, and grabbed the cup. With a single sip, Kwa was already dragged into his mouth, the scorched body landing flat on his soft tongue like cheap meat thrown into the grinder. He gulped down the coffee, squeezed some flavour out of his husband one last time, and let him ungraciously join the rest of his breakfast. At least, Kwa gave him the pleasure of squirming and kicking on the way down — he liked it when there was some struggle before the end. He made a mental note to get a new one from the store, sipped some more coffee, and focused back on his work.

By the time Eel fell into the cup, what was left of the coffee had turned lukewarm. It was a silly accident, really — Eel had felt more adventurous than usual, had tightroped his way to the other side of the frames, and just as he started to climb his way into Shin’s soft hair, the ground gave way under his feet. Shin’s glasses had slipped down ever so slightly, and the giant was simply, absent-mindedly, pushing them back up. A single finger, a quick gesture, just at the wrong time. He didn’t even see his friend disappear into the cup.
Shin would never know how long Eel had spent in the coffee. It barely had any warmth left at this point, and it had been a while since he had taken a sip. He hadn’t heard or felt his friend struggle; maybe he had been too focused on his work, or maybe Eel was too small and quiet for him to notice. It was only as he took a big, final gulp that he felt the unmistakable tiny form in the back of his throat, too late to stop the flow.
Shin was devastated for a moment. Sure, he had warned his friend fair and square, but he felt guilty for not paying attention. He was the bigger person, after all. It saddened his heart, but he had more important things to focus on, things that were already washing away his grief. Besides, he had teased Eel countless times with so many scenarios; if anything, this was a fun one for both of them. He hoped that Eel had enjoyed the trip, and made a mental note to deal with the situation later.