dinner for two.
Santana’s back was to him, but she was sure he got the hint by the bobble of her head back and forth, she was mocking him. What he didn’t know though, she was also fighting a lost fight; trying not to smile because of him. “Better that than memorizing the art of sneak attacks to chop the mop off your chin.” She whipped her head around to flash a pearly white smile at him; the gleam practically caused a metaphorical glitz to beam off her pearly whites. She then blew him a kiss to finish off the cheeky line.
“Well,” she turned back around to fix a few things on the table,”a family tamale recipe,” she paused, walking to the island to lean over it, resting her forearms on the cool counters, “beans rice, and my salsa. Ya know,” she shrugged,”the tastiest thing you’ve had in your mouth since me.” She winked at him, sliding her upper-body off the counter to grab the six pack she picked up and return to the table. “Come sit,” she slid into her chair, “how was your day?” The question hung in the air, oddly domestic, and not so oddly, her stomach churned with panic and discomfort. Quickly, she followed it up with something slightly snarky, “keep the details bloody and exciting, or don’t say anything at all.” She smiled at him, dark eyes lighting up with playfulness.
“You know, the more you keep talking shit about my beard, it only makes it clear just how much you actually like it.” Olive eyes held a look that bordered on smug as he shook his head at her cheeky kiss off. Talk of family recipes had his brow arching, and Sam had to admit (at least silently) that he was kind of impressed. The idea of voicing it had crossed his mind until her smart comment of tasty things and he cut her a look before sitting down at the table. “Well I didn’t see any takeout containers in the trash, so I’ll take your word on this ‘homecooked meal’. He kept his teasing light, not wanting to actually insult her; there was a nervous energy rolling off her, subtle, but still easy to spot, especially with how quickly she tacked on the snark after her oddly sweet inquiry. “It was a day. Same old. Ran some errands, worked out, and my apartment’s still standing after you did a few rounds in the kitchen. Long as I don’t end up poisoned by your tamales, I’d say this day might end up decent.” It was his turn to flash her a playful grin, while he reached for his napkin to place in his lap. “No bloodshed. Today, at least.”
