summary: you insist on pedro trying a matcha latte, but he is pretty reluctant
"oh, come on, it can't be that bad if this many people like it!" you told pedro, while making wild gestures with a to-go matcha latte in your hand.
"i'm convinced that at least half of them are just pretentious and lie about liking it."
"well, i'm not pretentious. neither is vanessa for that matter." you thought that by mentioning his co-star, vanessa kirby also liked it, you might be able to convince him to finally try it. the reason you wanted it so bad was simply the fact that you were 99% sure that he would end up liking it.
"ughhh, why is it so important?" he whined.
"'cause i know you'll like it. trust me." you countered, putting a hand on his shoulder. "plus this place is definitely one of the best ones to get matcha in new york."
"i heard it tested like grass." you were so tired of hearing that from so many people.
"not if it's high-quality. and this is." you said, pointing to your plastic cup. "look how green, look how beautiful." you took a sip. "yummy."
"jeez, you're down bad. should i be jealous?" he asked playfully, while grabbing your free hand.
"no need for that. just try. we can be obsessed together." you extended your matcha-wielding hand towards him and made puppy eyes.
"no, don't do that adorable face, it's not fair!" he groaned.
"pretty please." you pleased with your eyes. an old trick, but it worked.
"ugh, fine." he rolled his eyes and reluctantly took the drink from your extended hand. he eyed it suspiciously then took a sip. his eyes widened in surprise and took another, this time bigger sip.
"oh my god." he said looking at the drink as if it was something sacred.
"see? i told you!" you judged him with your shoulder. "yes! we can be matcha buddies!" you exclaimed.
"buddies? i'm literally your husband." he deadpanned.
"fine, then matcha....the matcha duo?"
"that's better. sounds like a superhero team though."
"you do one better then." you rolled your eyes.
"matcha couple?" he asked after a moment.
"hmm, okay." you nodded and pressed a kiss on his temple.
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I really really love the way you write sanemi!! Especially in the most recent fic you wrote where he gets concerned over reader getting space bc of his hurtful comment! I donât see enough of that softer side of him in fics, could you write something that shows that side of him again, maybe reader learns to make ohagi and brings it to him, and they just vibe and sip on matcha together (maybe w some subtle romantic tension đ)
thank youuuuu<333 i just love sanemi sm itâs actually baddd & i LOVE this idea
sorry for the long ass waitđđ
an accidental date àŒ
you knock on the gate of sanemiâs estate, the wooden box of ohagi feeling a bit heavy in your hands. itâs a spur of the moment thing, you know he likes the stuff, even if he acts like a total jerk most days. you two arenât exactly buddies, but youâve crossed paths enough on missions that thereâs this weird vibe between you. not hate, not friendship, just⊠something.
the gate creaks open, and there he is, sanemi shinazugawa, looking pissed off as usual. his white hairâs a mess like heâs fresh from training. âwhat do you want?â he snaps, eyes narrowing at you like youâre some demon he forgot to slay.
you hold up the box, trying not to smirk at his attitude. âbrought you something. ohagi. figured youâd like it, wind pillar.â
he stares at the box, then at you, like heâs deciding if itâs a trap. his face twists a bit, annoyed, but thereâs a flicker of something else. surprise? maybe. âtch. why?â
you shrug, stepping past him into the yard without waiting for an invite. âmaybe i just felt like it. donât make it weird.â
he grumbles something under his breath but doesnât kick you out. instead, he slams the gate shut and follows you to the engawa, where the afternoon sunâs filtering through the trees. the estateâs quiet, no other slayers around just the sound of wind rustling leaves and distant birds.
you sit down on the edge, opening the box to reveal the fresh ohagi, sticky and sweet smelling. âsit. eat. or iâll eat âem all myself.â
sanemi huffs, dropping down beside you with a thud. heâs close enough that your shoulders almost brush, but he acts like itâs nothing. he grabs one, popping it into his mouth without a thanks. his chewing slows, though, and you catch him savoring it, eyes half-closing for a second.
ânot bad,â he mutters finally, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. âwhereâd you get these? better not be some cheap crap.â
you laugh a little, grabbing one for yourself. âmade âem. yeah, i can cook. surprise.â
he side-eyes you, grabbing another. âyou? cooking? bullshit. these taste too good for your amateur ass.â
his words come out clipped, but gentler than usual. after a few ohagi, sanemi stands up abruptly. âwait here.â he disappears inside, and you hear clinking sounds. he comes back with a tray. two cups of matcha, steaming hot, the green powder swirled just right.
you raise an eyebrow. âmatcha? didnât peg you for the tea type.â
he sets the tray down, handing you a cup roughly. âshut up and drink. itâs good for you or whatever.â his fingers brush yours as you take it, and you feel a joltâ small, but there. he notices too, cause he pulls back quick, scowling at the floor.
you sip the matcha, the sweet warmth hitting your tongue. âthanks. this is nice, sanemi.â
he grunts, staring out at the yard. âwell⊠donât get used to it. iâm not your damn host.â
but he doesnât move away. you two drink slow, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the ground. conversation starts up in bitsâmostly you talking about a recent mission, him throwing in gruff comments like âyou fought like shitâ or ânext time, donât screw up.â
under it all, though, thereâs this subtle tension. his eyes linger on you a second too long when you laugh, and when your knee bumps his, neither of you shifts. itâs like youâre both dancing around it, this weird thing thatâs been building.
âwhyâd you really come?â he asks suddenly, voice low, setting his empty cup down. heâs looking at you now, intense, like heâs daring you to lie.
you meet his gaze, heart picking up. âtold you. felt like it. maybe i like hanging with you, even if youâre a pain.â
he laughs softly, almost too softly. âyouâre the pain. always showing up unannounced.â
you lean in a bit, testing the waters. âyeah? then whyâd you let me in?â
his ears flushâjust a hint. âtch. ohagi bribe. thatâs all.â
but he doesnât look away, and the air thickens. the matchaâs gone, but the sweetness stays, along with the quiet tension neither of you will address. the estate feels smaller, just you two on the engawa, world fading out.
as the sky turns orange, you stretch, pretending itâs casual. âshould head out soon. donât wanna overstay.â
sanemi grabs the last ohagi, splitting it in half and shoving one piece at you. âeat this first. waste of food otherwise.â
you take it, fingers touching againâon purpose this time? his hand lingers a beat too long. âthanks. youâre not so bad, you know.â
he rolls his eyes, but thereâs a smirk tugging at his lips. âflattery wonât get you more tea.â
you pop the ohagi in your mouth, savoring the sweet. silence settles again, comfortable now. the romantic sparkâs there, simmering under the surface, but neither of you pushes it. not today, anyway.
when you finally stand, he does too, walking you to the gate. âdonât make this a habit,â he mutters, but his tone says otherwise.
you grin back. âno promises.â
he watches you go, arms folded, that scowl easing a touch. your walk home feels lighter, matcha warmth still clinging.
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