A/N: for finem, because you mentioned the tea and because you were looking for Taichi-fic the other day :D
Disclaimer: Don't own. Though I wish. So much.
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Orange spice tea.
If you were to pick a flavour, you think, that would be it. Never mind that he's not the tea type—at all. The spice, a definite maybe, but the orange…yes, yes, and yes.
It's like you're made of citrus, you smile with a shake of your head, judging from the scent of his hair to the smell of his skin, and you'd bleed orange juice if ever cut.
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There's something about soccer and quartered oranges you cannot argue with. The zest always seems to echo in the kicks that follow. Never mind that this is practice. Never mind that tomorrow won't be.
"Oranges on the soccer field," he says, "taste better than anywhere else in the world."
Someone else would call him silly but you…you know so much better.
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Ten years later, you stand with juice dripping down your fingers as you halve them then quarter them, only to look up when the cloud of noise and chaotic hair have entered the kitchen. Approaching, he sniffs over your shoulder and grins at the scent.
The jersey's still red although almost twice as big.
Made for a leader, you think. Or just the new Coach.