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autisticempathydaemon · 1 day ago

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in this kitchen, baking (what a mess I’m making)

A Great British Bake Off AU

Pairings: all the good ones- Angel/David, Milo/Sweetheart, Asher/Bäbe, Lasko/Huxley/Damien, Gavin/Freelancer, Darlin/Sam, Lovely/Vincent, Alexis/Christian, Mentions of Porter/Treasure

cw: none no magic no angst just the love of the game and food

Available on AO3 here!

[Overhead, panning shots of a quaint California town. There’s lines of charming suburban houses with well-kept lawns, a bustling downtown full to bursting with small locally-owned businesses… a classic, picturesque college town.

The camera speeds away, outside the city, towards the woods, until we close in on a beautiful, shimmering Lake Arrowhead and the campgrounds surrounding it. Beside the lake, in a verdant clearing, we zoom in on a large, white tent and the two presenters standing at its opening.]

Angel: So we’ve got thirteen bakers-

Babe: -three challenges

Angel: -two days of stunning desserts

Babe: -and one future winner hiding in our midst! Is there a certain kind of dessert you’re hoping to see and try this weekend?

Angel: I’m so glad you asked, because have you seen the cake on our judge, David Shaw-

Asher (Off-camera): Babe, they’re off-script!

Babe: Oh lord- Welcome to the Great Dahlia Bake Off!

[The camera zooms out, away from the hosts, and cuts to establishing shots of the field surrounding the tent. Charming, quaint clips of woodpeckers, dragonflies, hummingbirds, and an inexplicable lamb are layered with jaunty string music and are followed by an inside view of the tent and the procession of bakers as they file in and absorb their surroundings.

A no-nonsense woman with black hair tied into a severe ponytail and eyes straight ahead walks with confidence to her station. A tall, wide-shouldered man saunters in with an even wider smile, offering a warm handshake to both his neighbors. The skittish man behind him reciprocates it gingerly before fiddling with the ties of his apron.

The contestants settle in at their respective, colorful kitchen islands and face the front of the tent with varying degrees of apprehension. Angel and Babe stand before them with visible excitement and bright smiles. Beside the hosts, David and William stand tall and intimidating, despite the latter’s friendly smile and small wave.]

Angel: Welcome to the tent, bakers! I had a whole spiel about first seasons and new adventures and bright beginnings- but then I remembered that the longer I talk, the longer it’ll be until I get to try your food, so let’s get this party started. Take it away, Babe; what are our new best friends making for us this morning?

Babe: Today, for the first challenge of Cake Week, our esteemed judges would like you to make a signature crepe cake! The cake must consist of alternating layers of French crepes and some sort of filling, though the flavor of crepe and filling are up to your creative minds. Judges, do you have any advice for our lovely bakers?

David: Crepes are beautiful in their simplicity but also difficult. They must be perfect.

William: We’d love to see a good combination of technique and personality today. There’s so much room for different flavors, textures, and combinations with your dessert today, so we can’t wait to see what you make for us.

[William, a kind-faced man with neatly braided, long, black hair, offers the contestants a warm smile, a stunning contrast to the stony, stoic stare from David beside him.]

David: You’ve got two hours; get started.

[Angel slaps David on the shoulder before wagging a finger in his direction. The man’s eyes widen comically which the hose dismisses with a wave of their hand.]

Angel: You don’t tell them to start; we do! Babe?

Babe: Get ready~

Angel: Get set~

Babe: Bake!

[The hosts clap in unison, and the contestants start in a flurry like horses at a gunshot. A tall, freckled blond man puts a moka pot on the stove, starting a pot of coffee. A young contestant with striking Lichtenberg scars up their neck starts sifting a sandy gray flour, drawing glances from the opponents around them. Another young contestant in a DAMN sweatshirt starts dicing what looks to be a small mountain of strawberries.]

Angel: Can I steal one of these? They’re gorgeous!

Freelancer: Um, sure, please.

Asher (off-screen): Grab one for me too, Angel!

Angel: Get it yourself!

Asher (off-screen): You know I can’t! Have mercy!

Babe: I’ve got you- open up.

[Babe takes a strawberry and holds it up to the person holding the camera. Chewing can be heard off-screen, and Babe stares lovingly at their boyfriend while Freelancer watches in confusion, their hands still and awkward. David rolls his eyes at the nauseating scene before turning to the contestant.]

David: Ignore them. Tell us what you’re making today.

Freelancer: I’m making a strawberries and cream crepe cake today with strawberries picked from my garden.

David: Simple.

William: Quaint! All these strawberries will be cut and mixed into the filling?

Freelancer: Not really- it’ll be made into a puree which will be incorporated in the crepe batter plus a jam that’ll be layered with a vanilla diplomat filling. There will also be whole strawberries on top for texture.

William: A veritable strawberry cornucopia and homegrown to boot. I’m sure it will be delicious.

Freelancer: God, I hope so.

Angel (narrating): Freelancer is a nursing student at Dahlia Academy of Medical Nursing. Between their pharmacology classes and organic chemistry labs, they like to unwind by hanging out with their brother who often volunteers as a live-in taste tester.

[B-roll footage of a comfy, sunlit townhouse kitchen. Freelancer is standing at the counter kneading dough and chatting with a young, pink haired man as he sits at the dining table and does homework. The window lets in bright sunlight, illuminating the flour dusting their hair and the air, and reveals a vibrant, ruby-studded garden right outside.]

[In the tent, Freelancer continues to cut more strawberries while some come to a low boil on the stove.]

Freelancer: They’ve been his safe food since… since he was old enough to eat food, probably. Milk, pudding, popsicles, anything strawberry he’d eat. We could get him to eat anything if we put chopped up strawberries or strawberry dressing on it.

[The contestant laughs joyfully, fondly- a hilarious contrast to the dripping, red knife in their grasp.]

I’m a strawberry expert at this point so obviously that’s what I’ve got to make today. Gotta lead with my strengths, you know?

Babe (narrating): Freelancer’s not the only one bringing fruit to the tent today.

[The tall, smiley man from earlier pits cherries and tosses them into a bowl of kirsch. A quiet, focused contestant with hair tied back into a loose bun cuts mangoes, peeling them with a glass cup. A cool, collected contestant with glasses perched precariously atop their nose peels and juices lemons with efficiency.]

William: Enlighten us as to what you’re making for us this morning, Sweetheart.

Sweetheart: I’ll be making lemon crème crepe cake today; I’m working on the lemon curd now that’ll be one of my two fillings.

David: Two?

Sweetheart: Lemon curd and a vanilla diplomat.

David: So you’ll be making three components for us today: a curd, a custard, and a whipped cream in addition to your crepes? Do you think you can keep all those plates in the air?

Sweetheart: What- like it’s hard?

[A snort, poorly stifled, can be heard from behind camera B. Sweetheart looks in its direction and winks with a smirk, causing a laugh from behind camera A. Even David looks amused, half-smiling and tapping a knuckle against the wood of the tabletop as they move on.]

William: And what have we got going on here with all this color, Porter? What are you making for us today?

[Atop the workstation is a Warholian disarray of green powder and white splatter. The mess has made it onto the baker, verdant smears stark on the brown skin of his neck and a light grassy dusting in his black hair. Despite this, Porter greets the camera with a rakish grin and the judges with a confident handshake.]

Porter: I’m glad you asked, William. I’m making a matcha crepe cake with a vanilla whipped cream and some white chocolate ganache.

David: …interesting. Is this a flavor combination you have a lot of experience with?

Porter: No.

[Porter grins at the camera, a mischievous glint in his eyes. While he’s looking away, the matcha in his crepe batter clumps unattractively, dark green specks spattered in the bowl. David looks in disapproval at that and the messy counter before walking away.]

Vincent: Yeah, he’s sort of always like that. I’d like to say he grows on you, but I feel like I shouldn’t lie on national TV.

William; That’s right; you would know, wouldn’t you?

Babe (narrating): Vincent, when he’s not baking and having a good time, is an up and coming presence in Dahlia’s real estate game. His opponents, both in the tent and outside of it, are Porter and Alexis, his family who work for the same estate agency.

[B-roll footage of Vincent standing in the doorway of a lovely, three-story modern Spanish home, his casual pose of him leaning against the door matching the sign of him posted in the front yard. Porter and Alexis come through the same door, shouldering him out the way with matching sneers and affectionate disdain.]

Babe: Tell us about that. Did you ever think when you applied, all three of you would end up on the show? Did a shared, familial love of baking bring the three of you together?

Vincent: Sort of…? We were watching season two and started giving each other shit about who would last longer on the show. An hour and some bottles of wine, and here we all are.

Angel: Aww, that’s… fun. Now that you’re here, are you at all nervous about going against your sister and cousin? We hope you won’t go easy on each other just because you’re family.

[Vincent raises an eyebrow before turning to look behind him. The camera pans out, and Alexis and Porter have looked up from their respective bakes, having heard their names, and are presumably giving Vincent the middle finger. Porter, whose island sits between his cousins, has put his sifter down to do it to Alexis as well. Thankfully, the way Milo has angled the camera, all offending gestures are obscured behind mixers and jars of flour.]

Vincent: I don’t think you have to worry about that.

William: What fun! And what are you making for us? Hopefully not matcha and white chocolate.

Vincent: God, no, I can’t stand matcha. I’m making chocolate crepes with coffee cream inbetween.

Porter (off-screen): Matcha’s delicious; you have the taste buds of a child.

Alexis (off-screen): and no ideas of your own. I hope your chocolate crepes burn, you cheat.

Vincent: Porter, you’re not special because you don’t like sugar; it just makes you a grouchy jackass. And Lex, patent putting cocoa in your crepe batter if you’re so pressed. You’re just mad yours are going to suck.

Angel: This is going to be a great season.

David: This is going to be… a season. I hope we won’t have to separate you three… though we could move you much in the tent.

Vincent: We’ll be separated when they lose, don’t you worry.

[Off-screen, Asher and Milo can be heard poorly hiding their laughter. David tries to silence them with a glare, fails, and moves on to Alexis’s island. Her workspace is spotless but crowded, the mixer practically crawling across the table, a dark, sugary mixture bubbling on the stove, and Alexis vigorously beating cream into stiff peaks.]

William: You certainly have a lot of plates spinning. What are you making for us today?

Angel: And, more importantly, how is it going to be better than Vincent and Porter’s?

David: Don’t encourage them, Angel.

Asher (off-screen): No, I want to know too.

David: You’re both children.

Alexis: My chocolate crepe cake will be filled with a caramel diplomat and topped with a caramel creme anglaise.

William: You’re hoping to outshine them with techniques.

Alexis: No, I know I will.

Angel: Damn.

[David pushes Angel out of frame before moving on. William lingers for a second, smiling at Alexis, before pointing at her stovetop.]

William: Mind your caramel, dear. The color can turn quick.

[William walks away, and Alexis scowls down at her mixing bowl, waiting a moment before adjusting the heat of the burner. Focus on William behind her, watching in approval. Cut to Christian and his station, the blonde surfer casually stirring his custard while looking about the room.]

David: You look relaxed.

William: That iconic California, Australian, laidback attitude- what a combination! What are you presenting today that’s got you so confident?

Christian: Something classic, a vanilla crepe cake with a diplomat cream and strawberries.

David: Classic and simple. Why did you choose to not make something more unique or signature to you?

Christian: It’s important to know when to be flashy and when to rely on the basics. There’s a time and place for risks.

Babe (narrating): Christian, a professional surfer and influencer, would certainly know. Having lost part of his leg two years ago in a shark attack, Christian chronicled online his recovery journey of relearning the surfing basics, and more then a hundred thousand people have seen the video of him winning a competition just eight months after his accident.

[Footage of Christian surfing from the shore, moving too fast for the camera to catch anything but his golden hair in the breeze and the sun reflecting off the aluminum of his prosthetic.]

David: Let’s hope your risk or lack there of pays off.

Angel: We’ll find out soon. Bakers! You’ve got forty-five minutes left, you’ve got less than half of your time left to go!

[The camera pans out, and the whole tent is in frame, the thirteen bakers a chaotic tableau of flour and eggs. The handsome man in front of Freelancer is leaning on their countertop while his mixer goes, chatting and bending provocatively so the other baker can see down his apron and tank top. Freelancer looks pointedly behind him at the basket of strawberries on his station, and the man laughs abashedly, presumably caught.

The nervous, fidgeting man from earlier yelps, having gotten key lime juice in his eye. This would be the second of his injuries this morning if the blue cover on his finger is any indication. The two bakers stationed in front of him spun to check on him, the frontmost one yelling and pointing in his direction with the other blots at his eyes with a clean tea towel.]

Huxley: Are you alright, Lasko?

Lasko: Ye- yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry, stuff like this happens all the time.

Damien: That somehow does not surprise me.

[Across the aisle, the quiet contestant with the mangos barks out a laugh, covering their mouth with a start. The freckled man stationed in front of them turns at the sound, catching their eye, and the two share a conspiratorial smile. Cut to Angel and Babe hovering on either side of Lasko.]

Angel: Are you alright?

Babe: Is Damien giving you a tough time? I’ll rough him up for you.

Lasko: N-no, he’s got a point. I can be really clumsy in the kitchen… or everywhere, if I’m being honest. And then he showed me a better way to handle my limes, so I wouldn’t hurt myself again!

Angel: Oh? And is there anything else he and this tall drink of water over here helped you handle?

[Angel waggles their eyebrows suggestively at Lasko and then the camera, making Babe reach across the contestant to slap the other host’s arm. Asher can be heard laughing behind the camera which is minutely shaking despite the steadying mechanisms. Lasko, after looking between the three show staff, catches on and flushes, a lime practically jumping out of his hands in nervousness. Milo’s camera catches Huxley quietly laughing at the indiscreet conversation, wide shoulders shaking in mirth until he has to stop whipping cream.]

Huxley: You guys are a riot.

Damien: I’ll riot if you distract Lasko. Forget about being sent home; he’ll end up in the hospital if he’s not careful.

Angel: So cute, so protective~

[Damien glares at the host, looking around his workspace presumably for something light to throw at them as they strut off with a laugh to another station.]

Babe: So why’s your flour different than everyone else’s and not white?

Angel: Oh my god, Babe, you can’t just ask people why their things aren’t white.

[Angel and Babe grin at the camera. Nearby, Vincent and Sam laugh, getting the reference. Even Alexis cracks a smile, but Lovely stares blankly at the hosts, giving the camera a confused look and waiting to be let in on the joke.]

Angel: Hell, I think we’re old. Are we old? How old are you, Lovely? What do you do?

Lovely: I’m twenty-two…? And I’m a college student at Dahlia Academy.

Angel: Shit, we’re old.

Babe: Freelancer goes there too!

[Babe points off screen, and the camera pans over to Freelancer whose head pops up at the mention of their name. Lovely gives them a friendly wave and smile from across the tent, and the nursing student tentatively waves back with the hand holding the knife, earning them a quick but loud admonishment from David at the front. They bashfully put it down, their island neighbor patting their shoulder consolingly and Damien tsking loudly.]

Babe: What are you studying there? Culinary sciences maybe?

Lovely: Aha, no, this is just a hobby. I’m pursuing a degree in electrical engineering. I come from a long line of electricians.

Vincent: Is that so? I wouldn’t complain about routine inspections ever again if the electrician that came to my door was as young and pretty as you.

[Behind them, the camera focuses on the other Solaires who share a look before Alexis coughs into her hand a muffled but unmistakable “creep”.]

Vincent: Ignore my sister; she forgets her manners and that I know as much about her as she does me. When we get out of here, I’d love to get yours or your family’s business card.

Lovely: You mean you want my number.

Vincent: Sorry, was that not clear? Let me reiterate; I’d love to show you a good time with the prize money from here.

[The camera pans slightly to the side, and Angel and Babe are riveted in rapt attention, clutching each other’s hands in nosy glee. Behind them, Alexis and Porter are pantomiming gagging.]

Lovely: You mean the prize money that doesn’t exist, the only prize being a cake stand and a bouquet of flowers? What a date.

[Vincent flushes in response to Lovely’s grin and laugh which leads to him overpouring his batter in the pan and making a chocolatey mess of himself. Behind his back, even as he scrambles to save his crepe, Lovely smiles at him in pointed interest. Angel mimes the two sitting and kissing in a tree, and the college student shoots the host a wink.]

Angel: God, I love our job. What about you, Sammy? Can I call you Sammy? Who might you be looking to sweet-talk and canoodle in the tent today?

[In the back of the tent, Alexis actually coughs this time, drowned out by Vincent and Porter’s snide laughter. Sam grimaces as he folds whipped cream into his custard, his ears reddening at the tips. Camera B catches Babe pinching Angel’s thigh, the other host yowling in pain and staring at them in indignation, before they point at a jar of brown syrup on his workstation.]

Babe: That looks alarmingly like Chemical X. Is your crepe cake gonna turn me into a powerpuff girl? Because I call dibs on Blossom.

Sam: I mean, that’s a syrup I made outta cold brew concentrate, so you’re not far off. Chug that, and somethin’s bound to happen.

Babe: Don’t you tempt me, cowboy; we’ve got a long weekend ahead of us, and I could use the caffeine.

Asher (off-screen): Can I be Bubbles? I’d make a cute Bubbles.

Babe: Cute as you may be, Angel’s definitely Bubbles. If you get my good side, you can be the Brick to my Blossom though.

Asher: That’s easy when they’re all your good side, eyyy~

David: In case you’ve forgotten, you’re here to do jobs. Focus, Angel.

Angel: Boo, Boomer. Ten minutes, bakers! Ten minutes before you gotta present before Mister Party Pooper here… and William.

William: I don’t get a fun nickname, Angel?

Angel: No, see, you are your first name, and we put respect on it like Beyoncé, like Shaq.

William: Hmm… I like that, thank you.

Angel: Anytime, Willy.

William: I like that a lot less.

Angel: Fair, heard.

William: While we’ve got you, William, let’s talk about who you’re liking today… baking-wise.

Angel: Or romantically- I’d love to talk about that too.

Babe: You’re going to get us fired.

Angel: I’ll sleep my way back to the top if I must.

[David stomps out the tent with his arms thrown above his head and a loud groan. Some of the bakers jump st the disruption, but Babe gives them a smile and a placating wave.]

Babe: Big man’s throwing a hissy fit; believe me, you want him to get it all out before he judges your food.

William: Damien and Huxley who’ve kept their cool throughout the first challenge are impressing me.

[Pan over, and Huxley is humming as he pipes swirls of whipped cream atop his dark, chocolate crepe cake. In contrast, Damien has a deep, stormy scowl on his face as he daintily dusts his crepe cake with a spice and powdered sugar blend.]

Babe: Is that what you’d call “keeping his cool”?

William: Yes, see, his body is restless, but his hands are steady. That’s a good trait to have in a baker.

Babe: Fair, and who are we not liking today?

David: I’m concerned about Christian.

Angel: Did you get it all out, bubs?

David: I’m ignoring you. Anyway, he’s doing something so simple, with flavor combinations two other people are doing, that I’m afraid he won’t be able to measure up. The first challenge of the first week, that could set a bad precedent.

William: There is such a thing as too much confidence. He’ll need to step outside his comfort zone in flavor and technique if he wants to go far.

David: I’m also concerned about Lasko.

William: In more ways than one, I agree. His demeanor does make me wonder how well he’ll withstand the time constraints and challenges of the tent should he move on after this week.

Babe: Well, let’s find out, shall we?

Angel: Bakers, your first challenge in the tent is almost over! When I reach One, I wanna see all those sexy, flour-y hands in the air, off your work! Five! Four! Three!

[Lasko mutters furiously under his breath, shaky hands frantically trying to pipe whipped cream onto his dessert. Huxley is cleaning his station, his crepe cake ready and perched beautifully at the end of his countertop. Damien is also done and wiping down his counters but less happily, alternately glaring at his cheery competitor and his own neatly decorated bake.

Christian, in contrast, lounges, sipping lazily from a bottle that’s been unbranded for TV but is obviously the sports drink he’s sponsored by. Freelancer and Gavin have finished and are chatting conspiratorially, sharing their leftover strawberries as they goose-neck about the tent.]

Angel: Two!

[Alexis stands with her chin held high, shoulders back, eyes steely and determinedly focused at the judges. Porter sits on his counter, a health and safety violation where this a professional kitchen, waving a hand in front of his cousin’s phase, trying to break her out of her concentration. Lovely is frowning, rearranging the raspberries on top of their crepe cake for the fifth time, while Vincent flanks with a grin, holding the fruit in his hands for them to pick and place.

Darlin stands at their station, eyes downcast and hands tightly clutching a steaming cup as they await the end of the countdown. Sam, leaning his back against the island behind him, has an identical cup. Sweetheart, in the back of the tent, the thirteenth of the baker’s dozen, looks about the tent with a curious gaze and smile.

Angel: One! Put your hands up and desserts down; prepare yourselves for the judgment of the lord!

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #redacted fanfiction #busybee writes

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