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wardenparker · 1 year

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Bright Lights & Broken Dreams - pt 3

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17k Warnings: *Contains flashbacks*. Cursing, food/alcohol, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, shower sex, praise/worship, mention of underage drinking, soooo much fluff. Summary: The press junket for your film becomes a coming out party for your relationship, and awards season is another turning point worth waiting for. The future is every bit as bright as you had hoped it would be with Dieter there. Notes: I will never give up the chance to write about Dieter at the Oscars, so yes that is in this chapter. And no I am not sorry. Not one little bit.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3

“Babe! The car is here!” For once, Dieter is the one who is on time and waiting downstairs, fiddling with his phone and reposting the trailer like the studio wanted him to.

"Junket tiiiiime." You swing down the stairs with a suitcase in one hand and your purse in the other, ready to spend an ungodly boring three days staring at the walls of one single hotel out in Newport Beach. The studio knows you only need one suite, but they had the presence of mind to book a three-bedroom villa for their two stars to share with their assistants. With you and Dee in one room and Sadie and Desiree share another, the third bedroom is superfluous. But at least it provides a sound buffer for everyone's vocal enthusiasm.

You've been careful. All of you. Nothing has been given away to the public over the last ten months, and your individual fan bases have no idea that you and Dieter are back together. Or that you were ever together in the first place. This has been going well and you have decided to keep it quiet for now, not wanting to spoil the happy little bubble you've both been living in. No one even knows that you moved into Dieter's Sherman Oaks mansion six weeks ago.

“God, you’re so late.” Dieter huffs at you, although his grin shows that he doesn’t mean it at all. “Why didn’t you have Sadie pack you?”

"I am not late. I'm exactly on time." Desiree may or may not have clued you in on her tendency to tell Dieter that he has to be ready for things a minimum of fifteen minutes earlier than is actually necessary, and you have to admit. It works brilliantly. "Sadie asked for some personal time before the junket to go home and meet her baby nephew. I figured that that trumped packing my suitcase for me. She'll meet us at the hotel, though."

His own bag is waiting by the door and it’s a junket that he’s not actually dreading. Feeling better because you are going to be there and because he’s got a ten month sobriety chip in his pocket with your help. He has been sober beyond drinking wine or champagne with you. Even weed has been off limits because he can’t regulate himself.

"Ready to go, Bambi?" He looks ready – bright eyed and smiling if slightly tired, but that's your fault. You kept him up last night. Not that you're apologizing.

"I need some coffee." Dieter admits. "Maybe we can stop by and grab some?" He asks, pleading with big pouty eyes.

"Drive thru, or are you pouting at me so that I'll go inside the coffee shop and see what cookies they have today?" The two of you head out the front door to the car sent by the studio with Desiree standing by.

"Cookies." Dieter groans. Since quitting drugs, his sweet tooth has gotten worse, but he begrudgingly sweats through the workouts with the personal trainer you had hired for both of you. Telling him that you wanted him healthy so you could keep him for a long time had done the trick so he didn't whine too much.

"I'm sorry, did someone say cookies?" Desiree, as magical as she is, is sometimes nearly psychic. She has a paper bag in her hand that she wiggles in Dieter's direction before reaching forward to grab his suitcase to load into the trunk of the Town Car. "There's only one each so you don't get in trouble with your trainer, but I did not hold back on your coffee orders," she promises. "They're in the cupholders in the backseat already."

"Des, I love you." The way you hug her is nearly reverent, and you absolutely mean it. As much as you sing Sadie's praises, Desiree might be the only assistant in the world to rival her. And together? They're unstoppable.

"God." He groans happily and nearly dives into the car so he can get to the coffee, a nonfat two pumps white chocolate latte with two extra shots of espresso. "I love her more!" He calls back, happy to have his coffee and the prospect of a quick make out session in the car before having to pretend to be just your co-star for the next few days around others.

"I made him get up early to work out before we left," you explain, sending his assistant a grin before tucking your own suitcase into the trunk and climbing into the backseat after him. You've been on a cinnamon latte kick lately and the shop by his house – your house – makes an amazing one with just a touch of brown sugar steamed into the milk that tastes like heaven. The two hour drive will be a lot less tedious with Dieter in a good mood, and you have to admit that you could use the little caffeine boost as well.

"This is just what I needed." Dieter groans, sipping the latte like it is the key to eternal life but he picks up your latte to hand to you as you climb in beside him. He doesn't mind waking up for sex, he's always up for it, but he also knows he has to be on his A game to make sure he doesn't say anything. Dieter's management team has been ecstatic about the change in behavior of their client and doesn't want to break your good girl image with his still tarnished reputation.

“Thanks, love.” In the back of the car with the divider up, it doesn’t matter what you say. The only person back here with you is Desiree and she knows everything. Well – mostly everything. There are some details even she doesn’t need. “And thank you, Des.” When she climbs in after you and shuts the door, the car takes off right away. This weekend is running on a very tight schedule and LA traffic can be brutal, so there’s no time to spare.

"I hate press junkets." Dieter grumbles as the car speeds towards the freeway. "It's the same damn questions over and over by different people." The monotony of it bores him, wanting to be challenged by the questions rather than just trying to come up with new ways of repackaging the same shit.

“I know.” She sat through a hundred of these things with him, always hustling around to make sure things go smoothly, but she knows this time will be better. “At least you have good company this time.”

"That's the only good thing about this." Dieter winks at you. "As well as the soundbites for when we win our Oscars."

“You’re feeling very confident about that.” Comfortable enough to lean against his side as the car glides along the highway, you have to smile at his positive attitude. “Maybe this won’t be three days of torture after all?” The thing you always look forward to most is the cocktail party on the first night, usually because you get to mingle a little and spend time with your costars. This time? As long as Dieter is there, you’re game.

"I know you are going to win." He's confident of that, having watched the rough cut in its entirety. It was raw, real. The type of story that the Academy loves. "Hopefully the rumors that swirled during filming aren't brought up."

Unfortunately, it seemed like every kind of rumor was attached to you at some point during filming. You hated Dieter, you hated the director, you were dating your other costar, or you were dating your assistant – that one was immensely funny to Sadie, who thinks of you as a sister. “If they are, we’ll take them in stride. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Rumors are only rumors, after all.

"I know." He murmurs, reaching down and threading his fingers with yours gently. "I just don't want my shit to splatter onto you."

“Your shit is my shit, babe. They just don’t know that yet.” Not having decided when to reveal your relationship to the world, you just know that for now, the key is to respect each other as much as possible in front of the camera.

He chuckles and sends you a grin. "Doesn't Kevin Hart have a bit that is something like that?" He asks, remembering some kind of standup special he had watched when he was baked a few years ago. "But it was like 'your bullshit is my bullshit, motherfucker'. Or something like that."

“I think it was about best friends, but this definitely applies.” You lift your joined hands to press a kiss to his knuckles and grin. “Your bullshit is my bullshit, baby.”

"Anything you want to do after the first round of interviews?" He asks, wanting to take his mind off of the upcoming questions.

“You.” The beaming grin you aim at him is unapologetic. “I’d be more graphic, but Desiree doesn’t need to be any more traumatized by our sex life then she already is.”

His chuckle is dirty and he sneaks his hand down to your thigh to give it a rough squeeze. "After the party, right? I know you want to go to the party."

“I always like to go to the party.” He knows that about you – that you don’t always like a lot of social situations but that you love a good party.

"Then we are going to the party." Dieter decrees, like he had never not been going to go to that party with you. "We just have to survive the first round of interviews."

“I promise that I packed something skimpy.” You shoot him an evil grin but just sit demurely in your seat and sip your coffee like a perfect angel.

Groaning, he rolls his eyes and huffs. "That's just mean." He pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

“It’s not mean when you get to be the one who peels it off me at the end of the night.” It’s too cute. You can’t help but giggle, and even Desiree snickers in amusement.

"What happened to your good girl image?" Dieter asks, lifting a brow. "You know the press is going to be at this party as well and I'm going to have a hard time keeping my hands off of you."

“There will be swirling rumors that you’re desperately in love with me.” You tease, knowing that the dress you packed was chosen specifically to make him drool.

"That's not a rumor." He reminds you with a grin. "I am hopelessly in love with you. Desperate and hopeless. Never wanting to be out of love again."

“Well then, for once the Hollywood press corps will actually be telling the truth.” It’s not as though that’s a common phenomenon, so it’s worth teasing about. “I love you too, baby.”

“You know that story about the squirrel was totally fake, right?” Dieter frowns, leaning in to kiss you.

"Of course I know the squirrel thing was fake." You promise him, leaning into the kiss and relishing the small moment of tenderness. "That would be utterly ridiculous."

“Good.” He’s relieved you don’t believe that and kisses you again before snapping his head towards Desiree. “Cookie?”

"Cookie!" She hands over the bag with a flourish, knowing that getting Dieter in a good mood before a junket is vital. "And while Cookie is happening, maybe you'll let me go over your schedule for the day?"

Dieter huffs. “But that ruins the taste of the cookie.” He grumbles, perking up slightly when he sees it's a peanut butter chocolate chunk. “Fine.” He whines when his assistant doesn’t respond but just stares at him like a disappointed mother. She’s really good at guilting him without saying a word. Especially now that he’s sober, which is complete bullshit in his opinion.

The lemon shortbread cookie with lavender sugar makes you hum in contentment when you see it, and you sit back to listen dutifully. Sadie had already emailed you your itinerary and it is mostly the same as Dieter’s, but you’re still going to listen. These women take extremely good damn care of both of you and the least you can be is respectful.

******

The lighting in the room is bright, making Dieter wince and slip his sunglasses on. He’s not as sensitive to the light as he once was but the damn rings are making him see halos. “Ready to get this show on the road.” He huffs, fiddling with the water bottle that was already halfway empty.

“Let’s get started.” Your nod of agreement has the production assistant by the door moving, and you adjust in your seat slightly. At least the chairs they have for you in this place are comfortable upholstered ones and not like when they try to artistically arrange actors into director’s chairs for the aesthetic of it all. You have a cup of herbal tea on a small table just out of sight of the cameras thanks to Sadie and you’re ready to dive in. But mostly because she’s withholding baby pictures until the lunch break after you deal with the first round of interviews. The first woman who walks into the room looks nervous but bright eyed, and her credentials lanyard is a website you don’t recognize. She’s obviously a fan of Dieter’s, unconsciously focusing most of her attention on him, but you don’t mind.

Dieter straightens in his chair and the urge to reach for your hand is overwhelming so he plays with the edge of the chair he is sitting in. “Why did I choose this role?” He repeats the question and chuckles. “Contract obligations.” He jokes. “No, I liked the script. It was compelling and I knew that it was going to be amazing.”

It’s barely a joke, but you smile politely and don’t fuss when the woman gets flustered and forgets to ask you the question or at least wait for your answer. You understand being flustered by Dieter, it happens a lot. He’s far more charming naturally than he knows. The second question is about travel, and this time you don’t hesitate. “London was heavenly, but the hotel where they put the cast up in the French countryside was stunning. It was really like staying in someone’s home, and they made the experience so welcoming for all of us.”

Dieter smiles and nods, not expanding any more on the topic since you had answered. You had both talked about that hotel extensively and his own opinion mirrors yours.

The rest of her questions are fairly mundane, and you wonder if she was given first in as a warm up. Not wanting to hit you and Dieter with anything too thought-provoking right off the bat since Dee isn’t exactly famous for being a morning person. The next two people in ask requisite questions about working on a period piece and what it was like to work with the singer who played the third lead. The next seemed enamored of the fact that you had a very well behaved trained dog on set and wanted to know all about acting with an animal.

On and on it went, round and round again until even your break for lunch was a blur. The food was good, at least. That’s not always true at these things. A dozen or more interviews into the first day of the junket, Sadie brings you a fresh mug of tea and promises that the end is in sight. Just two more hours of this and you can go and wash off the tedium of interviews and get ready for the party.

“I’m so ready to stop smiling.” Dieter complains under his breath, his own refreshed latte in his hands as he watches yet another reporter bring in their equipment to set up. “Can I get some booze in this?” He begs Desiree, tilting his head. “Just a shot? Hell, even Bailey’s. Just something.”

“What happened to not drinking until the party?” His assistant asks with a raised eyebrow, having every intention of enforcing the deal they made yesterday.

“I got bored.” Dieter huffs quietly. “It’s the SSDD theory.”

“You’re done in two hours, and then you get a whole cocktail party to drink at.” Desiree reminds him. “You just need to survive a little bit longer. I hear there’s even cocktails named after your characters.”

“There are?” Dieter perks up tremendously at that idea and grins. “Okay. I’ll wait. But can we please have some interesting questions?” That part might have been a little too loud because the next reporter glances up from where they are setting up their camera.

There’s a flash of recognition on the reporter’s face. The look of someone tired who probably agrees that most of the questions they were asking aren’t worthwhile. He finishes setting up and sits down, but doesn’t open the small notebook that had just been in his hand. “So.” He smiles like he understands how tired the two of you must be, or at least he’s trying to be sympathetic. “This wasn’t exactly a run of the mill production process for you.”

Dieter glances over at you, seeing if you want to take the lead but your brow is slightly furrowed, so he answers. “If you mean the fact that we shot the emotionally tumultuous scenes first, yeah, I guess you could say that.” He chuckles. “Nothing like getting the shit slapped out of you on the first day to bond with your co-star.” He jokes, flashing you a grin. “Professionally speaking.”

"You didn't get along too well at the beginning of production, if memory serves." He shifts in his seat like a snake slithering toward a nest full of eggs. "The video of the two of you having it out in a restaurant in London made the rounds on the internet for weeks."

“Oh that….” Dieter chuckles and shrugs. “It’s me.” He deflects, pointing to himself. “Everyone gets pissed at me at some point.” He offers, like it would be unusual for his co-star to not be upset with him. “Emotions were high from filming that day.”

"But from someone so poised," he gestures to you, obviously hoping that he's poking a sleeping bear and trying to shake it awake.

"Unfortunately, sometimes being human is caught on film," you answer diplomatically. "As Dee said. Tensions were high in the beginning of filming. We had a lot of very high stress and high emotion scenes right in the beginning of the process and that really had us on our toes."

“Yes.” The reporter, Steven Someone, Dieter had already forgotten who he was with or his last name, nods in agreement. “However, from the video, it seemed to be…rather personal.” He continues on. “Did it have something to do with the production the two of you starred in together on Broadway together twelve years ago?”

“Actually?” No one has ever brought that up. It seemed like it had almost been lost to history. Your show and your history together seemed invisible to modern fans, and you’re honestly thrown a little off kilter by anyone even bringing it to the forefront. “No. It didn’t have anything to do with that. It was a misunderstanding on my part and I’ve apologized.” You’ve worshiped and posed for him since then, helping his sketchbook of you grow exponentially. But that is entirely personal.

“So the rumors that the two of you have an old spat are unfounded?” He asks, looking between the two of you. “Because the film almost seems to be an extension of that. Deeply personal.”

“I wasn’t aware of any rumours.” It makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat, the way this particular interview is turning out, but maybe it would be good to smooth this over. If there are rumours about you disliking each other, it would be good to gloss over them and make sure they’re ended.

“There’s reports that the set nearly shut down the first day due to an altercation and the table read was uncomfortable because of the tension between the two of you.” He acknowledges, without really asking a question.

“The beginning of this process was definitely tense,” you acknowledge, glancing nervously at Dieter who seems shell shocked by the way this interview has gone. “If anyone else in the cast or crew was made uncomfortable, obviously that’s something that was unintentional.”

“Obviously, there’s no tension now.” Dieter chuckles. “We are all temperamental artists at times, it plays well on screen but it can be uncomfortable until you find that niche.”

“No. In fact, now you seem quite cozy.” This reporter is smiling like he has a secret and your stomach rolls anxiously. “In fact.” The second time, the phrase almost sounds accusing. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, haven’t you?”

Dieter gives a small shrug, as if it doesn’t matter. “We’ve known each other for a long time.” He tells the reporter, annoyed at where this interview is going. “Of course we are going to spend time together.”

“So there’s no truth at all to the rumor that the very same moving truck that was seen in Echo Park near the home of America’s Sweetheart,” he practically points his own at you. “Was unloading just hours later in Sherman Oaks at Dieter’s mansion?”

Dieter’s eyes narrow and he shifts in his chair. “Aren’t we here to talk about a movie?” He looks behind him at the banner for the movie and nods. “Yeah, that movie?” He hooks his thumb behind him. “Our personal lives aren’t on the table.”

“You’ve called this film ‘deeply personal’.” He changes tactics but doesn’t back down. “Apparently the beginning of shooting wasn’t the only time things got tense on set. The love scenes were also extremely intimate.”

“As intimate as having a roomful of people watching simulated sex can be.” Dieter laughs. “Takes away the fun if you’re the only ones exposed. But it was an extremely professional set.” He looks at the camera and playfully gives it a ‘sorry’ look. “Nothing is real.”

The production assistant nearby gives the reporter the signal to wrap things up and you shift again, picking up your mug to wrap both hands around it like an herbal tea security blanket. The reporter looks unhappy that he has to stop but he looks at both of you seriously. “The movie is a very poignant film and if emotions were high, they translated to a fantastic performance.”

“Thank you.” Saved by the bell, you think with an inner sigh as you paint a smile on your face. “We had a sensational script and a wonderfully supportive cast of costars. And Sam’s vision as a director really brings things together.”

Once that reporter is cleared out, Dieter shakes his head. “Can we have a break?”

“We’re on a tight schedule.” Desiree frowns, knowing the publicity team won’t like it. “I can stall for a few minutes.”

“Just a couple of minutes.” Dieter nods as Desiree moves towards the door to prevent the next reporter from coming in. “How are you doing?” He asks immediately, his eyes wide. “Do you think someone actually saw the moving truck?”

“They must have.” You can’t squeeze his hand without giving yourselves away, so you keep both hands locked around your mug. “I mean I thought we were doing really well but obviously somebody saw something.” You had agreed together that you wouldn’t come out as a couple for at least a few more months. You had planned to allow yourselves to be photographed on a very well-behaved and well-earned vacation where your publicity teams could control the message and how the information disseminated to your fans. Apparently, you may need to speed up that plan.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Dieter frowns, sure that this is somehow his fault. He was the one who insisted that Sherman Oaks was where the two of you needed to live. You didn’t own your house, so he had thought it made sense.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” It’s a reflex of his, to apologize even when he isn’t at fault, and you shake your head. “We should just…we should decide. If we’re still going to keep this under wraps or if we’re going to open up about it sooner than we planned.” It would be okay, either way. You could still control the flow of information. Sadie and Desiree would get the ball rolling with your management and publicity teams now instead of in six more months. “I guess…we could always use the junket?”

He frowns, knowing that you wanted more time, and it feels like you two are being pushed into a corner. “We could.” He agrees. “I’ll do whatever you want to.”

“If we deny it up and down here and then come out at the premiere, they’ll snag us for lying.” You point out quietly. “So far we’ve never said we aren’t together, and we can keep it that way. Everything on the up-and-up. And the press will be at the cocktail party tonight.” Having to play a strategy on your own relationship is difficult, but both of you have experience in this area. “We should just…just make sure Des and Sadie have everything lined up before we do this. The whole point was to have our teams ready to go. No scandals for either of us.”

“You’re going to be the one taking a hit.” Dieter reminds you. “But I haven’t had a scandal that’s come up to bite us in the ass.” He’s been on his best behavior, to the annoyance of some of the tabloids.

“They’re going to dig for a scandalous past that doesn’t exist. It’s fine.” Part of the point is that your team will be able to speak to your rekindled romance and touch on the fact that you dated years ago during your time on Broadway. Each other’s one that got away. A very romantic spin on the reality of an abusive father controlling his son from afar.

“Dear ole dad is spinning in his grave.” Dieter chuckles. “He never wanted me to have a squeaky clean image, said it was a direct reflection of him.”

“He wanted a product to sell, not a son.” It makes you sad, honestly, and you sigh into your tea. “He never saw how amazing you are all on your own.”

“Doesn’t matter now.” He knows that, although it still hurts. It had been one of the reasons that he had never had children. Never wanted to risk fucking them up.

“I love you.” It doesn’t cure the hurts, but the whispered words make him smile and that’s what matters.

“I love you too.” Dieter wants to lean in to kiss you, but he knows Desiree can only keep them out for so long. He smiles at you and nods. “Let me know when you want to do this.” He tells you before he calls for his assistant.

“Everything okay?” Desiree and Sadie appear together an instant later with concern on their faces.

“How long do you think it would take you to be ready to go with the photo leaks and press statements?” You ask them, barely raising your voice above a murmur. “If one reporter knows things, then I’d bet anything that more do.”

“Oh shit.” Desiree’s eyes widen slightly and she looks back at the door. “We have everything ready. Just whenever you are ready to push.”

"Tonight?" In a perfect world you could just be yourselves. Just cuddle up on the sofa and be together. But your lives are more complicated than that. "Use the cocktail party as the staging ground?"

Dieter nods. “I don’t have to keep my hands off of you.” He hums happily. Any time he doesn’t have to worry about not being able to touch you, he’s in a better mood. Even the interviews where the two of you playfully touch while joking were better in his book.

"If you're ready, we'll get the ball rolling." Sadie promises, flashing a proud grin at Desiree. This publicity roll out is some of their best work. "By the time the cocktail party starts, you'll be free to snuggle as much as you like."

“Okay, let’s get this next round of interviews done.” Dieter grumbles, like he wasn’t the one that needed a break. “I want to shower before the party.”

******

It ends up taking slightly more than two hours before you and Dieter can get back to your suite to get ready, but at least you make it through things without any more nasty questions or grouchy attitudes. The second you shut the suite door behind you, you go straight into his arms to claim a hug. "Well that's done," you huff with a half-assed chuckle. "Tomorrow we get to do even more of them."

“So what you’re saying is that I need to be drunk tomorrow?” Dieter huffs, squeezing you gently and sighing softly as he burrows into your neck and inhales the scent of your perfume.

“Tomorrow we’re going to get all the questions about us.” Considering you have the two most trustworthy and effective people you know working for you, you know that whatever they’re leaking or releasing, Sadie and Desiree are doing it at this exact moment. “It should be a much more interesting day.”

“Are you ready?” He asks seriously, pulling back to caress your cheek. “Soooo many jokes about taming me. Or orgies, or whatever.”

“Well, you’ve never taken me to an orgy, so I’m afraid I won’t understand those jokes.” You remind him, putting on your best innocent face. “I’m ready, honey. Honestly. I’m sorry that our hand got forced, but I’m proud to love you and I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

“I wouldn’t want you at an orgy.” He frowns just thinking about it and slides his hands down your sides. “It’ll make red carpet walks better.”

“So much better.” His hands land on your hips and you gravitate toward him instinctively. “Are you sure you’re ready?” As much as you’ll get a few jokes or comments about taming him, he’s going to get the brunt of it. The intimate details of his life have been much more on display than yours.

“You know I don’t care what the media thinks about me.” He does but it’s not like he can undo the damage already done. All he can do is allow his image to be shaped into something else.

“I know that you say that.” With two fingers you brush a stray curl from his forehead. “But you also can’t get bent out of shape if they say things about me. It’s their job to stir shit. Or at least to try.”

“You don’t deserve it though.” He pouts, frowning at you. “I won’t.” He huffs when you just stare at him with that ‘I don’t believe you’ expression on your face.

“We’re going to have fun tonight, and we’re going to be us. The real us.” You wrap him up in both arms and hug him to your chest, grinning when he burrows into your neck again for comfort. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“I know it will be.” That he’s certain of. The alternative is for the two of you to not be together and he’s not doing that. Not again. “Do you want to shower together, or do you want to wait until we leave the party?”

"Oh no, we're definitely showering together." The wolfish grin you throw him comes with a wink, and you pull away to head into the bathroom knowing that he's right behind you. "I want to walk into that party having been freshly fucked, thank you very much."

“Fuck.” Dieter grins, rushing to pull his shirt over his head and mussing his hair up. “What are we waiting for? Get naked!”

The vague sound of a snort from the other room tells you that Sadie heard that, and you can't help but giggle as you toss your blouse onto the long counter and reach into the overlarge stall to turn on the shower.

“Jesus.” Dieter can’t help but stop in his tracks and admire the beauty of you in front of him. Since moving in together, you have modeled several times and yet he still can’t help but stare. “I love you.”

You pause in your tracks, turning around to face him with your bra off and your hands on the fly of your pants – and a dopey, lovestruck smile on your face. He really is just sweet sometimes, and it's a side of him that almost no one gets to see. You honestly couldn't be prouder or more flattered that he is so soft and loving with you. "I love you, too."

Dieter grins and pushes his pants down, he had purposefully not worn underwear because of having to sit all day, so his hard length bounces out as he kicks off the pants.

“I’m gonna buy you silk underwear one day, and you’re gonna love how soft it is so much that you’re going to want to wear it all the time.” Not that you mind that he goes commando. It’s one less layer to strip away in order to have him inside you. He loves his little luxuries, though, and you know it would make him smile.

“Why, so they can remind me of how good your hand feels?” He smirks at you as you step into the shower. This is intimate and playful, the two of you falling into an easy comfort with each other.

“I told you that moisturized skin makes all the difference.” He had teased you about being so religious in your nighttime routine of moisturizers and cleansers, but he never argued with the results.

He grins, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around you. “We have about twenty minutes.” He hums. “It’s going to have to be a quickie.”

“Then you should decide if you want my front or my back pressed against that wall,” you hum, slinging both arms around him so you can drag him down for a kiss.

“Back.” He groans against your mouth. “Easier to kiss you.”

He’s always been greedy with kisses, much to your delight, and now he backs you up against the cold marble just as eagerly as he slips his tongue into your mouth revels at the needy moan it earns him. It takes no effort to melt into him and you reach between your bodies to wrap your hand around his cock and stroke.

The way you touch him makes his knees weak, sagging and leaning into you as he plunders your mouth with his own. Eager to be inside you again. It must be a symphony of moans and whines to anyone outside your little bubble, but all you can ever focus on is Dieter. He’s all you’ve ever wanted and still all you need, and when he picks your leg up to sit on his waist you shift forward with ease, eager to have him inside you again.

“Baby, you’re so good to me.” Dieter kisses down your neck and across your shoulder. “Best drug, you, you’re it.”

"Love you so fucking much." The way he nips at your skin leaves you breathless every time and you whimper softly. "Need you, Dee. Please?"

“Yes baby.” There isn’t enough time to tease you, to draw this out. Too needy for the solace your body gives him, he lines up and sinks in faster than both of you can inhale.

"Fuuuuuuck." No matter how many times you take him it's always a stretch, like a personal challenge to your dripping cunt to see if it will ever not make your eyes roll back in your head or your chest heave to draw him as deep inside you as possible. Tonight it's a gorgeous feeling of being split open as he braces your back against the wall and drapes both of your legs over his forearms to leverage you in between the marble and his body, impaling you on his cock so quickly that it almost makes you dizzy.

“Shiiiiiiit.” Dieter hisses. “How are you so fucking tight?” He whines. “I fuck you all the time.” He loves it, cock twitching deep and he grinds his hips to try to reach a fraction of inch deeper. Feeling like he will drive through your back wall with the first thrust.

"Kegels," you tease, diving forward to kiss him when it's truly the most you can do in this position.

“Keep doing them.” He groans against your lips, too busy trying to devour you to really talk beyond that point. You love making him crazy and everything you do accomplishes that. Especially the way you moan into his mouth.

Each determined thrust drives you firmly into the cold wall, pushing a moan into his kiss and making both of you grip each other tighter. His feet firmly planted on the shower floor hold both of you steady as he rocks into you and you do everything you can to meet him at every swing of his hips. It's a precarious dance but a rewarding one, letting him hit all the deepest, most sensitive places in your greedy pussy.

“Fuck, fuck.” Dieter groans, eyes fluttering and he tries to make sure neither one of you end up on the fucking floor. “Tonight–” he gasps. “Tonight, ride me.” He begs, knowing he will be needy and submissive after a night schmoozing. He normally is.

“Want to—” You gasp, whimpering when he hits so deep inside you that you swear you’re going to go permanently cross eyed from the way it jolts through your body. “Worship tonight, baby?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” The way you make him feel like a god is addictive. To you– it seems like he is the best among all men. Desperately soothing the ego that loves to be stroked and it's different. He knows you mean it. The love you have for him makes it even better, making him crave it just like he wants to worship you.

Coming back to the depths of your relationship with Dieter has been easy in some ways. The emotional and sexual attachments that you had fostered years ago sprang back to life as though they had never once been doubted. Trust was rebuilt over time, through tangible examples of making and keeping promises and both of you speaking up even when you were uncomfortable or afraid of toeing a line. Moving in together has been the culmination of hard work and deep love, and you have both been so proud of your hard work. Tonight is another big step but right now you let yourself revel in what comes so easily to you. Sex is like your safe haven. The place where only you and he exist. And even though you’re a half dozen thrusts away from cumming at the very most, thinking of the next time you’ll get to be in his arms is absolutely thrilling.

“Love you baby.” Dieter groans, feeling you getting ready to cum, picking up your cues like it was just yesterday that he was introducing you to how wonderful sex is. “Cum for me.”

"Love you." It might be barely bitten out on a groan but you mean every syllable. In less than a minute you're spasming around him, tight walls pulling him as deep into your body as you can manage and hands clinging to his shoulders while you whimper in his ear and come apart for him all in one breathtaking moment.

He groans, rocking up onto the balls of his feet and scrambling back to press his lips to yours. Needing to kiss you will he tumbles off the edge after you. Only managing to thrust two more times before he is grinding deep and shuddering as he fills you.

You stay pinned together like that for as long as it takes to get your breath back, exchanging small kisses full of indulgence before he finally lets your legs down and makes sure you're steady on your feet. "We should wash up," you murmur unconvincingly, needing at least two more quick kisses before you even think of reaching for the soap.

“I think this might be the first time I’ve ever been disappointed to have a party planned for a night.” Dieter huffs, amused at himself. Normally he would already be getting hammered to pregame, but if you were to decide to stay in this room, he would snuggle up to you and order room service.

"It will be fun." At least you don't have to pretend anymore, and that is its own kind of fun and freedom. "You can kiss me in public now. Remember that."

“But no making out, right?” There had been a meeting with your own PR about what kind of PDA would be permissible to continue to craft your more respectable image.

"Right." A face cloth and body wash make it into your hand with the intention of each of you washing yourselves, otherwise you would never leave the overlarge shower. "And touching is fine but no groping. It's like foreplay for PDA," you grin at him, handing over the soaped-up cloth.

“What about a butt squeeze?” Dieter pouts, still not completely happy with these rules. “Just one! It will be tasteful.”

“How about resting your hand there for no more than five seconds.” While your publicist had looked at you like you have six heads when you told her about Dieter, she had since come to think of it like a challenge. A professional test, of sorts. Could Dieter Bravo be made to look respectable? Only time would tell.

“Only if I get to flex my fingers for the last second.” He compromises, grinning as he starts rubbing the soapy rag over his body. He knows how much you like his butt squeezes. And his boob squeezes, and it’s not like he’s trying to negotiate that for public spaces.

“Deal.” There’s a silly grin on your face as you put your hand out for him to shake like it’s some kind of shady business bargain instead of a goofy moment between lovers.

“Guys!” Sadie’s voice is muffled from the other side of the wall but still clear. “Rivkah and Monique are here to get you ready! No time for round two!”

“There’s always time for round two!” Dieter yells back, even as he steps out from under the water and turns off the shower.

It only takes a little while for both of you to get ready, thanks to your teams, and the all-black ensemble that Desiree had packed for tonight has just a few accents of blue to subtly match your dress. You hadn’t planned to come out tonight, but the decision to leave subtle little clues in your outfits for the weekend was a very good one after all.

In the elevator, you squeeze his hand and lean your careful coiffed head on his shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”

“As long as you are.” Your fame being impacted is the only downside of this in his opinion. He knows his own reputation. It will be met with disbelief and then there will be bets made on how long it lasts and if you try to hit him with a car when you inevitably break up because he’s fucked up. He knows all this. He just hopes you can put up with it and remember that the past is behind him.

“I’ve made my decision.” You tell him honestly and reach for his hand to thread your fingers together as the elevator descends to the first floor. “And if Hollywood makes me pick between it and you?” Exhaling softly, your eyes flick up to his. “The answer is you.”

That makes Dieter have to bite his lip, emotional from your confession. “I’d pick me too.” He teases softly, squeezing your hand.

With time enough to roll your eyes at him playfully before the elevator doors open, you smirk and return the squeeze of his hand. “Careful. Or I won’t stroke anything besides your ego tonight.”

“You love stroking Mr. Wiggles.” Dieter mutters under his breath, just to make you laugh before he steps out and pulls you out behind him. He hasn’t named his penis and if he did, it wouldn’t be Mr. Wiggles.

Thanks to the well-timed comment you’re choking on smothered laughter as the doors open, and the very first picture taken by a photographer of you and Dieter as an official couple has you beaming at him with a broad and honest grin on your face and laughter in your eyes as he holds your hand. It’s a beautiful image. The two of you are dressed immaculately and happy, the perfect picture of romantic bliss. You doubt either of your teams could have planned a better image.

Just like he would have with any starlet he was escorting to an awards show, Dieter is attentive. However, this time, it’s more intimate. His smiles are real and his hold on your hand never wavers for a moment as some of the reporters start to immediately buzz with excitement.

The ‘carpet’ you have to walk is actually the main hallway through the hotel which has been blocked off and styled as a greeting area so that no one not in attendance would have any idea you weren’t at an elegant party. The party itself, however, is outside. The entire patio and garden area of the hotel has been turned into a cocktail area with room for schmoozing and music for dancing. It will be fun, you just have to get to it first. The very first reporter to get your attention asks the standard questions about what designers you’re wearing, and you excitedly name names and give details so that the independent women designers you worked with for this event would get their due attention.

“Don’t ask me!” Dieter shrugs and grins. “I only know that the clothes feel really good and she looks amazing.”

“He’s wearing Gucci.” You grin, having gotten that tidbit from Desiree earlier. “Head to toe.” When he looks at you with surprise, you just shrug. “You look amazing, too. I was curious.”

Grinning, he winks at you and then back at the reporter. “She’s going to have me styled in Gucci all the time now.” He jokes. “But we’ll see, right?”

“Do you have a hand in his style these days?” The reporter asks, confusion indicating that she hasn’t picked up on what you two are trying to give away for free.

Lips quirked into a knowing grin, you nearly wink at the reporter on your own this time. “Most girlfriends do, don’t they?”

Dieter almost laughs at how wide the poor woman’s eyes get, nearly choking on air as she immediately tries to talk again through her excitement. He doesn’t though. He just gives her a concerned look as he stands beside you.

“This film was an adventure.” You tell the reporter with a smile. This quote will be used over and over again, so you have made yourself memorize something nice from your publicist instead of trying to improvise. “We were lucky to be able to have that adventure together.”

The reporter who had started grilling you during the junket nearly spills a drink as he starts jumping up and down. “I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

"Oh?" The amusement on your face is notable when you turn to find the man nearly flailing in your direction. "Then you should have asked directly." Not that you wouldn't have been a deer in the proverbial headlights if he had, but you can pretend otherwise.

It’s almost worth the annoyance Dieter had suffered earlier to see the devastation on his face as the reporter realizes he lost the exclusive scoop. It was now going out, might already be posted.

The next reporter on the carpet is a man you're familiar with. He's worked for his magazine for a decade by now and routinely does these junkets, but didn't sit with you today – his interview must be scheduled for tomorrow. "Hi Tom," you smile cordially as you and Dieter step over in line and you shake his hand warmly.

He's a nice guy. Likes to talk about his kids whenever he gets the chance, so you make small talk about little Ashley and Kaiden for a minute before he flashes a big smile at you. "I have to know how it happened," he insists with a breathless laugh of disbelief that you have a feeling is going to be the resounding reaction tonight.

Dieter glances over at you and smiles. “We’ve known each other for a long time. We did a play together twelve years ago and had a relationship then.” He shrugs. “I was an ass, she unbelievably decided to give me another chance.” He’s been willing to take the blame for the past and frame you as this saving angel if it helps. “The chemistry was still there.”

“Twelve years ago?” Tom sounds shocked but also soft at that revelation. Like it’s some kind of magical gift — and maybe for you and Dieter, it is.

“Not everyone gets a second chance,” you hum, still smiling, but this time that smile is gentle and aimed at Dieter before turning back to the reporter you have known for several years. “We’re very lucky. Why don’t we tell you all about it when we sit down tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. But for now, the two of you look happy.” He knows he will be up late rewriting most of his questions.

“We are.” That much is undeniable, bringing warmth to your cheeks. “We really are.”

“I’m sure we will talk later but the movie was excellent, enjoy the party you deserve.” Tom nods to you and allows you to move along.

Each short moment with each reporter is some variant of this, as most people are too flabbergasted to say much of anything right now. Tomorrow you’ll be bombarded with questions but for tonight you’re going to bask in the glow of not having to hide what makes you happy.

“Well no one accused us of lying.” Dieter chuckles under his breath. That had been something he had really thought would happen. People would claim it was a publicity stunt for the movie.

“I’m sure someone will tomorrow,” you laugh nervously as he guides you out, into the mood lighting and manicured decor of the party. “I think most of them were too shell shocked to even think of that.”

“Of course they are.” The bar is set up and he guides you towards it. “You – Hollywood’s dream girl – dating me.” He snorts. “Hollywood’s disaster.”

“You’re like the tornado from The Wizard of Oz,” you tell him, with a confidence that makes him snort but also look at you with a curiosity that asks why. “You swept into my life and made everything Technicolor. Sometimes it’s hard or even scary, other times it’s joyful and exciting. But either way, I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He can’t help but lean in and press his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Not as intimate as he would like, but enough that he shows you how touched he is.

“It was meant as one.” Even a small kiss is a big deal right now, and you can just feel the sheer number of cameras pointed at you right now, but you still smile at him and thank the bartender who sets one specialty cocktail each in front of you - the ones named for your characters.

“To your first Oscar.” Dieter grins as he picks up the drink and holds yours out to you as a toast. “I will be proud of you and cry from the audience when you win.”

“To your second Oscar.” Gently tapping the rim of your glass against his, you can’t help the warm and cuddly feeling that all of this gives you. Like this is how it was meant to be so many years ago. This was the future you were always intended to have. Right here with him. “I will be proud of you and crying from the audience when you win.”

“Nahhh.” Dieter shakes his head. “Your performance is the stronger one. It’s your movie really.”

“We’ll see.” He has never really known what he’s capable of on his own, and is even worse at accepting a sincere compliment, so you won’t press the point. But the fact is, Dieter Bravo would have been a huge movie star even if his father hadn’t been one before him. “Let’s just go enjoy the party.”

“Of course.” He winks and throws back the rest of his drink. The next one will be sipped because he has no intention of getting too drunk. “You know how much I love to party.”

******

You had learned very early on that Dieter never threw parties, but he was always invited to them. No matter which castmate or crew member or artist friend or old school pal was having people by, Dieter was always on the top of the guest list. He was a bragging point as much as a fun guest, giving people the chance to proudly spout that a movie star had been at a party they gave. And whether he cared about that or not, he almost always showed up – and he always brought you with him. You were his devoted arm candy and proud of it, whisked around every party like a beautiful bauble. His energy had always been electric, and wherever he focused his attention was the center of the universe. And no matter how long it took to make his rounds and shine his light on everyone he could, it always ended up back on you.

“Hey Bambi.” He had gotten dragged away from you, pulled into a story telling time about his time when he was filming a nude scene at fourteen and the ethics of it. Now back at your side, he drops his arm over your shoulder and plucks the almost lukewarm beer from your hand to take a sip. He was thirsty and the buzz that attention gives him was starting to wear off. “You enjoying yourself?”

“I was just thinking of getting a new drink.” His arms rests heavy and enticing around your body and you move into him automatically to get a hint of the cologne he wears. You have no clue what it is, but it smells exotic and heady. “Wanna come with me?”

“Course I do.” Dieter finishes off your beer and leans in with a vicious smirk on his lean face. “And later, I want to come in you.” He teases in your ear before nibbling on it, just to make you shiver.

"Babe." It makes you completely weak in the knees when he does things like that – says things like that – and you've never been more convinced that starting birth control was the right move. "Does that mean you want me to stay over tonight?" You ask with a wide-eyed pout that practically begs him to say yes. In the months since you started working and sleeping together, you've barely ever slept apart. But you try not to assume.

“How are we going to go to a hangover brunch tomorrow morning where we eat wayyyyyy too many sweet and salty things if you don’t stay?” He practically pouts at the idea. Sleeping better with you beside him, though he’s never told you that.

"Let it never be said that we don't take our two-show days very seriously." A solemn nod makes you giggle, knowing full well that doing two shows each day on the weekends is something that is equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. This is your craft, and you relish the opportunity to flex all of those muscles that you have been honing since you were just a young teen back in Washington. "I'm happy to stay, babe. I just didn't want to assume."

He huffs and rolls his eyes, wanting to ask you why you don’t assume, everyone else does. No one actually ever asks Dieter permission. They just assume he will want to be at a party or go out to the bar. You constantly not knowing if you aren’t spending the night has him thinking about asking you to just give up your apartment. But he’ll wait until your lease is coming up. No need for you to pay a penalty.

You don't tell him that you're terrified that he's going to get sick of you. That being too clingy or too emotional or too anything will be what makes him decide that the novelty of you has worn off. Telling him that would surely be the last nail in the coffin of a relationship that has come to mean so much to you, so you just smile instead and sidle up to the kitchen counter at this house party that has been transformed into a bar. "What are you in the mood for?"

Immediately distracted, Dieter strides up to the bar and reaches for the harder liquor. “Do you want me to make you a drink?” He asks. “It’s the very first drink I ever had.”

"Sure!" Of course you're always going to say yes to him. He's had such a wonderful breadth of experiences already and you hate how naive or sheltered you can feel sometimes by comparison.

“You will find that these are somewhat of an acquired taste.” Dieter hums as he adds scotch whiskey and vermouth into a shaker and walks over to the fridge to get some ice.

"Now I'm nervous." You lean on the counter while you watch him, biting your lip and not disguising the fact that you're watching his hips move as he walks. "What exactly are you making for me?"

“A Rob Roy.” He hums as he grabs some ice and turns around to wink at you. “A very classy cocktail.”

"Trying to class me up, Dee?" A little nervous that you won't like it, you put your nose up in the air and affect an air of absolute class and sophistication to mask your worry – and hopefully to make him laugh.

Dieter snorts and sticks his tongue out at you. “I’m just hoping you snort it up your nose choking on it like I did.” He scoffs playfully. “But– to be fair– I was eight.”

"Eight?" Sometimes when he mentions things from growing up they're cute stories or funny anecdotes. Sometimes they're downright disturbing instead. This qualifies as the latter.

“Yeah.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal and slaps the top on the shaker to start shaking it. “One of dad’s parties.”

"Of course." The first time you ever went to a party with people drinking or smoking was probably halfway through college, but that just makes you feel ridiculous next to him. He calls you Bambi for looking innocent, but sometimes you wonder if he knows exactly how deep that side of your personality runs.

There isn’t a martini glass to strain the drinks into but the plastic cups get three dashes of bitters in the bottoms before he starts to evenly divide the liquor between the two. That was his father’s secret to a good Rob Roy. The bitters are only added at the end and never stirred in. He fishes out the ice with a spoon and hands you a cup. “To your new favorite drink.” He teases, sending you a small wink.

The first sip burns, almost sending you into a coughing fit that would assuredly be the least sexy you’ve ever been in front of him, but you manage to get yourself under control enough to take a second sip and that tastes delicious. Once you get past the initial shock of strong liquor, there’s something nuanced and addictive about the drink. You flash him a grin over the top of your plastic cup and count yourself lucky that you only coughed a little and your eyes only watered a little at the first sip. The last thing you want is for Dieter to think you can’t keep up. “Actually? It’s really good.”

Laughing, Dieter takes a sip of his own drink and grimaces slightly. “Glad you enjoy it.” He hums, wanting to tell you that you don’t have to like it, not if you don’t want to. “I got trashed off of them and threw up in the pool that night.”

“Sounds…fun?” Sometimes when he tells you things like this from his childhood you really just don’t know how to respond. Without being able to relate in any way, you usually just listen and tuck the information away for later recollection. He is a puzzle, and you’re slowly starting to put the pieces together.

“Yeah.” Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “Dad was disappointed. Said a man doesn’t quit until he’s thrown up for the second time.”

“You were eight!” That isn’t the definition of adulthood in any culture you’ve ever heard of, and you immediately move to put your arms around your boyfriend. “I’m sorry, honey. I try to be supportive, but that’s bullshit.”

He’s embarrassed for a moment. Wondering if you are right since he has zero clue what a normal upbringing looks like. “Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs it off and tosses you a charming grin as he slides closer to press his lips to yours. A distraction. “Just you matters right now.”

Though you can’t say you have a lot of experience with addiction, drugs, intoxicants, any of that - you do know what it is to crave. From the first time Dieter kissed you in your dressing room the day you met, you’ve craved him. Needed to have him near and felt like a piece of you was missing when he wasn’t. Maybe you know more about addiction than you think you do. You kiss him and kiss him in that kitchen, drinks forgotten until the only thing in your mind are the small sounds of pleasure coming from both of you and the way he makes you weak in the knees with seemingly no effort at all.

Dieter has you pressed against the counter, loving how easily you give over. There’s no rehearsing, it’s just natural. He’s more…dominant with you, although you do like to explore. You love pleasure and he loves giving it to you.

“God.” A voice from a few yards away rings out a groan followed by a disbelieving laugh. “Just don’t fuck in the kitchen, okay you two?”

“No promises.” Dieter jokes over his shoulder. “Not when Bambi is as beguiling as she is.”

When he breaks apart from you, you bury your burning face in his chest to hide your embarrassment and cling to his sides for that support you crave. He’s your shield against the world and the fact that someone as extraordinary as Dieter wants you is making you re-examine how you perceive yourself altogether. “Beguiling, huh?” You tilt your head back and beam at him.

“I said what I said.” He purses his lips at you playfully. “Besides, it could be considered performance art if we did fuck in the kitchen.” He’s joking, he knows you would never go for that, but it’s fun to see you squirm.

“It would only be performance art for you!” You giggle, trying to smother the giddy idea that he’s planted in your head. It’s so wildly outside of the realm of possibility, but a fun fantasy to hang on to. “If I do it, it’s indecent exposure.”

“Nahhhhhh.” Dieter takes advantage of your leaning back to laugh to lean forward and nibble on your neck.

“Deeeee…” His name is always drawn out when you whine it, and your fingers clutch the front of his shirt in fists to keep him close. You don’t want him to stop, you just want him to know what he’s doing is driving you crazy.

“I’ve got you.” Dieter chuckles and nips just a touch harder. He likes it when you are all whiny and needy for him. “What do you want baby?”

“You.” The answer is always the same. It’s always him, in some way, shape, or form. If you were back at his place already you’d be dropping to your knees in front of him. He’s barely left your neck to breathe and you giggle between gasps. “Swear to god you’re a vampire.”

“I vant to suck your bloooood.” He intones in a theatrical voice, as good as any Dracula of the old movies.

It earns him more giggles, and you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair as you find his eyes. “Vampires are sexy, ya know. It could work.”

“I’ll have to get a role as a vampire.” He grins and pretends to bare his teeth. “Just for you, Bambi.”

******

It's a touch-and-go night in some ways, as some people seem to be fascinated by the revelation of your relationship with Dieter and others seem almost agitated by it. The production team is delighted, knowing that all of the attention will only do good things for the movie. And your castmates seem relieved that they no longer have a secret to keep mum about. For you and Dieter? You've been sitting by the hotel pool chatting amiably with whomever stops by and nursing your drinks out over a long time so that you always have one in hand but never let your behavior get out of hand – which would lead to hands on each other.

One of the people you don't recognize – maybe a significant other you weren't formally introduced to or a bold reporter, you can't tell – is smiling brightly to Dieter. They're chatting away about a horror movie he was in a few years ago when you suddenly gasp dramatically and look up at Dieter with wide eyes. "You played a vampire in that," you blurt out, puzzle pieces clicking together in your head.

Tilting his head, Dieter shoots you a confused expression. “Yeah?” He asks, not quite sure what you are getting at. You had told him that you hadn’t watched many of his movies after he had left. He was surprised you knew that it was a vampire movie.

“Jessie’s house party.” It’s like an anvil dropped on you, or a house, and you can feel yourself just staring. Sure you hadn’t gone to see his movies in theaters, but you always eventually saw them in the dark secrecy of your own apartment. That one had just slipped your attention. “You said you were going to play a vampire for me one day.”

It clicks and he bites his lip. “Oh yeah.” He murmurs softly. “You haven’t seen it.” He motions towards the person he is talking to. “What’s the name of the vampire’s obsession?” He asks, not wanting to be the one to tell you.

“It’s…” The man looks between the two of you, confused. “It was some…bimbo name, wasn’t it?”

“Bambi.” Your mouth runs dry and you can practically feel your jaw unhinge at the same time that your eyes widen. “I—it…it was Bambi. Wasn’t it?”

“Bambi!” he explains, slapping his hands on his thigh. “That was it! Never understood why they named the lead ‘Bambi’.” He huffs, shaking his head. Dieter shrugs.

“I’m the one who chose it.” He says, remembering how he had insisted, even threatening to drop from the movie if ‘Deandra’ wasn’t changed to ‘Bambi’. The executive producer had accused him of trying to change it to some misogynist soft porn but he had been adamant and eventually got his way.

Your gentle hold on Dieter’s hand tightens immediately. You won’t start gushing in front of this stranger, but the silent signal to Dee is obvious. “I, um…I think it works well. Ya know…it codes the character as innocent. Naive, even.”

“It makes sense considering she was the one to destroy the vampire.” He reconsiders it, maybe even a little embarrassed that he might have insulted Dieter. “In that case, I like it.”

He wanders away before it can get awkward, making the excuse that he needs a fresh drink, but you just tug Dieter into your arms the second he’s gone. “Bambi, huh?” You murmur, holding him as tight as you can.

“Yeah.” Dieter shrugs slightly, embarrassed. “Got called a pig for that.”

“It’s a slightly unusual nickname.” If you weren’t wearing a delicate piece of artwork in the form of a full face of makeup, you would be burying your face in his chest immediately as you hug him. “I’ve always liked it, though.”

“I know you do.” Dieter hems and haws a little bit before he decides to ask. “You really didn’t know the name of the lead female character?”

“I didn’t.” You shake your head, shrugging guiltily. “It normally takes a while for me to muster up the courage to watch your movies…I always get nostalgic and it was a lot of emotions before. But I always do see them eventually. I know I said I didn’t…I just didn’t want you to know then that I…I missed you enough to watch them anyway.”

He can acknowledge that he was enough of a dick to deserve that. “I get it.” He promises quietly. “Maybe we’ll sit down and watch it together. I normally don’t watch my own shit, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

“Seriously?” He makes a rule of it. You know that. It was one of the wisdoms handed down from his father. “That would be pretty big for you, baby.”

“I’d do it for you.” He’s planning on actually watching the movie at the premier this time. For you. For your acting.

“I love you, too.” It’s nothing short of a miracle for Dieter to break his biggest rules and you know it.

******

“Don’t worry babe, you’re going to win.” Dieter hums, the buzz of the night not one brought on by chemical influence but by pure joy at the thought. As predicted, you had been nominated, for a second year in a row. This time Dieter is also nominated as well as the film itself. The red carpet had been trodden down together and the two of you had played your near year as a couple up slightly. Still shocking people that Dieter had lasted this long and that the two of you seem to glow happily.

“We don’t know that. We can’t know that.” After all, a Golden Globe win is no guarantee of an Oscar. You’d gotten one of those last year and not the Academy Award. Still, you clutch his hand as you sit down together in the front row and smile through the nerves.

“Please.” He scoffs and smirks. “They wouldn’t have put you in the front row so you can get on stage quickly in that dress if you aren’t winning.”

“Or they only put me in the front row because they wanted you here for your award.” You counter, not admitting that he has a point. The spectacular red and gold satin Carolina Herrera ball gown you have on is one of a kind and made specifically for you – and rather worth showing off.

“Nahhhhh.” He knows you are going to win. “They want me as far back as possible to keep my speech time short.”

“We’ll see.” You really have been trying not to jinx yourself, and you squeeze his hand tightly. “What do you want to bet?”

“If you win, you have to tell everyone up on stage you love me.” He teases, picking up your joined hands and kissing the back of yours.

“I would do that anyway.” His hand gets a kiss in turn. “Try again.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes and you and then leans in with a grin on his face. “You have to let me fuck you during the after party.”

“Scandalous.” But your tone makes it clear that you’re more amused than aghast, and you smirk right back at him while you enjoy the sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “Deal. Although this dress is going to be a challenge.”

“I rise to challenges.” He’s already though about how he would fuck you in this dress. “Or at least let me duck under it.”

“Whatever you want.” You promise him, knowing that he’s much better at self control these days when it comes to not doing anything reckless in public. This is…call it a treat. This is a treat for him. “But if you win?” Pretending to think, you tap your chin and grin. “We’re taking a little vacation. My treat. Anywhere you want to go.”

“That’s dangerous.” He laughs. “What if we both win?” It’s a possibility for sure this time.

“Then we do both?” It wouldn’t kill the two of you to take a break. In the year since the film you made together wrapped, you’ve both filmed at least one other project and done plenty of other professional work. You stay extremely busy.

“We could. Might be good to be seen ‘frolicking’ on a beach somewhere?” He hums in amusement. “Or we could do something really unusual. Normal, even.”

“What would we do that’s normal?” You emphasize the word, pretending to be disgusted by it.

“Why don’t we do a cruise?” His eyes light up. “Be completely cheesy and pretend we aren’t Hollywood stars and book a normal cruise. Pretend like we don’t know what’s going on.”

“Like a normal couple.” It’s quite sweet, actually, and you lean over to kiss him. “Alright. You’re on. We’ll go on a cruise and be totally normal for once.”

“But can we have a balcony room?” Dieter asks, pouting slightly. “I don’t like the interior rooms. Too confining.”

“I promise.” The grin you shoot him is beaming. “Whatever you want.”

“Ladies and gentlemen….” The announcer comes over the speakers and Dieter can’t help but bite his lip happily. “Showtime.” He leans over and kisses your cheek for luck.

It’s a long night, but awards nights always are. Waiting through all the other categories for your own is a special kind of torture, until the presenter for Best Actress finally steps out on stage.

“It’s going to be you.” Dieter repeats, completely sure of it. Of course the two of you have played up for the cameras but the night has been fun. “I know it.”

“Nervous.” One mumbled word comes through, and you squeeze his hands tightly in your own. You haven’t let his go for hours and you’re not about to now. You’re terrified, honestly, but mostly because you don’t want to disappoint him. He’s so sure and you’re so scared that you’ll fall short again.

“Don’t be.” Dieter turns and stares into your eyes. “No matter what, no matter whose name is called, I’m proud of you. I’m so fucking proud of you, Bambi.”

“You’ve got me.” He’s always told you he does, and always meant it, and the calm that knowing it brings to you runs so deep that you almost don’t even hear your own name being called. “I—what??”

“They just called your name.” Dieter beams and rockets you up out of your chair to hug you. He can’t get up on the stage with you, but his kiss can linger on your lips.

“They—” The camera that swings around you gets the perfect shot of the congratulatory kiss, but you don’t even register what’s happening aside from Dee being the one to tell you that you’ve won. He takes two steps forward with you to make sure you’re steady on your feet before sitting back down in his seat, but you swear you’re just flying. Making it on stage is a whirlwind, and you swallow thickly when the statue is placed in your hands before you turn to face the podium. There’s a time indicator just inside your line of sight but you look down, right at Dieter in the front row.

“Thank you.” You clear your throat, dabbing tears away and letting the smile on your face grow even larger. “Thank you to the Academy for this prestigious recognition and award, first and foremost. Thank you to my unbelievably talented cast mates, our phenomenal crew, our brilliant production team, and a grateful thanks to my family at home who still don’t quite understand why I do what I do, but love me with all their might anyway.” The audience laughs softly but your eyes never leave Dieter. “This is an honour that I’ve dreamt of for my entire life, and it is a validation of decades of hard work. I’m grateful.”

The speech you had written is still tucked into the pocket of your dress, left for a memory. You have something else you want to say in this moment, as your heart hammers and your pulse quickens to double time. “And thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to you, Dee.” The cameras that pan to Dieter now are intentional – not catching a fleeting expression but ready for whatever comes next. “Thank you for challenging me as often as you support me. For being the push I need to face my fears and the arms that welcome me home when things don’t quite go as planned. Thank you for the professional and personal growth that I know never would have happened without you. I love you, I will always love you, and I hope we have a thousand more adventures ahead of us.”

"I love you too! Finish your speech!" Dieter calls out towards the stage, his own face reflecting pride and love as he grins at the way the entire theater bursts into laughter and applause.

You can’t help but laugh, the beaming smile on your face coming with a shake off your head. “The end of my speech?” The little timer in the edge of your line of sight is almost at the end, and you swallow, looking back down at him with renewed courage. Didn’t you just say you wanted adventure? “It’s just one sentence, and it’s a question for you.” The whole room seems to take a breath at once, and you can see your co-stars turning to stare at him in the front few rows. “Dieter Bravo, will you marry me?”

His jaw drops in shock and it seems like the entire venue, maybe even the world are holding their breath as they wait for his answer. He can't believe that you just asked him to marry you, but your grin hides the slightly panicked worry in your eyes. As if he would say no. He stands up and huffs: "Took you long enough to ask!" He answers playfully. "Of course I'm going to marry you, Bambi!"

Disbelieving applause and hollers pulse through the crowd as you move to the edge of the stage to meet him for a kiss before being ushered backstage. You’ll see him again in just minutes, but for right now your heart is beating out of your chest. You actually just did that. And he actually said yes!

Dieter accepts the congratulations of nearly everyone seated around the pair of you, your little proposal almost overshadowing the most important part. Now he's going to ask you if you were serious.

You make it back to your seat after the next award, right as the commercial break hits. The statue that will bear your name has been handed off to be engraved and without it in your hands you can practically drive back into Dieter’s arms in the seats.

“Tell me that wasn’t just to be on every Hollywood and Academy Awards reel for the rest of time?” He begs, immediately pressing his lips to yours as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“They just got the benefit of me finally getting the balls to ask.” One—two—three quick kisses shared between you leave the two of you grinning breathlessly. “I mean it, baby. You and me. Forever.”

“I want a marvelously tacky ring.” Dieter warns you with a waggle of his brows. “Maybe a different kind of ring of engagement.”

“I knew you were going to want something alternative.” Giggling into another chaste kiss, you slip your hand into his and squeeze it tightly. “You wanna go shopping tomorrow? Engagement rings of all varieties?”

“You think they have diamond cock rings?” He asks quietly as they announce the category for Best Actor in a drama.

“Already looked into it,” you promise in a whisper. Thank god for incognito mode on your browser, you’d thought it would be a silly birthday gift.

“Yessss.” He ignores the playback of the movie as he leans in to kiss you.

It’s the second time tonight that one of you hears the announcement before the other, and you pull back from Dieter with an excited squeak. “Baby, baby—” You grip his arms tightly. “You did it! It’s you!”

Dieter blinks a few moments and then he realizes what you are saying, pulling you up with him to kiss you again before he makes his way to the stage this time. He’s congratulated and hands are shaken, his only thoughts that nothing is going to top this. Not professionally, anyway.

“Tonight I thought that my co-star, my lover and my fiancée was going to win.” He starts out, shaking his head and looking down at the statue and then back at you in the audience. “I didn’t even have a speech prepared, I was so sure I wasn’t going to win. So yeah, I want to thank everyone on the movie, thank my fiancée for her performance and….”

Dieter bites his lip and looks out over the sea of people in the audience. He sees Dustin Mulray and Lauren Van Chance sitting together and acting lovey again for the fifteenth time and Carol Cobb is a presenter, not an actual member of the academy, but she is glaring at him from her seat. She still blames him for her bad press around Cliff Beasts 6. “I’m done.” Dieter decides. “Tonight, I am retiring from film. This will be my last one of these, so thank you.” He holds the golden statue up in the air and pumps it in gratitude before bowing slightly.

The ripple of a shocked gasp cuts through the crowd, but you feel a very different reaction for yourself – almost laughing in your seat as you clap for him. The people around you start to applaud slowly, and sure enough that ripple takes over the crowd instead until the entirety of the theater is clapping as Dieter is ushered off stage. Between the two of you, you’ve certainly made a splash tonight…

Backstage, it’s a rush to get Dieter back to his seat but everyone asks if he’s serious. He is. And now that he’s said it out loud, he’s almost….relieved. The idea has been talked about more but nothing definite had been done, now he’s taken that first step. Although he wonders what you think about that.

There’s a commercial break when he gets back to his seat, mercifully, and you grab his hands immediately. You’re with him, he must know that, but you search his face. “You couldn’t just say thanks and walk off stage?” You ask, stifling laughter at how shocked everyone is. “Do you…are you serious?”

“I am.” Dieter nods, giving you an almost relieved grin. “It’s not– nothing will beat this. Not in my current life. Winning with you– it’s the way I want to go out.”

“Well…” Lifting one of his hands to your mouth, you press a kiss to his palm and offer him a supportive smile. “Whatever you want to do, Dee. Full retirement, new career, house husband, whatever. Or if you want to start scouting theater locations, we can do that, too. As long as you’re happy.” He’s taking control of his life, which is something he’s never been able to do, and for that you have to be proud of him.

“I do want to do the theater.” Dieter admits quietly. “I don’t expect you to retire or give up your career. I just–” he sighs softly. “I hate film. Honestly. I always have.”

“I only care that you’re happy,” you promise him. “Whatever it is that's going to do that, we’ll do it together.” The grin you flash at him is a little guilty. “I might pop away once in a while to make a movie or I might not. We’ll have to see.”

“You should.” Dieter urges, bending down to kiss your hands, one then the other. “I love you. I don’t want this to just be about me. I’ve been selfish enough for my entire life plus twelve more.”

“I love you, too.” The two of you get to share one more quick kiss before the cameras whir to life again and the broadcast is back from commercial. Only Best Picture remains, but it doesn’t matter if you win. You have the best prize in the world sitting in the seat right next to you.

Watching you up on stage again, this time for Best Picture, Dieter claps and whistles from the audience, aware that you deserve this. His Bambi has become a certifiable star. One that he hopes never dims.

******

Jet lag is one of the worst feelings in the entire world, bar none. It sticks to you and dogs your brain and makes you ache, and half the time it even stops your thoughts from making sense. Right now you feel like a jumbled puzzle as Sadie presses a travel mug of fresh tea into your hands then bundles you into a car at the airport to head for home. Four months was a hell of a long time to be gone, and it feels like even more, but at least you didn’t miss any important holidays or birthdays this time. In fact – you’re ahead of the curve. It’s opening night of a new show tonight and there is nothing more exciting or enticing than getting to surprise your husband on the occasion.

Dieter rushes around, his headset half off as he shouts towards the stagehands. “To the left!” He orders. The thrill of opening night is only measured equally by the stress, but it’s honestly something he has come to love. The students have worked their asses off and they deserve tonight to go off without too many hitches. There are always issues in live performance, it’s to be expected and anticipated as much as possible. It’s his job to make sure that they are equipped with the knowledge and training to work through it and deliver a sound performance to the audience.

Desiree checks her watch discreetly, expecting to see a text from her wife when she gets you back in the car from the house. Just because Dieter had left Hollywood behind didn’t mean that she was going to leave his side — and now her job as a theater administrator means she’s his right hand in a whole other way. When the text eventually comes through, she grins and moves through the space to tap Dieter on the shoulder. “Keep going.” She murmurs conspiratorially. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t getting into any of the concessions candy.”

“You know they are.” Dieter chuckles, rolling his eyes at the antics that his children can get into. “They are mine after all.”

“Only two of them.” She flashes him a grin. She and Sadie had opted to adopt, and it means that those three kids have become a sort of whirlwind trio as the years tick by. “I’ll be right back,” she assures him before hustling out of the theater.

With Desiree off to wrangle the kids, Dieter turns back towards the chaos that is backstage before opening night. Putting out a handful of fires and drying a few anxious tears, most people who knew Dieter during his adult acting career in Hollywood wouldn’t recognize him. No longer the flighty, unpredictable actor, he had built this school with your help as one that would produce solid performers regardless of their background.

You don’t really get to sneak in this property – everyone who works or goes to class here knows you – but Sadie drops you off at the stage door of the main building with a grin and zips off to the main entrance to park the car and pop in on Desiree. You’ve showered, changed, and wrapped up Dieter’s opening night gift to be tucked into your purse. He’s done immense work here and you’re so incredibly proud of the man he’s become through all of his own hard work. If once in a while you show it with a gift, that seems completely reasonable, right?

He doesn’t have a chance to check his phone, too busy to even pull it out of his pocket so he doesn’t even know if you’ve texted him. The kids are cleaned up – two KitKats and a box of milk duds have been sacrificed to their sweet tooth – and they are eagerly heading off to sit in a box that is reserved for family and friends. A stagehand is sitting with them so they don’t run off, but he knows as soon as the lights go down, his kids will be glued to their seats.

Carefully slipping in through the side door of the theater, you tuck yourself into the crowd to watch the show. Eurydice is a brilliant piece of stage work in the right hands, and Dee’s deft directing combined with the raw talents of some of these kids is truly breathtaking. If you privately enjoy it a little more because it’s by the same playwright who wrote the show you did on Broadway together? That’s just a little extra nugget.

He knows that the kids are taken care of, so Dieter focuses completely on the play, every act, every scene perfectly coordinated and timed. He holds his breath when one of the boys stumbles, but he quickly recovers and delivers his line with the same tenacity that had come through in rehearsals.

It’s gorgeous, really, and when the audience gets to its feet during the curtain call you stand with them right away. Whistles and cheers come from every corner as the cast takes their bows. In the front row in the corner, you can see Dieter in this customary seat, waving his thanks in between giving his own applause to the cast. It takes a few long minutes before people start to file out of their seats and out to the lobby for the opening night party, but you have somewhere to be. Up some hidden steps and around the corner, you pop your head into the little box seat where Desiree and Sadie are sitting with the kids, ready to surprise them and bring them down so the three of you can congratulate their dad together.

Your youngest is the first one to see you. The movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. "Mom!" She squeals, jumping up and rushing over to throw herself into your arms.

“Hey baby girl.” At ten years old, she still likes big hugs and doesn’t mind you being a little mushy, but even her much-too-cool older brother pops out of his seat when he hears your voice. “Surprise, guys!” You laugh, bathing in the bliss of having both of your kids hug the life out of you. “Did you like Dad’s show?”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs his shoulders and gestures towards the stage. “Act two, scene one, they missed the queue and flipped the lines.”

You snort softly, leaning over to press a kiss to your son’s head. “You know you’re the toughest critic in this place, so only finding one thing to point out is pretty good.”

“Still–” at twelve, Diego Bravo was just as arrogant as his father in some aspects, having grown up in this theater and knowing the plays better than some producers. Whenever he wasn’t in school, he was here – when he couldn’t convince you to let him come with you on your film locations.

“Still, we should go say hi to Dad, yeah?” You squeeze them both tight again and grin when Mia clings to your side. She’s still young enough that she’s not going to let you go, and you’re going to cherish that for as long as it lasts.

“Dad doesn’t know you’re here?” Diego’s eyes widen and he grins. “He might cry, you know.”

“I came to surprise you two goofs first.” The tip of your finger bops both of their noses. “C’mon, let’s go down to the party.” Opening night and closing night parties are a beautiful example of when this theater really feels like family – they’re never a big deal but they’re always so much damn fun. Just some bottles of bubbly and some snacks for the cast, crew, and their loved ones with music pouring through the speakers in the theater lobby, but everyone always dances and it’s always a great way to celebrate hard work.

For a man who was very seriously into drugs, he keeps the theater drug free. Maybe it’s because there’s nowhere to hide things that he’s not already thought of or the policy of one strike and you’re blacklisted strikes fear into most of the student’s hearts, there are rarely incidents. He explains it every time a new class is on boarded. He was exposed to drugs at a very young age by the man who was supposed to protect him. While they are in his school, they are under his protection. There will be plenty of that shit available in the real world, but oftentimes, it makes you unusable as an actor. The only real reason he got away with the shit he did was because of his legacy in Hollywood.

He’s in the middle of having this conversation with a party guest who brought their vape when you come downstairs with the kids, so you steer them to the bar to get some ginger ale rather than disturb your husband. You’ve heard him give this speech plenty and it sounds to be nearly over, so you can happily wait. Sadie and Desiree have brought their daughter down as well, and she and your kids might as well be on another planet as far as paying attention to things anyway. Ginger ale for them and bubbly for the three adults, you grab a fourth glass to bring over to Dee as you can hear him finishing talking to the random party guest.

Dieter feels a hand on his arm just as he nods to the guest. “It turned out good, didn’t it, Des?” He thinks Desiree is touching him and when he turns, his eyes blow wide and his jaw drops. “You!” Speechless at the sight of his wife and all time favorite human besides his kids, in front of him. “You’re supposed to be in Jakarta!”

“Surprise!” You and the kids shout all at once, and you hold out a glass to him while they collapse into a giggling fit. “I raced through the last few days of filming to get home early. Congratulations, baby. The show was beautiful.”

“Oh my god, I–” Dieter rushes forward and wraps his arms around you. “You must be exhausted. Have you slept at all? You liked it? They did a great job. Best show yet, but don’t tell the last class I said that.”

“I won’t say a word,” you promise him, hugging him tight against you and breathing in the familiar, calming scent of his cologne. “I slept on the plane. Didn’t want to be too out of it so that I could change and come straight here after landing in Seattle.”

“I can’t believe you came.” He had talked to you yesterday but he knows that there are times where your filming schedule will interfere with the theater productions.

“I missed you.” It’s sweet to see that Diego was right – that there are soft tears forming behind Dieter’s eyes. The son is so much like the father in some ways that it makes sense when he can guess at those reactions. Thankfully, Dieter had made sure that your son and daughter grew up in a much more supportive and caring environment than he ever had.

“I missed you too, I always miss you.” He presses his lips to yours, not even minding the quiet groans that come from the kids. They can be embarrassed all they want. He’s not seen you in nearly two months.

“I’m proud of you.” When you finally part, you’re beaming at him with that same warmth that you’ve always had. The smile of a woman completely besotted with her partner. “And I’m so glad I’m home.”

“You will have to sleep when we get home.” He frowns slightly, knowing you must be exhausted. “We won’t stay long.”

“We can stay as long as you want.” No one who knew the Hollywood version of Dieter would believe it if they saw him now. Attentive and caretaking, he’s come into his own as a teacher and a father. Like he was always meant for this life all along. “You deserve to celebrate with your cast.”

“I’d rather let the younger kids celebrate their hard work while I celebrate in a bubble bath with my wife.” Dieter suggests, sliding around you and hunching around your back. “What do you think?”

“Mmm, that is awfully tempting, Mr. Bravo.” It sounds like heaven, actually. Especially after twenty-three hours of travel. “That sounds very, very tempting.”

“It should tempt you.” Dieter chuckles. “I have a bottle of that wine you love in the wine fridge. Found it last weekend.”

“So hot bath, naked husband, and my favorite rosé?” When you turn your head to kiss his lips again, he’s right there smirking at you and waggling his eyebrows. It works – it always works – and you giggle into the kiss. “Consider me seduced.”

“Yessss.” Dieter hisses under his breaths and then nuzzles his nose against your neck. “Go to bed kids, daddy’s getting laid tonight.” He doesn’t speak loud enough for anyone but you to hear.

“Oh yeah.” It earns him an amused giggle and another kiss before you turn around in his arms to face him. “It’s been months,” you murmur back. “You’re absolutely getting laid.”

“Video chatting just isn’t the same.” He hums. The sex drive has ultimately slowed down, he is nearing 49 this year, but he still wants you. Always wants you.

"Thought I might stay home for a while." The last year or so has been busy. You took a mini-series that had you filming overseas and then this last movie was a lot of stunts and action, which was fun but a lot more exhausting than it used to be. More and more you find that you just want to be home with your family. "Diego's gonna be a teenager this summer. I feel like that's just trouble waiting to happen." He is, after all, a whole lot like his father. Mischief runs in the Bravo blood.

“He’s asked if he can submit an application.” Dieter tells you quietly. “He wants to attend the theater.”

"How do you feel about that?" The policy of not letting anyone under teen age take classes at the academy had kept Diego at bay for the last few years, but you knew it was only a matter of time. The kid is ecstatic in the theater and has a real eye for it. But considering everything Dieter went through as a kid, it has to be his call. He has to be okay with letting Diego become an actor if that's what he wants to do.

“I don’t think it’s right to keep the kid from what he loves.” Dieter acknowledges. “But he has to keep his grades up.”

"Agreed." It's a very big step for Dieter to be okay with this, and your thumbs smooth gently over his arms. "And he has to audition just like everyone else."

“I’ve decided I’m not going to be the one to look over his audition.” Dieter murmurs quietly. “He’s going to be pissed when he finds that out.”

"I think it's a good idea." And actually? You're glad that you don't have to be the one to suggest it. "No favoritism that way. But you could help him prep a little. I bet he would love that."

"I'll suggest that." He smiles at you, grateful that you have the answer for what he needs to do.

"Do you want to give him the application for his birthday?" He seems a lot more relaxed after just a few minutes of talking about it, but it really is down to how much he loves his kids. Against all odds, Dieter Bravo turned out to be a great dad, and you hope his selflessness and his unconditional support is making Baxter roll over in his grave.

"I think he would like that." Dieter grins, and nods. He pulls you closer and inhales your scent, something so soothing to him.

"You're a good dad, Dee." Holding him tight against you, you press a kiss to his cheek and sigh happily. Being home a few days early was well worth all the extra work that you did to get here. "And your family loves you."

"That's all I could ever ask for, Bambi." He admits quietly, sighing as he relaxes for the first time since you left. His family and his theater are all that he needs. He still gets calls, directors begging him to work with them, to star in their movies. To come back to Hollywood. He turns them all down. He had said he was done. He had told his father years ago that he wanted to be on the stage, and he had meant it, he was just behind the scenes now and it was the most fulfilling work he's ever done. Besides winning you back. Without you, none of this was possible. You are his greatest muse.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

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