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ladamedusoif · 1 year ago

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Baking (Dieter Bravo x OFC! Andie Wallace-Bravo)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 2

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar (click for masterlist)

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC!Andie Wallace-Bravo

Rating: Teen/Mature

Word count: ~1500 words

Warnings: Mild drug references, alcohol references, strong language, implied smut

Summary: Although he’d once been more known for getting baked, these days Dieter is more interested in baking of a different kind.

Author's note: This entry in A Merry Fic-Mas is inspired by the very wonderful Curls series by @farawayfromwanting/@agentjackdaniels and @julesonrecord. It's an honour to have the chance to add my own tiny little scene to the Bravo-Wallace family story, and I hope their wonderful creator likes this humble little tale of Holiday Dandie.

Dieter Bravo was not what anyone would call a wholly domesticated man. Marriage and kids had encouraged him to embrace the joys of basic family cooking, but he still struggled with anything beyond the simplest of recipes.

“I’m an actor, Mamá,” he’d protested as his mother tried to teach him a few of her staples. “It’s basically a given that we’re gonna live on takeout and on-set catering.”

But Dieter had a culinary secret. Baking. In the literal, not metaphorical, sense. Though that was a specialism, too. Less so, these days.

Even at his hedonistic peak, he’d somehow still retained the ability to produce the best cookies - weed optional, though usually a given - anyone had ever tasted. He didn’t have an exact recipe, just went on vibes. It was soothing, all that gentle mixing and rolling and cutting and baking. He’d made full use of the in-house kitchen in rehab, churning out variations on his failsafe cookie recipe as a kind of therapeutic exercise.

Now, Dieter is swiping through holiday baking ideas on Pinterest while the kids dance energetically to the Bluey opening credits. He’s been the stay-at-home parent for the last couple of months, the strike and production delays for season two of When You’re Lost in the Darkness offering him a welcome chance to stay put and just be a dad.

Andie walks into the family room dressed in her favourite smart casual outfit of stylish grey coat, white blouse and jeans, makeup subtle and dark curls arranged over one shoulder, her purse slung across her body. She’s in demand, these days, and with Christmas fast approaching Dieter wanted to give her a proper day to herself: get her nails done, have a facial, whatever she wanted.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay? I feel bad heading out and not staying with you guys on my day off.”

Dieter looks up from his iPad and smiles at his wife. “When was the last time you had a day just for you, angel? We’re fine. Go! Relax! Shop! Do whatever!” He stands up from the couch and shoos her affectionately towards the door, barely letting her pause to kiss the kids goodbye.

Charlie and Ezra do not take their eyes off Bluey for a moment.

Dieter sits beside the kids on the big rug in front of the TV. “So…how’d you guys like to make a surprise for mama?”

Charlie shoots him a look so uncannily similar to her mother’s that Dieter has to pause for a moment. “We’re watching Bluey.”

Ezra nods, bright blond hair gleaming. “Boo-ee.”

“Okay, how about this: we make some cookies for mama, we have lots of fun, and then you can watch more Bluey. Hmmm?”

The children turn to each other as if conferring over their father’s offer. Charlie, as the eldest, assumes the role of spokesperson.

“Okay. But we get to eat cookies and watch Bluey.”

The Pinterest post Dieter had selected as inspiration showed a perfect, well-scrubbed family enjoying a platter of gorgeous, golden holiday cookies frosted and decorated with surgical precision.

His kitchen, however, had disintegrated into a case of Pinterest versus reality, soundtracked by Dieter’s personal holiday playlist.

Ezra’s wails drown out the sound of Run DMC while Charlie protests that she wasn’t trying to eat Ez’s bowl of frosting. Her dark curls, meanwhile, are streaked with flour, dough, and sugary globs of red and white fondant icing.

They seem to have somehow used every single bowl in the Bravo-Wallace household, the kitchen countertops crowded with mixing bowls of various sizes and coated in flour and sugar. As Dieter turns to comfort Ezra he skids on what he rapidly realises is an errant egg white.

“Motherfuck- sorry, Charlie. And Ezra. Sorry, Charlie and Ezra!”

No sooner has he picked up his son than the oven timer pings, and Charlie is off her stool and opening the oven door - bare-handed - like a shot. Dieter throws himself across the kitchen as best he can, half-diving to get Charlie away from the hot surfaces while somehow still maintaining his balance with little Ezra in his other arm.

Now Charlie starts wailing. “I wanna take the cookies out for Mamaaaaaaaaa!”

Ezra joins in.

José Feliciano entreats the Bravo-Wallaces to a feliz Navidad.

Dieter takes a deep breath and tries to summon up what's left of his holiday spirit.

Andie Wallace-Bravo has had a manicure, a pedicure, a facial, and feels like a new woman. She even managed to get in some Christmas shopping at The Grove, stopping at the Farmers Market for a coffee before heading home.

The house seems eerily quiet, though, as Andie opens the front door and steps inside. No TV. Just the faint sound of holiday music coming from the direction of the kitchen. She drops her purse on the hall table and goes in search of her little clan.

“Dieter? Kids?”

“Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I made you cookies! Seeeeeee!”

Charlie collides with her mother and Andie becomes conscious of something sticking to her favourite grey coat: a freshly-baked sugar cookie, shaped like what she suspects is meant to be a Chrismas tree, and dripping in frosting and sprinkles.

“Oh! Yes, I can see - hey, where’s your brother?”

Right on cue, Ezra toddles around the corner. He is, from head to toe, almost entirely green.

He extends his chubby arms towards Andie, who shucks off her coat and picks him up. So much for this blouse, she muses.

“Dieter, why is our son green?”

Dieter is leaning against the kitchen island, sweatpants covered in what looks like flour and tiny white handprints all over his dark grey t-shirt. He turns to look at his wife and reveals a face covered in splodges of red and green frosting, and hair rendered white with powdered sugar and flour.

“Hiiiii, angel. We, uh… we wanted to surprise you. With cookies.”

Andie’s heart swells so much that she’s able, somehow, to ignore the apocalyptic scene in every corner of her kitchen. “You made cookies, for me?”

Ezra claps his little hands together. “COOKEEE MAMA! COOKEEEEE MAMAAAAA!”

Charlie joins in with the chant, beating a loud tattoo on an upturned mixing bowl, oblivious to the dough plopping onto the floor.

“Dee, my love? How much frosting did they eat, exactly?”

Dieter had protested when Andie insisted on helping with cleanup. She silenced him with a kiss to his sugar-coated lips, tugging on a pair of rubber gloves to protect her sparkling festive manicure.

“We’re a team, baby. Anyway, if we didn’t tackle this together I think we’d still be cleaning it by New Year’s.”

With the last of the bowls finally washed and put away, Andie reaches into one of the high cupboards and retrieves a bottle of Irish cream liqueur.

“It’s Christmas, after all, and I have been looking forward to this all day. Come join me on the couch? There should be some cocoa in the cupboard if you want.”

Dieter smiles and nods. “I’ll be there in a couple of minutes, angel. Just want to check on one final batch of dough.”

When Dieter finally emerges, still in his deconstructed cookie-coated clothes, he’s holding a plate of plain cookies and carrying a mug of hot cocoa for himself.

“The final batch of cookies.” He places them on the coffee table and sinks into the couch beside his wife, resting his head on Andie’s shoulder. “These ones are, uh, a little different. Special.”

Andie looks at him dubiously. “Special?”

He exhales and stretches out, picking up a cookie and nibbling at it. “Weed cookies. For some much-needed relaxation.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh.” Andie giggles and puts down her glass, picking up a cookie. “Well. Holiday cheer, indeed. Thank you, baby.” She takes a bite, chews, and turns to Dieter in astonishment.

“Holy fucking shit, Dee? These are insane?!”

He quirks a floured eyebrow and grins. “Still got it. Still making the best cookies in Hollywood.”

Andie is two cookies in when she starts to get giggly, tucking her feet under her and whispering sweet nothings at Dieter as he munches on another of his creations.

“Merry Christmas, Mr Bravo. You’re the best, you know?”

Dieter hums happily to himself, a soft, blissed-out smile spreading across his face. “Mmmm. No. You are. You’re the best. The best best.”

She giggles again and rests her head on his shoulder. “We’re so fucking lucky. Aren’t we?”

He grunts in assent.

Andie kisses Dieter’s broad shoulder through his t-shirt. “Hey, Dee. Hey. Wanna make out on the couch?”

No answer.

“Dee?”

A soft snore. Andie melts a little at the sight: her beloved, still the handsomest thing she’s ever seen even if he’s covered in half the contents of their cupboards. She studies his face, reaching out to gently trace her fingers over his gorgeous features, and leans in to kiss his forehead.

He tastes of sugar.

Another kiss. More sweetness. Andie giggles, and proceeds to kiss and lick the rest of the frosting off her husband’s face.

Dieter opens one eye, half-awake. “Angel, are you…licking me clean?”

She giggles before standing up and helping Dieter to his feet.

“Sure am. So let’s go to bed where I can finish the job.” She reaches down to pat her husband’s ass, flour rising in a cloud of dust as she does so.

“Always said you tasted sweet, baby.”

Dividers by @estrelinha-s

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