schmoop_bingo: Flour
title: Flour
pairing: Bob (Bryar) x Greta
pov: 3rd
rating: G
prompt: baking cookies
summary: Greta is Bob's girlfriend and she has a small catering service
disclaimer: I don't even think the two have ever met,so...
A/N: OMG, an unusual couple (or at least different from the ones I usually write about)! And an hetero one nonetheless! :O
“Mmmmmh, what is this wonderful aroma?” Bob asked out loud, entering the small yet cozy and welcoming apartment he shared with his girlfriend Greta.
“Cookies!” she shouted back from the kitchen.
Bob took his coat and shoes off, and rolling his shirt’s sleeves up he headed to the kitchen with a smile, a rare thing that only Greta managed to achieve without effort.
“What are they for, this time?” he asked, sitting on a tall stool in a smooth motion.
“For Mrs Anderson’s baby shower,” Greta replied, batting his hand away when he made for one of the cookies that were cooling off. She was fleeing in the kitchen like a busy bee: the voice about her ability at cooking spread quickly from friend to friend, and she soon found herself starting a small catering service. Bob loved watching her when she cooked, so busy and totally absorbed by her passion, observing one of the mischievous curls that escaped from her ponytail and was bouncing on her forehead.
Bob looked at the first batch of baked gingerbread babies on the table, admiring Greta’s patience and ability at decorating, if the few already decorated ones were an indication.
“And it’s a boy, uh?” he noticed the blue icing.
“Yes,” she affirmed with a sweet smile, almost maternal.
“Need some help?” he offered.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” Greta looked at him relieved whilst whipping the dough for more cookies, “Roll and cut the dough, while I continue decorating the cookies,” she said, handing him the bowl and grabbing one of the pastry bags she filled with colored icing.
Bob washed his hands and covered them with some flour to work the dough as best as he could, passing the rolling pin to make the dough thick enough and finally cutting it (“Work it more!”, “It’s not enough, make it thinner!”, “Okay, now you can cut it.”) using the baby-shaped cookie cutter Greta made with aluminum containers (she still has scratches on her fingers from her first attempts at cutting and shaping it).
Bob subtly looked at her to be sure he could pick some dough-so inviting, he almost prefers it to the final product, not to mention cake batters .
“Ah!” she warned without looking up.
The man looked at Greta from the corner of the eye, sensing a smile tugging at his lips: he was so in love with this tiny and fierce girl, with her honey curls, with her delicacies, her sense of humor and her melodic voice, but mostly for her patience towards a quite sullen and silent man like him.
“Okay, I’m done cutting. What can-” Bob started asking, when the timer went off and another batch of cookies was ready.
Greta hopped off the stool and grabbed a pot holder, taking the baking tray out of the oven and placing it on the counter, accentuating the nice smell of cookies in the kitchen. Bob silently moved closer and hugged her from behind, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head.
“My amazing cook,” he said, smile hidden by her wild curly ponytail. Greta spun to be able to wrap her arms around Bob’s strong neck and returned the smile, pecking his lips as a reward for the help.
“Can I eat one now?” Bob asked eyeing the inviting freshly baked cookies. Greta pretended to be upset by his sudden lack of interest towards her and flicked his nose.
“You had some flour on your nose,” she said, Bambi eyes and fake-innocent smile and all.
Instead of retorting, Bob kissed the tip of her nose.
“You had some flour on your nose,” he parroted, smiling brightly in the kiss he received from his Greta.
pairing: Bob (Bryar) x Greta
pov: 3rd
rating: G
prompt: baking cookies
summary: Greta is Bob's girlfriend and she has a small catering service
disclaimer: I don't even think the two have ever met,so...
A/N: OMG, an unusual couple (or at least different from the ones I usually write about)! And an hetero one nonetheless! :O
“Mmmmmh, what is this wonderful aroma?” Bob asked out loud, entering the small yet cozy and welcoming apartment he shared with his girlfriend Greta.
“Cookies!” she shouted back from the kitchen.
Bob took his coat and shoes off, and rolling his shirt’s sleeves up he headed to the kitchen with a smile, a rare thing that only Greta managed to achieve without effort.
“What are they for, this time?” he asked, sitting on a tall stool in a smooth motion.
“For Mrs Anderson’s baby shower,” Greta replied, batting his hand away when he made for one of the cookies that were cooling off. She was fleeing in the kitchen like a busy bee: the voice about her ability at cooking spread quickly from friend to friend, and she soon found herself starting a small catering service. Bob loved watching her when she cooked, so busy and totally absorbed by her passion, observing one of the mischievous curls that escaped from her ponytail and was bouncing on her forehead.
Bob looked at the first batch of baked gingerbread babies on the table, admiring Greta’s patience and ability at decorating, if the few already decorated ones were an indication.
“And it’s a boy, uh?” he noticed the blue icing.
“Yes,” she affirmed with a sweet smile, almost maternal.
“Need some help?” he offered.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” Greta looked at him relieved whilst whipping the dough for more cookies, “Roll and cut the dough, while I continue decorating the cookies,” she said, handing him the bowl and grabbing one of the pastry bags she filled with colored icing.
Bob washed his hands and covered them with some flour to work the dough as best as he could, passing the rolling pin to make the dough thick enough and finally cutting it (“Work it more!”, “It’s not enough, make it thinner!”, “Okay, now you can cut it.”) using the baby-shaped cookie cutter Greta made with aluminum containers (she still has scratches on her fingers from her first attempts at cutting and shaping it).
Bob subtly looked at her to be sure he could pick some dough-so inviting, he almost prefers it to the final product, not to mention cake batters .
“Ah!” she warned without looking up.
The man looked at Greta from the corner of the eye, sensing a smile tugging at his lips: he was so in love with this tiny and fierce girl, with her honey curls, with her delicacies, her sense of humor and her melodic voice, but mostly for her patience towards a quite sullen and silent man like him.
“Okay, I’m done cutting. What can-” Bob started asking, when the timer went off and another batch of cookies was ready.
Greta hopped off the stool and grabbed a pot holder, taking the baking tray out of the oven and placing it on the counter, accentuating the nice smell of cookies in the kitchen. Bob silently moved closer and hugged her from behind, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head.
“My amazing cook,” he said, smile hidden by her wild curly ponytail. Greta spun to be able to wrap her arms around Bob’s strong neck and returned the smile, pecking his lips as a reward for the help.
“Can I eat one now?” Bob asked eyeing the inviting freshly baked cookies. Greta pretended to be upset by his sudden lack of interest towards her and flicked his nose.
“You had some flour on your nose,” she said, Bambi eyes and fake-innocent smile and all.
Instead of retorting, Bob kissed the tip of her nose.
“You had some flour on your nose,” he parroted, smiling brightly in the kiss he received from his Greta.