Work Text:
'You really seem to be familiar with baking.' Ronald was sitting on the table in Grell’s kitchen, leaning closer to the forming dough, fixing it. 'Amazing.'
'It's really not a big deal, Ronnie,' Grell giggled, her shining eyes meeting her subordinate's. She had both hands in the bowl, kneading the dough. Although those glorious strands were tied up with a black ribbon, some of Grell’s strands escaped her braid and fell on her shoulder. This didn’t bother her too much. 'Those years spent with butlering at Madame Red weren't in vain, you know.'
'You learned a lot,' Ronald nodded, admitting Grell’s talent.
'Would you like to try it?' Grell suggested, raising an eyebrow playfully, digging into the dough, and lifting a small piece of it with a finger. Ronald made a face; disgust was easily readable on it.
'Ugh, isn't it dangerous to eat the dough when it's not baked yet?' The blond asked. All he got in exchange was a loud laugh.
'Silly you! Just try it.' Grell lifted her finger towards his mouth and Ronald, reluctantly, opened it wide and swallowed the dough. Several minutes passed by, Grell examining her subordinate’s face.
'How's it?' She asked finally, impatient as she was.
'Spicy,' Ronald said simply, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm. 'But sweet.'
'Sweet as my love,' Grell beamed, returning to the dough. 'Sweet as Will is.'
Ronald let the Shinigami flattening the dough; he watched her motions in silence. Grell worked with true enthusiasm; he never thought she could behave so normally too.
Then, with a hesitant voice, he asked:
'Are you sure this will work?'
Grell looked up, adjusting a crimson strand that managed to escape her braid and almost fell into the bowl. Her voice was so harrowingly honest as never before.
'You know, I have to try it.'
Ronald didn't say, but he hoped from the bottom of his heart that William appreciated Grell's gesture. The other Shinigami didn’t seem to think about anything; she just made heart-shaped pieces of the dough and placed them carefully on a baking dish. The oven was already hot; Grell’s gingerbread was ready to be baked. She opened the door and placed the baking dish on the grid.
‘Alright!’ she clapped joyfully. ‘Will you be so kind as to help me preparing the glaze, my darling?’
‘Well, if you tell me how to do it…'
*****
All the office was empty on 25th December. Snow was quietly falling, forming a tender and shining duvet covering all London. William was walking on the empty corridor, heading towards his own office. Most of the dispatch members were sent on holiday; only a few ones stayed to be available in case of emergency. William, having nothing else to do at Christmas, volunteered for the work. The others decided to have a small party in Grell’s office; William was invited too, though he didn’t bother to show up.
He checked if everything was okay, moving slowly, paying attention to anything that could be suspicious. But nothing was there to worry about.
He opened his door with a small sigh. Everything was on its place; the piles of completed papers and documents, the pens, a small bottle with ink, a plate with cookies on it… Huh? What?
William stepped closer, and there it was: a plate with nicely, freshly baked gingerbread. He didn’t even remember when the last time was when he ate cookies. Beside the table he found a neatly folded paper. He took it up, reading the words written with crimson red ink:
Dear Will,
I wish you a merry Christmas. I’d be glad to see you at the party but I guess you wouldn’t come. Anyway, have a nice evening, whatever you decide to spend it with.
Love,
Grell
William couldn’t believe it. He really knew Grell was attracted by him and all that but he wasn’t prepared for it. This simply wasn’t like Grell, using simple and kind words like that. No flirting. Not being too over the top. He glanced at the gingerbread. It seemed tasty; it really smelt good.
Several minutes passed by like this; William hesitated what to do. Finally, he took the plate and headed towards Grell’s office, with the intension of talking to her.
Though he had no idea what to say.
A ‘thank you’ would do, maybe. No matter how irritant Sutcliff is, she really made efforts to give me a present. So I don’t have to be rude, do I?
With a loud sigh, he went on.
It was Christmas after all, the time to open our hearts.