Prompt: Baking (How does baking sweets go? For or with someone?) - These drabbles are all inspired by @kairaiimagine 's "Christmas Alphabet" on Tumblr
Warnings: awfully sweet
Word count: 658
A/N: uhh... idk if other countries have stollen too. For those who don't know what it is: it's yeast dough with candid lemon peel, raisins and lots of Christmas-y spices and in some cases (as in this story) the dough can be rolled out, marzipan can be added, and then rolled back together. Add icing sugar after baking and tada. Super yummy.
"Quit it!" Annoyed you swatted Ryan's hand away, who giggled gleefully, skipping away from the kitchen counter you were working at. "If you keep stealing marzipan, there'll be nothing left for the stollen!"
"Aww," he grinned, and approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, "you know I love marzipan."
His hair tickled your neck. It had grown long these past months, and whenever your hands were not sticky from sugar and butter, you loved running them through his locks. You smiled as you felt him press his lips against the side of your neck.
"I do, and I also know that you love the marzipan stollen even more," you shot back.
Ryan sighed and pulled away, leaning against the kitchen counter next to you.
"You're cruel," he whined, but at the same time you spotted his hand sneaking towards the bowl where you had prepared the raisins.
"Ryan," you warned, unable to stop grinning.
"Just one?"
You rolled your eyes at him, and turned away from where you had weighted the right amounts of candid lemon peel and almonds. Grabbing the bag with the left over raisins you did not need for baking, you turned back to Ryan, who already extended his hands for them hopefully.
"One condition," at the sound of your voice his dorky smile faltered a little, "you leave the rest of the ingredients alone. Or you won't get any of the stollen this year and I'll eat it all myself."
Ryan's eyes widened at the threat. He never quite knew when you were serious with these kinds of things. It intrigued him to no end, and made him love you even more, day by day. Was that even still possible at this point? Apparently.
"I promise," he quickly nodded, and you had to hide your giggle at his seriousness.
You dropped the bag into his hands, and with a smile you watched him pull off the rubber band that closed the plastic bag, before he shoved his hand inside and pulled out a handful of the dried fruit. Putting the bag on the counter top, he picked a raisin between thumb and index finger, and brought it up to your lips. You smiled before opening your mouth, and letting him feed you the treat. He grinned and quickly kissed your lips, before you turned back to continue your work, now adding the different, missing ingredients, minus the marzipan, to the yeast dough, before rolling it out.
Ryan placed himself back against the kitchen counter and watched you work, later even helping rolling out the marzipan (you saw him steal a couple more pieces, but he did not have to know that), before you rolled the dough and the marzipan into the traditional stollen shape.
A couple of hours later, after the stollen had risen again, you had finally been able to put it into the oven, allowing yourself to settle on the sofa. The flat started smelling deliciously of baked yeast dough and Christmas.
Ryan had immediately cuddled into your side, the empty raisin bag discarded on the kitchen table. Since you had washed your hands, you ran them gently through Ryan's hair, every now and then earning a content hum from him. He always got super affectionate around Christmas. Not that you minded, not in the least. You thought it was rather amusing, seeing your (usually rather independent) boyfriend turn into a little puppy, following you around everywhere. But you did not mind, not in winter, when it was cold and most of the time also dark outside, not when you felt like you needed someone by your side anyway. And even if that had not been the case, how could you say no to Ryan?
Tightening your embrace around him, you nuzzled your nose into his hair and inhaled his familiar smell. He smelled like safety, like home. Oh, you could not wait for Christmas to come this year.