@lunarpunctuation i appreciate you so much ♡ I forgot that homeschool essentially has as many if not more extra-curriculars than I even knew about while I was in public school.
This is for @lunarpunctuation for Strange Magic Secret Santa.
Since my interest in hockey starts and ends with an excuse to drink beer, here’s a Food Network-ish AU. Included: nods towards supermodels, Buffy and run-on sentences.
Merry (belated) Christmas!
Note: apparently tumblr had an issue with my date and time and didn’t post this on 24th, so I apologise tremendously.
Marianne swiftly walked towards her office where a tiny blonde woman was standing, wringing her hands awkwardly and looking around in apparent discomfort. Quickly ushering her inside the room, she slowly closed the door and turned around, finally letting a victorious grin bloom on her face.
"He's out. Permanently".
Twiggy looked in her eyes and a second later a pair of thin, enthusiastic arms had encircled Marianne's neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Letting go, she swiped a sleeve over her now wet eyes and dropped in the visitor's chair.
"I know, they probably didn't care about him being..well, him, but I knew at least you'd believe me", she muttered shyly, her fingers still twisting the floral cotton of her skirt, her momentary excitement deflating back into a tiny smile.
Dropping in her own chair, Marianne looked at her favourite researcher, who had approached her a week ago, confessing that Roland had started to harass her with flowers and sudden invitations to various restaurants and events. Which, in a way, wouldn't be a bad thing if only the said individual wasn't such a serial cheater, arrogant recipe stealer and overall an unpleasant human being.
While Marianne had certain degree of influence over the decisions made at FTV section dedicated to various food programs, decisions of whether to fire or keep their hosts were made by a board of higher-ups and it had taken all her cunning, CTV footage of Roland's midnight thyrsts with various studio employees and a number of written statements from disgruntled kitchen workers who had sold certain recipes to him so he could "recreate the signature dishes just from a taste". And, while it irked her that they were more concerned with the possibility of a scandal if Roland was exposed as a fraud and less with various woman who he had made uncomfortable, she had always subscribed to "beggars can't be choosers" mentality.
Now it was done, she'd never have to see him again, her female employees could continue working without being distracted by that bloody peacock of a man and her knuckles would be in less danger of suddenly getting busted.
"But Marianne, what are you going to do about his show? It is a good time-slot and leaving it open would be bad for us," Twiggy suddenly asked, pushing the strands of her blonde bob back away from her place.
"I guess I'll just think of something. You know, how it is with me and my ideas," Marianne grinned, desperately trying to ignore the first telltale flutters of panic deep in her belly.
~*~*~
"Stuff, Thang, please tell me that online poll yielded some results because otherwise I'm in a serious slump!" Marianne exclaimed as two of her employees, stars of network's web food-hack show entered her office where she had been sitting for last four hours, staring at a blank document and beating her high-score in Minesweeper. Maybe she should've taken a day off, went on a nice run or maybe had a few rounds with a punching bag.
"Well..." Thang started, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses nervously, "so far the voters want to see half-naked celebrities dining in exotic places or something "mean but in a funny way"..." he trailed off, obviously discouraged by increasingly crestfallen expression of his boss.
"There was, however, an interest in a cooking show for those, who like simple home-cooked meals but are utterly useless at cooking" Stuff pointed out in her usual deadpan manner.
"Huh, kind of like "Cooking for Dummies 101" thing?" Marianne perked up, suddenly starting to go over ways how to find an unique twist to the seemingly simple idea.
"And we won't even have to look for a dummy, you can do it! I mean, we all still remember that day with chicken and rubbing sauce..." Thang added enthusiastically, seemingly unaware of his lack of tact, which earned him a swift slap on the shoulder from his partner-in-crime. Mentioning the C&S incident in Marianne's earshot was considered a possibly fatal mistake by everyone who had ever been employed at the station, but she just let it slide this time. She was already down a chef, no need to lose an another one. Unfortunately, before she could point out why the idea of her appearing on screen was a bad one they got interrupted by a sound that signified impending doom.
"My, what a wonderful idea," a lazy drawl came from the open door, where the senior executive only know as Imp stood, his dark eyes fixated on now uncomfortable looking Marianne. "I bet a lot of viewers would just love to see the daughter of late Amely Summerfield to finally follow her mother's professional footsteps, don't you just agree?" he finished with a wide, knowing smirk.
Marianne's blood suddenly ran cold.
~*~*~
Later that evening, Summerfield sisters were sitting in Dawn's kitchen as her boyfriend and co-host Sunny was painstakingly crafting a batch of ladybug cupcakes for a birthday party of one of their coworker's child.
"It is an awesome idea!" Dawn gushed, beaming at her sister, who was demolishing a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. "You could find a nice guy or girl who'd be all patient and funny and would prevent you from dying from malnutrition because of microwaved dinners and take-out."
"Why does it have to be me who's the student?" Marianne sighed miserably "So what if mom's skills didn't get passed down on me and I can't craft a Mona Lisa out of flour, eggs and whatever chemicals in that thing you call a spice rack? I'm the one behind the scenes not in the scene."
This made her sister shake her head in frustration. "Mari, that's exactly why you should be in this show! People deserve to know that even someone who's capable of so much can have difficulties when it comes to everyday life. Just think of the message you'd be sending out - all "it's okay to be badass executive/lawyer/whatever and not be able to cook because with a little effort you can!" "
"Dawn, we both know the higher ups agreed with it because they need more viewers - more eye candy, more viewers."
"Pfft, it’s not all that!" the blonde waved her off, ignoring her sour glare, and turned her attention to Sunny. "So, how do you think, should Marianne learn how to cook?"
The short man finally looked up, a pastry bag clutched in his left hand. "Well, she could try it, but is the studio the best place for it? We still owe Brutus a year or two of cake since the lasagna incident." he flinched slightly as that particular memory resurfaced.
"Guys, you do remember I'm right here?" Marianne interrupted their meaningful exchange of looks. "Also, we don't have a chef to teach me. It can't be any of you, because you're already swamped with our kids' program, Stuff and Thang are busy with their webisodes and running our website and I doubt anyone who already works here will be willing to participate when they learn they have to teach me." Looking down defeatedly she poked with her fork at one of the meatballs. "Hey, what's up with this one? It looks like a clover leaf."
"Isn't it cool? I though since kids like dinosaur nuggets, they might also like themed meatballs," Dawn grinned widely and pulled on her kitchen gloves to remove an another pan of cupcakes from the oven.
~*~*~
Luckily, the next morning one of Twiggy's connections had paid off and she texted Marianne an address of a pub in downtown that apparently served "the best food you'd ever expect to eat in a place where the floor is a bit sticky" and “the head honcho would be open to getting some publicity”.
To be honest, she had no idea what the floor had to do with the quality of the food, but Marianne was close to utterly desperate so she decided to hell with it and by early afternoon she was standing beneath a faded wooden sign that had The Stump written on it in a faux Gothic script.
"Here goes nothing" she muttered to herself and pushed the door open, walking inside a large room, taking in the wooden benches, low ceiling and overall slightly dingy yet homely feel. Her perusal was suddenly interrupted by a mildly nasal voice coming from the direction of the bar: "Hello, dear, looking for something?"
"Yes, you've got a menu because I need some greasy bar food inside of me right now!" she grinned at the redheaded lady behind the counter and flopped down on one of the faded green barstools, peeking at the laminated sheet in front of her. "So, I'd like one portion of blooming onion, a plate of fries and...and..."
"Bacon? Bog is very good at making bacon," the woman, who was wearing a nametag with "Griselda" on it looked at Marianne with a smile that seemed suspiciously too enthusiastic.
"Okay, bacon it is. And a coffee, black, please." she slid over the required amount of bills and dropped her bag on the empty stool next to her.
"Oi, Bog, one blooming onion, fries and bacon!" Griselda yelled in the direction of the kitchen, startling Marianne. "Ah, no worries, you won't have to wait long, my boy is pretty fast." she said, still smiling.
"So this is a family establishment?" she asked, still mildly vary of the fact that the woman was obviously plotting something.
"Oh, yes, back in the day it was me and Bog's daddy and few other friends who just wanted a nice place to get a drink and some decent food. Been like this for more than forty years now," the older woman looked wistful for a moment and then turned her head towards the kitchen door. "Done with some of it yet?" she shouted.
"Yeah!" a man's voice responded, making Griselda swiftly disappear through the swinging doors just to return with a plate of freshly made blooming onion.
Marianne wondered why exactly Twiggy had sent her here - she didn't consider herself a food snob, but how could a mystery guy making pub food be an answer for her current woes? Shrugging internally, she broke off a piece of her snack, dunked it in the sauce and dropped it in her mouth.
Her hearth almost stopped that moment. She couldn't exactly describe what was different about this particular onion but it was perfect in ways she had never considered pub food could be. It was a revelation. It was a miracle.
It was an answer to her current problem.
"Told you he's good," Griselda grinned wider as she looked at the woman in front of her having a semireligious experience and wondered for a moment how she'd react to tasting Bog's other creations.
"Yeah..." Marianne sighed almost absentmindedly and turned her gaze back at her. "Can I meet you son. Right now?"
~*~*~
Bog was miles away from what she had imagined. He was ridiculously tall and angular and way too thin for someone who makes food for living but it the grand scheme of things it didn't matter. Some might have found his seemingly permanent bedhead and faint scars around his jaw a turn-off, but in Marianne's mind they just added to his contradictory appearance that would look striking under the bright lights of the studio. He also seems very uncomfortable to be suddenly pulled out of safety of his kitchen to meet a woman he doesn't know.
Marianne quickly dragged him back in there and started to explain the situation she had found herself in, hoping her sales pitch would work out.
Obviously, he refused at first, but after a passionate, nearly ten minutes long speech on how they should be there for all those culinary-deprived and "it's not about how the dish looks like but how it tastes and how it makes you feel" he stars to waver and maybe, maybe it's because he might be captivated by her enthusiasm and a mild need to replace some pipes in the basement.
But the main reason is much less noble. "We'd be replacing that blond idiot, right?" he finally asked, looking directly in her eyes and grinning almost boyishly and she's surprised of how actually blue his eyes are. Yeah, Marianne thought to herself, that is a very good look on him.
"We're not replacing him, we're erasing his memory forever," she smiled back and extended her hand for him to shake it. "So, I guess we should start preparing for our debut."
Now she had to find a Scully box, though.
*~*~
"So, here goes nothing?" it sounded more like a question but in all honestly the last week had been a whirlwind of activity and plotting has finally made her anxiety to burn out leaving her almost pleasantly content so she just nodded in agreement and prepared to either make history or create a hopefully mild disaster.
As their first dish they had went with classics and she found herself enjoying cutting the vegetables as he explained slowly how to make sure the oil was ready for frying and what sort of effect one could achieve with various different spices.
"No, you can't add cinnamon to salty potatoes, it does not work that way!" he argued with her, batting her spoon away with a flick of his wrist. She retaliated by starting a swiftly assuming a pose her body remembered from her fencing practice years ago, almost laughing out loud as he mimicked her movement instantly, a goofy grin gracing his face.
"Is there an actual name for not being able to taste things?" Marianne wondered loudly as they begun placing potato slices in the oil, sneaking a glance at Bog.
"Aguesia, I think," he immediately responded, his eyes still locked on the pot in front of them.
By the end of the show Marianne had luckily only set one towel on fire and they had managed to make a decent plate of pub-style fries - "perfect for a party or warming yourself up after getting soaked in the rain" as Bog had put it, a faint smile gracing his lips as he peered at her over over the pan he was drying.
"Indeed" she grinned at the camera while popping a fry in her mouth. "Thank you everyone for watching and we hope you enjoyed this as much as we did. Tune in next Friday for more Slice and Dice and Conquer!" Marianne finished enthusiastically and waited for cameraman to give her all-clear.
"See, it wasn't so bad. We can do this" she said to her companion, hoping he wouldn't run away screaming.
"No, not bad at all, Tough Girl".
Hmm, I think I like that nickname.
~*~*~
The morning after the pilot aired Marianne woke up at barely six because she had tossed and turned in silent terror for most of the night and attempting to sleep seemed like a futile attempt. Taking a deep breath, she set down her freshly made cup and flipped open her laptop.
"So, let's see what's on social media" she uttered to herself as she waited for latest posts to load.
As she read through what others had written about their joint effort phrases like "good chemistry between hosts" and "refreshing and humorous approach to cooking shows" made her relax and lean back in her chair as she grinned up to the ceiling.
"Who's the one with more talent now, huh, Roland?" she asked out loud.
She didn't let herself to think about some comments about how both of them made a "quite fetching couple". Noone sane should ever dwell in the musings of "shippers".
~*~*~
As the ratings and fanbase for their show continued to grow, Marianne discovered they both actually have a lot in common. They both liked classic rock, which often prompted bouts of "guess that song" while cooking (Bog was winning that by twenty nine correct guesses against her twenty seven), held a disdain for overly fancy cuisine ("What's the point of arranging three beans in a triangle and charging as much as to pay for enough pints to get even me drunk?" he had grumbled once when they were flipping through a bunch of food magazines in search of ideas - she had agreed wholeheartedly) and on occasion they'd resume their spoon fights.
The public seems to love them, often calling them “those two grumpy cooks” online and there were even rumours about possible nominations in certain award shows, but both Marianne and Bog didn't really pay any attention to that, spending their energy on putting together more and more easy-yet-nice recipes and just enjoying their time together.
It took Marianne about three months to realise that their rehearsals are some of the best time she had ever had in her life. He doesn’t mind that she still screws up from time to time and sometimes gets too passionate about tomatoes - on he other had, she has learned how to deal with Bog’s occasional moods and discomfort about being suddenly stuck in the limelight.
A month later she is fairly sure she has at least a crush on him - which is ridiculous because Marianne has no time for romance, and it's not the way she rolls but there is something heartwarming about all the little things Bog tends to do seemingly subconsciously as they interact - all those small touches, bashful grins just add up until she has nothing else to do to just admit the truth to herself.
She liked Bog. A lot.
Now the only problem was how to figure out if he was feeling the same.
~*~*~
It took all her courage one late evening after they had finished filming to finally ask him out on an actual date. But that didn't work out as planned.
"We need to make some more publicity for our show?" he furrowed his brows.
"What? Is it the only reason why I'd want to see a movie with you?" she asked in disbelief.
His answer is too low for her to decipher but the implications make her blood boil anyway.
"Wow, you sure have a high opinion of me - has it ever crossed your mind that I might enjoy spending time with you, Bog?" she crossed her arms across her chest, glaring at him.
"Right, the pretty fairy princess wants to go out with an ugly goblin like me" he sneered over a bowl of a new type of batter they had been experimenting on.
"Will you stop demeaning yourself all the time? I don't give a flying fuck about what that ex of yours told you, but most of the world seems to find you aesthetically pleasing enough. And I'm insulted you'd think I'm that shallow!" her voice had risen in volume because this was not an answer one might expect when they ask someone they find attractive and captivating and overall cool out.
"I've seen your previous guy, unfortunately I wasn't born blind," he retorts, slamming the bowl back on the counter, and she doesn't notice it's because his hands are shaking.
"Well, then you can keep looking at the past, I don't care. I was an idiot to believe this might work out!" Marianne shouted, swiftly turning on her heel and stomping out of the studio, forcing herself not to look back at the suddenly distraught looking man she had started to like a lot.
~*~*~
In the following two weeks everybody was walking on eggshells around Marianne who seemed to be in even worse mood than she had been after her broken engagement. the material they had filmed seemed bland and boring, both of them spending more energy pretending to be civil than actually cooking.
Dawn was the one to finally sat her down and read her the riot act. "This is ridiculous, we all know you like each other and need to be together forever."
She silenced her sister with a hand wave and continued: "But Boggy is too scared so you've got to be the brave one and finally make a move. We have a rather large betting pool on when both of you are getting together and my deadline is coming up." she added with an impish grin and Marianne laughed despite herself deciding it was time for her go after what she wanted.
So that was how she had ended up by Bog's apartment the next day, feeling both panicked and settled.
Readjusting her grip on the food container with her afternoons work, Marianne took a deep breath and knocked on the weathered door in front of her, mentally steeling herself for the possibility that the same door would be slammed in her face. She wouldn't blame him if that happened, but for hell's sake, she hadn't seen him for three days, they had a show to film and, frankly, she just missed him.
"What'ya want for me now?" Bog groaned, as he pulled the door open and his tired and hangover-ish gaze met hers.
"Here." she thrust the box with spaghetti and meatballs into his hands and looked back up at him. "I know I can be a bitch, and what I said was hurtful, and I don't give a shit about ratings as long as I get to cook with you and somehow you're now my best friend and we need to try out that old-timey hamburger recipe Twiggy found and..." she cut herself off when she realized that a) she was rambling and b) he was staring at her, a wide grin gracing his sharp features.
"A best friend, eh?" one of his eyebrows raised quizzically.
"I don't have spoon duels with good friends".
"You do know that what you sometimes do in kitchen only vaguely resembles cooking?"
"I'm getting better. Got a teacher and all." she finally grinned back at him and decided to hell with it as her right hand gripped the collar of his shirt and dragged his face closer to hers. "I also would like to think I'm a bit of a teacher's pet."
"Marianne, I'm sorry for being like that, it's not like everyday I meet spirited girls who just barge into my life, turning everything upside down, making me twitchy and nervous and all flustered." Bog's grin faltered for a moment as his face gained a look of genuine regret: "I hope we can continue whatever this is. All of it."
That was the moment when she finally realised that this might work out.
With that she tilted forward, letting their lips meet, smiling as she felt one of his hands cup her cheek.
A moment later they separated, both still smiling as he gently pulled her in and locked the door behind them.
"Have to say, Tough Girl, I'm curious what you deemed to be special enough to use as an apology" Bog said as he lead her to the small kitchen and dumped the box on the table, finally lifting its lid. He stared at the contents for a bit and then raised his eyes to meet hers.
"What happened to these poor meatballs?"
"I...tried to make them look like butterflies?" she tried to shrug nonchalantly.
"While the idea is good, the execution..." Bog sighed exaggeratedly and reached for the nearby fridge. "You're going to need some practice. Now."
Marianne agreed with him immensely. After all, practice makes perfect.
~*~*~
It had taken a year and seven months for everyone to finally agree that Marianne had finally learned how to cook. Sure, she still burnt pancakes on occasion and turned cream into butter instead of whipped cream, but it wasn't all that bad. Her husband didn't mind at all.
LUNARPUNCTUATION SAID: THE SAD THING IS I’M NOT SURE IF IT’S HIM OR IF ITS… THE OTHER ONE. IDK MAN, AND ALSO THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN IN ALL CAPS ANYWAY? U KNO ME. BUT FORREALLLL???? LIKE ALL Y'ALL GOTTA LIVE THERE DON’T BE A FUCKING DAVID AND KATIE DAMN
Wait.....I’m confused, who’s the other one? the other roommate? Or my roommate’s bae? But it’s def my bae. As in, the one I’m moving to Colorado for
Anyway yeah he was being super childish and honestly the way our phone conversation ended was that he’s supposed to see me in November and I told him if he’s not here on the days he says he’s going to be, we’re done (and he laughed at that as if he hasn’t delayed his trips here so many times??????? whatever.)
Oh also I called him a dumb bitch. He didn’t like that and I like almost gained back all the years stressing over him have taken off my lifespan
LUNARPUNCTUATION SAID: ???? HE IS TOO FUCKING OLD TO BE ACTING LIKE SUCH A CHILD!!! WOAH DUDE WTF
(sorry it’s in all caps. I’m too mad to figure out how to fix it rn)
fucking thANK YOU THO. Like this is the third time I’ve called him a child about this and yet he still doesn’t do anything (in fact he ignores the angry messages I send him these days) and I wouldn’t be so mad if 1) he hadn’t told me (six months ago at least!) and I quote “no trust me with finding a place, that’s my job” 2) he hadn’t also told me that he “really” wants to move in with me bc like really????? are you sure?????? bc it doesn’t look like it
Yo I totally own guards! Guards! If you want to borrow it and the nice thing about discworld is you can read around things you don't have to read all 40 books
ohhhhhh ok that makes it better. i thought it was a straight up series that i had to read in order. yo im totes down with borrowing that :3
