The Baker- Dick Winters x OFC
Dick enjoyed his morning walk to work. It was so early that the streets were mostly deserted and the air was fresh, no matter the season. Well, as fresh as city air could be, anyway. Walking alone with his thoughts and a spring in his step, Dick was certain that nothing could make his morning walk more pleasurable.
And then he saw her.
He'd passed by the small building on the corner of the opposite block more times than he could remember. He knew it was a bakery— Betty's Bakery to be precise— but he had never actually paid any more attention to it than that. Which was why he had clearly never noticed the lady who he presumed owned it, or at the very least worked there.
He knew for a fact that if he had seen her before then he would remember, and not just because he was good at remembering faces.
No, regardless of that, he would have remembered her.
He would have remembered the way her raven black hair shone in the early morning light, and he definitely would have remembered her hazel eyes flecked with blue and her flushed cheeks as she struggled to pick up the boxes that the early morning delivery driver had dumped unceremoniously on the sidewalk.
"Do you need help?" he found himself asking before his mind even registered he was doing it.
"That would be incredibly kind of you and much appreciated." The smile of relief and gratefulness she gave him was enough to make Dick certain he had momentarily stopped breathing. "This new delivery man keeps coming earlier and earlier, and unlike the old one who used to actually help carry in the goods, he just dumps them and does a runner," she huffed as Dick hoisted up a crate with enough eggs and flour inside to feed a small army. Opening the door and holding it open for him, she smiled again. "Just set them down in the back there if you don't mind. I really appreciate your help."
"It's not a problem," Dick answered, his lips forming a small smile as he went back for the other crate and carried it into the back of the shop to the kitchen area.
"Here," the woman was just pulling some brownies out of the oven and she scooped a few into a box and held them out to him. "To say thank you."
"Oh that's not necessary," Dick refused politely. As lovely as they smelled, he was not one for sweet things at all. "I was more than happy to help."
"I insist," she argued gently. "They're really tasty; even if I do say so myself."
"That's very generous," Dick smiled warmly, taking the box and thinking about just how excited Nix would be when he turned up at the nitration works with these. "I'll be going then."
"Thank you again," the woman waved him off, following him out to the front door so that she could lock it behind him.
With a polite bob of his head, Dick left; brownies in hand and a smile screwed on to his face.
One that stayed put until he reached work and wordlessly handed the brownies to Lew, who tucked in with vigour; making somewhat obscene noises as he claimed they almost tasted better than sex. Almost.
"Where'd you get 'em?" Lew asked once he had devoured the fourth and final one at some point mid morning.
Dick explained the story, leaving out just how much the memory of her smile lingered at the forefront of his mind or how he could still smell the delicate scent of her rose water perfume.
"Here," Nix slammed some money down on Dick's desk. "See what else you can buy tomorrow, alright?"
… … …
As it went, Dick wasn't able to purchase anything the next morning. A box of carrot cake slices with cream cheese frosting were given to him in payment for his moving of baking goods once again.
And Victoria sponge cake slices the following day. Apple and cream turnovers the next. Macarons the one after that.
"You know, I don't even know your name," she told him on the Friday morning, holding out a box of lemon meringue pies.
"Dick," he answered, taking the box with his usual polite smile. "Winters. Dick, uh Richard, Winters. And I'm guessing you're Betty?"
"Oh, no," she laughed. "That was my grandmother's name; she's the one who taught me to bake. No, I'm Ethel. Pleased to meet you, Dick."
"You know, you really don't have to give me these you know," he motioned towards the box in her hands. "Or you could at least let me pay for them."
"Not a chance," Ethel looked horrified at the suggestion. "You're doing me a huge favour every morning when you don't have to. If anything I should be paying you more than cakes."
"I'd say the cakes are more than sufficient," Dick smirked, unable to shake the feeling of guilt that he hadn't actually tried any of her wares, but the niggle being eased somewhat at the knowledge that Nix was enjoying them wholeheartedly on his behalf. "Well, I'd best be going."
"Good bye, Dick."
… … …
He was insane. More than insane, he was… well, he was having a hard time thinking up something that was worse than insane. Whatever the word was, he was most definitely it given that he was up on his day off to head to the bakery, which he knew was open due to seeing the opening times stuck to the door just the day before.
As expected, Ethel was outside, attempting to pick up her first crate of goods only for him to hurriedly take it from her.
"Dick?" she frowned. "What are you doing here?"
"Helping," he answered simply, ignoring her questioning gaze and pushing his way inside of the bakery.
"But you're not… you're not working today, surely?" Ethel followed him with a tray of eggs. "It's Saturday."
"I like to take a walk," he shrugged.
"At five thirty in the morning?" she raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "On your day off?"
"I enjoy the routine," he lied.
"Hmm," Ethel folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, I was just about to make myself a bacon sandwich before the girl who helps me on a Saturday comes in. Care for one?" Ethel took Winter's momentary silence as one of discomfort when it was actually one of delighted surprise. "No, of course you don't, you've probably got things to do and I'm just-"
"Coffee," he cut her off gently. "I'll make the coffee."
… … …
Three Weeks Later
"You're late." Nixon smirked when Dick looked at the clock with a frown. "Alright, so you're late by your standards, which is still ten minutes early to anyone else. I take it you struggled to tear yourself away from the lovely Ethel? Speaking of, what did you bring me today, Dick?"
Setting down the box of french fancies, Nix shoved one into his mouth and perched himself on the edge of Dick's desk as he sat down and started to organise his paperwork for the coming day.
"So when are you gonna ask her out? 'Cause I tell you, Dick, I'm ready to ask her to marry me and feed me cakes for the rest of my life if you don't get a move on."
"I'm not asking Ethel out," Dick muttered.
"Why not? She clearly likes you. She makes you cakes every day. Cakes that she could sell for money."
"She gives me cakes every day; cakes that she's probably already made for the bakery, and she only gives me them because I help her. And before you say anything, I only help her because it's on my way past."
"And the Saturday mornings?" Nix grinned again. "You've got it bad for the lovely Ethel, my friend, just admit it."
"Don't you have work to do, Nix?"
"I'm the boss's son," Lew shrugged. "I work when I want."
"So never then," Winter smirked teasingly.
"I tell you what, Dick. I'll work when you agree to ask Ethel out."
"No."
"Oh come on," Nixon exclaimed. "She doesn't have a ring on her finger, hasn't mentioned a boyfriend despite having plenty of opportunity to do so, and clearly likes you enough to waste cakes and expensive bacon on you. Do yourself and her a favour and just ask her out. The worst she's gonna say is no and if that's the case, you can walk the other way to work and bypass her shop, then the only person missing out is me 'cause I won't have her cakes every day for breakfast."
"And lunch," Dick murmured under his breath. "Fine. I'll ask her."
"Good man," Nix slapped him on the shoulder and beamed. "You won't regret it."
… … …
Dick never lied.
Which was why he decided to refer to the fact he had yet to ask Ethel out as a delay rather than something he wasn't going to do at all. Which meant he wasn't lying to Nix. Not really.
He was going to ask her out eventually. He just needed to find the right time. Before that, he needed to plan the perfect date to actually take her out on. One that was more than just dinner or a movie. One that was as special as she was. One that was–
"Earth to Dick."
He blinked and then smirked bashfully when he realised Ethel was talking to him.
It was Saturday morning and he had exactly thirty two minutes until Joan, the Saturday girl, turned up for her shift. Taking a small bite of his bacon and egg sandwich as he tried to cover up his daydreaming blunder, he motioned with his hand for Ethel to continue.
"You sure I'm not boring you?" she grinned playfully. "My mom has always said I could talk the hind legs off a donkey, and she's definitely right when she says I have no idea when someone's fed up with listening."
"I'm not fed up," Dick answered instantly with a head shake. "I was just… you know, I was actually just thinking about an order I wanted you to make."
"An order?"
"Yeah," he said, realising with an internal grimace that he had no idea why he had said such a thing. Thank goodness he was good at thinking on his feet, as the next sentence out of his mouth proved. "Lew. My friend I told you about. It's his birthday on tuesday and I forgot that he asked for a cake, and well, you're the best cake maker and I know, and although I'm aware it's short notice I-"
"I'd be honoured," Ethel beamed. "Any particular flavour? How many tiers? What kind of decorations?"
"Uh…" Dick grimaced slightly. "I'll leave it up to you. He's not particularly fussy."
"Alright then," she nodded. "Well, I'll be sure to have it ready for monday."
"Great," Dick nodded back. "Shall I pay now or…?"
"Don't worry about it," she waved him off. "I don't want you to pay me. You help me so much and I-"
"Ethel," Dick put a hand on top of hers. "I insist. Please."
"Fine," she sighed. "But I'll only let you pay me for the cost of the ingredients, deal?"
"Deal."
… … …
Nixon couldn't stop laughing when Dick turned up on Tuesday morning with a two tier chocolate fudge birthday cake decorated with all manner of dogs– because apparently Ethel recalled Dick mentioning in conversation how much he liked them.
"I mean, this would be awesome if my birthday was today and not in three months time," he wheezed. "But what is awesome is that you did this instead of just growing a pair and asking the woman out."
"I'm an idiot," Dick was forced to admit as he watched Nixon cut a slice for himself, despite the fact it was not yet even six in the morning.
"An idiot in love," Nix grinned, revealing chocolate stained teeth.
"I'm not in love," Dick denied. On my way to being in love maybe, he added to himself silently.
"Definitely in love," Lew disagreed. "And definitely too afraid to do anything about it. I could help, you know? I'm a good wingman."
"You're a terrible wingman," Dick smirked. "Remember back in Aldbourne when you set me up with that red cross nurse? The one who you ended up taking back to your billet and… well, you know."
"Oh, I do know," Nix grinned again at the memory. "Shame really, Dick, because she was something else. You'd have enjoyed her."
"Hmm," he muttered. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer not to risk you enjoying Ethel."
"Only her cakes, my friend," Lewis promised with a wink. "Only her cakes."
… … …
Dick was late. He was rarely ever late for anything. He hated being late. Especially being late to help Ethel. He hated that he had considered not helping her with the delivery this morning in order to avoid being late for work. He also hated that he would sooner be late for work any day of the week than miss seeing her.
Approaching the bakery, he frowned when he saw that there was delivery outside… and no Ethel either. Pushing open the unlocked door, he was ready to both question the whereabouts of the crates and berate her for leaving said door open to possible strangers when he heard a familiar chuckle coming from the back kitchen. Two familiar chuckles in fact.
"Oh, hey, Dick," Nix grinned completely unashamedly. "Thought it was high time I came to meet the lovely Ethel you're always yakking on about."
"He helped me bring the delivery in," Ethel murmured, eyeing Dick with an expression that spoke of a guilt he could tell she wasn't sure why she felt.
"Not like you to be late, Dick," Nixon was enjoying the clench of Dick's jaw as he happily took one of the iced buns Ethel had lying on the side. "Too busy dreaming of something nice and slept through your alarm clock?"
"Could I have a word, please, Nix?" Dick asked through gritted teeth. "Outside."
"Just a minute," Lew waved him off. "Ethel was about to show me how she made those cute little dogs on the top of my cake. You know, for the birthday cake that wasn't actually for my birthday. Oh, shit, I mean, whoops, I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?"
"It wasn't your birthday?" Ethel looked at Nixon first and then at Dick.
"Sorry Dick," Nixon mock grimaced before turning to Ethel with an apologetic look. "Me and my big mouth. It'll get me in trouble some day, but today it's only gotten Dick into trouble."
"I'm confused," Ethel frowned. "Why did Dick order and pay for a birthday cake if it wasn't your birthday?"
"Yeah Dick," Nixon jumped down from the countertop he was sitting on. "Why did you order and pay for a birthday cake when it wasn't my birthday? Not that I'm complaining because it was delicious, Ethel. You outdid yourself."
"We'd better go, Nix," Dick cleared his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt to ease the discomfort he felt. "We've got that meeting soon and-"
"Oh don't you worry about that meeting," Lew waved him off. "We're waiting for an answer."
"Dick?" Ethel put a hand on his arm, looking up at him with those soft eyes that made him want to dive into them and never come up for air again.
"I lied," he croaked eventually, swallowing to ease his dry throat. "I… I wanted to ask you out. I had been thinking about asking you out, and instead of just asking you out I lied and told you I needed you to bake me a cake."
"You wanted to ask me out?" Ethel smiled tentatively, not even aware that she had stepped even closer; so close she could feel Dick's heart thudding against her own as he smiled back.
"I did; I still do," he murmured. "If you wanted me to, that is."
"Yeah," she beamed now. "I mean, it's taken you long enough. I thought I was going to be feeding you cakes and bacon sandwiches for the rest of my life before you finally got the hint."
"Well, I'm not one for cakes but I wouldn't like to stop with the bacon sandwiches," Dick grinned, taking Ethel's hand and entwining their fingers together.
"But I like the cakes," Nixon interjected with a grin. "I like them a lot. Bet I'll like the wedding cake you make for the happy day too."
And he did.
