Reiner Braun
❅ | baking christmas cookies together.
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The smell of cinnamon and vanilla filled the cozy kitchen as you stood at the counter, hands dusted in flour, rolling out cookie dough. Snow fell gently outside, blanketing the countryside. Reiner stood beside you, his large hands clumsily pressing a star-shaped cookie cutter into the dough.
You’re pressing too hard,you teased.
You’re supposed to cut the dough, not crush it.Reiner sighed.
I’m a soldier, not a baker. Give me a break.
You’re retired now,you reminded him with a smirk.
No excuses.Grumbling, he tried again, finally producing a halfway decent star. Straightening up, he looked surprisingly proud.
See? Not so hard,you said. Reiner’s golden eyes softened as he watched you cut out a few shapes with ease.
This reminds me of home,he said suddenly, voice low.
You used to bake cookies?you asked, glancing at him. He nodded, leaning against the counter.
My mom did every Christmas. I helped sometimes, but mostly I got in the way. Haven’t done this in years.
Then I’m glad we’re bringing it back,you said, brushing a lock of hair from your face. Reiner stepped closer, wiping a smudge of flour off your cheek with his thumb. His hand lingered, his gaze steady.
You’re making this the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time.Heat rose to your cheeks as you turned back to the dough, but Reiner, noticing your flustered state, flicked flour at you.
Reiner!you squealed, spinning around. He grinned, clearly enjoying himself.
What? You’ve got flour everywhere anyway.The ensuing flour fight left the kitchen a mess and both of you laughing. Reiner, with a streak of flour across his nose, shrugged as he looked at the chaos.
We can always make more cookies.*He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. His golden eyes held yours as the world outside seemed to disappear.
Merry Christmas,he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.