Work Text:
One thing Meredith Grey had never understood, and knew she would never understand, was how in the world such tiny little humans could make such a big mess. One second her lounge was tidy, the next it was covered in toys. One second the dinner table was clean, the next it was covered in food. One second her children's clothes were washed, the next they were drenched in mud yet again. One second her trash can was empty, the next it was so full that the rubbish would spill out over the floor. One second she had a beautiful white wall, the next she found her youngest bringing a dark blue felt tip to the otherwise perfect paint work.
When she considered having children (or rather, had her husband shove a baby her way and suggest that they adopt her), a lot of things went through her mind, but that wasn't one of the things that rung alarm bells in her head. Sure, dirty diapers were definitely something that she considered, but never the fact that her house and the things in it would never be even close to squeaky clean again. She wasn't a particularly neat person, but her children...she was pretty sure they lived on some other planet. Garbage World.
Tomorrow was going to be worse than Garbage World. Garbage universe, perhaps. Because it was her son's birthday, which meant kilos and kilos of wrapping paper, two dozen cards to put up around the house, and far too many toys that she just knew Bailey would dump around the lounge. On the sofa. Under the sofa. Hiding in the cushions between seats. Over the table. On the floor between the table and sofa. Everything would be everywhere. But it'd be worth it for her son.
"So, why do we think he wants a whole cake to himself?" Derek pondered aloud.
"I don't know why. He doesn't seriously think we're going to let him eat the whole thing himself, does he?"
"Hope not. I don't wanna say no on his birthday, but I’m gonna have to if that’s his plan." He replied as he picked up the plastic ruler that they had washed about thirty times in the hope that it would be food safe. They didn't do this often enough to own the required equipment but, now that they had three kids, he was tempted to buy some.
Meredith sighed as she took a step back to critique the now fondant-covered cake with a slightly tilted head before agreeing, "Me neither."
"It looks good, really." He reassured her as he noticed her examination. So far, it was just a cake covered in red fondant, but, in the next hour or so, they hoped it would turn into the recognizable face of his favourite superhero.
"I'm not sure."
"Trust me."
"You're telling me to trust you when you're the one who has measured those eyes about six times."
"We don't want a wonky Spooderman!" He exclaimed.
She giggled as she repeated, "Wonky Spooderman?"
"Hey, I take my Spooderman business very, very seriously." He retorted.
"Mmm mmm." She muttered.
"This cake has got to be good. You know kids only appreciate the homemade stuff when it doesn't look like crap. He won't care that we spent all night doing this if it looks wrong. And no skimping on the details, he can do one of those spot-the-difference things without a picture of the original characters so uh- what are you doing?" He pondered as she slipped off the stool besides him and walked over to the side of the kitchen.
"It's a birthday cake for our five-year-old son Derek, not a brain-" She started as she returned to the seat with the bowl of buttercream icing that they had discarded once the fondant was over the cake. "-you need to relax."
"He can barely remember his third birthday because he was so young, and I spent his fourth in hospital. This is important."
"You're cute when you're worried about the kids."
"You're cute when you help me decorate this cake." He returned, hoping to convince her to return to the decorating process.
She rolled her eyes before she ran her finger across the bowl to collect a little icing on her finger. Luckily, there was some left for her plan to get him to relax. He could get so horrendously stressed about disappointing his children sometimes. She raised her hand to his face, only to scrape the icing off on his nose.
"Hey!" He exclaimed. "What the hell?"
She sniggered at the buttercream as it migrated down his nose. It was thick, but not close enough to stiff peaks to hold its shape. "You look good. I like it. New fashion trend."
He frowned and ripped the bowl out of her hand before doing the same to her. Although, this time, he rubbed the icing across her cheek.
"Ah! Two can play that game!" She exclaimed as she scooped up a clump with four fingers and smudged it across his forehead.
She knew she was doomed when Derek set the bowl down to place both hands in the bowl and wipe it across her face, one hand attacking each side.
"Hey! Too far!" She exclaimed, almost angry. Furiously, Meredith grasped the bag of icing sugar sat innocently besides the cake, unaware of its horrible, horrible fate. It wasn't going to be used for buttercream. It wasn't going to be used for glacé icing. It wasn't going to sit in the cupboard for years and absorb the water in the air until it formed an unusable clump and had to be thrown away. No. That would be far too sensible for Derek Shepherd and Meredith Grey.
The whole world flashed white for a second, like she'd set off a bomb. When the smoke-like particles cleared, she realized that she really had set off a bomb.
And Derek was the victim.
He was white.
His hair. His face. His top. His apron. His trousers. Everything.
Everything was white.
"Oh. My. God." She uttered, mouth wide. She didn't even know that the bag could cause that much chaos if the whole bag was used, and there was definitely a good amount left. She meant to hurl a handful at him, not explode the whole bag at him and make him into...whatever the hell he was now. His face almost looked like he'd got caught in the snow and the falling flakes had clung to his eyebrows and slight stubble. Plus, the few patches that she had just applied the perfect glue to.
His eyes opened slowly, scared that he'd get icing in them. Nose twitching to try and escape from the overpowering smell of sweetness, he rubbed it with his hand, spilling even more powder over the floor as his icing-sugar covered arm moved.
"That was not on purpose. I'm so, so sorry." She apologised as he didn't smile, nor say anything.
"Do we have another bag of that?" He asked as he looked up from his lap. He was wearing black as well, just to make the contrast worse.
"What?" She asked, voice small. That was the last thing she expected him to say after covering him in icing sugar. "Uh yeah, we got two-" She paused when he made a grab for the slightly ripped bag...and poured it over her head.
Derek physically winced from the amplitude of her squeal as her hair, her face, her top, her apron and her trousers were covered in the remains of the powder. What he did to her was much, much worse than his punishment.
"Um- what?" A rather concerned voice asked.
Derek put the now-empty bag down at the sound of that voice, turning to the lounge.
"Zola." He stated, looking at her wide-eyed face. He would be wide-eyed too if he came down stairs after being put to bed to find both of his parents engulfed in icing powder head-to-toe.
"What are you doing?"
"Bailey's birthday cake." Meredith explained. "Someone, looking at your father, thought it would be a good idea to make one instead of buy one. Like a normal person."
"Are...you two the cake or-"
"No, no, the cake is-" He paused as he looked at it. "Right, the cake, along with the whole kitchen, is now covered in icing sugar- but that's fine. Everything is fine."
"Have you ever heard of denial?" Zola pondered with a smirk.
"You, little missy, are supposed to be in bed." Meredith said as she got down from the stool, hoping to guide her daughter away from the discussion that clearly wanted to be had. She winced as she realized she had just tipped half a ton of icing sugar from her lap onto the floor as she stood, but ignored it.
"Forgot my water."
"Okay." Meredith said as she collected a glass before heading to the tap. "But then straight to bed, right?"
"What if I can't sleep over the sound of the vacuum when you clean all that up?"
Meredith sighed as she gave her daughter the glass. "We uh- yeah, not our smartest decision."
"Your mother started it, for the record." Derek said from the island.
"Mmm mmm. Sure Dad." She agreed with a not-so-convinced face before disappearing back upstairs.
"You started it by saying you wanted to make the cake in the first place!" Meredith exclaimed the second she knew she was gone, not wanting to 'argue' in front of her.
“You smooshed icing across my nose!”
“You didn’t have to take it that far, did you?" She asked pointedly as she paused in front of him. She wasn't loud nor angry, just trying to get her point across with a sensible tone.
“Hey-“ He called softly.
“What?” She asked, sitting down on the stool with a heavy sigh.
He smiled as she sat, but in a different way than before. It wasn’t the kind of grin born from something that was funny, it was from something else. Happiness. Admiration. Love.
“Seriously, what? Why are you smiling at me like that?” She asked, peeved that he was just sat, staring and smiling at her silently.
“Because-“ He started as he collected a little more buttercream on his finger. He raised it slowly to her face, unlike before, and scrubbed it across her lips. “-I love you.” He finished before kissing her, both of the pair's lips tasting the icing as they kissed and kissed and kissed.
“Kisses are better when they taste like buttercream.” Meredith muttered as he pulled away, satisfied with the kiss.
He smirked. “Note to self: buy Meredith Buttercream lip...stuff for her birthday.”
“That’s sweet – literally."
"But we have our son’s birthday to worry about, considering the fact that the cake is still not finished, and we are now both covered in icing powder.” He finished, her tone of voice telling him that she wasn't quite done.
She sighed, looking from him to her lap to the floor to the kitchen island. White. Every single thing was just pure white. It was a...mess. Like a lounge covered in toys or a table covered in food or a piece of clothing drenched in mud or a trash can overflowing to the floor or a white wall ruined by a long Ellis-made pen mark.
Okay. Maybe she was lying when she said she'd never understand her children and their ability to make everything go from sparkling to a total, utter messy mess.