Chapter Text
Bedtime Stories
Becoming a father was one of Tom Dupain’s proudest moments, holding his little girl in his arms and watching her grow and learn under the watchful guidance of him and his loving wife. Marinette was an adventurous and inquisitive little girl full of passion, boasting a forward drive that often got her what she wanted. The highlight of Tom’s day was the time he spent feeding her imagination with daring sword fights in which the princess always slayed the evil dragon to save her beloved father until she tuckered out, and he carried her up to bed.
“Alright, my little warrior princess. I think we have time for one bedtime story tonight,” He announced as he tucked her in. “What will it be?”
“How did you and mommy meet?” She asked, those long, fluttery lashes blinking tiredly, though her eyes shone with that natural curiosity that often got her in trouble. Tom smiled fondly, thinking back ten years to the day in question.
“Well, it’s a long story, but if you can stay awake, I’ll tell you.” He gave her a playful wink, and she hugged her stuffed cat closer in anticipation.
“I first laid eyes on your mother ten years ago. That’s this many.” He held up both sets of fingers for emphasis. “Back then your papa had just graduated high school, and he was struggling to find a path to take in life. So he picked up a job at a bakery where he met a brilliant young business major who used the shop as an opportunity to study how a successful business was run, and you’ll be surprised to know that we didn’t exactly hit it off right away…”
x x x
“So, what’s your name?” Tom asked, leaning against the display in an attempt to look impressive as the young woman restocked it with cookies. She stayed quiet as she focused on her task, just as she had been all morning, but he was determined to break through her shell. “The name’s Thomas, but you can call me Tom if you like.”
“Great,” She said curtly, straightening up and carrying the pan back to the prep table and gesturing to several more pastries that needed stocking. “Tom, will you put this cake in the display?”
“Right.” He nodded, lips pressing into a firm line.
Their workplace relationship stayed cordial at best, strictly professional, which made no difference to Tom as he was quite the ladies’ man, and Sabine quickly got her fill of watching nauseating flirtation attempts with just about every young girl that walked through the doors.
They worked together manning the shop while the baker did his work in the back, and after a couple months, Tom finally made a little headway with Sabine one afternoon when the baker stepped out to attend a birthday party for his niece. It was a quiet afternoon, most of the lunch rush having swung through already, and Tom was busy sweeping up front when he heard a loud shriek from the back. He dropped the broom and rushed around the counter to find Sabine blanched and staring at the floor in horror.
“Are you okay?” He asked, glancing down at the cake on the ground. He cupped a hand over his mouth. “Is that the cake for the charity auction?”
“He’s going to kill me!” She squealed, covering her face with her hands, and Tom glanced around the prep area, biting his lip.
“Maybe not,” He said, pursing his lips in contemplation.
“The auction is tomorrow afternoon! Mr. Dufour isn’t coming back until tomorrow morning. There’s no way he’ll be able to make another one!” She groaned.
“Well, what if we made another one?” He suggested, grabbing a bowl as Sabine’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know how to bake a cake, at least not one like this!” She gestured to the one on the floor.
“Well, that’s because you spend all your time up front, but I’ve been watching Mr. Dufour bake for a while now, and I think I could make a passable dupe.” He tapped his chin and eyed the ingredients on the shelf.
“Baking isn’t something you can pick up just from watching! You need to follow the recipe exactly,” She scoffed, folding her arms disapprovingly over her chest as she watched him work.
“Oh, shall we call Mr. Dufour right now and tell him you ruined his cake then?” He cocked a brow, and she shifted her weight to the side and mumbled a grumpy ‘no’ under her breath. “Then grab some eggs from the fridge and help me.”
“This is never going to work,” She declared, setting the carton beside him and watching as he measured out the sugar.
“That’s an awfully strange way to say ‘Thank you for helping me fix my screw up,’” He teased, offering her a playful smile.
“You haven’t fixed it yet, sweetie, and I’m not holding my breath,” She said with a grunt.
“Well, when I do fix it, will you go to dinner with me?” He winked, warranting an eye roll from his coworker.
“If you fix it, I will buy you dinner,” She conceded. “But if you screw it up royally, I’m blaming the accident on you.”
“Just write down everything that I’m measuring. It’s numbers, you’re good with those,” He countered, and she puffed out her cheeks but didn’t argue as she grabbed a pen and paper. Soon enough, the cake was finished, and they waited with bated breath for it to cool. Tom sliced it carefully and the two pinched off bits to taste.
“Not bad, but not Mr. Dufour’s cake by any means,” Sabine commented. “It’s too dry.”
“How do I fix that?” He groaned, and Sabine pursed her lips in thought before pacing over to the front door. “Where are you going?”
“Up the street, I’ll be right back,” She called over her shoulder. “Mind the shop!”
Tom frowned, but moved around to tend the customers filing in after her. There weren’t that many, but he couldn’t leave the register long enough to start on a second attempt in the back. For a moment, he wondered if she’d abandoned him with intentions to push the blame onto him, but after ten minutes, she raced back through the door.
“Flour,” She said breathlessly. “You used too much flour.”
“Where did you go?” He asked as she took his place at the register.
“To the bakery around the corner. I buy all my baguettes from there, and the baker there knows my face pretty well,” She explained, cashing out the customer in front of her.
“And here I thought you’d left me to hang,” He said with a smirk, and she cast him an unappreciative frown.
“Well, get back to the kitchen. I’ve got it up here,” She ordered, and he offered a mocking salute before treading back to the prep area.
He worked for a bit by himself before Sabine returned to supervise. They stood in silence, the only noise coming from Tom clanking measuring cups and cake pans, and Sabine watched his every move thoughtfully before she finally spoke up.
“Why are you doing this?” She asked, rubbing her arm and glancing down at her shoes.
“What do you mean?” He asked, pouring the batter into a pan and sliding it into the oven.
“You and I don’t talk much, and we don’t even really know each other, so why are you working so hard to help me?” She clarified, eyebrows furrowing guiltily. “I’ve always been kind of cold to you, but you’re being so nice.”
“I like having you around, even if you never talk to me. It’d be a shame if you got fired,” He replied, dusting the flour from his hands and nodding at the dishes. “I’m gonna need those again once this cake comes out.” Sabine didn’t argue as she moved past him to the sink and got to work. A smile curled on his lips as he watched her clean, and after a moment he spoke again, “Why are you always so quiet?”
“Because I don’t have time for distractions,” She mumbled, setting a dish to the side and tossing a drying towel at Tom.
“So, you admit I’m distracting?” He waggled his eyebrows with a smug grin.
“Only because you never shut your mouth,” She retorted, but an undeniable little smile tugged the corners of her lips which was victory enough for Tom.
“I knew you couldn’t resist my charm.” He flexed impressively, but she looked him up and down seemingly unimpressed.
“Your cake is burning,” She said, patting his chest before moving back around to the front, and Tom sniffed the air curiously before racing to the oven and frantically ripping the cake out.
By the end of the day, Tom had baked nearly a dozen cakes, each failing to match the taste and texture of the owner’s by just a small margin. Sabine flipped the sign on the window to closed and paced back to the kitchen where Tom was trying yet another cake. She leaned against the counter and cocked a brow.
“I think you owe me a dinner,” He announced with a sly grin.
“No way,” She gasped, accepting the forkful he offered. “Not exact, but it should work.”
“There’s a quaint little place a few blocks over that has excellent roast duck,” He said, leaning down to meet her gaze triumphantly.
“Not so fast, copycat.” She held up a hand. “You haven’t mastered the frosting yet.”
Tom opened his mouth to counter but closed it again immediately as his eyes widened in realization. Sabine bit back a smile and turned back to the door.
“Thanks for trying anyway. I’ll tell Mr. Dufour what happened tomorrow morning and face the consequences,” She called over her shoulder as Tom stood dejectedly in the kitchen. “Don’t forget to lock up.”
The next morning when Sabine arrived for her shift, Tom was working the register quietly, heavy bags weighing down his eyes, though he kept a smile on his face for each customer. Sabine tried to search his expression, but he wouldn’t look at her head-on, so she took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen, preparing to face the wrath of the old baker.
“Mr. Dufour, there’s something I have to tell- you…” Her voice trailed off as she eyed a perfect replica cake sitting on the counter. The baker in question was busy rolling out dough for another batch of croissants.
“What is it?” He asked without glancing up from his work.
“Um, about your auction cake,” She continued, blinking in confusion. “I, um-”
“Oh, yes, could you box that up for me?” He cut her off, slipping the pan back into the fridge and nodding to the boxes in the corner. “The event coordinator will be here to pick it up soon.”
Sabine glanced back to the front counter where Tom attempted to hide a smile, and she let out a breath of relief. Although she wasn’t sure how he pulled it off, she was grateful that he had, and she boxed the cake more carefully this time and set it aside until it was ready to be picked up. She moved back up front to relieve Tom on the cash register, and he leaned against the counter with a wide grin.
“Dinner?”
“You’re insane,” She chuckled, biting back a smile of her own. “I’ll pick you up.”
x x x
Tom glanced down at the girl sucking her thumb in bed and glanced at the clock.
“That’s enough for tonight,” He declared, standing up with a labored heave.
“Is that the end?” Her tiny eyebrows knitted together on her forehead, and Tom let out a chuckle, ruffling her hair with a large hand.
“For tonight. Maybe I’ll tell you some more tomorrow,” He vowed when she puffed her cheeks out in displeasure.
“Promise?” She said with a pout.
“I promise,” He said, leaning down to kiss her hair. “Good night, sweet girl.”
“Good night, Papa.”