Work Text:
Marinette fidgets in the exclusive gluten free cafe, bursting with savory pies and organic cupcakes swirled with flowers, as she stares down the menu. Their server has just stepped away for the fourth time, giving them, “a few more minutes”. Marinette hopes waiting for customers to make up their mind isn’t reason enough to be akumatized.
“What about the ‘Monte Cristo Crepe’ with truffle frites?” Adrien suggests, poring over the enticing options. “It sounds exotic.”
“Adrien, we’re French.”
“Maybe the 'Tula Crepe’, then. Ooh, or this 'Cider Battered Fish and Chips with Basil Aoli! The 'Lovely Lavender’ desert with dark and white chocolate ganache sounds good, too.”
Marinette observes her cafe guide, radiating enthusiasm for every gastronomic wonder promised them by the cream menu folder.
“There’s a 'Paleo’ dish with roasted carrot puree, seasonal vegetables, almonds, and balsamic reduction. It looks like an Aivazovsky painting.”
He really meant well, but why did everyone assume 'gluten free’ equated with 'trending vegetarian’?
His eager eyes find hers again -!!his Gorgeous Eyes, he was looking at her, sitting with her at a cafe table!!)-, waiting for her decision.
“I’m going to get…” -wow, those lethal Paris Green eyes! How was her heart supposed to take it?!-,
“a corndog.”
Adrien blinks. He breathes. His smile blooms across his entire face like the first forsythia 'Mimosa de Paris' breath of Spring.
“Alright. Me too!”