Chapter Text
After about five weeks of it, Nathalie wished he’d just go back to being a terrorist. Not that she had ever liked that whole stint- it came in two phases for her- twelve-hour workday, or feeling seconds away from death. So, seriously, not to disparage how terrible that year was, but somehow this was worse.
Gabriel had the most exhausting habit of working every waking hour of his life, and with the empty space super-villainy now left he was filling it with PTA work.
He had to “ensure the school was suitable for his son.”
Good lord, Nathalie thought spending time with said sone was a more effective use of his time, but when had Gabriel ever listened to her before.
Also: they owned a whole ass fashion empire, so Nathalie really wasn’t sure why he felt the need to divert his attention when they had enough shit to do.
He was scowling into the bowl and Nathalie looked up from burying her face in her hands.
“What now?”
“This is bullshit. It has to be.”
She looked over the recipe again. “You added the cup of vegan chocolate chips?”
“Of course I added the damn cup.”
Nathalie grimaced. So what’s the problem now?”
“The dough’s a liquid.”
She pursed her lips, “We could always buy-”
“I’ve searched everywhere Nathalie, no grocery store carries flourless, eggless, sugar-free, vegan cookies,” he groused defeatedly.
“Why are these kids allergic to so much stuff? How are they still alive? You’d think it’s just natural select-”
“-Nathalie!”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you add more almond flour and sunflower seed butter. That could thicken it.”
Gabriel made a faintly disgusted noise before stabbing a spoon into the nut butter.
“You could help me you know.”
Nathalie examined her nails. “I’m helping.”
“You’re reading the instructions.”
“See, helping.”
He huffed. “Nathalie, I know you stress bake, you could actually make these edible.”
“I use flour and sugar and butter, I can’t help with that concoction.”
He peered into the mixing bowl and pulled the spatula from the “cookie dough.” Gritty liquid dripped from it.
“You know, it reminds me of the food Emilie used to make.”
Nathalie made a gagging noise. “Oh god, don’t even talk about that-”
“-It was just so bad,” Gabriel chuckled to himself.
“Did you dig this recipe up from her books?”
“No,” he said, scowl returning, “Henriette gave it to me.”
“Why didn’t you say you couldn’t bring snacks?”
“Everyone brings snacks to the meetings, I’d be disgraced.”
“And why couldn’t Claude make them?”
“He threatened to quit.”
Nathalie snorted. “At least one of us knows how to stand their ground.”
Gabriel shot her a worried glance. “You’re not going to quit are you?”
No. “Are you going to make me help you bake flourless, eggless, sugarless, etc. cookies for bitchy white ladies in the PTA?”
“No.”
“Then I think you’re safe.”
He sighed in relief before looking up at her with devious eyes. “So you admit you’re not actually helping.”
Nathalie stood from the breakfast table, “Yeah, have fun fixing those cookies by yourself.”
“No, wait, Nath-”
The kitchen door shut with a satisfying click behind her.
The cookies ended up looking rather malformed but somehow looked more appetizing than any of the other foods people had brought.
Nathalie brought her own food in her purse. Hopefully, she was more subtle than the woman who brought a flask.
A few of the moms who were there for the primaire school fundraiser stuff couldn’t find sitters, so Nathalie ended several young children tugging at her sleeves, begging for snacks.
After checking with the kids about allergies and subtly glancing at the list Gabriel had been given about food issues because she did not trust these kids in the slightest, Nathalie handed out goldfish crackers gummy packets to the poor children. If anyone was wondering why she had a trail of hungry ducklings behind her, they didn’t mention it.
It was a surprisingly peaceful existence.
Meanwhile, Gabriel was continually getting into arguments with the board president, and fending off the advances of midlife crisis soccer moms.
It was deeply entertaining to watch.
“Maybe if we hadn’t tried to hold a car wash when most of these kids walk to school or take the subway, we would have actually met our goal, Henriette,” he seethed.
Nathalie had to stifle a laugh.
“Who is that angry man?” asked one of the random children digging food out of her purse.
“My boss,” she whispered back.
“He’s a poopy-face.”
“I agree,” Nathalie whispered, “You should tell him that.”
To her surprise, the little boy actually hopped off her lap and strode over to Gabriel.
Nathalie pulled out her phone and thumbed the record button.
“Hey, mister!” the kid said, his name was Julian or Jules or something.
Gabriel turned in surprise to face the tiny dark-haired creature behind him. Julian shook his tiny fist at him.
“You’re a poopy-face!” he yelled before spinning on his tiny light-up tennis shoe and running back to Nathalie.
Nathalie burst into laughter before covering it with a cough. Julian? Julien? Joules? Oh, it was Julius, climbed back into her lap and popped another cracker into his mouth.
“Julius!” Cried his mother in horror. “We don’t say that to people!”
The tiny slip of a boy pointed at Nathalie. “She agreed with me! She said he was too!”
Nathalie’s cheeks pinked. Little snitch. Still worth it though.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her. Nathalie shrugged.
Sparse stifled laughter broke the hush of the room.
“Oh, who can blame him?” a tiny Asian lady Nathalie vaguely recognized said brightly, “plenty of little kids say things they don’t mean!”
“I DID mean it,” Julius said. His mother scooped him from Nathalie’s lap and rushed out of the room, giving frantic apologies the whole time.
“Look what you’ve done, Nathalie,” Gabriel said, “you’ve turned the children into delinquents.”
“He’s not a delinquent for telling the truth, sir.”
“The truth is that I’m a ‘poopy face’?”
“You’re a what sir? I didn’t quite hear that.”
He grimaced. “Don’t do that. And don’t show that video to Adrien.”
“Or what?”
“Anyway,” Henriette interrupted, voice shrill, “If we could get back to the budget for the lycée science fair-”