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“I’m cheating on you.”
Adrien’s confession dropped into the space like a boulder hitting the ground after being thrown off the Tower. Marinette certainly felt squashed.
As she peered at her husband standing by the kitchen counter, she was glad she was seated at their dining room table. She would have collapsed to her knees otherwise.
Unshed tears clogged her throat, making words difficult. There was only one thing she wanted to say. One thing she could say. “W-What?”
Adrien gave her a mournful look and turned back to the counter. She wondered what he was picking up, but then remembered her father had dropped a white box off for Adrien earlier that day that she hadn’t broken into.
Adrien spun around slowly, holding a slice of Saint Honoré cake. Named for the French patron saint of bakers, the cake was intricately formed out of a puff pastry base topped with a generous piping of custard and delicate cream puffs dipped in caramelized sugar. It looked like a headache to Marinette; she knew how difficult those cakes were to prepare.
But they were so, so tasty.
“I’m cheating on you…” Adrien started, opening his mouth like a boa constrictor and shoving a cream puff inside his waiting maw. “... with this cake.”
Relief bowed Marinette’s shoulders. She hadn’t had enough coffee for this. Giving Adrien a flat look over her steaming mug he’d poured for her, she told him off for messing with her. “You’re ridiculous. You’re not cheating on me. You’re cheating on your diet.”
Adrien swallowed and speared another one of the pastry balls onto his fork. It looked like a sticky mess, and Adrien’s lips weren’t spared: the corners were covered with caramel and cream. Marinette would kiss it off if she weren’t so irritated.
“This cake and I need to be alone.” Another huge bite, which he spoke through, showing off cake and cream alike. “You don’t understand our love.”
Marinette indulged in her coffee, draining half the cup in a giant gulp. “You’re cheating on your eight week crash diet on week seven.”
Adrien chomped down on more of his sugary treat, appearing totally unrepentant. “Yep.”
“And it’s one week before fashion week.”
“Yep,” Adrien said, popping the p. He took another bite and groaned. “This cake is so good. You’re not having any, are you?”
Adrien piped up before she could answer. “You shouldn’t have any. It’s my birthday cake and it’s the love of my life.”
“Again, ridiculous.” Marinette drained the rest of her coffee and then stood from her seat, plodding over to the Keurig machine in her slippered feet. “Adrien.”
“Yesss?”
Marinette set her coffee mug down on the counter and touched his arm. “There’s something you should know.”
Adrien stopped shoveling his cake in his mouth to raise a brow at her.
“I’m cheating on you…” Marinette’s smile was nowhere to be found. She was entirely deadpan. Adrien began to sweat. “... with the coffee maker.”
Adrien sighed. “Now who’s being ridiculous? That machine doesn’t know what true love even is. Not like my cake.” He served himself another piece. “I’m definitely having an affair here.”
Marinette shrugged. “Unfortunately, you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”
Adrien gasped. “How dare you?” He clutched his shirt. “You dare take away my one source of happiness?”
Marinette stared at him for a moment, and then shook her head. “I haven’t had enough coffee for this.”