Work Text:
Matthew looked up as the bell rang, signaling a customer had come in.
“Welcome to Boulangerie Bonnefoy, how can I help you?” He greeted in the cheeriest voice he could muster at 10:30pm.
Usually, he would be in the kitchen at this time, washing up the dishes from that day’s customers, but today his brother Francis had his ‘friend’ Arthur over, who insisted on baking scones, and Francis was supervising. He had said before that Arthur’s culinary skills left something to be desired. Matthew let his thoughts run aimlessly as he wiped the counter, waiting for a reply.
“I’ve never been here before, so what do you recommend, Birdy?”
Matthew stopped cleaning abruptly. Birdy? Did they mistake him for someone else? Maybe a friend of Alfred’s…
But what kind of name is Birdy? Matthew looked at the customer for the first time. He was tall; Matthew would’ve been taller if he didn’t slouch, but that was too much effort; the customer was extremely pale, with white hair to match. His eyes were closed, and an arrogant smirk was plastered on his face. He seemed around 19.
“The pain au raisins are very… what’s the word,” he muttered, “Ah, Good! Sorry, my brain’s not really working right now,” he felt his face heating up from embarrassment.
“It’s fine, Birdy. Pain au raisins? Sounds nice,” He said, the smirk still present. Matthew moved to the cabinet where the pastries were kept.
“Eat in or to go?” he asked, reaching for the tongs.
“I’ll eat in, Birdy. Thanks.” The pale-haired man sat at one of the tables lining the walls. Matthew put the pain au raisin onto a plate, decorated with sky blue around the edges. He smiled as he remembered when he and Francis had painted these plates, when he had been five and his brother eight.
Lifting the plate with one hand, he maneuvered round the counter to where the customer was sitting.
“Here you go,” he said, setting down the plate. He caught a glimpse of the white-haired man’s eyes, and couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him.
“What is it, Birdy?” he turned his blood-red gaze towards Matthew.
“Oh! Nothing, I mean, sorry.” Matthew fumbled.
“Mathieu! Tu peux venir ici, s’il te plait?”
Mathhew thanked the universe for Francis’ intervention at that very moment.
“Ouais, juste une minute!” he called back, “I have to go, enjoy your pain au raisin.” he said, already halfway to the kitchen, leaving behind a confused-looking man, with nothing to do but start to eat the delicious-looking pastry in front of him.