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This time of year, Adrien can’t help but be ridiculously excited. The leaves are turning, and while Paris isn’t necessarily a very green city, the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower is always breathtaking. He grew up in the city, but it never ceases to amaze him, especially at this time of year.
He turns to Ladybug after a routine mid-afternoon weekend patrol. “What do you think, my lady? Isn’t the view from here in the fall the cat’s meow?”
Ladybug rolls her eyes fondly at the pun, but smiles. “It really is beautiful. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it.”
He knows better, but he still asks, “Have you always lived in Paris?” After all, just because it’s undeniable that she lives in Paris now doesn’t mean that she always has.
To his surprise, she doesn’t change the subject. “My whole life. What about you, Chaton?”
“Born and raised. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather live.”
“Me, either.”
He doesn’t bring up London or family or anything else — he’s just lucky that he’s gotten this much out of her. As much as Paris loves them, they love Paris in return; the people, the architecture, the culture… there really isn’t anywhere better on earth.
He’s content to sit there until dusk — after all, what is he missing at home? But eventually, Ladybug has somewhere to be. If he’s surprised, it’s only because Ladybug always seems to be on the move. It’s fine, though. He lingers for a while, content to just look out at the Champ de Mars and the people and the trees — his suit keeps him warm, anyway — and when he finally leaves, he tries to find something else to look forward to.
And he does.
When he gets home and detransforms, he checks his phone to find an invitation to a baking party at Marinette’s parents’ bakery. At least Alya is calling it a party, so even if Nino is calling it something else, Adrien can be sure of one thing: it’ll be a nice way to spend an afternoon.
He agrees, obviously. On top of liking spending time with his friends, he always has wanted to learn how to bake. This probably isn’t going to be the start of some illustrious career, but it should still be a lot of fun with his friends.
He doesn’t ask who else is invited; he’s friends with all of Marinette’s friends, and even if she invites someone new, he likes meeting new people.
He’s halfway to Marinette’s house on Sunday afternoon when he gets the text from Nino explaining that he’s had some kind of last-minute thing pop up, but he should totally still go to Marinette’s. The fact that he mentions that strikes Adrien as a little weird — of course he’s still going to go to Marinette’s! — but he brushes it off and texts Nino back to tell him that he hopes everything’s fine.
When he gets to Marinette’s, her parents greet him with a smile and warmth that always makes him feel a pang of longing. It’s not their fault, though, and he doesn’t bring it up. He just smiles and thanks them for having him over and tells them how excited he is to learn how to bake something.
Marinette’s mom — Sabine; no matter how weird Adrien found it at first to be invited to call an adult by their first name (though, of course, he still uses vous when speaking to her) — smiles wider and nudges her husband. “Don’t tell Tom; he’ll only be too eager to take you on as an assistant.”
The look that passes between him reminds Adrien that some people are lucky enough to be truly happy; he hopes he gets that someday. As time has gone by, he’s gotten more optimistic about his own chances.
“Marinette’s in the kitchen. Alya is supposed to come over soon. I’m surprised Nino isn’t with you.”
“Nino had something come up,” Adrien says. “He can’t make it.”
There’s something kind of weird in Sabine’s expression, but Adrien brushes it off. “Marinette! Adrien is here.”
Adrien hears something that sounds suspiciously like a crash from the kitchen, and then Marinette is poking her head out. “Adrien! Hi! You can come back!”
Adrien can’t help but grin as he follows her into the kitchen. “Nino texted me to say that he couldn’t make it,” he says as he takes the apron Marinette hands him.
Marinette freezes, just for a second. “He did?”
“I hope that’s okay?”
“It’s fine! Don’t worry about it! It’s just that Alya just texted me and said she has to babysit the twins, and, well, you know, normally I’d say it was fine, but —” She gestures vaguely around the bakery’s kitchen.
“Yeah that’s probably a good idea,” he agrees. “Who else is coming?”
She blinks at him, cheeks bright pink. “Um. Just you, actually. Everyone else was busy. I don’t know why. N-not that I mind! I like hanging out with you! You’re great! But I don’t — no one else is coming. If that’s okay?”
“Yeah, of course that’s okay,” Adrien assures her. He doesn’t understand why she seems so… well, actually, this is just Marinette being Marinette. “But I have to warn you that I’ve never baked anything before, so I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Don’t worry about that! I’ll walk you through everything.”
“Okay. I trust you.”
For some reason, she turns pink again. “Okay — I mean, thanks — I mean, okay, let’s — let’s start. The first step is to slice the apples. I already washed them.” She slides a bowl of apples and an empty bowl between them and hands him a knife. “Like this.”
She shows him how to core them and cut them into quarters, but she stops at letting him use the mandolin. “My parents won’t even let me do that.” She calls her dad into the kitchen and hands the bowl of quartered apples to him to slice. “Thanks, Dad,” she says.
“Of course. I hope the two of you are having fun.”
“I am,” Adrien says honestly. Really, he’s kind of glad he doesn’t have to touch the mandolin, even if Tom is done with all the apples in what seems like the blink of an eye. Adrien kind of expects him to stick around, but he hands the bowl over to Marinette.
“I think you’ve got it from here,” he says. “But let me or your mom know if you need anything.”
Marinette nods. “Got it! Thanks!”
Tom smiles and goes back out to the front. Marinette looks over at Adrien. “Now we’re supposed to boil them so they soften.”
He follows her instructions, and as they set the water to boil, they start on the puff pastry — well, he’s pretty sure Marinette is compensating for whatever mistakes he might be making, but she’s letting him pour in ingredients and start the mixer.
As Marinette starts to roll out the dough and fold it, Adrien drains the apples (honestly, he’s a little concerned about Marinette accidentally burning herself — leaving her to work on the pastry seems like a smarter move, given how accident-prone she is) and puts them back in the bowl.
When he finishes, he glances over at Marinette, and he’s kind of… struck by how pretty she is. She has a smudge of flour on her cheek, and he has a weird urge to brush it off, but he’s pretty sure she’d freak out (maybe not in a bad way, but still).
So he just watches her.
She looks up at him, turning pink. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he says, because he can’t tell her he was watching her. “What do we do now?”
Marinette nods. “The recipe says to put half in the fridge, but I think the two of us together can each make a batch before it gets too warm.”
“What happens if it gets too warm?” Adrien asks.
“It won’t work right. Baking is more of a science than an art.” She laughs, but it’s not at him; he smiles back.
“I trust you,” he says.
He watches and listens as Marinette shows him how to roll out the dough, how to cut it into strips, and how to lay out the apples and fold the pastry dough so it forms properly. When he rolls it up, his is a bit messier than hers, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
As soon as they finish, she takes them and puts them in the fridge as she asks him to preheat the oven. This much, Adrien’s pretty confident in, even if he’s never seen an industrial oven before today; he sets it to the temperature she gives him.
“The recipe I have calls for salted caramel. Kind of like a tarte tatin. If— if you want.”
“That sounds delicious,” Adrien says honestly with a smile.
Marinette blushes again, and, again, Adrien realizes how pretty she is. Maybe it’s a little weird, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s supposed to be in love with Ladybug… but Ladybug doesn’t want him.
Maybe…
“Sorry, what did you say?” he asks, because he definitely just zoned out while she was talking.
“Oh, I’m just showing you how to do the caramel.” She gestures to the saucepan, which is filled with melting sugar.
“Is caramel just sugar?”
“And cream and salt and butter, usually, yeah,” Marinette says with a nod. “We just need to wait for this to brown. Let me —” She steps away to open the fridge and grab some cream, butter, and half a lemon. “I’m not very good at mise en place,” she admits. “My parents helped me with the pastry dough.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Adrien says. “Not without your help, anyway.”
“Th-thanks.” Marinette is pink, but he can’t really tell if she’s still blushing, or blushing again. Either way, it’s cute. “Oh! The sugar is brown. Here, watch me.” She adds cream and a bit of lemon juice to the sugar, stirring carefully. It starts to look more like actual caramel as she mixes it. Then she turns off the heat. “Do you want to go next?”
He nods. “What do I do?”
“Take the butter and mix it in. I’ll add the salt.”
It seems easy enough, so he nods again, and does as she instructs. He mixes it, too, and Marinette smiles at him.
“Great! It looks amazing!” She grabs some muffin tins. “Now, we spoon two teaspoons into each mold.” She hands him a teaspoon, and the two of them spoon it over together, each of them working on one tin.
They get the apple roses out of the fridge and set them upside down on top of the caramel. Marinette takes the pans and puts them in the oven.
“Now we wait.” She grabs a timer and sets it. “Forty minutes. Honestly, I thought Alya and Nino were coming over and we could do something as a group while we waited.”
“We could get a match of Ultimate Mecha Strike III done in half an hour, probably.”
Marinette lights up. “We could! I — my room’s kind of a mess, but we could play in the living room?”
“Your parents won’t mind?” His father would never let him have friends over at all, let alone in areas he might be.
“Not at all! Come on. I’ll bring the timer with me.”
Then, for some reason, she grabs his hand, throwing him off entirely. He’s never held Marinette’s hand before, and… maybe it’s kind of weird to say, but it feels like her hand fits perfectly in his.
He follows her upstairs, and waits in the living room while she grabs her gaming system from her room. He’s been in their house before, but the Dupain-Cheng home is… nothing like his own in the best way.
Marinette comes back down and hooks up the gaming system, refusing his offer to help. In no time at all, she’s settled in next to him and is… pretty thoroughly kicking his ass.
Fortunately, Adrien has never been a sore loser, even when the game ends with time to spare in Marinette’s total victory.
She grins. “I’m sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, and he only finds that even cuter.
“Don’t be. You won fair and square.”
For some reason, that makes her blush, and — Adrien’s breath catches in his throat. She’s so close. Before he can think better of it, he leans in and presses his lips to hers.
Marinette squeaks, and just as Adrien is about to pull away and apologize, she slides her fingers through his hair and pulls him closer.
Maybe this is a bad idea, but he doesn’t think he’ll regret it. Marinette’s lips are soft, and maybe he’s never had a real kiss before, but he’s never felt sparks like this before.
Just as he’s debating parting his lips and seeing what happens, the timer goes off. Marinette jumps and pulls back. “U-um… the pastries?”
Shit, is she going to freak out? He hopes not.
He reaches for her hand and squeezes it. “Lead the way.”
She’s bright pink, but she smiles at him and leads him back downstairs. The bakery kitchen smells even more delicious than it did before. She lets go of his hand to grab oven mitts. He helps her pull the trays out of the oven, and turn the trays over onto a cooling rack so that the pastries don’t stick too much to the bottom.
“N-now we have to wait for them to cool,” Marinette says. “I — did you want to — should we talk?”
Talk. Is she upset with him?
“I think — do you want to go out with me?” Adrien asks.
“Go out with you?” she repeats blankly.
“On a date?”
It’ll be fine if she says no — at least that’s what he tells himself — but to his relief, even as she looks at him with wide eyes in disbelief, she nods. “Y-yeah. Yeah! You — really? Me?”
“Really, you,” he agrees. He steps closer. “If you want.”
“I do!” she says. “I — yes, Adrien, I want to go out with you.”
He grins, unable to believe his luck. “Then… can I kiss you again?”
In response, she closes the gap between them and kisses him.
Yeah, Adrien could get used to this.