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Marinette was no stranger to extreme swings in luck, where something that seemed like a stroke of bad luck was actually really good luck, and vice versa. Her regular laundromat being closed because it was blown up seemed like really bad luck, but meeting Jason in the laundromat she ended up at seemed like good luck. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far things seemed like good luck had touched her love life.
And that was unusual in itself. Adrien had never seen her as more than a ‘very good friend’, not really, and she had too many secrets that she couldn’t be honest about to be with Luka. And really, after those opportunities had faded, she hadn’t really looked for a romantic partner — too much hassle to build something real with someone she wasn’t sure she could trust with every part of herself. So meeting Jason was nice, but she wasn’t holding her breath on anything like him being her boyfriend long-term, or at all.
Which brought her to her alarm waking her up far too early for a Saturday because she’d asked the beautiful man she’d shared a dryer with to go on a bakery crawl with her. And the fairest chance she could give these bakeries was to go when everything was fresh out of the oven. That was when everything was at its best, and if the best wasn’t up to her standards, nothing would be. So she hauled herself out of bed, ignoring Tikki and Trixx giggling at her from the nest she’d made for the kwami in her room, and stumbled through her morning routine. She made herself a small coffee to get her brain started for the day and went to the closet, where she had set out four options for what to wear the night before.
The first option was really Parisian-chic, and Marinette was trying to let Paris go, never mind that she would stand out like a sore thumb. The second option was too grunge to be Marinette, and while it was something she wanted to try out eventually, maybe not on a first date (it was a date, right? She wasn’t imagining things?) with a guy she thought she could really like, based on two hours in a laundromat. The third option was a nice balance between Paris and Gotham, in her opinion, but maybe too much for going to a bakery first thing in the morning. The fourth option could have come from a combination of Style Queen and Gabriel at its peak, and she immediately hated it once that connection came up in her mind. Option three it was.
“What do you think, Tikki, Trixx?” asked Marinette as she held the pieces up to her body.
“It’s a good representation of who you want to become,” said Trixx. “And that’s good. Sometimes we need to make the illusion of who we are to become who we want to be.”
“You’ll look great, Marinette,” said Tikki, “but you need to get dressed or you’ll be late to meet Jason.”
“Are you taking one of us with you?” asked Trixx.
Marinette hummed. “Tikki can come with. I want your opinion of him. Maybe you can come for our bike date, if we do that, Trixx.”
“Sounds more my speed anyway,” said Trixx with a shrug. “Bring us treats though, if you can.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Marinette.
“Gotta hurry up, Pigails, he just texted that he’s on his way,” said Plagg from her nightstand, where he was scrolling on her phone. Marinette squeaked and got dressed like she was in lycee again and late for school. Foundation, blush, mascara, lip gloss. Hair in a low bun with some loose pieces around her face. Shoes, shoes— she accepted a pair of hiking boots from Ziggy, looked at them for a second, then put them on. Leather jacket on, coordinating purse with all her stuff in it courtesy of Kalkii, and chug the coffee, then reapply lip gloss. Her phone buzzed with a text from Jason saying that he was outside.
“Thanks everyone,” said Marinette, waving Tikki into her bag and heading down to where Jason was waiting for her at the door. He was leaning on a red Mazda 3, phone in hand and looking divine. The tuft of white hair above his forehead curled a bit at the end, blue-green eyes focusing on her as soon as she walked onto the sidewalk. His smile lit his face and Marinette felt her knees go a little wobbly, but she didn’t stagger, and beamed back.
“Mornin’,” said Jason. “You look great. Is that one of your designs?”
“Bonjour!” said Marinette. “It all is mine. I’ve been experimenting with putting different pieces together that I might not have put together before.”
“Isn’t that how style evolves?” said Jason, opening the car door for her. Marinette got in and fastened her seatbelt. Jason got in the driver’s side and bucked up himself, then started the car. “I was thinkin’ we could start with Priscilla’s, it’s close.”
“That sounds like a good starting spot,” said Marinette.
“My brother swears by her coffee,” said Jason with a short laugh. “He’ll be so mad I went and didn’t tell him. But he’s big into coffee, so his opinion is pretty solid on it.”
“I like coffee,” said Marinette, “so coffee recommended by another coffee fiend is definitely appreciated first thing in the morning.”
“Fiend is the word,” said Jason. “Our grandfather has to ban him from coffee every so often so he’ll sleep.”
Marinette laughed. “I have someone in my life like that. She’s a good friend, but sometimes it feels like she’s mothering me.”
“My older brother is the mom friend of the family,” said Jason. “It’s nice to have someone you know cares like that. Annoying, but nice.”
“Exactly that,” said Marinette, ignoring the little body slamming into her shin through her purse. “You never said how many siblings you have.”
“Four brothers, two and a half sisters,” said Jason. He frowned. “Nope, it’s three and a half now, Selina had her baby. Selina is sort of my stepmother? She’s my dad’s wife, but she’s never tried to mother most of us. She’s more a friend than a parent.”
“How do you have half a sister?” asked Marinette.
“Babs is a family friend, and she used to date my older brother, so she’s been around long enough to be family, but she has her own family, so she’s a sister but not, I guess.” Jason drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “We’d all be in a lot of trouble without her.”
“Ah, so like my sister-by-trauma’s sister is also my sister,” said Marinette, nodding. “It’s good that you have someone like that to rely on.”
“Yeah,” said Jason. “So what about your siblings-by trauma? How does that work?”
“Chloe and I have the most complicated relationship,” said Marinette. “She bullied me from maternelle to lycee and then grovelled when she realized how destructive she was being, to herself as well as others. She worked really hard to change and be a better person, so she’s earned herself a place as a sister. Kagami and I also had some tension, because we liked the same boy. Then we realized that he was wrong for both of us, for different reasons, and became friends, then sisters. Adrien was the boy in question, and we had a lot happen between us before deciding that being friends was what worked best, and then we just got closer from there, until my parents offered to adopt him when his father got arrested.”
“You know, that sounds a lot like my family,” said Jason. “All of us have had bad impressions of each other at one point or another, and we’ve made it out the other side, mostly in one piece.”
“Family tend to be the people who change you for better or worse and who you change too,” said Marinette. “I like the people I’ve chosen as my family.”
Jason thought for a moment. “Yeah, if I had to choose my family, I’d probably go with the one I’ve got. Maybe that’s ‘cause I know ‘em, but I don’t know I’d trade ‘em.”
“Yes, that,” said Marinette. “I wouldn’t trade my people either.”
They pulled into a tiny parking lot beside a strip mall that was almost pressed against the road and parked. Jason led Marinette to a small cafe with a few little tables in the window and a large display of different baked goods. Marinette felt the part of her brain that lived and worked in a bakery perk up at the sight, and resolved that she would only buy a maximum of four things at each bakery. Maybe they should take breaks in parks or something between bakeries.
She suggested this as they waited in the short line. “Just so I don’t confuse the bakeries or have the flavours get lost in each other.”
“We can go to a few places,” said Jason. “Just not Robinson Park. Poison Ivy’s been irritated with everything lately, and I’d rather not expose you to her wrath.”
“Poison Ivy,” said Marinette, thinking through the list of Rogues that her friends had made her memorize before she moved. “That’s Dr Pamela Isley, oui? The botanist?”
“That’s the one, though she’s more known as an eco-terrorist these days.” They stepped up to the register and Jason gestured for Marinette to go ahead. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”
“I can buy my own pastries,” said Marinette.
“Let me treat you anyway,” said Jason.
Marinette sighed. “I’m getting the next one.”
“Deal.”
“Can I take your order?” asked the teenage cashier, who looked like she would rather be sleeping until noon instead of being at work.
“Right!” said Marinette. “I’ll have two shortbread cookies, a madeline, and an apple tart. And a medium coffee with nothing in it.”
“And for you?” asked the cashier, looking at Jason.
“Medium black coffee and a jelly donut,” said Jason. “No, make that an eclair. Black coffee and an eclair.”
“So that’s two black coffees, two shortbread, a madeline, an apple tart and an eclair,” said the cashier. “Your total comes to $27.54.”
Jason tapped his card and the card reader pinged the approval. The cashier grabbed a box and put the pastries in it, then poured the two coffees. She passed all of it across the counter. “Have a nice day.”
“You too!” said Marinette, picking up a coffee and the box. Jason took the other coffee and they left Priscilla’s bakery. Instead of going to the car, Jason stopped on the sidewalk.
“There’s a park a block away,” said Jason. “It’s not very green, but there’s benches in it and it’s next to a dog park.”
“That sounds great,” said Marinette. They walked through the neighbourhood and found a bench in the park that had a good view of the dog park. “How did you find this park? It seems like the kind of place most people wouldn’t find.”
“My youngest brother and I bring our dogs sometimes,” said Jason. “It’s a pretty good dog park, most of the dogs are well trained. That brother harassed the city council until they set aside places for dog parks around the city. There’s been a sharp decrease in dog bites since then.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
“Dogs are social animals, and they need socialization like toddlers do. Giving them space to run off their energy and learn manners from other dogs has been a good thing for ‘em. I know Ace has been happier since we’ve started going to the dog park twice a week.”
“I see. It’s good that the dogs have a better life with space to run around.” Marinette opened the box and picked up the madeline and took a bite. She chewed it, rolling the texture over her tongue and paying attention to the flavour.
“This is pretty good,” said Marinette. “A little dry, but I think that’s a slight overbake and not a problem with the recipe itself.”
“Do you bake?” asked Jason, taking a bite of his eclair and getting whipped cream on his nose.
“I grew up in a bakery,” said Marinette. “I’ve been baking since I was old enough to hold a spatula and stir.”
“A real French baker,” said Jason, wiping the whipped cream off. “Good thing I recommended the best places in Gotham.”
“I’m open to new interpretations of classics,” said Marinette. “As you said, isn’t that how style evolves? Would that not be how food evolves too?”
“Makes sense to me,” said Jason with a shrug. “I can cook a bit, but not bake. I’m the only one of my siblings not banned from the kitchen.”
“How do the others survive?” asked Marinette.
“Our grandfather is an amazing cook, and he loves feeding us,” said Jason. “I help him when I’m around, but I’m not as good as he is. Other than that, takeout.”
“Perhaps we should cook and bake together,” said Marinette. “Cooking is an art, but baking is chemistry and everything is the way it is for a reason. I think that would be fun.”
“I think it’ll be a mess,” said Jason, “but yeah, I’d like that.”
They watched the dogs play in the dog park while Marinette had the apple tart and one of the cookies. The other one went into her purse for Tikki, and she wasn’t sure that her excuse of later sounded believable. They headed back to the car and drove towards the next bakery, debating the merits of the apple tart. Marinette thought there was too much pastry for the amount of filling, and Jason was adamant that was how apple tarts and pies were supposed to be.
The bakery was the south location for the divorced couple’s bakeries, and Marinette noticed that there were still a lot of framed news clippings featuring both women on the walls, as well as awards from years gone by. Their selection was more focused on savoury treats here, and Marinette examined the display case while Jason chatted with another regular.
“Can I help you find anything, miss?” asked the woman behind the counter. Marinette recognized her as one of the owners from the photos on the walls. She looked a bit older than in the photos, but like she still cared about her work.
“What are your specialties?” asked Mairnette. “The pastries that you think are your best or most interesting.”
“Are you a critic?” asked the woman warily.
Marinette giggled. “Non, just a Parisian looking for a good place to buy herself pastries.”
“A true critic,” said the woman, nodding. “You’re a long way from home.”
“I moved for inspiration,” said Marinette. “And Gotham is an inspiriting place.”
“Not may people would say that.” The woman pulled several different pastries from the case then hesitated. “Any allergies?”
“Cherries,” said Marinette.
“Not this one then,” said the woman, putting the tray she’d been pulling out back into the case. She chose two other ones and brought them to the counter so Marinette could see. Jason came over to look as well, and the woman offered him a raised eyebrow. “What brings you over here?”
“I’m with her,” said Jason.
“And you left her to look at my pastries by herself?” said the woman.
“She’s in your good hands,” said Jason with a shrug. “I had my eye on the whole thing.”
“Right,” said the woman with an eyeroll. “So I’ve got a few things here: almond and orange turnover, apple cinnamon roll, passionfruit and dark chocolate cookie, and a plain buttertart.”
“Those look wonderful,” said Marinette. “Jason, do you want anything?”
“I’ll take one of those apple cinnamon rolls,” said Jason. “Janine has pretty good teas as well.”
“I make my own blends,” said the woman, Janine, proudly. “Would you like to try one?”
“Of course,” said Marinette. “Which is your favourite?”
“The mint and lemon with lavender,” said Janine, grabbing the tin from the shelf and preparing a cup. “It’s not for everyone, but the favours go together in an interesting way.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of mint and lavender together,” said Marinette. Janine smiled a mischievous smile and offered her the to-go cup.
“Sometimes flavours that you wouldn’t think of go together really well,” said Janine. “And other times, flavours that you think would work really really don’t. And that’s just how the cookie crumbles sometimes.”
“I find that too, in my work,” said Marinette. “There are somethings you need to try, just to see if they will work or not. Leather and chiffon, for example, are difficult to put together in the same garment.”
“Seamstress?” said Janine as she punched in the order.
“Among other things,” said Marinette. “I do make a lot of my own designs.”
“And that’s what you’re looking for inspiration for,” said Janine. “Best of luck to you with that. And welcome to Gotham.”
“Thank you,” said Marinette, ignoring the vibrations of Tikki’s silent giggling in her purse. She paid for their food. “Have a good day.”
Jason led her to a table in the window where they could watch people go by on the street. Marinette took the chair with her back to a wall, and noted that Jason had been going for the same chair. She brushed it off; this was Gotham, everyone was probably a bit paranoid about someone coming up behind them. They set out the various pastries across the table, and Marinette photographed each one.
“I don’t want to forget,” said Marinette, “and they all look as interesting as their descriptions.”
“Janine and Sonia made some of the most interesting food when they were together,” said Jason. “It’s a bit different now, with them divorced, but they still work together on recipes for both their locations.”
“It’s good they can still work together, even if there are bitter feelings elsewhere,” said Marinette. She bit into the almond and orange turnover. “Mmmm!”
“Dunno about any bitter feelings,” said Jason. “Neither of them talks about it much.”
“This is really good,” said Marinette. She finished the pastry and took a sip of her tea. “The tea is lovely, it’s a really good palette cleanser, very fresh.”
“And this is why it’s one of my favourite places to get food from,” said Jason. “Janine takes everything that isn’t sold by closing to the nearest shelter for their dinner service. No one who uses that shelter will let anything happen to this place.”
“Is that common, things happening to businesses?” asked Marinette.
“It used to be more common,” said Jason, thinking for a minute. “A few years back there was a bit of a cleanup, and the various gangs got a bit more wary of just attacking businesses for no reason.”
“So my laundromat being blown up was more an anomaly than usual practice?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
Marinette tried the buttertart next and cringed a bit at the sweetness of the filling. “Is this just sugar?”
“More or less, yeah. Sometimes people will put raisins or pecans in.”
“I cannot eat the rest of this, it’s too sweet.” Marinette put the buttertart down. “Will the roll be just as sweet?”
“Nah, it’s less sweet, and the pastry part is really good,” said Jason, snagging the buttertart and biting into it. “Adding the apple gives it an extra something.”
Marinette took a long drink of her tea before biting into the apple cinnamon roll. It was nicely balanced, the sour crunch of the apple contrasting the sweetness of the cinnamon sugar and the softness of the dough. Marinette thought she might have to come back and get a box of these; there were at least four kwami who would appreciate them. Maybe she would pick up six on their way out, that might be easier. And they had asked for treats.
She finished the cookie — utterly divine, how had she not thought of it? How had Papa overlooked it? — and went back to the counter, ordering six rolls and six cookies. If the kwamis didn’t want them, she did. Jason watched her with amused concern as she brought the boxes back to the car, but opened the trunk so she could store them there without being asked.
“Are you going to eat all of that?” asked Jason.
“Not in one sitting, and not all today,” said Marinette. “I will need breakfast tomorrow, and it will be nice to start the day with one of those rolls.”
“Fair ‘nough,” said Jason. “There’s a secondhand bookstore up this way, it’s always got great stuff. Want to check it out?”
“I’d like that,” said Marinette, following him up the street. “Today is about exploring Gotham’s hidden gems, no?”
“It is,” said Jason.
Marinette placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “I would like to think that you are one of the hidden gems of Gotham. Getting to know someone is also exploring.”
“Dating as exploring, yeah I can get behind that,” said Jason. He looked down, panic touching his features. “This is a date, right? I’m not making things up?”
“It’s a date,” said Marinette with a bright laugh. “I actually wondered the same thing before you picked me up. I would like it to be a date anyway.”
“So it’s a date,” said Jason, relief easing the tension in his shoulders. “Good. Same page, same book.”
“Maybe they’ll have two copies of the same book,” said Marinette. “And we can read something together.”
“You like to read?”
Marinette shook her head. “I’m not a big reader, I’m more into making things than reading. But I’d like to have a more passive hobby that isn’t just watching TV, as I always end up critiquing the costuming in everything I watch.”
“Reading might be a bit more relaxing for you then,” said Jason. “Or not. Gotta let your eyes rest sometimes.”
“Especially when doing fine embroidery,” agreed Marinette. They entered the bookshop, and the shopkeeper greeted Jason by name and started making suggestions for his next read. Marinette giggled and followed Jason to the counter, where the shopkeeper had several books piled up to show him. They listened as the books were described, and two caught Marinette’s interest. She ran a finger over the covers, noting the titles and author names.
“Do you happen to have a second copy of either of these two?” asked Jason, pointing at the ones Marinette was looking at.
“Hmm,” said the storekeeper. “I might. Let me check.” He went to his computer and began typing, his face lighting up after a minute. “I have a second copy of this one, let me find it for you.” He stepped out from behind the counter and into the rows of bookshelves.
“How did you know I liked those ones?” asked Marinette.
“You perked up while he was describing them,” said Jason. “And you looked at them like they were pastries you were dying to eat.”
“Most people I’ve known wouldn’t have seen that,” said Marinette.
“Then they probably weren’t really looking at you,” said Jason, “which I don’t understand. You’re too interesting too ignore.”
“I’m not that interesting,” said Marinette, a smile pulling at her lips. “I’m just a normal girl with a normal life.”
Jason laughed. “Pixie, no one normal moves to Gotham. That alone makes you interesting. Maybe you’re one of Gotham’s hidden gems as well.”
“Maybe,” said Marinette. “Pixie?”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re tiny and, I dunno, just being around you feels different than normal. A bit like magic.” Jason looked a little sheepish.
“I’m average height, thank you very much,” said Marinette with exaggerated indignation. “You’re just a giant.”
“Uh huh,” said Jason, amused. He cocked his head to the side. “I guess my social circle does skew tall and muscular. You may be right about being average height.”
“Tall and muscular?” said Marinette.
“Yeah, my older brother’s current partner is over six feet and she can throw me pretty far,” said Jason, “and she’s taller than him, I think. Or maybe just has that much presence. My younger brother’s partner is also over six feet and we joke about him benching cars cause the gym doesn’t have weights that’ll challenge him. My youngest brother is set to be almost as tall as me — both his parents are pretty tall. Steph’s six feet; most of the family’s friends are athletic, so lots of muscle, and most of them are tall too. So there’s that.”
“My friends tend to lean muscle and agility,” said Marinette. “But then, two of them are fencers, one professional and the other for fun, Chloe runs marathons, and Luka is a musician with a pretty rigorous set. And we all do parkour. But that’s from growing up in Paris overall.”
“That’s one cool friend group,” said Jason.
The shopkeeper returned. “I found it! It’s a different edition, but the story is the same; I’m fairly certain they didn’t change the text between these two versions. This one has editor’s notes and that one doesn’t, I think that’s the only difference.”
“Do you want the one with the notes?” asked Jason.
“I think that might overwhelm me,” said Marinette, “but if there’s a relevant point, please share it with me.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Jason. “I’ve got this.” He tapped his card before Marinette could protest and handed her the significantly thinner book. “Do you want to look around or keep going?”
“We can come back, right?” said Marinette. Jason nodded. “So next time I’ll look around and pick out something else.”
“It’s a date,” said Jason.
“That’s at least three, right?” said Marinette.
Jason ticked the mentioned plans off on his fingers. “Bakery crawl, bike ride, dinner, bookstore date. That’s at least three. If not more.”
“We can go for bike rides multiple times,” said Marinette. “I’m sure Gotham and the area around it has a lot to show off through the year.”
“Yeah, but we’re not riding in the winter, that’s too dangerous,” said Jason.
“I’ll accept that.” Marinette nodded. “I’ve read a bit about winter weather here. It’s very different than in Paris.”
“I’ll bet.” They headed back to the car and put the books in the trunk. They headed to the next bakery, only to find it closed. The note on the door said that there had been an issue with the gas lines and they were closed for repairs.
“We’ll have to come back,” said Marinette.
“Yeah, I hope everything’s alright,” said Jason, brow furrowed. “We’ll go to Sonia’s then. And that’s near the botanical gardens, we can eat there.”
Sonia’s location of the joined bakeries was in the north end of Gotham, wedged between a pawn shop and a convenience store, with parking in the back. They walked around the buildings, Jason staying very close to Marinette as several people watched them from various points along the streets. The bakery itself was fairly busy, as it was the lunch rush, and there were three people behind the counter running orders. Jason stood in line while Marinette looked at the display case, trying to decide what she might want.
A heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Back of the line, pipsqueak. No butting in.”
“I was just looking, I’ll get in line when I’ve decided,” said Marinette. She shrugged off the hand and turned back to the display case, looking over the various cookies. Absently, she wondered if Janine and Sonia had a rotation for who had what available in their respective bakeries.
The man who had grabbed her shoulder grabbed her again and yanked her back. “I said, back of the line.”
Marinette grabbed his hand and jammed her nail into the nailbed of his ring finger. The man yelped and let go, and Marinette stamped on his foot to make him back up. “And I said I would get in line when I’d decided what I wanted.” She walked past him to where Jason was watching with narrowed eyes.
“That could have gone badly,” said Jason.
“Most things could go badly,” said Marinette. “I’m not letting some random man in a bakery bully me.”
“Dunno if that’s the right response in Gotham,” said Jason, frowning slightly. “I can give you self-defence lessons if you’d like.”
“I’m a bit rusty, and there’s always something to learn,” said Marinette, lighting up at the thought of a new sparring partner. “Besides, it’ll be fun to learn from a Gothamite.”
The line moved quickly and soon it was their turn to order. Jason greeted the woman at the cash as Sonia, and she looked between the two of them, then went to the display case and pulled out four different pastries, put them on a plate, and brought them over.
“Janine called me, said that you were doing the rounds with a pretty little thing who was testing out different pastries,” said Sonia. “So I picked out my personal favourites for you to try.”
“None of it has cherries?” said Marinette.
“No cherries,” confirmed Sonia. “I don’t really like working with cherries anyway. We’ve got apple and pear crisp, a mint chocolate croissant, a sausage roll, and a glazed shortbread cookie.”
“I was going to order most of that,” said Marinette. “They look wonderful. Could I also get a bottle of water?”
“Anything you want more of, feel free to order and take home,” said Sonia as she punched in the order. Jason tapped his card before Marinette could get hers out and she glared at him playfully. He shrugged and they found a table in the middle of the room, with Jason facing the door and Marinette facing the line.
“It wasn’t a bitter divorce was it?” said Marinette as she took a bite of the sausage roll. The pastry was flaky and buttery, almost to the point of being too greasy, and the meat was perfectly seasoned to bring out all the flavour in it.
“Nope, they just couldn’t live together so they moved on,” said Jason. “Probably for the best, really, if you can’t be with someone you should let them go, for both of you.”
“For the best, truly,” said Marinette. She finished the sausage roll and picked up the fork that had been put beside the crisp. “Americans seem to love apples.”
“There’s nothing more American than apple pie,” said Jason. “Or so the story goes.”
Marinette savoured the first bite of the crisp. “It seems to be something that is sometimes done well. I still think that tart had too much pastry for the amount of filling.”
“And I’m telling you, it’s supposed to be that way.”
“I disagree. The filling is the important part.”
“But the pastry has to be able to hold it properly.”
“Pastry that is too thin will spill the filling,” said Marinette, “and pastry that is too thick will not let the filling shine. The balance needs to be just right.”
“I still think that thicker pastry is better.” Jason folded his arms on the table.
“Then we will disagree on this.” Marinette finished the crisp. She took a sip of water and picked up the croissant. She bit into it and the pastry flaked almost as perfectly as Maman’s, the mint chocolate overwhelming the taste of the dough. Marinette looked at it, took another bite, and put it down. “I’m not sure I like this one. Adrien would, he loves unusual combinations.”
“It’s not that unusual,” said Jason.
“Perhaps not, but still, not for me,” said Marinette. Jason ate the rest of it and drank some of her water. Marinette found she didn’t mind; it was nice to just share the day and the food with someone. “You mentioned botanical gardens?”
“I did,” said Jason. His phone buzzed in his pocket, then again, and again. Huffing with annoyance, he checked it, reading the messages, and sighing. “Can we raincheck the gardens? A family emergency’s come up and they need me to go as soon as possible.”
“I hope everything turns out alright,” said Marinette, concerned. “Let me get my things from your car and I’ll bus back to my place.”
“I can drive you, don’t worry,” said Jason. “If it makes you feel better, yours is on the way to the emergency.”
“Okay,” said Marinette, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. “I just don’t want you to be too late.”
“I won’t be,” said Jason, squeezing her hand back. “Let’s go.”
They drove back to her building, Jason holding her hand when he didn’t need his to drive. Marinette wondered what the emergency was, but decided that if he wasn’t saying he probably didn’t know yet. They stopped in front of her door and Jason got out to get the trunk for her.
“I’ll text you later,” said Jason. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Promise.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” said Marinette, feeling her cheeks flush. She kissed his cheek, then the other, and said, “I really hope everything turns out well.”
“Me too,” said Jason. “I’ll text.”
“Drive safe,” said Marinette. She went inside and watched through the glass of the doors as he drove away, then went up to her apartment and put her souvenirs of the day on the kitchen counter. The kwami emerged and gathered around, debating how everything should be divided among them. Wayzz floated over to where Marinette was taking off her shoes.
“How was the date, Guardian?” asked Wayzz.
“It was really good, I’m so just— happy,” said Marinette. “And we’re going to have more dates, and I’m getting to know Gotham. I’m trying not to, to get ahead of myself this time, but it’s so easy with Jason.”
“About that,” said Tikki. “He’s a good person, but you should really have a look at his soul next time you see each other. Things might get a little complicated.”
“When has my love life not been complicated?” asked Marinette. “I’ll look, but what did you think of him?”
“I’ll give you my opinion after you look at his soul,” said Tikki. “You’ll see why when you do.”
“Alright, fine,” said Marinette. “Save a roll for me, I’ll need breakfast tomorrow before that call with Clara.”
The kwamis’ bickering faded into background noise as Marinette settled at her drafting table to draw out every design that had come to mind that morning. It had been really productive, getting out and trying new things. Maman and Papa would be interested in hearing about the bakeries; Marinette would leave out who she went with. She didn’t want to get their hopes up any more than she wanted to get her own up. She’d take Tikki’s advice and look at his soul, and then make decisions from there.