Marinette did as Alya said—icing cupcakes even as her fingers ached. It was a bit relaxing, focusing on creating the perfect little decorations her parents' bakery was known for, but every time she remembered the reality of the situation her mood plummeted.
She'd known Alya was going to agree to help, but that didn't help her feel less guilty about the whole deal. Just because she was going to be miserably busy all day didn't mean her best friend, a girl who was in a loving relationship on Valentine's Day, had to be miserable as well. Nino coming too was a surprise, but she'd be grateful for the help.
Once they got here, she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe. Was she capable of relief anymore?
Distantly, she heard a door open. She really hoped it was Alya and Nino because she did not have the energy to fight off an intruder at this ungodly early hour.
"Someone ordered a coffee?"
Okay. That definitely wasn't Alya or Nino. Mari squeezed on the icing bag she was holding in surprise, exploding strawberry icing on the table in front of her as she turned to find Adrien.
Tall, handsome, lovely Adrien, holding coffee.
Mari dropped the icing bag in an instant, bounding across the room to pull him into a tight hug. They were good friends, so it wasn't that out of the ordinary for a hug, but Mari might have been a bit more enthusiastic than usual. Finally, she wasn't alone, and he brought caffeine. Pulling back, she didn't have the energy to muster up an apologetic smile for attacking him as she quickly read the descriptions on the cups.
"Nino gave me your order," Adrien nodded his head to the tallest cup—Mari should have known that was hers. She clutched it in her hands like a lifeline, taking a few long sips before sighing in relief.
Huh. So it was still possible. That was good to know.
Finally, she looked up at Adrien. Despite the years passing, and the fading of her (much too intense) childhood crush, she couldn't help the fluttering in her heart at his warm smile. After she settled for his friendship when she realized he wasn't, and never would be, interested in her in that way, the two had become much closer as the third and fourth wheels to many of Nino and Alya's dates. They even became comfortable enough that they spent more than a few afternoons after college playing video games or watching anime in Marinette's room.
She loved their friendship, but it would be much easier to be satisfied with only his friendship if he stopped looking at her like that.
"Hey," he said softly.
"Hey," she said in return. She had skipped a legitimate greeting, and in the warmth of the bakery she felt her cheeks heat up as they looked at each other. "I didn't realize you were coming."
"Nino gave me a call," Adrien glanced around the bakery. Marinette wasn't the most organized person to begin with, but she usually at least kept things decently clean. Considering the kitchen looked as though a tornado had just run through it, followed by a hurricane, followed by another tornado, he was probably pretty concerned. "And I'm glad he did. Looks like you could use the help."
Mari backed up to her workstation, drinking more of her coffee as she started to busy herself again with icing cupcakes. Until the caffeine kicked in and gave her the self-control she needed around the model, she'd need to keep herself occupied with other tasks. "I would have called you, but I already felt bad enough asking Alya. Nino overheard the call and offered to come too. I couldn't say no, because I'm obviously desperate, but I still feel bad."
"Don't feel bad about asking for help," Adrien said standing across from her and resting his elbows on the table. He had to bend over so much that he looked a little silly. Mari suppressed a giggle and refocused on the cupcakes. "We're always here for you."
"I know," Mari murmured, risking a glance to find his green eyes on hers. Were his cheeks pink, or was she imagining things?
It must be the heat of the ovens. Or the lingering embarrassment of her attack-hug. Any other possibility was not to be acknowledged.
Abruptly, Adrien stood straight up, clapping his hands together. Mari jumped in surprise, raising her eyebrows at him. "So, what's my first task? Finish icing the cupcakes while you get dressed?"
"While I…" Marinette glanced down at herself, realizing for the first time that she was still in her pajamas. It was nothing scandalous, just one of her dad's old shirts that reached her knees and a pair of yoga pants, but her cheeks heated up anyways. At this rate, she resembled a tomato more than an actual human being. "Oh. That. I should probably get dressed, huh."
"That might be best," Adrien teased, taking a sip from his own much smaller coffee cup.
Mari nodded firmly, tugging on a stray hair of her messy bun as she started toward the stairs. Right as she reached the bottom of the staircase, she whirled around. "Wait! You don't know how to ice cupcakes."
Adrien crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows in a challenge. "I think I could figure it out."
"Not when I can't supervise," Mari scolded him. "Clean up the front of the house. Wipe down counters, take the chairs off the tables, wipe those off too. Think you can handle that?"
"I'll do my best," Adrien laughed, giving her a joking salute as he headed for the front of the bakery.
Once he disappeared through the door, she allowed herself two seconds to flail her arms around in panic and embarrassment. That was all she had time for, because, as he'd so eloquently reminded her, she was in her pajamas.
Fanning her cheeks, Marinette sprinted upstairs to her room. She'd moved out a year ago to a smaller apartment by herself but had been staying in her old room for the past week to make it easier to work at the bakery. She'd set aside clothes to wear in the spirit of the holiday, but in her absolute panic of listening to the three voicemails of her employees calling out, she'd completely forgotten to put them on before rushing into the kitchen.
It was a simple pair of jeans and a slightly overlarge t-shirt with a red heart on it. Simple, comfortable and… not enough. She abandoned the clothes before she could read too much into her desire to look nicer than usual. Ripping her closet apart with a designer's eye, she decided on a dress she'd made herself just a few months ago—a crimson, short sleeved dress with black polka dots. It was tight in the bodice and flowed out form her waist to reach the middle of her calves, pairing well with her black non-slip flats she always wore on the job.
A full face of makeup would take too much time, so she only threw on some mascara and lip gloss. Her messy bun was, well, a mess, but she'd ruin any fancy hairstyle after an hour in the kitchen. Still, she could do better. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail, finishing it off with a long red ribbon.
As she took one last look in the mirror, satisfied with her appearance, she muttered her old mantra from her college years over and over, hoping that this time, it would stick.
He's just a friend. He's just a friend. He's just a friend.