Marinette wasn't used to falling into a rhythm with other people in the kitchen. Her Mama and Papa were the exceptions, teaching her everything she knew and guiding her through each step with a masterful hand, but her peers were less than ideal kitchen aids.
She hadn't been exaggerating before—Nino's cooking and baking was a nightmare and Alya could whip up a good dinner, but the precision baking took infuriated her. Marinette had hoped she'd find some way to keep Alya and Nino together on the holiday, turning this event into its own little date for them, but she hadn't expected Adrien to have actual experience.
Through their teen years, his diet was so strict and all his meals were prepared by his family's personal chef—smuggling him sweets from her bakery was a covert operation she barely got away with half the time. She'd assumed he never set foot in a kitchen until he headed off to university, but now she was hearing he'd actually been taking baking lessons?
The way he was keeping up revealed his honesty. Marinette had scribbled down a few basic recipes for cookies that sold out the most on Valentine's Day—they were simple shortbread, gingersnaps, snickerdoodles, but it was the fanciful red and pink decoration Mari created that made them best sellers.
The bakery had opened just a few minutes ago, and although Mari still felt the pressure of making her parents proud, things were going better than expected.
Mari had wanted to stay fully concentrated on her icing as Adrien prepared the dough, but she finally allowed herself a moment to glance his direction. Her words died in her throat—at some point, he'd removed his outer layer and was now in a button up, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. She gulped.
Adrien, as if sensing her averted attention, caught her gaze. "Am I doing alright?"
She didn't want him to think he was doing a bad job! She nodded wildly, hands flailing. "Yes! You're doing fantastic!" She took a deep breath, turning back to her latest batch of cookies.
"I only had a few lessons, but I'm glad they're coming in handy," Adrien said. Mari could hear the sheepish grin in his voice.
"A few lessons because of all this free time," Mari said, still hardly believing it. Adrien had been travelling lately, which meant they hadn't seen each other in person for nearly three months (61 days, but who's counting?), but she figured she would have heard about something as big as a career change. "Really? No more modelling?"
Adrien let out a dry laugh. "Nope. I just—I was never a huge fan of modelling from the start. It always pulled me out of school, kept me from hanging out with my friends, and it basically made Father in charge of every aspect of my life. Even once I got to university and I was supposed to have some independence, I still felt trapped under his thumb. That doesn't sound crazy, does it?"
Marinette frowned in his direction. They were standing far enough apart that she couldn't reach out and hold his arm comfortably, but she wanted deeply to help. "It doesn't sound crazy, Adrien. Not at all."
He was still focused on measuring out some ingredients per Mari's instructions, but Mari caught a wry smile from his side profile. "I just figured enough was enough. I'm an adult, I can make my own choices. The thing is, once I quit modelling and could control my own schedule, I realized just how empty that schedule was. I wanted to fill it with all sorts of things—I joined a club football team, I learned about music composition instead of just playing the piano, and plenty more. Some of that included baking lessons."
Mari nodded…that made sense. The world opened up for him and he grasped at everything he possibly could. But still— "But why baking? Was there any reason?"
"I was never allowed anything sweet or indulgent," Adrien said sourly, "except when you managed to sneak me something. I was travelling to try and figure out what my next move is, and although I hadn't decided if I was going to settle in Paris or not, I wanted to take a little piece of Paris with me just in case. What better than making myself a homemade croissant that reminded me of my favorite bakery? The quality paled in comparison to your Papa's baking, but it was still a fun challenge."
Marinette thanked her lucky stars he was so concentrated on getting each and every measurement perfect that he wasn't able to watch her face slowly shift into the color of her dress.
He wanted a reminder of home, of Paris, and one of the first things he thought of was her family's bakery? She had the very distinct urge to yank him into another hug, but there was dough to be made and cookies to be decorated.
Hugs could happen later.
"So have you decided to settle in Paris?" Marinette asked tentatively, fearing the answer she was about to receive. She certainly hadn't missed that portion of his lovely speech.
She'd known he was out of Paris but had assumed it was related to the business side of the Agreste brand since his picture wasn't popping up in any new campaign ads or magazine. Instead, it turned out, he was trying to start fresh. Potentially out of her reach.
"Yes." Adrien said it with such absolute certainty that Mari's heart soared. She grinned like an idiot. "I'm going to actually put my Physics degree to use."
"Doing what?"
"I'll have to take some supplementary classes here in Paris, but I want to teach. Preferably at our old stomping grounds, but I'll have to see if they'll take me."
Marinette could see it now—reading glasses (which he didn't wear nearly enough, in her opinion) perched delicately on his nose, blonde hair pushed tidily back, explaining a difficult theory in his professor-like sweater and slacks. Studious and kind and goofy enough to get along with the kids.
He would be a great teacher. And if it kept him in Paris, then she couldn't be happier for his new dream.
Marinette finished her tray of cookies, smiling down at her work before meeting Adrien's gaze again. She really hoped she wasn't imagining the way today felt different for the both of them. Something about the way he kept looking at her, something about the tone of their voices, the electricity in the air that hummed louder the closer they got to each other.
It was there. For her, at least. Was it there for him too?
Marinette shook her head to rid herself of the troublesome thoughts and carried the tray from the kitchen to the front of the bakery to replenish the display.
She was met with a bustling commotion. There was a line about five people deep, couples hanging off each other and looking so in love. No one she recognized, but she'd reminded Juleka and Rose to stop by at some point—she set aside their favorite cupcakes so they wouldn't sell out.
Alya stood behind the register while Nino walked around to the few tables scattered about, making sure the guests enjoying their coffees and pastries were doing well. Mari rested her head on Alya's shoulder for a moment as the reporter handed the latest customer his change. "Doing okay, Al?"
"Never better. Someone even said the decorations look more beautiful than usual," Alya nudged her in the side, adjusting her glasses with a grin. "Feeling extra inspired this year?"
Marinette's face had reverted back to a tomato. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Alya smiled in greeting at the next guest, who somehow still hadn't decided what he wanted despite his likely lengthy wait in the line. She directed her words to Marinette. "He's single, you know."
"Subtle much, Al?" Nino had appeared on Alya's other side, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of his coffee.
"Subtly is boring and ineffective," Alya shot back. "Subtly has led us to where we are today—two idiots hopelessly in love with each other and somehow not dating."
"We are… I mean we're not in love with each other—or a-at least he's not, and I can't be because it's been years and that would be ridiculous, right?" Mari blabbered, filling the display so at least her hands were busy and not flailing in all directions.
"Just don't rule it out," Alya said. "Having lingering feelings, I mean. Just go with the flow, don't overthink things like you always do, and if something happens, then it happens."
Marinette nodded, doubtful but understanding. Alya and Nino only wanted what was best for her, and in this case, they were nudging her (or, in Alya's case, full-force pushing her) to acknowledge that after all this time, Adrien's feelings might have finally shifted from just friends to something more.
With one last parting smile, Marinette tried to keep her expectations low for the rest of the day.
For such a naturally positive young woman, she was suddenly terrified of getting her hopes up.