The next memorable time Adrien comes around, he's blindsided.
It's not a feeling he's particularly accustomed to. He has, generally, excellent vision; even better when he's Chat. It helps him little though in the face of his calendar that is crammed with school and extracurriculars and photoshoots. Every moment is blocked out meticulously to the point where Adrien could go through the motions in his sleep.
And in the wake of some of the longer patrols or lengthy akuma attacks, he's grateful that he's so sure-footed even when bone weary.
There's a rhythm to his day, and it's in the sharp quickstep to his tightly arranged schedule. He knows the steps better than the back of his own hand and while routine is familiar, assuring, it is also boring.
Tiny moments like walking back to school during lunch break are when Adrien feels less like the model son, nothing like the superhero, and everything like a normal teenage boy without a care in the world.
The mashup of jpop songs Nino's mixed specially for him thumps to an irregular beat in his ears and adds a bounce to his step. An itch to slide and jump and skip sits restlessly in the pads of Adrien's feet, but he's too self conscious to dance in the street during the middle of the day under the blinding spotlight of the sun.
He'd rather waltz and jive and spin over the shadowy maze of rooftops at night partnered with Lady Luck swinging alongside him. The tempo of her yoyo's clicks, the melody of his baton whistling through the air, and the percussion of their synchronized footsteps give music to their improvised dancing.
(His lady would never call it such, but... he's maybe a little bit of a hopeless romantic.)
Adrien doesn't mind the comfort of structure, even if it does become stifling at times, but he'd be lying if he didn't find freestyle to be exhilarating.
Of course, it was always better with company, preferably in the form of the focus of his affections. Adrien doesn't know how Ladybug would feel about jpop though so he takes this particular dance solo.
He dodges around a large truck tucked up against the sidewalk and contemplates whether or not he could get away with a little spin and maybe some skips without anyone seeing when a partner does descend upon him with all the grace of a flour sack.
Which, incidentally, is precisely what falls into his arms and knocks the wind out of him, throwing his momentum off course and leaving him staggering backwards. His hands slip as he desperately tries to keep a hold on the heavy deadweight in his arms. Jpop blares in his ears and he jerks his head around, yanking the earphones out just in time to catch the rumble of a man's voice asking, "You got it, Sabby? Better use the front, there's still caramel on the ground here you could slip on."
Left with few options, Adrien responds with a sort of hum he hopes can pass for 'Sabby's' and sidles carefully down the street until the familiar glass windows of the Dupain-Cheng boulangerie-pâtisserie come into view.
He breathes a sigh of relief and pushes his way in the front door, the flour sack dragging his arms down and making his strained muscles burn. He's no slouch, especially with the amount of parkour and fighting he does on the regular, but he doesn't often heft 40kg for a stretch at a time.
This time, the place is packed. People bustle around him and the organized chaos reminds him of photoshoots. With that in mind, he dodges rather successfully around the line forming, slips behind the counter an older Chinese woman is busily managing, and ducks through the door leading to the back.
"Outside sounds like it got crazy, Maman. Do you want me to take the front so you can help unload the truck?"
The sound of Marinette's voice leads Adrien to a spacious room. Ovens and sinks crowd every inch along the walls, connected by a counter. Center space (which is large enough, Adrien notes, to do silly twirls and uncoordinated dance steps in) is instead filled with two huge tables pushed together, every single surface covered in bare-faced éclairs crowded on flat trays.
Marinette doesn't even look up as he staggers into the room. Her palette knife whips in and out of the huge bowl of melted chocolate in her arm to spread across each éclair with unerring proficiency.
"Unless did Mme. Ta change her order again? I don't know if I'll have time to redo these before going back to school."
This time, she does look up and her blue eyes blow open so wide at the sight of him that Adrien thinks he's back outside under the clear spring sky. Her mouth drops open and a hefty dollop of chocolate slips off her knife to douse one hapless éclair.
He grins sheepishly at her. "Hi?"
"Adrien!" she blurts, right in sync with the jpop he can just hear still playing through his earbuds. He resists the urge to start tapping his feet to the beat. "I- what are you doing- oh, Papa must've-"
Her expression runs through a gamut of emotions while her arms wave around frantically as she connects the dots. More chocolate flies to speckle the bare éclairs.
"Can I put this somewhere?" His respect for bakers grows as his arms feel more and more like they're going to disconnect from his shoulders.
"Yes! Definitely, of course, follow me."
Marinette is a whirl of pigtails, apron ties, and flying chocolate drops as she squeezes past him and leads him to another room. The temperature cools considerably as they step in and Adrien heaves the flour sack to an empty spot.
"I'm sorry, Papa must've thought you were Maman and just tossed that towards you," she waves haphazardly to the flour sack and winces as chocolate lands everywhere.
"Is she the one at the front?" Adrien asks curiously as Marinette hurries to wipe chocolate off from the sacks. At her nod, he chuckles, "She and I definitely look alike."
"Like twins," Marinette deadpans, not missing a beat as she leads them back to the baking room. Her eyes dart to the large clock on the wall and her groan makes her entire body wilt. "Oh no, if I'm late again Mme. Mendeleiev really is going to do me in."
"Do you have to finish putting chocolate on those before you go?" Adrien gestures to the army of éclairs awaiting their coats.
"I should…" She wavers, clearly debating the merits of incurring the wrath of their formidable physics and math teacher again.
Adrien doesn't hesitate when he spots the conflict in her expression. He drops his schoolbag in a corner, snags a spare apron hanging from the door, and loops it around his neck before tying it securely behind his back. After a moment's thought, he heads decisively to one of the sinks to wash his hands.
"Adrien what-? Oh gosh, no, you don't have to, you don't need to be late, and Mme. Mendeleiev actually likes you-" Despite her protests, Marinette casts harried glances at the waiting éclairs. The clock ticks.
"We'll work faster if we work together," he cheerfully points out. "Besides, I'm already here."
Marinette shifts her weight from foot to foot, biting her lip in indecision before a determined look settles on her face. Her hands fly as she grabs another bowl and pours some of the chocolate from her bowl into it, and her feet race as she grabs another palette knife from one of the many containers on the counter. Adrien nearly goes cross-eyed as she thrusts them under his nose.
"Just add a layer of chocolate to the top right?" he confirms as he takes the bowl. The palette knife sits comfortably in his hand and he sweeps it through the air a couple times, pretending to fence.
"It's pretty simple," she nods, and her expressive eyes watch his movements for a few moments. "They're kind of easy to crush by accident though so… be gentle?" Her voice runs thin at the end of her sentence and when Adrien glances over, concerned, he finds her looking a little dazed.
"Hey," he gives her a reassuring smile and clasps a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "We'll get it done."
Her shoulder rises and falls as she takes a deep breath. The smile she sends back warms him to the tips of his fingers.
"Start on that end, I'll start here?" she suggests, motioning with her palette knife. Adrien slides around to the indicated corner and they begin slathering chocolate on the éclairs.
He moves meticulously and carefully and doesn't even try to match the speed that Marinette whips herself into. His pace gradually picks up as he falls easily into a rhythm.
Working in tandem allows Adrien to feel the steady regularity of their tempo, so much so that the moment Marinette falls out of rhythm, he picks up on it immediately. Her smooth movements edge towards erratic and her eyes fly between her next target, the clock, and him. It doesn't take Adrien long to see the storm of stress and thought brewing in her mind and he reacts instinctively by offering her a distraction.
"Hey, Marinette," Adrien catches her attention and, before his self-consciousness catches up to him and his brain informs him that this is a bad idea, lets his words slide off his tongue. He can't sing jpop for the life of him (and he's definitely tried, with Plagg being very vocal about his awful pronunciation), so he defaults to the next best thing. "Let's get down to business! To defeat the buns!"
Marinette's head springs up so fast her pigtails bounce in the air, and she stares slack jawed at him for a moment before panic, of all things, sets in her features.
"Oh no, he'll hear you, don't-"
"Did they send me dough-ters? When I asked for bonbons?" A familiar rumble booms through the room, the sonorous voice preceding a giant of a man. He steps into the room, huge and graceful, and the beaming smile on his face is all Marinette. "You're the saddest brunch I ever made, but you can bake before we're toast! Mari, I'll make a flan just for you!"
His laughter fills the room like hot air. Marinette deflates, her cheeks apple red and her smile utterly embarrassed. Adrien gapes at this behemoth of a man who just effortlessly picked up his intentions and knocked the song right out of the ballpark.
"Papa," Marinette groans into her bowl and she flicks the hand holding the palette knife at the chortling baker's direction, spraying him with chocolate.
His eyes only light up more in good humour and he swings around the table to pat Adrien's shoulder and ruffle Marinette's hair. His mustache twitches before he continues, boisterously, "Tasty as le fromage, but with flour within!"
This time, Adrien's feet caves into the impulse to bounce to the beat and he gives into the laughter blooming in his chest. Marinette's father grins wider at his daughter's embarrassment and Adrien's amusement.
"Once you find your custard, you are sugar win!"
Despite the alarming colour lighting her face on fire, Marinette joins in laughing as she continues to coat each éclair with a swipe of her knife, eventually falling into rhythm again with her father's ridiculous and endearing singing. This time, Adrien matches her beat by beat as he bobs along to the song.
"You're a salty, burnt, uneven loaf, and you haven't got une croûte!"
The rich smell of chocolate and bread mingle with the swirl of their laughter and accompany the tapping of their feet and flashing of their palette knives. Adrien mirrors Marinette as they slowly circle around the large tables, leaving gleaming chocolate covered éclairs in their wake.
"Somehow I'll make le naan just for you!" The large baker finishes uproariously before sweeping Marinette up in a twirl, laughing over the sound of her shrieks.
Adrien scrapes the last of the chocolate from his bowl and covers the remaining bare éclairs with a flourish. His cheeks flush from smiles and his belly aches from delicious laughter.
"Good pick," the baker winks at Adrien, utterly unconcerned with the chocolate Marinette is attempting to smear across his apron. It must be a regular occurrence. "That was her favourite Disney movie when she was young. Favourite song too."
"Papa!" Marinette's voice is both mortified and indignant.
"Tom Dupain-Cheng," the large man introduces himself to Adrien. He sets Marinette gently on the ground and offers a huge hand. His handshake is warm, assuring, more a kind clasp than a calculating grip.
"Adrien Agreste," Adrien returns politely.
Tom perks up at the name, recognition gleaming from his eyes. Adrien wonders at the glance he sends his daughter, and the way Marinette's face absolutely burns up in front of him.
"Sabine informed me," Tom starts, and steps deftly away from Marinette's yanking at his arm, "that I must've given you the bag of flour meant for her to bring in." He squints playfully at Adrien for a moment, considering, before nodding. "Easy mistake. You two are identical."
Laughter rushes forth like a dam spilling open and Adrien's positively light headed from just how easy and warm being around this place and family is.
"That would be an honour if it were true," Adrien replies, a touch bashful in the face of Tom's extremely kind but large presence. He tamps down the giddiness dancing in his chest into something more courteous and respectful.
"So polite!" A new voice joins them, soothing and mild. Tom's face lights up and Marinette waves to someone behind Adrien, who turns and spots the short Chinese woman who had been managing the counter. Her smile falls over him like a warm blanket and he can't help but smile shyly back. "You two best get going if you don't want to be late for school."
"Oh no," Marinette moans as she spots the clock yet again.
"You've still got time," Tom assures her as he plucks the bowl and palette knife from her hands. In one smooth motion, he turns and does the same to Adrien, clearly practiced in handling his daughter's time management skills. "Thank you for helping Marinette out, Adrien. She's lucky to have a good friend like you." A wink punctuates his thanks.
A garbled noise blurts out of Marinette and she nearly trips over her untied apron strings pooling to the ground. From the door, Sabine chuckles knowingly.
"It was fun," Adrien admits. He unties his apron and hands it over the same time Marinette does before picking up his schoolbag from the corner. "Thank you for having me."
"Oh, before you go, take this," Sabine's gentle voice is the only warning he gets before a large brown paper bag finds a home in his hands. The unmistakeable mouthwatering scent of sugar, butter, chocolate, and bread wafts up. His stomach hollows out instantly, demanding to be filled with pastry goodness at once.
A similar bag is deposited in Marinette's hands, who receives the goodies without surprise.
"Thank you Maman! Are there-?"
"Extra chocolate croissants for Alya," Sabine finishes. When she smiles, every line of her face tips up and creases in sincerity. Between her smile and Tom's laugh, it's not hard for Adrien to see where Marinette gets her expressiveness and charm from.
"You're the best." Marinette presses kisses on her mother's cheeks before reaching up and bestowing the same to her father.
"Come back again, Adrien," Tom invites. "Any friend of Marinette's is always welcome. Feel free to help yourself to anything, on the house."
It takes Adrien several moments of stunned staring to realize that no, Tom isn't joking, yes, Sabine's nodding in agreement, and, gosh, now he knows how to have his own face grow hot enough to power an oven. He clutches the bag in his hand a little tighter and prays the tightening in his chest doesn't translate into tears.
"Th-thank you," he stammers, a little disbelieving, a lot overwhelmed, and wholeheartedly grateful. His gaze slides between the three of them and despite the ingrained knowledge that tells him the polite thing to do is to maintain eye contact, Adrien can't. He looks at the bag in his hands instead, a safe and impartial focal point. "These smell incredible."
"You two better run so you can enjoy them before class starts," Sabine points out.
"Right!" Marinette springs into action, sweeping up her own bag and almost running into the corner of the table in the process. "Let's get going?"
Adrien glances up into blue eyes and nods. He follows Marinette out the room into the front area and through the front door before falling into step beside her.
"Have you good day you two!" Tom's boisterous voice trails after them.
"Sorry if that was a bit much," Marinette sighs as they power walk down the street together. "They're really good about people - uh, I mean, f-friends coming over and anyway it's never a proper visit unless they can feed you as much as they can, but that's sort of their way of saying that they like you-" Her voice squeaks at the end of the sentence and the rest of her sentence is a garbled mumble that Adrien can't sort out.
"They're really nice." He sends her a reassuring smile and resists the urge to bump playfully into her to cheer her up. The smile seems to do the trick though. Marinette blinks, a wide smile growing on her face in return topped with pinkening cheeks before she practically bounces ahead of him.
Adrien watches her pace, prepared to shorten his strides to better accommodate her shorter legs, but he underestimates just how fast Marinette can go. He finds himself lengthening his steps to keep up with her.
They get to school and slide into their seats with a few minutes to spare. From behind, Adrien catches Alya's excited crow at the unexpected treat Marinette slides to her with a laugh.
Nino perks up instantly the moment he catches sight of Adrien, and his eyes grow large behind his glasses at the huge bag in his hands. Any greeting Nino attempts dies when Adrien opens the bag and the aromatic scent of pastries billows into the air.
A deep inhale, and then, "Dude, you must have everything in there." Another inhale, this time with purpose, followed by a peek into the bag. "You even got some éclairs? Lucky!"
Adrien digs into the bag for the aforementioned pastry and holds it out to Nino without a second thought. Nino hesitates; not for lack of wanting, Adrien knows, because Nino could inhale éclairs like they were going out of style, but in favour of insisting Adrien keep it in his attempts of completely circumventing his strict diet.
"Go ahead," Adrien offers, and the gesture rewinds him to Sabine's kind expression, Tom's laugh, and Marinette's smile. Sunlight sinks down and curls in Adrien's stomach, filling him with the kind of warmth gained from belly aching laughs and whirling dances.
Nino beams and bumps fists with him as he takes the éclair. As chocolate smears messily over Nino's blissful face, Adrien offers him another, laughing, "They're better when shared."
AN: I got completely side tracked for a long time writing this chapter since the moment I knew I was going to pun a Disney song, I went hunting for the perfect one. Mulan was the clear winner early on but coming up with renditions for I Won't Say I'm in Loaf (Hercules), Under the Brie (Little Mermaid), and Hakouglof Moussetata (Lion King) made for good, if hilarious, writing all around.
Also, researching all sorts of french pastries for these puns was both a joy and a regret. I have never been so hungry while writing a fic.
Thank you for the lovely reviews! They sure bring such a smile to my face :)