Ever since moving in with Marinette, Adrien had the opportunity to bake and cook more than he ever had before. This was not to say that he had much experience. And having had zero opportunities to bake and cook before, this did not say much about his skills in the kitchen.

Cookies should have been easy enough.

Should have been.

They weren't.

Even with his girlfriend, a baker's daughter, to help him, cookies were not easy.

Marinette mostly watched and chatted as Adrien put together the ingredients for cookie dough, only interrupting to correct him on minor details and when he almost put in a ¾ cup of salt instead of sugar. It took some time, but he finally managed to create a passable bowl of cookie dough.

"I knew you could do it!" Marinette cooed, grabbing both of his cheeks and giving him a peck on the lips. When she pulled away, she did so grinning. Maybe she'd tell him about his face full of flour later. For now, she was going to enjoy her hand shaped masterpieces. "Just let me get the tray and we can start shaping up some cookies!"

Adrien felt triumphant. It was, after all, his first decent looking attempt at cookies. He had the right to feel proud. And a little hungry. He eyed the bowl keenly. As a model, he only heard stories of how tasty raw cookie dough was. The curiosity ate at him, for lack of a better word.

It would hurt to have one bite.

Opting for the spoon they used to mix the batter instead of the bowl itself, Adrien scrapped the dough with his teeth. The taste was magnificent. It would have been better cold. He closed his eyes and savoured the sugary concoction and grainy texture.

"Mmm…" he hummed.

"Adrien!" His heart nearly stopped when he thought he was in trouble. Looking at his jokingly cross girlfriend, he grinned sheepishly, a look of mock guilt on his face. "You're not supposed to eat that without me!" she cried, tilting the spoon toward her own mouth and stealing a chunk of batter. He gasped overdramatically, picked up a pinch of flour from the countertop and flicked it at her face.

It was Marinette's turn to gasp, astounded that he would dare to flick her with flour. A look of mischief crossing her, she smeared her hand all over the table and wiped it on the side of his face, adding to her previous misconduct. Adrien laughed and retaliated without mercy.

By the end of the Flour War, they were covered in powder, and cookies lay unmade in their bowl. They were both giggling ridiculously, and Adrien landed a kiss squarely on her lips, lifting her up to sit on the counter in the process. She sighed.

"I guess we won't be getting these cookies done any time soon," she said, looking longingly at the bowl.

"We can put them in the fridge," he replied dismissively, very distracted by his desire to make out with Marinette. "In the meanwhile, I'd really like not being covered in flour." She turned back to him and cupped his right chin.

"I think it suits you," she commended.

"Really? Maybe you could design a fashion line around it."

"And you could model it."

"Of course," Adrien said, to which Marinette giggled and touched her forehead to his.

"Can I shower first?" she whispered. He sighed dramatically.

"If you must." With a quick peck, Marinette jumped off the counter and beelined for the bathroom. Halting at the doorframe, she turned around with a second thought.

"Don't eat the cookie dough or you'll be in trouble," she threatened with a warm smile. Adrien winked from the kitchen.

"My Lady, you're only in trouble if you get caught."