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Adrien always had a soft spot for boulangerie-patisseries.
Vanilla custard encased warmly in freshly baked choux pastry, velvety chocolate ganache poured over the top. Carefully sifted almond flour delicately folded with beaten egg whites and a dash of colored food gel, baked low and slow to perfection, an array of flavors for each hue. Layers upon layers of laminated dough, butter between each one, forming the beautiful viennoiserie-pastry: the croissant.
The young boy licked his lips absentmindedly at the thought of the buttery, flaky goodness as he pulled the door handle of the bakery-confectionary, eager to bask in the aroma of French pastries and bread. There was no other scent like it; none that could lift the heavy heart Adrien carried some days.
(Except for his Lady.)
Once Adrien stepped through the doorway, he lifted his head up and breathed in deeply, filling his chest with the warmth of the room, an immediate contrast from the harsh cold winds outside. The door shut behind him as a ringing bell faintly met his ears.
He blinked.
What?
Adrien rubbed his nose. Maybe he was getting sick.
He breathed in deeply once more.
He cocked his head to the side.
What was going on?
“Monsieur Agreste! Welcome back.”
Adrien smiled politely. “Bonjour, Monsieur Filo. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. It's been quite a while since we’ve seen you here.”
Yes, well, a model’s diet does not consist of copious amounts of pastries. According to Father, at least.
“Ah, yes. I apologize for that. My schedule has been incredibly hectic. School and all,” Adrien said.
“I understand,” Monsieur Filo nodded.
“Although, if you don’t mind, I have a question, Monsieur.”
“Hm?”
Adrien hesitated. “Have you... removed anything from your store?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Are there any pastries or bread that you decided to not sell anymore? Something just feels... off.” Adrien cringed at his wording. “Not to suggest that anything smells bad! Just... different.”
Monsieur Filo raised an eyebrow. “Non, Monsieur. Nothing missing at all. As you can see in our displays, everything as it was, there’s only added decorations for this season.”
Adrien acknowledged the tinsel wrapping around the glass display, fairy lights intertwined, the glow slowly fading in and out. Adrien shifted his weight from one foot onto the other. “Excuse me, Monsieur. It seems as though I have lost my appetite.”
Monsieur Filo merely nodded in response.
It wasn’t as if Adrien never said that excuse before.
He used to walk into this very bakery just to encompass himself in the entrancing fragrance of baked goods permeating the atmosphere. But he would never purchase anything to eat.
A model’s diet, he reminded himself.
Adrien brought his handknit scarf up to his face as he pushed back against the door of the bakery. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. He sauntered to his left, his destination only a few blocks down.
Maybe it would be different there.
Adrien sighed.
Four bakeries he had visited.
And all of them smelled wrong.
Perhaps it really was him.
“Why are you visiting all of these bakeries when you could visit a Fromagerie?”
“Because I want to smell something nice, Plagg.”
The cat Kwami swooped up to look Adrien in the eye. Adrien quickly glanced to either side of him to make sure that no one was around. “Fromageries have the most beautiful and potent smell. It’s almost Christmas, you should stock up on Camembert. As a gift to me.”
Adrien rolled his eyes. “Fromageries definitely have a potent smell, I’ll give you that.”
“You spent almost all morning just walking all across Paris trying to figure out what is missing from all of the bakeries you visited. But nothing was. Are you just going to head home?”
Adrien opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it once he turned the corner on Rue Gotlib. “Non. I have one last place to visit.”
Plagg huffed but tucked himself away in Adrien’s jacket once more. The boy lifted his hand up to run his fingers through his hair, attempting to quickly style it back into place before entering the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie.
Adrien held his breath as he took a step in.
The door closed behind him as he shut his eyes.
He let go of the breath he was holding.
He inhaled slowly.
A smile crept onto his face.
This was it.
His eyelids fluttered open to see Sabine Cheng smiling softly at him. Blood quickly rushed to the boy’s face. “A-Ah, um. I—”
“Hello, Adrien. It’s rather cold outside, isn’t it?”
“Y-Yes, Madame.”
“Would you like some hot chocolate?”
Adrien bit his tongue in fear of stuttering again. He nodded. She motioned for him to follow her to the back of the store. Adrien recognized it as the entryway to the middle floor, where the main living area was.
His breathing hitched.
Should he even be here? Last time he was here, he and Marinette were practicing for the gaming competition. At least he was invited then. Now it just felt as though he were trespassing.
“Tom! Adrien’s here!”
Adrien’s eyes widened.
Well. No turning back now.
“Marinette is actually out with Alya at the moment, but I’ll tell her that you managed to stop by,” Sabine offered as she led him towards the living room. She ushered him onto the couch and he couldn’t help but comply. Adrien saw Tom’s large figure in the kitchen, as he stirred chopped chocolate into steaming milk, Adrien presumed. “Oh, you’re already making the hot chocolate? Then, I’ll head back downstairs and grab some croissants for our guest.”
“Ah, Madame, you don’t have to—”
“But I want to, Adrien,” Sabine beamed. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Before he could respond, Sabine was already heading down the stairs back into the bakery.
Adrien shifted uncomfortably.
Why was he here again?
All he wanted was to smell baked goods.
He shot up in his seat once he saw that Tom was carrying a tray of three mugs over to him. His moustache curved along with his smile. Adrien eased at the sight. No matter his size, Adrien couldn’t help but feel comforted by his fatherly presence.
Something that Adrien wasn’t particularly familiar with.
“Adrien. How are you?”
“Doing fantastic, Monsieur Dupain. You don’t have to—”
“I am well aware,” Tom nodded. “But what kind of parents would we be if we were to turn away our child’s friends?”
Adrien thought back to when his father cast out Nino.
His train of thought was broken once Tom spoke again, “Especially in this weather. This is the least we could do.”
Adrien finally allowed himself to breathe. He smiled softly. “Thank you, Monsieur.”
“Anytime, Adrien. Now, while Marinette is out, let me show you photos of my adorable daughter when she was just a child.”
“Plagg, transform me!”
Chat Noir jumped from roof to roof, clad only in his superhero garb. Surprisingly, he felt no need to shiver. He wondered what exactly it was made out of, but his mind supplied, “magic”.
“Chat?”
He landed carefully onto the railing of Marinette’s balcony. He gave her a mock-salute and grinned widely. “Princess.”
“Isn’t it cold?” Marinette asked.
“Indeed it is. And why are you out here?” Chat countered.
Marinette huffed and gestured down to the three blankets she had wrapped around her petite frame. She was leaning against two pillows, already warmed by her body. She glanced down to her left and noted that there were indeed enough croissants for the two of them. She had also prepared an additional mug of hot chocolate for Tikki, but it seemed as though that plan was out the window. “I’m out here because it’s a beautifully clear sky tonight. Although, mon chaton, you need to move. You’re blocking the view.”
“Princess. I am the view.”
“...Get off.” Marinette shot him a deadpanned look and he merely grinned. He jumped down from the railing and nestled himself next to Marinette. He pointed down at one of the blankets and jutted out his bottom lip, his eyes attempting to convey innocence. Marinette couldn’t help but giggle. She nodded.
He lifted the blanket around his shoulders and leaned against hers. She lifted up one of the mugs to him and he dipped his head in gratitude. “You know, Princess. As much as I would pawfer to lie here furever, there is a reason why I am here right meow.”
The corner of Marinette’s eye twitched. She inhaled slowly.
“And what is that, mon chaton?”
“For that.”
Marinette looked back down at the tray of croissants next to her. She unconsciously picked one up and lifted it to Chat’s mouth. He breathed in its freshly baked scent. Marinette tilted her head to the side as her dark-blue eyes met his electric green. His hand reached up to rest on top of hers, still holding the pastry. He offered her a soft smile, one uncharacteristic of Chat Noir.
Marinette’s eyes widened slightly.
“There’s something about your bakery, Princess.”
“W-What do you mean?”
Chat’s hand squeezed lightly atop of hers before he let go. He leaned back against the wall and stared up into the sky. Marinette quickly followed suit, but couldn’t ignore the hammering in her chest. What was that about? For a second, she thought—
“I spent almost all day going to different bakeries across Paris,” Chat put up a finger to stifle Marinette’s giggles. He chortled at her puffed out cheeks. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘What a Chat Noir thing to do.’”
“But of course.”
He nodded. “That’s fair. But. Anyways. There was something wrong with the bakeries. Nothing... bad. Just... I could smell that something was off. Or at least, I thought something was off. It smelt as though something was missing. And I just couldn’t figure out what it was. That is, until I arrived here earlier this evening.”
“Is it because we’re a boulangerie-patisserie? We sell both bread and pastries, so that possibly could have to do with—”
“Non, non. It isn’t that.”
Marinette waited patiently as she waited for Chat to continue. She could see Chat trying to form the words he wished to say.
“The other bakeries... I could smell the technique in their baking. I could smell each ingredient. That was not an issue. But. Once I entered this bakery, your bakery. I could smell not only the effort put into it, but the love and the care. Your bakery smells like... comfort. It smells like home.”
Internally, Adrien cringed. He half anticipated Marinette to burst out laughing. He sounded so dramatic. Chat avoided eye contact and took sudden interest in the mug of hot chocolate he held between his glove-clad fingers.
He snapped out of his thoughts once he saw Marinette move out of the corner of his eye. She brought her own mug over to his and clinked the edges together. “Cheers to that.”
Chat’s eyes shot towards Marinette’s, the deep-blue filled to the brim with understanding with a hint of... sadness? “Princess?”
“You’re always welcome here, mon chaton.”
Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. He felt the heavy weight being lifted off of it with each thump against his chest. “Thank you, Princess. And... I’ve got to say...”
“Hm?”
“Your bakery is really supurrior.”
That was the last time Chat Noir made a pun while Marinette had a hot drink still in her hands.