The hazards of being a bakers daughter# adrianette & ladynoir

Now she knew

h look, a piggie!" a little girl squealed loudly, startling Adrien.

"That's so gross!" the boy next to her replied, sniggering.

"No it's not!" the girl said stubbornly, stomping her foot. "It's cute!"

Adrien glanced over to where she was pointing. She was standing in front of a shelf lined with different animals and fruits. A sign in the front labeled them as shaped marzipan. With a start, Adrien noticed an entire row of Mr. Dupain's famous marzipan roses next to the carefully crafted animals. Curious, he scooted over to try to get a closer look.

Marinette was right—the petals of her father's roses were much finer, giving the entire flower a more delicate feel. Still, Adrien couldn't help but feel that Marinette's rose had been better. The marzipan had been amazingly delicious, and he appreciated the thicker petals she had made for him.

She was so sweet, to think of giving him a present. In class, that was—he had figured Ladybug would give him something, but the gift from Marinette had been a surprise. Honestly, he still needed to pick up a gift for tonight. Originally he had meant to go out on Saturday to pick something out for Ladybug, but after Friday night he had lost his confidence.

But now, looking through the curved glass, the beginning of an idea wormed into Adrien's head. His stomach dropped as he considered it, but somehow it just seemed ... right.

"Number 338?" Mrs. Cheng called from the counter. Taking a deep breath, Adrien waved as he made his way over to her.

...

"It's so quiet."

Adrien glanced curiously at Ladybug—Marinette he corrected himself—as he landed on the roof beside her.

She stood looking out over Paris from the edge of city hall—the end of their patrol route tonight. It had started snowing again while they were making their rounds, a slow, gentle kind of snowfall that left the white world muted.

Adrien had never much liked the close silence when it snowed. Somehow that quiet was tangible, pressing in around him and making him feel trapped and even more alone than usual. But oddly enough, standing here with Marinette, it didn't bother him at all. Instead, it felt private, secure, and even reassuring.

"It's nice," he said quietly, surveying the serene landscape that stretched before them.

He heard Marinette chuckle beside him. "Yes, it is."

Adrien shut his eyes and took a deep breath. There was still time. He didn't have to go through with this. Did he really want to risk ruining everything right now?

Just do it, he told himself firmly, shooing away his doubts. With another deep breath he turned towards one of the vents that lined city hall's roof, his footsteps crunching in the snow. He glanced over to see Marinette watching him with a curious frown and he couldn't help a small smile.

"You know," he told her, reaching down behind the vent to retrieve the plastic container from where he had left it. It had accumulated a thin blanket of snow, and he carefully brushed off the top. "I never got to give you your present."

Heart in his throat, he handed her the black container. "Merry Christmas, Ladybug."

She accepted the box, shooting him a smile that tore straight through his heart. He watched intently as she carefully removed the lid and took out a rose.

"It's made out of marzipan," he heard himself saying. His mouth felt dry, and his ears were ringing. "It's from the best bakery in Paris. The baker uses whole almonds and sugar, and adds rose water." Realizing he was rambling, he quietly added, "... That's why it's shaped like a rose."

Marinette's lips quirked into a small, bemused smile as she examined the rose, then carefully placed it back into the box. "Wow, Chat. These are actually my favorite treat. How did you know?"

He could tell she was teasing him and didn't mean anything by the question. She wasn't expecting an answer. But he forced himself to say, "Because you told me the other day when you gave me one, Marinette."

"Really?" she asked, frowning a bit. He held his breath as he watched her. "I don't remember saying anything about that. And besides, I gave you—"

Marinette cut off suddenly, bright blue eyes widening as she finally realized exactly what he had said. Her face worked itself into a nervous frown and she slowly met his gaze. Hesitantly she asked, "What did you just call me?"

What had he been thinking? This was a terrible idea. She was going to hate him now—he could just tell. The poorly veiled fear on her face was tearing his heart to shreds.

"I'm sorry," he told her quickly, wishing there were a better way to explain all of this—a way that wouldn't hurt her. There wasn't one, of course, but that didn't make him feel any less guilty. "I know you didn't want me to know, and I promise it wasn't on purpose! But I, well, kind of, sort of, figured it out..."

He trailed off, unsure what else he could possibly say. He watched Marinette, trying unsuccessfully to read the emotions that flashed through her eyes. Noticing his attention, she quickly looked away with a forced laugh. "Oh. Well."

An awkward silence stretched out between them, and with each passing second Adrien grew more and more worried. How could he have ever thought that tonight would be a good time to tell her? Of course he should have waited.

Still not meeting his eye, she mumbled, "How did you know?"

"It was the flour," he confessed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "In your hair."

"Right," she replied with a wince. "The hazard of being a baker's daughter, I suppose."

Adrien's lungs clenched tighter and tighter with each successive breath. A part of him knew that he needed to explain the rest of it to her—that he couldn't just leave her hanging like this. And yet the thought of revealing himself now seemed impossibly cruel. For her to learn that not only had she been betrayed by her partner, but also her friend?

Be honest, a cruel voice whispered in his head. You just don't want her to know that you're the one who is letting her down.

"I don't get it, though," Marinette said quietly, startling Adrien. Her frown had grown, and she still wasn't meeting his eye. "I gave you sugar cookies the other day. The only person I made a rose for was—"

Her eyes widened again, if possible even farther than before. Hesitantly she turned to face him, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her and find some way to ease the fear that so clearly bled through her face. And not just fear, but disbelief, and trepidation, and a million other nameless emotions that he knew—knew, because it mirrored almost exactly what he had already experienced, had already battled with the moment he had begun to suspect who she was.

Slowly, eyes narrowing, she asked, "...Adrien?"

Sorry i left you on a cliffhanger. But can't wait to write the next part. I'm surprised myself with what I've wrote! Bye guys comment.