Spring Rains

Thunder filled the air as the once clear skies turned a rich haze of deep purples and blues, crackling ominously. The city's atmosphere had become so intensely alive and vibrant, sucking the breath out of the world as the spring storm rolled in. Though in the dying afternoon, Paris still glowed, soaking up the last of the golden light. It shimmered amongst the tree tops and across hastily opened umbrella as the first droplets of rain began to fall. The smell of rain hitting the warm pavement was enough for the citizens to stop. Take a deep breath. And sigh, in contentment.

For once, Paris was safe.

She barely registered the rain hitting the windows, being so submerged in her craft. Curled up against the counter top, he watched as her fingers gently sifted through the flour, gradually mixing in the sugar and salt, sending small puffs of dust into the air as she did. The room was hazy and warm, flecked with flour dust that danced across her fringe, and lingered on his nose. The softest strums of a guitar drifted from her cell phone nearby, serenading them along with the storm. She hummed as the thunder grumbled above, slowly adding iced water to her mixture.

Man, he loved these golden hours.

Sitting in the warm family house in the company of his favourite citizen, he was more than content to watch her bring her creations to life. Whether it be a design, a drawing or simply baking a delicious treat, he savoured it all. Watching as she finished her dough and brought it to the fridge, he settled his chin more firmly on his crossed arms, returning her kind smile sleepily. He wasn't sure when this had become a thing; him basking in her company as she pottered around her house. It was usually by rare occasion, but it was always treated the same. Always with a welcoming look and an unspoken invitation. They'd listen to the newest guitar instrumental her friend had gifted her as her hands created wonders, her voice as gentle as her presence. He would recline against her workstation of the day, relaxed, taking everything in.

They barely talked. It wasn't that they weren't sure as to what to say to one another, more that she already knew exactly what he needed and he could only yawn a thanks. Actions spoke louder than words, she would say, but with the way she would hand him a pillow or a spare blanket without a second glance, he was starting to wonder if she could read minds as one of her many talents. When they did talk, it'd be simple conversation. She would ask for his thoughts on her designs, help on tricky equations or simply if he wanted more to eat. In turn he would help her with her task while giving a casual play by play of the robbery he helped foil the other day.

They never talked about the akuma attacks. The one time he tried, she got so quiet and a little teary eyed as she murmured that for once, just once, she thought they deserved a space that was akuma free. A space where he didn't need to live up the expectations of being one of Paris' saviours. A space where they could pretend that everything was normal and relax. It hit closer to home than she realised but he was undyingly grateful to her after that.

Green eyes watching as she spread the sugar across the table, he slowly savoured his nearly empty cup of tea, despite its nearing luke warm temperature. Her whole body rolled with the repetitive motion of folding the dough and stretching it again, sprinkling more sugar between each fold. He had never asked what she was making, preferring to wait for the finished result and sample as surprises were the best. Tail flicking lazily behind him, he mulled over what he could do this week to return her kindness. When this routine had begun, he had tried to ask what she'd like in return only to be quickly shut down. She had said that after all he had done for the city, this was just a small gesture of thanks. Stubborn as himself, she refused any gift he had brought her, so he had turned to looking for ways to improve her day to day life instead. Sometimes he'd water her plants if she'd had a long day, or straighten up her room. At school he'd help her with class representative jobs or volunteer for tasks she needed help with. She had turned a brilliant shade of red the first time he had volunteered, so thankful someone had come forward to offer, as no one really did. When she has asked why, he simply shrugged and smiled, repeating her own words she had told him. Sometimes, it's nice just to pay it forward.

She was prepping something new now. Pears were involved. Unconsciously his mouth began to drool.

Plagg often teased him on his affections. Said that he should stop fawning over Ladybug and marry the bakers' girl who made cheese danishes. He'd often blush and stammer out that she was just a friend. A friend who was offering him the last slices of pear now and a new cup of tea as her dish baked. Smiling in thanks, he munched on the crisp slices happily, listening to the wind pick up outside. Seemed like he'd be staying longer than normal tonight if this weather continued. She must have been on the same wavelength as she offered for him to stay the night, watching the rain lash the windows. As tempting as that was, he couldn't. He'd already leeched too much of her kindness for the day.

Watching as she peered out over the street, he remembered with a frown that Ladybug was supposed to patrol tonight. Hopefully she wouldn't. Not that it was cold, but how wet the rooftops would be, he didn't want to risk her slipping without him there to help. Quickly texting her a message through his baton for when she was transformed, he thought back to when they had talked about his visits to the bakery. She'd been surprised at first but had turned down the suggestion that she join him on the next one. With a smile so dazzling she had encouraged him to take the refuge offered, as he needed it more than her. It had led to a bit of an argument, as she was just as important as him, but she had been so achingly stubborn on the fact. When he had whined about it during his next visit, he was told that maybe she did stop by on occasion, just not when he was there. Maybe Ladybug didn't want to tell him as it was his place of comfort. He'd felt guilty for weeks.

Thankfully they had worked through that confusion, though it still weighed heavy on him from time to time.

A delightful smell weaved under his nose as a tray of pear galettes was placed before him. Knowing to wait a little for them to cool, he bounced eagerly in his seat as she chuckled, bringing out the other dough from earlier. Two treats today! Ohhh, he was so spoiled.

She cut the pastry into thick slices, dusting more sugar on to each size, before putting them in the oven. The kettle whistled on the stove top as she did, making them both jump. Laughing she reached for his cup, refilling it with a fresh batch of her mum's homemade tea blend. Eventually she settled down beside him, pear galette warm on a plate for him to enjoy, as the palmiers baked slowly in the oven. She smiled at him bashfully as he complimented her on her cooking, dying on the inside as the warm fruit rushed into his stomach. He returned the smile, relaxed and sleepy, and just brimming with happiness. When he told her as such, her smile widened a little over the rim of her cup, the storm casting shadowed droplets across her face.

"That's good to hear. I'm glad you're happy kitty."