MiraculElse #17: Stuck In A Bakery (With You)

by DFC

(Timeline: Post-Season 3.)

(Author's Note: This isn't going to be a full-fledged longfic dripping with intricate plots and inner monologues, but rather a series of short slice-of-life snippets born from a central idea. Sometimes you want a four-course meal, sometimes you want a light snack. This will be a snack pack, and one respectful of the real-life crisis in progress.)

To Adrien, one nice (and unexpected) side effect of his budding relationship with Kagami was the visible change that it brought about in Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He couldn't quite put his finger on why it was happening, but it was obvious that the unease he'd felt between the two of them was fading rapidly. Her nervousness around him, her tongue-tied words that only seemed to happen around him, her erratic behavior at times… all of them were noticeably decreased. She'd begun reaching out to him more actively as a friend, asking to spend time together… and, frankly, he couldn't have been much more delighted about that.

Case in point: this afternoon. Here he was up in Marinette's bedroom, playing video games with her, and at times he had to remind himself that he didn't have his Chat Noir mask on. The two of them were joking and teasing and bantering the way that she'd often done during his Chat visits; it was obvious that she was perfectly comfortable around him.

I could get very, very used to this, Adrien smiled to himself, before cringing when his online avatar got obliterated by Marinette's rapid assault.

"Hah! Best five-out-of-nine?" Marinette grinned.

"I'll try… but somehow I doubt I'll be winning five in a row," Adrien replied with an equal smile.

Abruptly, his phone rang. Marinette watched his face fall when he saw who was calling, and sighed to herself.

Darn it, she thought. Today was so nice, and I'll bet that's his father's assistant summoning him home immediately.

Although… wait a minute, she wondered, watching Adrien talk back with visible alarm on his face. He does NOT look happy. Has something happened?

She had no idea just how wrong her initial guess had been.

Downstairs, Adrien sat with Marinette and her parents in their kitchen.

"Nathalie just informed me that Mayor Bourgeois just made an announcement," began Adrien. "Due to the coronavirus outbreak, all public schools are being shut down for at least two weeks; possibly longer, depending on how things go."

"Oh, dear," Sabine replied. "That includes Françoise Dupont, obviously. Tom, what are they saying now?"

Focused on the television, her husband replied without turning away from the screen. "No students have tested positive yet, as far as they know," he called, "but this is a necessary precaution."

"Hmmph," Marinette pouted. "I understand why they're doing this, but now I won't get to see you for weeks!"

"Longer than that, I'm afraid," replied Adrien, looking pale.

"Oh?" she gasped.

"One of my father's business partners has informed him that he's tested positive. That means that my father's been exposed," explained Adrien. "That doesn't mean that he has it, of course, but he's going into self-quarantine until he's been tested… and he's insisting that I should not join him."

"What?" Sabine frowned, as did Tom, rejoining the group to hear this clearly.

"Oh, I can hear his arguments already. My son is too valuable to risk this way and the future of our business and blah dee blah," relayed Adrien, looking downcast. "Apparently, my bodyguard's on his way to pick me up now… with a packed suitcase in the back of the car. They're sending me to stay with some distant relatives in San Marino until things are more under control in Paris."

Tom stared back at him, with thunder behind his eyes.

"Adrien?" he asked, in a low voice. "Please call your father, and hand me the phone."

Marinette and Adrien huddled together, whispering to each other as Tom spoke rapidly in the next room, Sabine by his side.

"San Marino?" Marinette fretted. "I'm not even sure where that is."

"I've been there once or twice," Adrien gulped. "Second cousins on my mother's side. Nice enough people, but… my life is here, you know? My family, my friends. …You."

"I…" mumbled Marinette, absorbing his last word. "I want what's best for you, of course. But couldn't the virus surface there just as easily as it did here?"

"Of course. In which case I suppose they'll keep playing Whac-a-Mole with me, moving me around somewhere else until we run out of relatives and places," worried Adrien.

The volume of the conversation in the next room rose, though not quite enough for the kids to make out most of what was being said. "Dad does not sound happy," Marinette noted. "I wonder what they're talking about?"

"That's a very good question," Adrien said. "My father isn't known for lengthy discussions."

Tom hung up the phone, and he and Sabine spoke quietly between themselves for a few moments. Once that concluded, the two of them returned to the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Marinette asked them.

"Adrien…" Tom said in a gentle voice, "I am not in any position to tell you what to do, obviously. Your father has your best interests in mind, of course, and he's never actually met Sabine and I. But I have spoken with him, father to father… because I cannot believe it would be easy on him to simply send you hundreds of miles away."

"I'm… not always sure about that. But what did you talk about?" Adrien asked.

"If you would like to go with your father's plan, your bodyguard will arrive here in a few minutes. But if you would rather remain in Paris… well, Sabine and I have a spare room we can set up."

Sabine watched their jaws drop. "It would be… well… your own self-quarantine at our house for a couple of weeks. Tom said that your father would only agree to it if you agreed to stay indoors and away from the outside world. And, of course, they'd call you several times a day to keep in touch about what's going on. "

Adrien looked rather stunned. "You would let me stay here?" he asked.

"It seems easier on you and your father than shipping you away," Tom mused. "We'll feed you, of course. I'm not sure what we'll do about clothes for you… somehow I don't think mine would fit you."

"Not much chance of that," smiled Sabine, admiring her portly husband. "And we might ask you to help out with some of our baking preparation; Marinette can show you how, since she'll be home from school, too."

"It's completely up to you," Tom advised him. "I just don't like the idea of your whole life being uprooted in an instant, if we can help you avoid that."

"What do you think?" Marinette asked Adrien, nervously.

Adrien thought for a moment… then smiled back at her.

"Best five-out-of-nine-thousand?" he asked. "It seems that we have some more time on our hands."