Chapter Text
Félix felt a bit like a stray cat, standing outside in the pouring rain with no umbrella and only his vest and tie to keep him warm. It was probably a bad idea to go out without looking at the forecast, but his mother had told him that France was meant to be warmer this time of year. And Felix wasn’t one to not take advantage of French clear skies, so different from the stuffiness of England.
But, clearly, he wasn’t going to be getting any of those clear skies today, and tomorrow probably wasn’t going to get any less wet, meaning he probably wasn’t going to experience any nice weather on this visit. Well, either way, the rain definitely beat staying home and having to listen to Adrien’s non-stop babbling.
He understood that they hadn’t talked in a while, but Félix definitely had better things to do than listen to his cousin talk about the same thing for hours on end. It wasn’t like the kid didn’t have friends, considering that was almost all he talked about (other than the whole superhero situation, which félix found himself fantastically uneased about. although it was rather curious…). It was honestly a bit sad how proud Adrien was at having a handful of people he could talk to.
Not that Félix exactly had any right to judge him, considering that he technically didn’t have any friends. But that was all self imposed- he just didn’t have much need for them. Especially multiple friends, they would probably just be a pain to keep track of. (and even if félix didn’t have the right to judge his cousin did not mean that he wouldn’t. sometimes principle just didn’t matter, especially when it came to annoying cousins that acted like they’d gotten the most rotten lot in life, no matter how many molding lots there are around him. Stupid, foolish adrien...)
Anyways, poor weather wasn’t as bad as Adrien. So Félix kind of had to stand around in the rain, for the sake of his sanity. Also, he was probably a bit lost. Which wasn’t really his fault- how was he supposed to know how to navigate through a largely unknown city by himself? If only his uncle had stopped being such a bastard and let his family visit once and a while, then maybe Félix would have known where he was going. Yeah, it was definitely uncle Gabriel's fault.
He was broken out of his thoughts by the voice of a girl, sticking her head out of one of the nearby buildings, “Um, excuse me? Would you like to come inside? The rain doesn’t look very comfy.”
Félix flinched in surprise at the unexpected offer. Now that she mentioned it, he probably did look a bit odd, just wandering around in the rain without an umbrella or even a jacket. Although he did have to wonder who made this random girl the authority on whether or not he could go into this specific bakery or not. But, as much as he hated to admit it, this random girl was correct. The rain wasn’t particularly comfortable.
So, he huffed, making sure to shove past the girl as he entered.
She didn’t comment on his rudeness, and instead just turned around to introduce herself. “Well, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Um… my parents are the owners here, and I happened to see you standing outside in the rain like an abandoned kitten so… um.” Marinette, because that was apparently her name, seemed to fumble over her words for a bit before she stretched out her hand for a shake, smiling awkwardly. “Nice to meet you?”
“My name is Félix,” he said, not bothering to mention his last name because this whole situation was super suspicious. He also may have been a bit bitter about that stray kitten comment. “It’s a… pleasure.” Slowly, he reached his hand out to shake her’s.
She giggled at him, probably assuming that his mannerisms were awkward. They weren’t, obviously. He was just a bit out of practice greeting people who weren’t almost twenty years older than him. So, Félix wasn’t exactly sure if he could hold a proper conversation with someone his age at the moment.
“Okay, well. Félix .” She said his name like she wanted to tease him, but wasn’t sure if she was allowed to. He wished she would just choose. “Would you like a towel? And maybe a cookie?”
Félix brushed his hand through his wet hair. He had almost forgotten how wet he was during their conversation. The bakery was warm and bright, and it was easy to forget the gloom behind the windows.
He sighed, “I’ll take the towel offer.”
“Not the cookie one?”
“How old do I look?”
“Um… 13?”
He sniffed, “Fourteen, actually.”
“Oh, we’re the same age, then.” She said rather absentmindedly as she dragged him through the bakery then past the counter and the kitchen. Marinette waved to her parents as they walked, who didn’t seem to bat an eye at the random stranger that their daughter was dragging to their house. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was a common occurrence.
Maybe he did have a reason to be worried.
“I suppose we are, although I’ll admit that I’m a bit surprised.”
“Hmm? And why, exactly, is that?”
“You just seem younger than me. Maybe it’s the pigtails.” Or the lack of caution. Although her excitability reminded him more of a dog than a child, he would keep that to himself though, lest she start comparing him to a cat again.
She huffed, “What does age have to do with cookies anyways?”
“The point is, I don’t like sweets very much.”
“There are not-so-sweet cookies though. Like oatmeal. And cinnamon.”
“Does it look like I care?”
Marinette glanced back at him, pouting slightly, “Don’t say that to a baker’s daughter. The only thing worse than saying you don’t like baked goods is saying that you can’t make them.”
“Well, I can’t.” He admitted, rather plainly. Perhaps just to spite her.
She gasped, far too dramatically than needed, before clicking her tongue and continuing to drag him through her house. It was small, but felt rather lived in. The very opposite of the Agreste mansion, which was all empty halls and echoing footsteps. It felt abandoned, despite all the family portraits hung up on its walls- a ghost of a once happy family. The Dupain-Cheng’s house also felt weirdly whole, a feeling that neither the Agreste mansion or his own home had.
Marinette led him to the kitchen, moving to take out ingredients as soon as she let go of his arm.
“So, why exactly did you bring me to your kitchen?” Félix asked, tone sounding rather dead. Because, yes, he was feeling rather dead inside at the moment, thank you very much.
Marinette just laughed at him. Her giggles were light-hearted, but Félix couldn’t help but feel like she was making fun of him. “Well, you said you haven’t baked before, right? Don’t you want to learn?”
He leaned against the counter top, listening to the tapping of the rain outside. It was ridiculous how trusting this girl was, just letting some random boy into her home. Who was to say he wouldn’t swipe a few things as he left?
Her eyes were still pleading for an answer, so he sighed and said, “Sure. Whatever.” Because, really, baking with a random stranger was better than the rain. And definitely better than being around his cousin. “Just until the rain dies down.”
She grinned- like he was somehow doing her a favour- and continued to grab through cabinets for ingredients.
“What are we making, then?”
“Cookies.”
Félix scoffed, “Why?”
“They’re easy to make.” She paused, then looked at him, her smile relaxed, “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
“You don’t have to convince me anymore,” he said, beginning to roll up his sleeves, “I already agreed.”
She just hummed before dumping a cup of flour into a bowl, a little fluttering onto her shirt. Félix grimaced at the sight.
“Do you have any aprons?”
“There’s a few in the bottom cabinet near the oven. And remember to wash your hands!”
He surprised himself by silently washing his hands as asked, before grabbing one of the aprons and loosely tying it around his waist. At least this way, he wouldn’t get his clothes dirty on top of being wet (which had dried just enough to be more moist than drenched, though it was uncomfortable either way). As soon as he turned around, Marinette was already in front of him- tugging on his wrists (again) until he was in front of the half mixed bowl.
“You know how to use an electric mixer, right?”
Félix scoffed, “I’m not completely hopeless.” He tried to attach one of the metal paddles to the hand mixer, grunting, “Although, this is being rather… difficult, I suppose.”
Marinette choked down a giggle, and put her hand over his, before twisting the paddle and pushing it in properly. The resounding click seemed to echo throughout the kitchen. “ There .”
“Oh.” The palm of her hand felt warm against the back of his. He tried his best to push down the bit of redness that was threatening to rise up his cheeks (because of his mistake- not for any other reason. obviously).
As they continued to bake, Marinette tried her best to fill up the awkward atmosphere- the type that tended to be there when two strangers decide to start baking together- with small talk. Félix usually wasn’t the biggest fan of such things, but somehow Marinette’s enthusiasm was enough to soften any annoyance that he felt towards her.
“So, is there a particular reason why you haven’t baked before?”
“My da… father used to cook, not bake. Not that he can do either now since-“ he huffed. He was getting off topic. “My mom’s not much of either, and if we don’t want to cook, we don’t have to. I don’t know if you noticed but I’m kind of-“
“-Made of money. Got it.”
“The point is, not everyone can be born into a bakery.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone can be born rich either.” She snarked, before dropping the spoon into the cookie batter. Marinette turned around, fumbling to apologize for the comment, “Not that you can’t have problems because of that! I wasn’t trying to imply that you were ungrateful or anything! I actually have a classmate that’s pretty well off, and he has quite a lot of family issues so-”
“Oh god, please stop. Your rambling is giving me a headache.”
Marinette instantly shut her mouth, but her eyes were still wide with the fear that she had offended him in some way, so he rolled his eyes and added, “Don’t worry, I’m not offended. If anything, I’m more miffed by the fact that you assumed that I’m so weak-willed that I would get upset at a throw-away comment.”
The tension in her shoulders eased. “I’m glad.”
And they continued to form the balls of cookie dough, though this time in silence. Félix’s hands felt oily, reminding him why he tended to not cook ever . Even when his d- father was alive, he had only really just watched. Getting messy never really was his thing, and he’d never understand people who didn’t mind such a thing.
Case in point: Marinette, who was constantly humming as she shaped another ball of cookie dough.
His mother would surely agree with him, as least. She had always preferred cleanliness, along with him. His father had always been the kind of person who hadn’t minded getting dirty as long as he completed whatever task he was doing correctly. Félix supposed that his family was just an example of the rule ‘opposites attract’.
(adrien’s family was an example of how that rule could go wrong, although most of the blame could be put onto uncle gabriel for that. félix’s mother grieved- was still grieving, for both his father and her sister- but she at least knew how to live while doing it.
aunt emille had always tried too hard, while uncle gabrielle had always tried too little. and now it was all blowing up in adrien’s face. because as annoying as hearing his cousin complain and complain about how terrible his life was, félix could at least admit that his uncle gabriel did not do enough for his son.
god, his family was terrible)
“Okay,” Marinette said, interrupting his thoughts as she pushed the baking pan into the oven, “Now we just have to wait for twenty minutes or so and then- bam. Delicious cookies.”
“Wow. Amazing.”
“You could at least pretend to be excited about it.”
“I already said this, but if I must repeat my words, I’m not exactly the biggest fan of sweets.”
Instead of responding to his bait like Félix had thought she would, Marinette completely ignored him, just setting a timer on her phone before motioning for him to follow her to her living room.
Once they were on the couch, Marinette continued with the smalltalk approach, asking, “So, where are you from, exactly. I don’t think you go to my school.”
“I’m from out of the country. England.”
“Really? Are you visiting family?”
“Yes, I was. But breaks from annoying family members are required during these types of trips.” He saw her give him a look, and complied, “Even if they have to happen in the rain.”
“So your family doesn’t get along?”
“It has more to do with my cousin than anything else. He’s the type who talks too much. Complains too much. It gets old fast.”
“Oh?” Marinette raises an eyebrow at his tone, “You sound a bit resentful.”
“Well,” he started, then shut his mouth just as quickly as he opened it. Why in the world was he just going to give out very personal matters like this? Honestly, he should’ve just snapped at her that his private, family affairs were none of her business. Félix wasn’t actually sure why he hadn’t done just that yet. Was he really that desperate to confide in someone?
(the answer, of course, was yes. because maybe not having any friends, a busy mother, and a dead father wasn’t exactly healthy, but there was certainly more to it than that.
marinette was just a warm person. a warm, normal person who didn’t make everything about herself. and that was nice. and comforting.
not that félix would ever admit that outloud, but still-)
“My father died recently, around the same time as his mother. And while I understand his grieving, I would much rather prefer it if he stopped talking about how sad he is about his mother and how terrible his life is.” He paused, taking in how callous he sounded. And now he was just regretting saying anything at all.
“Oh.” Marinette repeated, though softer this time. “You just wanted to talk to him about your dad, right?”
Félix blinked. “I-I suppose so. Perhaps.”
“Just tell him, then. I doubt he’s so much of a jerk that he would ignore you.”
“No,” Félix compiled, “He’s fairly kind, just… he’s just an idiot. But, I don’t want to have to tell him, he should be able to ask me how I’m doing without any prompting at all. It’s simple logic. Why should I have to ask him to ask me how I’m feeling about my dead dad? I just don’t even care anymore.”
Marinette scoffed, “Yeah, it sure sounds like it.”
“ I don’t . Not anymore, at least. He has lost his opportunity.”
“Just think about it. Some people just need more pushing than others, you know? Sometimes I’m too self-centered to think about what other people want or need from me.”
Félix’s brow raised, “That is kind of hard to believe. I mean, you’re talking to me, a random stranger you literally picked up off the street, about my familial problems.”
This time her smile seemed to have a bit of a self conscious tint to it, “I can be a terrible person. A-a lot of the time, honestly.”
He gave her a doubtful look before shrugging.
She cleared her throat, “Well, anyways, I’m saying that you have to, but maybe actually talking to your cousin might actually help things, even if you’re going to hate him for the rest of your life for being too self-centered. It’s good to get some things off of your chest. Especially when it’s to someone you care about.”
“I don’t care about him.”
“Yes, you do- I can see through your lies. Just… just think about it, okay? Then maybe you won’t have to wander around in the rain all alone anymore.”
“Huh.” (and maybe that was something he should think about- just in case)
Once the rain had slowed down to a slow dribble, Marinette finally let Félix leave. “Come again,” She said, her smile light and carefree on her face, “maybe we can make something harder next time.”
He shuffled his feet, “I don’t think I’ll be sticking around. In France, I mean. So, it’s better to act like this is a permanent goodbye.”
“Oh.” Marinette’s shoulders seemed to slump a bit, and Felix wondered if maybe it sounded like he was dismissing her. Or rejecting her, which was worse. But then her smile came back full force and she said, “Well, you’ll probably be visiting your cousin again. If you do, make sure to visit again. I would like to bake with you again. Or, you know, just talk again. You’re nice to talk to.”
Félix’s heart tingled at her words, and he couldn’t bring himself to say that he really didn’t want to visit his cousin again. Maybe he would end up coming back, if his mother failed to get the rings. And his mother tended to fulfill his requests with little argument, since he asked for little.
France wasn’t that bad, after all.
His face felt tight around his smile, “Maybe.”
“Ah! Actually- what if I gave you my number? Just in case.”
Félix blinked, and silence reigned.
Marinette blubbered at his lack of response, “U-unless you don’t want to- sorry, that was kind of weird, wasn’t it?”
“No, I…” Félix cleared his throat, “I’m just… unused to the question, I suppose. I’d love to have your number on hand.
He watched as she scrambled for a pen, and then a small slip of paper, scrawling a series of numbers across it.
“Here.” She handed it to him, cheeks tinted pink with nerves.
“Thank you.” And he took it.
Then he left the bakery, with two bags of cookies (one the batch that they made, another a “free sample” from the bakery- which felt a bit like theft, if he was being honest) an umbrella (which also felt like theft, since he didn’t know if he was going to be able to return it or not), and her phone number.
He was just glad that his hands were full enough for Marinette to avoid attempting to give him a goodbye-hug. Félix just wasn’t entirely sure how he would’ve reacted to that. Would he hug her back? Only as a thank you, of course- for the shelter and the cookies and the talk, and the… the umbrella.
(he probably would’ve, félix decided later that day. if marinette had hugged him, he definitely would’ve hugged her back. maybe not entirely as a thank you too. not that anyone but him would know that- ever)
It was a peaceful day, Félix thought as he ate a chocolate chip cookie, ready to call his mother. Ready to go back to his (horrendous) family.
And, somehow, the idea didn’t feel too dreadful. Maybe cheerfulness was contagious…