Revealed in Time

Danishes

Strange. Marinette had thought not long after she had dragged herself out of bed, trying her best to make her way down the stairs without them creaking. She was hardly ever the first person awake within a house. Granted, she didn't know Adrien or Plagg's sleeping patterns, but he had always seemed like a person that would be an early riser.

Clearly she needed to shift her thinking. Because sure enough, there he had been, sprawled on the couch, mouth hanging slightly open at well past nine in the morning.

Marinette had gasped slightly, her heart palpitating at seeing his unkempt yet all too attractive appearance, immediately averting her gaze and rushing into the kitchen.

Flashes of the day before danced at the edges of her thoughts, but she had quickly gotten to work, focusing on assembling her premade ingredients, adding some more personal touches here and there as she molded her pastries. But the work had gone by quicker than she expected, and here she was, left with only the simplest of tasks before she was finished.

Marinette sighed, turning away from the oven, looking haphazardly across the kitchen. It was a beautiful morning, and Marinette paused for a moment, soaking in the room's cozy and heartwarming feeling. This kitchen wasn't huge by any means, but it had everything she could possibly need. With white, speckled granite countertops and white cabinets, it was perfect at reflecting the light pouring in through the eastward facing windows. Being open to the living room certainly helped with its overall brightness and a feeling of largeness even though the space was relatively small.

She glanced towards the leftover fruit on the counter, wondering for the millionth time if making a passionfruit Danish was the right decision.

Sure, she had long known passionfruit was one of Adrien's favorite flavors. In her younger, cringeworthy stalker years (as she called them), it had been easy for her to figure out he liked it. But she had wasted so much time making those silly passionfruit macarons, nearly killing someone else with her obsession in the process, and she hadn't made one for him since.

What if this time was just as disastrous? She lowered her head, rubbing both of her hands violently through her hair. What if passion fruit flavored items brought bad luck and something terrible happened?

A moaning sound from the living room interrupted her thoughts. Lowering her hands from her head, she tiptoed forward, glancing over the counter, and catching her breath at seeing Adrien stretching on the couch.

I'm not ready for him to wake up! She internally screamed, standing as still as possible, continuing to hold her breath.

Relaxing his arms back down, he tucked his hands beneath his chin, turning to his side, beginning to breathe deep, sleep-filled breaths. With his face now aimed directly towards Marinette, she couldn't help but to be pulled in, unable to break her gaze from his serene, restful features.

Her heart faltered as she tried to inhale, maintaining a rhythm of slow, steady breaths. She still couldn't believe it. Adrien Agreste was sleeping right in front of her. She was in his house, her house, eight years in the future.

Nothing about this seemed real. Could this really be her life? Or was she stuck in some sort of dream. Maybe the akuma had put her into some sort of fantasy world instead of actually being sent in the future.

If that were the case, then none of this was actually happening. Maybe Chat Noir wasn't even really Adrien. And if all that was true then what happened the day before, it would have all just been in her imagination!

Stop being stupid! Marinette slapped at her cheeks, trying to force herself to focus. This was real. It was too far fetched to be something that she could have conjured on her own. No. All of this was happening, and she just needed to own up to her mistakes and finish making breakfast!