ISABELLA’S POV
A sll woke .
Not the suspicious kind that ant Leo tried to make toast and failed. No burnt edges, no smoke alarm chirps, no threat to national security.
This was warm. Savory. Sothing with garlic... and real butter?
I cracked one eye open.
Ivy was already at the edge of the bed, tiny paws tapping softly against the sheets like she approved the nu.
That couldn’t be right. I blinked blearily at the ceiling, then at the clock. It was way too early for Leo to be trying anything in the kitchen without fire insurance.
I groaned. My ankle throbbed faintly beneath the bandage.
Still, sothing slled... good.
I shuffled out of bed, blanket still clinging to one leg.
Ivy let out a soft bark like, Finally, woman, and trotted toward the hallway.
I followed, slowly.
I walked into the kitchen slowly, still groggy from pain ds and dreams that didn’t stay. The scent alone grounded —eggs, thy, roasted tomatoes. The real kind of breakfast.
And Adrien Walton—rolled sleeves, crisp collar, calm and focused like he was preparing for a G8 summit—was standing at our stove like cooking in soone else’s kitchen at 7 a.m. was normal.
I blinked several tis. AM I still in a dream?
He glanced over the mont I appeared—and sothing in his whole expression lted.
He set the spatula down.
"Good morning, princess," he murmured, stepping around the counter and placing a soft kiss to my forehead. "You’re up later than I expected."
I stepped back, still amused. "You’re in my house."
"I am."
"Cooking."
"Yes."
"Wearing my apron."
He glanced down. The "Kiss the Chef, or Else." logo glared up at us both.
Leo nearly choked on his toast. "I told him not to put that one on."
Adrien didn’t even blink. "Your brother said it was tradition."
"It is!" Leo said, grinning.
"How—how did you even get in?"
Leo spoke up through a mouthful of sothing very cheesy from the dining table. "Dad let him in. Said Washington’s charm was overwhelming. Also said if the kitchen blows up, it’s not his insurance problem. He left for work like twenty minutes ago."
I stared at Leo. Then at Adrien. "You broke into my house with permission?"
Adrien placed a plate on the table beside . Perfect eggs. Roasted cherry tomatoes. Toast that actually looked edible.
Leo gestured with his fork. "He brought groceries too. Like, proper groceries. Imported cheese. Sothing green that slls expensive and dog food for ivy."
Adrien glanced at . "You and your brother were supposed to shop before the accident. I figured I’d save you the trouble."
I folded my arms. "Adrien—"
"Sit," he said, already grabbing a fresh fork. "Your ankle’s busted. You don’t need to be standing there trying to lecture ."
Ivy gave a tiny bark of approval, hopping up against my calf.
Adrien pulled the chair out for , dropped a napkin in my lap.
I grumbled as I sank into the chair.
He ignored that.
I reached for my fork.
Adrien was faster.
He picked it up and slid into the seat beside , already cutting into the eggs like this was a natural part of his day.
I narrowed my eyes. "Seriously?"
He didn’t look over. "I won’t allow you to do anything."
I stared at him. "You’re actually going to feed ?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to pretend you don’t like it?"
"My leg’s the one injured, not my—"
He turned toward , lifted a bite to my lips. His brows didn’t even twitch.
Adrien tilted his head slightly, expectant. His eyes held a look I couldn’t quite decipher – part challenge, part sothing softer.
I hesitated for a split second. Every fiber in my being scread Don’t be ridiculous, Isabella, feed yourself! But the bite hovered there, perfect egg and a tiny piece of tomato, emanating the delicious scent that had woken .
Against my better judgnt, I leaned forward and took the bite.
Oh.
Wow.
The eggs were fluffy and rich, the tomatoes burst with savory sweetness, and there was a subtle hint of sothing herby – It was good. Like, really good. Restaurant-quality good.
"I swear," I muttered after swallowing, "you’re becoming unbearably—"
And then he kissed .
Not a quick peck, either. He leaned in properly, his mouth soft yet firm on mine, cutting off my perfectly crafted complaint (unbearably charming? Unbearably impossible?). It wasn’t a sudden, shocking kiss, but rather a natural extension of the mont – the shared quiet, the intimacy of him feeding ... bizarre as it was.
His hand, the one that wasn’t holding the fork, ca up to cup my cheek gently, his thumb stroking my skin. It wasn’t a passionate, sweeping movie kiss, but a warm, grounding one. A kiss that felt like... ho. Which was exactly where we were, in the most dostic, unexpected scene possible.
When he pulled back, just slightly, his eyes were still focused on mine. The look of challenge was gone, replaced by that softer expression I couldn’t quite na earlier – maybe... fondness? Amusent?
"Are you going to finish that thought, princess?" he murmured, his voice low, a slight smile playing on his lips.
My brain, which had conveniently pause the mont his lips t mine, stuttered back to life. Finish the thought? The thought about him being unbearable? Now?
My cheeks felt warm. Probably matching the pink of the sunrise outside the window.
From across the table, Leo let out an exaggerated groan.
I turned, startled by the sudden noise.
He stood with a mostly empty plate, making a show of dragging his chair back.
"Oh my god, why am I here." he muttered dramatically, rubbing his temples.
"Because you live here?" I snapped, my voice still a little thick with sleep and surprise. My cheeks felt hot.
"Right. Remind to move out," he announced, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "I’m going to class before one of you climbs into the other’s lap or sothing. And also you two have a no-PDA-before-noon policy. You two are unbearable."
He didn’t wait for a response, just stomped out of the kitchen, Ivy giving a single, confused "woof?" at his retreating back.
Adrien was still beside , a quiet presence in the sudden quiet that followed Leo’s exit. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched at Leo’s outburst. When I turned back to him, he was watching , a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips.
Leo grumbled as he walked toward the door. "Ivy, guard my room. I’m trusting you with my life."
The door shut behind Leo a mont later.
"You should’ve seen your face," he murmured. "Totally worth waking up early for."
I gave him a look. "You are annoying!"
"You adore it."
Adrien picked up another bite of eggs.
I raised an eyebrow. "Planning to feed the whole al?"
A slow smile. "Unless you’d rather be kissed between bites."
...Touché.
"Are those my only options?" I shot back, trying to match his playful tone, though my heart was doing sothing fluttery in my chest.
"For now," he said, his eyes holding mine. He brought the fork up again. "Decision, princess? Breakfast... or dessert?"
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at my lips. "You are unbelievable."
"And you are hungry," he stated, nudging the fork closer.
Okay, fine. He had a point.
I leaned forward and took the bite. This ti I savored it properly. The warmth of the egg, the salty pop of the tomato, the delicate herbs. It was truly excellent.
"Fine," I mumbled. "Breakfast it is."
He chuckled quietly, a low, warm sound that seed to fill the space Leo had vacated. "Wise choice. Though I suspect the dessert option would have been more popular."
"Don’t push your luck, my love." I warned, but it lacked any real heat. I was too busy enjoying the food.
He fed another bite, and another. It was surprisingly easy. He didn’t rush, didn’t make a big deal out of it. It just... was. Adrien, patiently feeding breakfast in my kitchen, wearing my ridiculous apron, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I watched him as he did it. His focus wasn’t intense like it had been at the stove. It was soft, relaxed. His eyes lingered on my face, occasionally flicking down to my mouth as I ate, before eting my gaze again. There were those little lines around his eyes when he smiled – the kind you only get from genuine laughter or squinting in the sun.
We ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, broken only by the gentle clinking of forks against plates and the occasional soft tap of Ivy’s paws under the table, hoping for scraps (Adrien had already put so of that fancy dog food down for her earlier, but a girl could dream).
He finished feeding the last piece of egg and put the fork down. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms overhead, the ridiculous apron straining slightly.
"Alright, breakfast complete for the invalid," he announced, a satisfied look on his face.
"Hey!" I protested, though I couldn’t help but smile. My ankle felt a little better, my stomach was happy, and my mood was surprisingly bright.
He lowered his arms, resting them casually on the table. "Ready for round two?"
I blinked. "Round two?"
His smile widened, slow and mischievous. "The dessert option."
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