I.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng had as normal of a schedule as she could considering the fact that she was a superhero, ready to take on the world and akumas at a moments notice.
She went to school; had girl-only nights with her friends; and tried to capture the attention of one Adrien Agreste when she could. To her frustration, it seemed that every time they were meant to see each other, fate had other plans.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn't one to believe in fate. In fact, she assumed most of the time that everything around her was an accident or coincidence or some combo of the two due to her near-constant clumsiness and her accompanying nervous stutter.
She knew logically that she shouldn't be dwelling on whether or not fate was keeping her and Adrien—sweet, smart, precious Adrien—apart. She knew logically that he would probably have been there if he could get permission from his unusually stern father. She also knew logically that his inability to come should have nothing to do with how she felt about herself.
Logic had no place in this teenage girl's heart.
So, when asked to go down into the belly of the ship to find some brother of her friend, Marinette didn't expect much. She didn't expect anything at all.
Instead, she got two blue eyes that looked at her imploringly, as if trying to figure out what was making her look the way she did (which she could only assume was dejected and miserable, because, again, beautiful and kind Adrien Agreste was unable to show his face).
Luka (that was his name) whipped out his guitar and said something like, "it sounds like you have something like this in your heart." He picked at the strings and strummed occasionally, playing something that Marinette—who had never had someone play a song for her before—knew instantly was something she related to.
The music broke her heart and put it back together. She didn't understand how somehow, this guy she had just met, knew something so intimate about her.
"Music is often simpler than words," he said sagely, as if that explained everything.
Later, Marinette would retire in her bed, thinking a million things. After the akuma attack, Adrien had shown up and played piano with the band. Marinette wasn't sure what she was thinking or feeling then and she wasn't sure now either.
She didn't know when she'd see Luka again. She didn't know if she'd see him again.
She sighed and closed her eyes. So much for that.
II.
The next time she saw him, she was as unprepared as the first time.
Her parents had woken her up early for a Saturday, needing help with the morning rush of bakery patrons as they unloaded their late delivery. Normally, the deliveryman showed up at the crack of dawn, 30 minutes prior to the bakery opening, but an akuma attack that took place around 2AM had closed down numerous delivery businesses. Late Night, a jilted, late-shift warehouse worker, went around putting workers into a deep sleep, believing that he and all the rest of them deserved a good night's rest.
It was lucky that Marinette had been up, working on some Rena Rouge-inspired designs, hoping to flatter and gift Alya, her best friend, with one of them for her upcoming birthday.
It was unlucky that she was now paying the price of late night designs and taking care of Late Night in the early morning. She was tired. Her hair had been placed in a lazy, sloppy ponytail as she stumbled around the kitchen, trying to prepare some more cheese Danishes before the eleven o'clock hour came around. If they weren't ready by then, their dwindling supply would leave customers angry and frustrated. The last thing Marinette needed was another akuma.
She pulled out a tray of freshly made sugar cookies as she popped in the tray of cheese Danishes. She unstuck them from the cookie sheet and piled them up to cool quickly so she could frost them.
She went out into the main bakery area and watched as Sophie, the cashier, handled the steady line with something akin to grace, a soft smile playing on her face and her quick wit entertaining the customers, while she selected and gave them their desired pastries.
Marinette sighed. She wondered if she would be like that one day.
She set to doing the one task she loved: frosting. Her pastries would probably never live up to the quality of softness and dedication that her parents put into them, but no one else on staff could frost as quickly or as skillfully as she could. Frosting was a lot like designing; choosing colors and textures to suit the theme of the week. It was Easter season.
Marinette got to work and in a short matter of time, her tongue sticking out in concentration the whole time, she had colored eggs, baby chicks and darling Easter bunnies decorating the front of the sugar cookies.
She looked up at the clock. It was 10:45AM. The cheese Danishes would be out in a few minutes.
"Wow, Marinette! Did you do all of those yourself?" came a voice.
She blinked and turned her face forward to see Luka and Juleka waving at her from behind the pastry shelf. She could feel her neck and cheeks begin to heat up.
"Uh-No! I mean, yes! I did. I cooked the frosting! I mean! I frosted these cookies!" she said. Ugh. Why did she have to be stuck in her own body?
She grabbed the plate of finished cookies and walked forward to greet them. She set the plate on the table. Juleka looked at one of the Easter bunny cookies.
"This is great," Juleka mumbled out.
"Uh — thanks, Juleka. You can take it, on the house! My parents would kill me if I ever charged a friend," Marinette said, rubbing her head. Oh no. Her sloppy ponytail! She looked at Luka, who was studying the cookies intently. Maybe he hadn't noticed she looked like a total wreck?
"These look amazing! You're a real artist, Marinette," Luka complimented her, finally taking one that had an intricate Polish-inspired Easter egg design.
"Marinette! Sorry to break up the reunion," Sophie cut in, "but your alarm is going off. I think you have to take something out!"
"Right!" Marinette replied.
"Oh, do you need help with anything?" Luka asked, surveying the growing line.
"Luka, mom wanted the pastries for brunch," Juleka chided.
"Take them to her, Juju! That is, if it's alright with Marinette if I stay?" Luka said, casting a glance over to her. Marinette felt the warmth return.
"You need help—I mean! Of course you can stay and help! I need help in the kitchen," Marinette said.
"Great! I'll be home later, Juju," Luka said, giving a brown bag that Marinette just noticed with their logo on it over to Juleka and then kissing the top of Juleka's head.
Juleka rubbed her head where Luka had kissed it, mumbled something again, and then walked out. Luka turned to Marinette and asked, "How can I assist?"
Marinette, unsure of what to do, turned on her foot and went back into the kitchen. Luka followed. She opened the oven and drew out the cheese Danishes. They were a perfect golden brown.
"Uh, ok! I'm going to give these to Sophie and be right back! In the, uh, mean time, please, put on one of the blue aprons in the corner." Marinette said, falling into her element in the kitchen. This was a place she knew she could be confident about what to do.
"Cool, I'll do that." she heard Luka say she walked back to the front of the bakery. She loaded the cheese Danishes onto a new, fresh, non-heated tray and then popped them into the display case. Sophie smiled gratefully.
"We'll need some éclairs next," Sophie said. "We're running low. After that, probably some more of those Easter cookies; they're going like hot cakes."
"On it!" Marinette said, heading into the kitchen.
"Ok! How can I help?" Luka asked, hopping off an unused counter space, as soon as Marinette came back in.
"Hm, I could use some help with the um, the counter space. Could you wipe it down and then prep the space with flour? Just water and a towel will do." Marinette replied.
"Aye, aye, captain!" Luka said, adopting a similar accent to his mother. A smile played on her lips.
They were silent as he set out to do what she asked and she assembled the ingredients on the side. Her stomach was in knots. She wasn't sure what to say. As she grabbed a silver bowl, her reflection caught her eye. The stupid, sloppy ponytail! She set the silver bowl down quickly and tore the hair tie out of her hair. She ran her finger through her hair, trying to brush out any knots quickly.
"Ok! The space is read—hey! You hair looks nice down." Luka said, walking over to her. Butterflies erupted as he entered her personal space.
"Uh—you look nice! No! I mean, yes, you look nice, but I mean, that's nice of you! Thank you," Marinette stumbled. He smiled warmly at her, reached around her and grabbed the bowl. She brushed her fingers through her hair again. She knew she wasn't allowed to have it down in the kitchen, least a hair fall into the recipe and receive an angry complaint from a customer. She hastily drew it back up in a neat bun on the top of her head.
Soon, they had popped in two trays of éclairs into the oven and started on more sugar cookies and a couple of loaves of Rosemary bread that Sophie requested. Luka had been able to slowly break down the wall of restraint Marinette had built around herself by making some self-deprecating jokes about how he had never done much in the kitchen. Her fear of stumbling over her words and the knot in her stomach slowly loosened at his jokes about himself.
"You should ask Juleka about it though," he said, after telling her a story about a time when he was eleven and almost set fire to the boat house by putting a fork in the microwave with the food he had been heating up, "She was just nine at the time, and came barreling in as soon as she heard a crack. Pulled the plug on the microwave and sent me the iciest look a nine year old could pull off."
Marinette giggled, imagining a tinier Juleka, still with dark hair and purple ends, doing that.
"Honestly, I set out to learn how to cook and bake after that. Music always came natural, but other ways of communicating are difficult," Luka said, shaking his head as he kneaded the dough for a new loaf of bread.
"What do you mean? Do you think baking is a way of communicating?" Marinette asked as she stirred her cookie dough, folding it in on itself.
"Absolutely. There's a reason people turn to food for comfort, Marinette. Cookies, pastries, cakes…It's not just that they're delicious. They can mean something too… comfort, care… Fresh baked goods can take you back to a time when the biggest worry was how you were going to finish all of it," he said, putting the dough inside of a glass bowl and throwing a towel over it to wait for it to rise.
"Huh, I guess…I guess I never thought of it like that. We bake so many goods and I know they make people happy, but I never thought it was about communicating something," Marinette said, lifting some of the cookie dough out of the bowl so she could roll it into a ball.
"Everything, Marinette," Luka said, raising his hand to her face, "is about communication."
Her heart skipped a beat. Everything about her felt warm: her stomach, her neck, her cheeks, and her ears. He rubbed at her cheek and pulled his hand back. His thumb was full of powder. "Sorry, you had flour on your face," he said.
"It's o-okay," She said.
When Luka went home later, it was with another bag of baked goodies. Her parents, who had suspiciously avoided the kitchen even after they had finished unloading the delivery, popped up to walk him out and tell him that, of course, you're invited back, everything on the house, forever, come whenever you like, Luka!
Marinette watched him wistfully as he waved goodbye to her and thanked her parents, not noticing her parents sighing at her in the background.
It wouldn't occur to her until hours later the she (and her traitorous heart) hadn't thought of Adrien the whole time she was with Luka.
III.
The third time Marinette saw Luka, she was prepared for it.
Only because, minutes prior, Alya came into her room, saying, "Hey, Marinette! We're planning on going for a swim at the indoor swimming pool! Would you like to join? It's going to be off the chain."
"Sure! I just finished designing a swimsuit a few days ago!" Marinette said, turning her chair towards her door. Alya sat on her chaise.
"Well, are you going to show it to me or not?" She drawled, crossing her legs. Marinette opened her drawer and pulled out the swimsuit. It was a pink bikini with white polka dots and bows tying the back of the top to hold it in place.
"Hey! The polka dots are cute! I'm happy you're not going with stripes again this year. Last year, you almost looked like the French flag with the blue, white, and red stripes all over." Marinette rolled her eyes. She knew how to learn from her mistakes.
As the girls headed down the stairs, Alya abruptly stopped on the last step, causing Marinette to run into her and the sunglasses on top of her head to fall on the other side of the railing.
"What-?" Marinette began.
"Oh, by the way, Luka and Adrien'll be there! Have fun, Compass Heart!" Alya said, running down the steps and out the door.
"ALYA!" Marinette hollered, running after her, sunglasses forgotten, all the way to the indoor swimming pool.
"You could have waited for me!" Marinette protested, glaring at Alya as she caught up to her in the locker room.
"I could have, but I like to think that I should have witnesses for my murder, don't you?" Alya smirked, as she shimmied into her swimsuit: a cute one-piece that Marinette had gifted her that looked like a fox suit, tail embroidered into the back of the suit. Marinette was not subtle with her gifts.
"I'm not going to murder you, Alya! I…just wish you had told me your intentions before I decided to join."
"Yeah, Ok, Mari, but where's the fun in that?" Alya said, passing Marinette her pair of sunglasses, "Here, I noticed you dropped yours. Consider it a peace offering."
Marinette glared at the sunglasses for a moment before taking them and placing them on her head. They put their stuff inside the lockers before walking out.
"Oh, by the way, try not to drool." Alya said, before she took off again.
"I'm not going to drool! Alya!" Marinette said, hot on her heels.
Marinette may have spoken too soon, because almost two seconds after she said it, she ran almost face-first into Adrien Agreste's naked chest.
"Woah! Hey, Marinette! Are you okay?" he said, in that voice that made angels wish they were still on earth to listen to him. The sun that was breaking through the all-glass ceiling seemed to make his blonde hair glow like some ethereal being. She stared up at him, mouth open. He chuckled uncomfortably. "Um, alright… I'm going to help you stand straight now!"
"R-r-right! Yes! Sorry I'm falling for you! I m-mean! Sorry I fell on you!" Marinette stuttered out, wishing the ground could swallow her whole. She lowered the sunglasses onto her nose, knowing that her eyes communicated more than she wanted.
"It's alright. Are you okay?" he repeated.
"Yes! I'm fine. More than fine! I'm perfect. Hey! Wow! I'm glad your dad let you come today!" She said. Yes, full sentences were good. She could work with this.
"Yeah, dude," Nino said, seeming to come out of nowhere though Marinette guessed he had been there through out the whole exchange. "Your old man never lets you do anything."
"Father has high expectations. Luckily, since summer's approaching, I told him I was going to take up swimming to keep fit and training. I swayed him by telling him I was going to check out the pool and see if it would accommodate my needs." Adrien shrugged, turning red with embarrassment and rubbing the back of his neck.
"Dude, that is so complex. I don't know how you do it, bud," Nino said, shaking his head.
"Hey! Come on over, guys!" Alya yelled from a few meters over. She had set up her stuff on one of the lounge beach chairs next to Juleka and Rose. They walked over to her.
Rose squealed. "Oh my goodness! Marinette! I love your swimsuit! It's sooo cute! Pink is my favorite color!" Marinette smiled. Rose always made her feel good.
"Thanks! I made it myself! It took me about three weeks, from design to finish! I had a hard time finding the material though and I had to redo the stiches. I don't work with polyester often," Marinette explained, showing a small mistake that she hadn't managed to undo.
"You made that, Marinette? It's so good! No wonder you won my father's contest last time." Adrien said. She felt pleasure pool at the bottom of her stomach.
"Yeah, isn't my girl amazing? Pretty and she has mad skills! She made mine a few weeks ago too! Early birthday gift." Alya said, wrapping her arm around Marinette's shoulders.
"Yeah," Luka's voice came from behind her, "you're so talented, Marinette. I didn't know you designed too. It looks great on you." Luka started passing out some drinks that he was holding to the people that had been here prior. Marinette reached up and grabbed her hair ties, pulling them out of their pigtails.
"Lu-Lu-Luka," she stuttered, "ye-yes! I started getting into it when I was about eight years old."
"Ma-Ma-Marinette," he said, smiling warmly at her, "here, you can have my drink. I didn't know you were coming or I would've gotten you something." He passed her an unopened orange soda.
"Are you sure?" She asked, gaping at the drink in her hand.
"Yeah, it's not a big deal. I can go get another if I want to. Please, take it," he said, placing his hand on hers and pushing the can closer to her.
"Thank you," she said, opening it. She took a sip. She hadn't had orange soda in a long time; not many people ordered it.
"Hey, Luka, why had I never really heard of you before the music festival?" Alya asked, sitting on her beach chair.
"I keep to myself and Juju doesn't always enjoy going out. She's gotten more outgoing now that Rose and her have gotten close, though." Luka said, taking a seat on the chair next to Alya. He patted the spot next to him, looking at Marinette. She sat down next to him.
"Huh. So, if you keep to yourself, why are you hanging out with us now, hm?" Alya quizzed, leaning forward and surveying him over her glasses. Luka's eyes widened a little, before he cleared his throat.
"Juleka has some pretty cool friends. I'd like to get to know them better," he said, before shifting his body away from them both.
"Anyone in particular?" Alya said, trying to catch his eye. Marinette propped up her sunglasses and threw Alya a warning look. Luka cleared his throat again, opened his mouth—
"Hey! Do you all want to play a game of Marco Polo?" Nino called out.
Luka stood up quickly and said, "I do!" He walked over to the guys, took off his white shirt and threw it at a nearby chair the group had claimed as their own.
Alya sat back, gazing at him through her glasses. Marinette nudged her.
"Could you have been more obvious?" She hissed, glaring at her best friend.
"I think what you're trying to say is, girl, could he have been more obvious? He's clearly into you!" Alya said, gesticulating towards Luka, who had already joined the rest of the group.
"Psh! Luka? Into me? I wish! I mean, what? No! I mean! Adrien is the only one I want to like me!" Marinette said, looking over at Luka, who was motioning for them to join the main group.
"Uh-huh, sure, okay, Compass Heart," Alya said, standing up with Marinette.
"Stop calling me that!" Marinette hissed, as they strolled over to the group.
"Calling you what?" Adrien asked curiously.
"Nothing!" Marinette exclaimed loudly. Adrien gave her a puzzled look, but gave way as Kim, who had been in the pool with Ivan, Max, Alix and Mylene the whole time, started to explain the rules to a game.
The teens played games for a while, drank sugary soft drinks; ate bad concession-stand food; and complained about all the schoolwork they still had to do before summer arrived a month later.
Eventually, the numbers dwindled before it was just a handful of them left. Juleka mumbled something to Rose, who gasped loudly.
"That sounds great, Juleka! Guys! Juleka says that her mom bought stuff to make chocolate covered strawberries tonight! I love them! She says we're invited over!" Rose squealed, putting her hands on her cheeks in delight.
The group gathered their stuff from the locker room, changed quickly, and headed out. It was sunset with barely any clouds in the sky. The sun gave off an orange glow, declaring the summer days were quickly approaching. Alya and Nino had walked off together, holding hands, and talking quietly to themselves.
Adrien looked wistfully at the group. He sighed. Marinette looked at him.
"Is everything okay, Adrien?" She asked.
"Yes. I'm heading home now though. My driver will be here any second. Father says I have an early photo shoot tomorrow. Can you tell everyone I had to leave? Tell them I'm sorry." He said, as his car did, indeed, pull up to meet him.
"Sure. I'm sorry you have to go. It was really good to see you," Marinette said.
"Thanks, Marinette. You're a great friend. I'll see you at school." He said, getting into the car.
Marinette waved at him, watching the car go.
You're a great friend.
She sighed, feeling her stomach sink. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around.
"Ready to go, Marinette?" Luka asked, slowly lowering his hand to her elbow.
She looked up at him. His face was lit up by the sky, his blue eyes bright and brilliant. His jacket was in his arms, leaving him in only his white Jagged Stone t-shirt.
"You waited for me?" She asked, staring to walk forward. He walked with her, hand still on her elbow.
"Of course. I didn't want to go without you," Luka said, looking ahead at the sunset.
They walked off towards the boathouse and at the end of the night, all Marinette could think about was how she had the best chocolate covered strawberries.
IV.
The fourth time Marinette Dupain-Cheng saw Luka, it was an accident that neither of them could have seen.
Marinette had been out shopping for material on a Saturday. She wasn't even sure yet what her design was going to look like, but sometimes the material told her.
She was heading to one of the local markets where there was an old woman she bought cheap material from every other Saturday. The old woman was frequently kind enough to put the materials she thought Marinette would like best to the side.
Marinette grabbed an ice cream cone from André. She licked at the blueberry ice cream, missing the mint one she received last time. Instead of making a scene about it, André simply winked at her and asked her to "keep him updated." She blushed, not sure how she felt about him saying that.
"Marinette?" She heard someone say. She turned around, looking for the voice.
"Marinette!" Her eyes found blue eyes.
"Luka!" She said, walking over to him, "What are you doing here?" She asked. He put his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm looking for some vintage instruments. I try to restore them. Some times, I fail, but, I like to think the effort is what matters," He said, "What about you?"
"I'm looking for new fabric. I've been thinking about making either a new shirt or dress," She said, and then bit into her ice cream cone.
"Well, do you want to…do that together?" He asked.
"S-Sure!" She said, praying that he wouldn't notice how her neck and cheeks were probably turning a bright shade of pink. He offered her his elbow. Did she die? Was this her life now? She took it.
"S-So, when did you get into restoring instruments?" She managed to say.
"After my dad died," He replied, "I went through a hard time after that. Mom's…well, you've met my mom. She forged ahead like the captain of the ship she is. My dad taught me how to play guitar when I was seven. So, when he died, I felt like it was all I had left of him. I was twelve, and I know my mom would do anything to help me. So, when she gave me an old guitar, I figured out how to make it better. It helped me."
"I'm so sorry about your dad."
"Thank you, Marinette. It's been a couple of years since then. I still miss him, but I've got mom. I've got Juju, old friends…I've got you," He said. Her breath caught in her throat. There was a moment's silence, where she didn't know what to say. She ducked her head as she watched their feet, strolling together; trying to hide her blush from him. She could feel him looking at her, probably with some warm, fond gaze. Her stomach lurched.
"S-so," she began, changing the subject, "um…why do you call Juleka Juju?" She found the courage to look up at him, only to find the last of his smile fading into a mischievous smirk.
"You know how I'm older than her?" Marinette nodded and took one last bite of her ice cream cone. "Well, when she was a toddler and still learning to talk, I was about 4 or 5 at the time. So, I would constantly teach her the wrong words. Since we were in daycare and at home, we were together way more than our parents were with us. So, I was able to convince her that her name was Juju. It took my parents years to convince her otherwise."
"That's so mean!" Marinette said, laughing at him. She whacked his arm playfully and then reached up and pulled her hair out of her pony tail, letting it frame her face. He chuckled and rubbed his arm.
"Hey! Ow—You're strong! Also, Juleka's my sister. I love her more than anyone else but I also will always give her more crap than anyone else." He said, looking at Marinette as she laughed. "So, how did you get into designing?"
Marinette waited for her laughter to die down before answering. He pointed at a stall lined with instruments to go into.
"I was eight. I hadn't always been crazy about Barbie dolls and the like. I don't think my parents knew what to do with me. I was always sketching things, even before I got into fashion. One day, my grandma, who almost always travels, dropped in around my birthday. She had carried some spools of thread and needles with her everywhere. She claims everything tears when you're on the road. She helped me sew up a shirt and, well, the rest was history. I never stopped wanting to sew. I did my own clothing, made gifts for my parents, my friends, anyone I could practice the craft on."
Luka observed an old French horn as she spoke before ultimately putting it down. He moved on to a ukulele.
"You're amazing, Marinette," he finally said after a few moments, turning his eyes from the ukulele to her.
"What? No! What! What makes you say that?" She stammered out. He smiled warmly at her. She brushed a stray hair out of her face before peeking up at him.
"Deciding to design at eight couldn't have been an easy hobby. Most little girls, and I know this because of Juju, are still playing pretend and playing dollhouse. You were out making your own clothing. I think it probably sounded something like this," He strummed an out of tune major chord on the ukulele, "better than that. But something like it."
He ended up purchasing the ukulele. They stepped out of the comfort of the shade of the stall and back into the sunlight. He looked over at her and seemed to deliberate for a moment before ultimately offering his hand. Without a thought, she grabbed it, relishing in the way his fingers, so nimble when playing guitar, rested so casually in hers.
"Which way?" he asked. Her heart flipped.
She knew exactly where she wanted to go.
V.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng did not believe in fate. In fact, she generally assumed that any luck she had was a combination of accident and coincidence.
So, when she sees Luke Couffaine for the fifth time, he shows up at her home with flowers and his guitar, she knows that fate couldn't have planned something like this, not for her anyways.
When he comes up to her room, and she buries her feet underneath his leg while they sit on the chaise, him strumming a song that sounds like a beginning, she knows it more than that.
When she reaches over to put her hand on his cheek and he reaches out to pull her hair out of her ponytail and then put his hand on her cheek too, she knows it's more than that.
Then, when he puts his forehead against hers, rubs her cheek with his thumb, and says, "There's no flour this time."
She giggles, tucks some of her hair behind her ear, and says, "So, what are you doing?"
He smiles another warm smile and looks into her eyes, and says, "Communicating."
And when he finally, finally kisses her, she knows it's more than fate.