A/N: Hey everyone! It's been a while. I hope you enjoy!
(Magic AU)
"He's not even that cute."
"I know, I know, but everyone loves him. I have yet to meet a girl who isn't waiting in line for a chance to go on a date with him."
"Does Myléne not count?" A shuffle of papers and clothing, the back room of the library is too small for two seniors with wiry frames and long arms. A hit to the shin here—Sorry, Nino—a jab to the elbow there—Ooh, that looks like it's gonna bruise. Do you think you'll bleed?—yes, the back room wasn't a good place to get dressed for job interviews.
"She's not within the immediate Adrien friend group." A pause. The sound of a zipper getting stuck half way up a black dress, and the string of curses typical of the realization.
"Zip me up," Alya hisses in between complaints. Nino does as asked, fingers fidgeting with the silver clasp before pinching the black fabric together to zip it up all the way. "I was talking about the girls in his immediate vicinity."
"That can't be true, the crazy lady wouldn't like him."
"Marinette? Hah! She's absolutely head over heels for that boy."
He deflates at that revelation. Alya tsks and turns to face the boy, she fixes his tie and ruffles his dark hair.
"Tuck in your shirt."
Nino rolls his eyes and does as suggested. His dark eyes run a quick diagnostics scan, Alya does a little half turn in her heels before offering an inquiring glance.
"Do I look alright?"
"Ooh girl, you're going to kill 'em."
"That sounds awful coming from you." Alya grants him a smile, and dusts off his shoulders, his blazer now pristine and without any signs of lint. "You look good, too. We're definitely getting these jobs."
With another laugh, they trip over each other, an awkward tangle of limbs and starched suits, and exit the library back room. They go to their respective job interviews, not before getting a slightly incredulous eyebrow raise from Caline Bustier the head library aide.
"Good luck, Nino!"
"I can probably curse myself with good luck, would that be a good idea?"
"No, it would not."
They don't get the jobs. Alya's overqualified, and Nino's underqualified, and they're back at square one, kicking their legs over the edge of the school roof. Their dark hair provides no protection against the bright sun, Nino's been blowing bubbles for the last ten minutes, under the impression that Alya had an umbrella and would eventually pull it out. She does not have an umbrella. If she did, it would've been out by now.
None of these concerns are ever voiced, both parties are still nursing their bruised egos.
"I hate autumn." Alya says, peeling off her sweatshirt with the school's logo on the back. She throws it to the side, on top of her brown messenger bag, and leans forward, elbows on her knees, chin on her hands, eyes narrowed and focused on something far, far away in the Parisian cityscape.
"It's not a great season," Nino admits, with a shrug, noncommittal and nonchalant.
Alya snorts. Nino laughs one of his characteristic laughs. They watch the sun come and go, another idle school day going on without them.
