Hidden Agendas
Written for Spooktober.
Chapter 1: Costume Party
(Spooktober Day 5)
Marinette sighed as she flipped the page in her fashion magazine. She continued reading, taking a bite of a fruit tart as she devoured the article in front of her.
"Marinette?"
Not even the angelic voice of her crush could penetrate the fog of concentration surrounding the tiny girl.
"Marinette?" Adrien tried again. He tapped her shoulder.
"Waugh!" She jumped at his touch, the magazine and tart both flying out of her hands as she flailed in surprise. Both plopped on the ground. She groaned as she looked at her treat laying smashed on the dirty floor. "That was my favorite," she mumbled.
Adrien stooped and picked up her magazine, handing it back to her. "I'm sorry, Marinette," he said, his distress apparent in his eyes as he offered her the now-bent pages of the magazine. "I didn't think I would startle you that much."
"It's okay, Adrien," she replied, giving one last forlorn look at the dessert. "I can always get another at home." She smoothed out the creases in her magazine and tucked it into her bag.
"Ah, well uhm, I wanted to talk to you because well... you know the fashion show that goes on during Halloween?"
Of course she knew. She was actually in the middle of reading an article about that very event when Adrien had interrupted her. Every year, fashion designers from all over Europe converged in one area for a Halloween charity show, where they debuted elaborate designs and auctioned them off for charity. Everyone dressed in elaborate "costumes" for the event, and famous celebrities always attended, displaying gorgeous dresses and outfits gifted to them by designers. The designer whose outfits won both the most money overall and also the most single bid got implied bragging rights for the rest of the year.
Gabriel Agreste claimed both titles the previous three years.
This year, the event was to take place in Paris – specifically, in the Grand Paris Hotel. And Marinette sighed as she imagined watching the event from the TV with her parents, or maybe she would transform into her alter-ego and sneak out and get a better view of the people coming and going so she could drool over the amazing costumes.
"Yeah, of course," she answered.
Adrien smiled. "Of course you would," he repeated. "I know you're probably really excited about it."
"Definitely! I can't wait to see pictures of all the amazing costumes this year!"
"Uhm, well," Adrien trailed off, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, "you probably know that my father goes every year, as well."
"He's won bragging rights for the last few years."
"Yeah, you wouldn't really know it from looking at him, but he really gets into this event. Well, he used to at least. My mother really enjoyed it – it was her favorite fashion show of the entire year."
"Your father always releases amazing designs during that charity event! I love seeing what he creates every year!"
Adrien chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, well anyway, he got a bunch of tickets for his models to attend. But he doesn't have that many models, so he gave me a few extra to give to my friends."
"That was really..." unusual, out-of-character, unlike the cold Gabriel Agreste everyone knew, "...nice of him."
He quirked a grin at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Nice. Sure. Don't worry, I asked him what was going on, and he insisted that I invite my closest friends." Adrien leaned in close to her and her heart fluttered into overdrive. "I think Chloe's father implied that I would be her date and my father freaked out."
Marinette freaked out, too. Adrien show up as Chloe's date? Ack! Turns out that was one more thing that she and Gabriel Agreste shared: a dislike of the spoiled brat.
"Anyway, my father said just to tell him who I wanted to bring. I was thinking you, of course, because you like fashion. And Nino and Alya would make up the rest. So, what do you say?"
She held in the squeal of delight. Almost. "I would love to attend," she informed him in her most professional voice after she took a few seconds to compose herself.
His face broke out into a huge smile that threatened to shatter that composure. "Great! Thanks, Marinette! I'll go talk to Nino and Alya. Oh, I know that I'll be wearing my father's designs, and he said if needed he could provide something for you guys, too. I know you like designing, though, so I told him I would get back to him. So what do you say? Do you want to try to design your own outfit or wear one of my father's creations?"
Oh the dilemma. On one hand, it would probably be the only time she would be able to wear a genuine, original Gabriel Agreste dress. On the other hand, this would be the perfect opportunity to showcase her own designs.
What to choose?
She bit her lip. "I think... I want to try to design my own outfit."
His smile didn't fade. If anything, it grew wider. "I thought you might say that," he said. "I'll inform Father. He'll be surprised you declined, so be prepared to have him critique your outfit. Don't take it personally, though, he'll just want to see what you're capable of."
This time she did release her excited squeal. Gabriel Agreste critiquing her design? Advice and constructive criticism from her idol? It was a dream come true!
Adrien laughed. "I've never heard anyone get so excited about my father critiquing them. I'll tell him to be gentle on you, but most of the time he doesn't know the meaning of that word. He's scared away lots of designers and left many others in tears."
Tears of joy maybe! She was so excited she couldn't stop wiggling in place, even after Adrien's warnings. He laughed once more as her enthusiasm didn't appear to be waning anytime soon, despite his cautions.
"Oh, there's Nino and Alya over there," he said. "I'll go tell them about the charity event. See you later, Marinette. I can't wait to see what you come up with."
With a pat on her shoulder for support, Adrien headed over to intercept his best friend before they went into class. As he disappeared from view, the euphoria of the last several minutes faded and a more realistic emotion set in.
"Oh no, Tikki, this is horrible! What am I going to design?"
After a solid week of locking herself in her room, only to emerge for food, school, and akuma attacks, Marinette finally created the perfect costume.
Even if Tikki only reluctantly agreed with her plan. It was dangerous, her kwami argued, but she conceded it was a brilliant scheme if Marinette could use that to identify potential Hawkmoth suspects. But at the cost of potentially alienating herself from other designers in the fashion industry?
"But Tikki, it's Halloween. Allowances will be made. Just look at other costumes from around the world."
At last, after many back-and-forth arguments between the two of them, the red sprite agreed with Marinette. As the day approached, she made sure she kept her design hidden from everyone else. Not even Alya got to see it. Marinette asked Adrien if his father wanted to approve her costume before the event, because she would be there on behalf of his name and didn't want to damage his reputation if Mr. Agreste decided her outfit didn't live up to his standards. After relaying her message to his father, Adrien reported that the elder designer wanted to be surprised along with everyone else. He apparently remembered her submission from the hat contest and told Adrien that he had faith she wouldn't disappoint him.
That did nothing to ease her nerves. If Mr. Agreste pre-approved her outfit, then at least she would have had one person supporting her at the charity auction. As it was, she was going in blind, with a risky costume, at what could arguably be considered her fashion debut.
She gulped as she stared at herself in the mirror. The tiny crystals she had meticulously applied to the outer edges of her eyes, trailing down her temple and ending just below her ear, twinkled in the light as they hinted at an outline of her face. She smoothed her dress, tugging at the sheer overlay on the skirt and adjusting the silky ribbon around her waist. A quick twirl to ensure everything looked okay, and she grabbed her purse, motioned to Tikki to swoop in, and headed downstairs.
After her parents oohed and aahed over her dress, peppering her with dozens of questions about her inspiration and snapping several pictures, Marinette finally metaphorically pried herself away from their grasp and darted out of the bakery, aiming for the hotel in the fading light. As it was only a short distance away, she declined to be driven there by her father and reveled in the excited anticipation of the first glimpse of everyone dressed up in exquisite costumes.
As the lights of the hotel came into view, the crowd of media and gawkers surrounded the entrance. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered to a frenetic high as her breathing quickened. She froze.
"I changed my mind, Tikki, this was a stupid idea," she mumbled.
Her purse cracked open. "You look amazing, Marinette. And like you said earlier, this is Halloween. It's a time for pretend and make-believe."
"I should have gone with another theme. This was stupid. So stupid. What was I thinking?"
"You were thinking like a Ladybug, and it's a brilliant idea."
"Mr. Agreste is going to be so horrified he endorsed me. Adrien will hate me for embarrassing him. Alya won't want to be associated with someone like me. She's such a fan of Ladybug and Chat Noir."
"Marinette! Get in there right now! You've worked extra hard on this outfit and you look gorgeous!"
With a gulp of reluctance, she willed her feet to step forward, all the while still muttering about how she should have gone with a safer costume.
She reached the edge of the carpet (of course André Bourgeois would have literally rolled out the red carpet) and hesitantly stepped onto it. All around her, cameras flashed as people stared at her. She squared her shoulders and confidently walked past the murmurs and whispers and stopped in front of the guard at the door.
"Here's my ticket, sir," she said, handing him the embossed card that Adrien had given to her the previous day. Mr. Agreste waited until the last minute to distribute the tickets because he didn't want any of the teens to lose them.
The guard examined the ticket and nodded at her, moving aside to let her pass.
"The registration for the silent auction is over to the right," he said, pointing to a table just inside the door.
She thanked him, and two steps later, she was inside.
She thought she would have been one of the first people there, but to her surprise there was already a fair number of guests milling around. Many adults, several teenagers, and one or two famous faces (she spotted two designers she recognized and an actor). Most people carried glasses filled with sparkling liquid and she glimpsed many caterers walking between the guests with trays of glasses and food. More tables lined the walls full of different kinds of food, and after looking around and seeing none of her friends, she decided to make herself blend in more and headed over to occupy her hands with a glass of juice. After signing up for the auction, of course. That was the whole point of the charity.
She went up to the table.
"Hello," she said, timid and nervous.
"Hello there," one of the older ladies smiled at her. "Are you here to register for the silent auction?"
She nodded.
"Great! Just fill out this form with your name and the name of the designer or company you're representing." She slid a clipboard with a pen attached over to Marinette.
"I'm not representing anyone," she said. "I mean, I'm here on invitation from Gabriel Agreste, but I designed my own dress with his permission. I'm not using his name at all."
"Then fill in your name for both spots," the woman told her, pointing to the relevant areas. She handed a number over to her and Marinette clipped it onto part of her black ribbon sash that crossed over her shoulders in an X shape, mimicking the lapels of a suit. "That's so others can see which number to bid on," she explained.
"How does the bidding work exactly?" Marinette asked. "I've never been to something like this before."
The woman smiled at her. "That's quite all right, young lady. There are plenty of first timers here, This is a silent auction, which means that people will come and fill out their bids on the different sheets here." She held up a blank form. At the top was her number, followed by the rules of the auction. "Minimum bids start at €5.000 and increases in increments of €500. When the bid reaches €25.000 the minimum bid will increase to €1.000. At the end of the night the outfit that got the single highest bid along with the designer who got the highest cumulative bids are announced."
"No one is going to spend €5.000 on my dress! I'm not even a real designer," Marinette gasped. "Maybe I shouldn't enter. I'll be the only one without a bid."
The lady smiled at her. "I think your dress is amazing," she said, and Marinette didn't detect any kind of pity or deception from her, "and I've seen plenty of outfits here. I've worked this auction every year for the last ten years, and I assure you that every single outfit gets at least one bid. It's for charity. As for your age... well I couldn't tell that your outfit wasn't designed by a professional. And the designers are anonymous," she pointed to the bold number at the top of the sheet, the only identifying feature on the form, "so that no one can bid on an outfit based solely on who designed it. Of course, some of them will be obvious, but there still ends up being quite a lot of anonymity with the entire process. The designers love it, too, because they'll get feedback on which of their ideas succeeded and failed. They rather enjoy the whole process."
The lady's sincere praise helped relax her and Marinette finished up registering for the auction and decided to commit to her previous intention of getting some food and drink to mingle in with the crowd. The registration had taken a while, so by the time she had finished, a fair amount of people now swarmed the hotel's conference rooms. All of the people at the registration table were conversing with applicants, and many more milled around. She smiled at the lady and left the table, aiming for the comforts of home – bakery treats!
With each step inward, her shoulders released tension as she realized no one was going to intersect her and scream at her about her choice of a costume. She still couldn't see any of her friends (and thankfully not Chloé either), but there appeared to be several registration tables set up, so maybe they were scattered around the room. Her own dress received several appreciative stares as she wove her way through the throng of people, and that helped bolster her confidence. By the time she reached the buffet table, she actually got to enjoy seeing some of the dresses.
Like the dress that was different layered shades of orange and brown, complete with splashes of gold and yellow to mimic a jack-o-lantern that would have looked silly on anyone except the willowy mocha-skinned lady. Marinette suspected with her porcelain looks and elegant poise that she could make anything look amazing.
And the gentlemen also had works of art. She spotted many variations of Dracula costumes, and one or two ghosts – pure white except for discrete pops of color to accent the pale suits.
She spent a long time staring at all of the beauty around her, absorbing every rich detail, when a sultry voice behind her caught her attention.
"Hello."
Marinette turned and found herself staring into the gorgeous green eyes of Chat Noir. Her mouth dropped open.
"Chat?"
Sunshine blond hair splayed messily across his head. His green eyes glowed with mirth as he smiled at her. He was dressed in a black suit (of course) with gold trim and a lime green shirt. A gold bowtie completed the ensemble. It took her breath away.
He bowed to her. "Of course, my fair lady," he intoned, taking her gloved hand and placing a delicate kiss over her knuckles. He rose from his slight bow and dropped her hand. "I'm Kylian," he said in a more normal tone of voice. "I couldn't help but see you standing here all alone and had to come over to say hello."
Was this really Chat Noir in the flesh? He certainly looked the part, complete with the confident suave flirts.
"I'm Marinette," she greeted.
"It is certainly the highlight of my night to be introduced to someone as beautiful as yourself," he said, and she flushed. He tilted his head as he examined her costume. "But what is your dress supposed to represent?"
She planted one hand on her hip. "Don't you recognize your archenemy?" she questioned with a grin.
His eyes traveled from her headband decorated with streams of tiny white butterflies that trailed in her hair like a bridal veil, to the butterfly outline in pink crystals on her face, to the purple, black and silver themed dress she wore. She finished off the ensemble with black heels and tiny butterflies on the top.
Kylian's eyebrows shot up as he appraised her with an appreciative smile. "If I had known Hawkmoth was a beautiful lady such as yourself, I would have surrendered my Miraculous immediately," he confessed.
She giggled. "There's still time to join me, Chat Noir," she teased.
"I look forward to it," he said. "Who are you representing? That dress is seriously amazing. Erm, I'm sorry," he apologized immediately, waving his hands in front of his face. "I know a lot of the designers swear their models to secrecy. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"Uhm, it's okay. I'm here on invitation from Gabriel Agreste, but I'm not wearing his design. I made this myself."
"You... what?"
She nodded, a bit shy, picking at the ribbon around her waist. "Yeah, Mr. Agreste said I could wear my own design tonight, so I decided to make this one."
"It looks fantastic, but I have to ask: why Hawkmoth? That's a bit controversial, isn't it?" Kylian asked.
"Yes," she agreed. "But it's Halloween! It's the perfect night to pretend to be villains and evil creatures." She motioned around her. "Look at all the vampires we're seeing tonight."
Kylian chuckled. "Well, that is quite a bold move, Marinette. I must say I am intrigued by that boldness. And don't worry, I won't give away your secret."
She furrowed her eyebrows. "What secret?"
He pointed to her dress. "That you designed that. Let the gossip queens play their guessing games as to which designer outdid themselves in creating this masterpiece."
Another flush covered her cheeks. "You really think this is good?"
"It's the best one I've seen yet."
A genuine smile appeared on her face, wiping away a good portion of her doubt. "Thank you."
"Well, I must get back to showing off my own costume on behalf of my employer, but I hope to see more of you tonight," he said, once again reaching for her knuckles and kissing them. "Of course, we still have our final battle, naturally." He winked at her.
She laughed with him. "You'll never defeat me and my akumas, Chat Noir," she teased.
His hand lingered in hers for a moment longer than necessary as his eyes burned into hers. "I look forward to giving it my best shot," he said before dropping her hand and turning around to melt back into the crowd, leaving her gaping at his vanishing form.
Was that the real Chat Noir? In his civilian persona? She had to admit he certainly took her breath away and the smooth mannerisms definitely fit.
"Be still my beating heart," she mumbled, and she heard a tiny tinkle of laughter coming from her amethyst colored purse.
She turned back to her food, mulling over the scenario of Kylian being her partner.
"Hey girl!"
Marinette whirled around at the familiar voice, eager to glimpse the magic that Gabriel Agreste would have cast on her best friend.
Alya and Nino stood there, smiling at her. Nino was dressed in an ivory white suit from head to toe that would have appeared unremarkable except for the fact that upon closer examination, the suit seemed to be layered. Ridges overlapped the sleeves and pants. He wore a black vest embroidered with tiny gold ankhs under the layered jacket. Tiny gold embroidered serpents wove up from his wrists ending just past where the buttons would end, complete with turquoise cuff links. Nino straightened his teal bowtie with a wink.
Alya twirled slightly from side to side, revealing multiple colorful layers of ruffles and fabric. Pinks, blacks, yellows, greens and reds all combined into a tasteful gradient, accented in white. Dozens of tiny flowers and miniature skulls dotted her dress. Marinette could get lost in the colors for hours – a mesmerizing blend of beauty and intricacy. It reminded Marinette of a Spanish flamenco dancer, but those weren't related to Halloween, were they? She pursed her lips in puzzlement for a moment before gasping with understanding.
"Oh! A mummy and the Day of the Dead! Oh my gosh you guys look amazing! Wow that... oh wow Nino your vest..." She peered to get a closer look at the embroidery. "That is simply astounding. I never would have gotten the inspiration to do a homage to a mummy like this," she said. "And the Day of the Dead... the colors, the flowers... wow! I love them both!"
"Thank you."
Marinette turned to the new voice. Gabriel Agreste stood there, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual formal pose, but a tiny smile appeared on his lips. He was clearly pleased to hear Marinette's praise. Next to him was Adrien, grinning at her from underneath a floppy hat with a fantastically oversized feather.
"Mr. Agreste! Adrien! I uh... I love your designs."
"Thank you, Miss Marinette," Mr. Agreste repeated. He spent a moment to appraise her outfit and she in turn studied his and Adrien's (trying really hard not to just gaze with starry-eyed adoration at her crush).
Mr. Agreste was dressed more simply than the others, in a black and white suit. Marinette blinked as she examined the cuts and decisions of color, before realizing that the white on the outfit drew the eye to its form – that of a skeleton.
"Wow!" she gushed again. "That's an amazing skeleton," she said, and Mr. Agreste's smile reappeared. "I love how you managed to manipulate the light and dark fabrics. It really creates a great optical illusion by utilizing negative space. That must have been quite a challenge."
"It was," he admitted.
She turned her focus to Adrien, willing the blush in her cheeks to remain subdued to a light pink. He's so handsome! She could swim for days in the pools of his eyes and bask in the warmth of his smile. She would have spent hours staring at him, but the the red feather in his hat twitched and that snapped her back to reality. She pointed to it.
"Aren't you allergic?" she questioned.
"Ah, it's not a real feather," Adrien answered.
"That's good!"
"Yeah."
She smiled at him for a moment before Alya poked her, shaking her out of her trance. Her eyes traveled down the rest of the costume. A bit fancy, in a several centuries past kind of way, with overly ruffled lace sleeves and a gold-embroidered velvet vest under a black jacket with stylized crosses and extravagant embroidery all along the edges.
"Okay, I'm stumped," she confessed.
"I'm one of the Three Musketeers," Adrien declared with a grin. He swept his hat off his head and bowed low. "At your service, Milady."
Marinette laughed. "Didn't Milady get executed?"
Adrien blanched. "Well..." he stammered, his grin fading as he struggled for a reason to turn this back around to his favor.
She giggled again. "It's okay, Adrien. Or should I call you Aramis tonight?"
His grin returned. "Aramis was the handsome one. I'll take that. But let's talk about your costume, Marinette! It's amazing! What made you decide to dress up as Hawkmoth?"
She supposed that would be the prevailing question of the evening. Thinking back to Kylian and his sassy flirtations, Marinette leaned forward and tugged on Adrien's ruffled ascot. "Maybe I'm just tired of being a hero all the time," she told him, dropping her hand with a wink. She laughed at the open-mouthed expression of astonishment that appeared on his face. "I'm teasing, Adrien," she laughed. "But it's Halloween, and it's the one night I can flex my talents by trying something new. So many people have done homages to Ladybug and Chat Noir, myself included. I wanted to present something different. Hawkmoth shouldn't have the monopoly on butterflies, or the color purple." She smoothed her skirt at the end of it, a bit nervous now that she confessed her reasons.
A hand rested upon her shoulder and she stared back up into those green eyes. "I think you did a fantastic job, Marinette. Your design just proves how talented you are. Maybe it'll start showing Paris that Hawkmoth isn't some faceless entity to be feared."
"Exactly," she said, gratitude filling her as Adrien supported her decision. "Thanks for understanding."
"I agree with my son, Miss Marinette," Mr. Agreste spoke up. "Though I am a bit more interested in hearing your thought process behind the piece. Hawkmoth is a touchy subject among Parisians, and no doubt your classmates would agree. Did you have any other motivations behind your decisions?"
The tiny smile remained on his face, but Marinette had spent enough time around reporters to know when someone was prying deeper, hiding their true intentions behind casual questions. She recognized the sharpening of his eyes as he studied her face for any betrayal of emotion. It would appear he saw through the flippant explanation she told Adrien.
"Only, perhaps, to stand out from the crowd," she answered, sticking with her cover story. No way would she reveal she was testing the waters for a reaction to narrow down potential Hawkmoth suspects. And something in his demeanor told her maybe she should reconsider her previous acquittal and restore his name back to that list.
Or maybe she was just overthinking his analysis. After all, he did get akumatized. And Adrien did warn her his father would be extra critical of her dress.
"Hmm." Mr. Agreste held her gaze for a few seconds longer before blinking and shifting his attention to the rest of her costume. Marinette refrained from sagging in relief. The last thing she wanted was someone as clever as Gabriel Agreste poking around into her alter-ego's identity. Maybe she could tell him later that she was inspired by images in his book when she had it in her possession temporarily.
"I am particularly intrigued by the little details you've worked into it," Mr. Agreste continued to appraise her design, "from the tiny white butterflies in your hairpiece down to your shoes. I can tell at this distance that the labor work is stellar. Layering the silver sheer fabrics over the purple skirt and black ribbon around your waist couldn't have been easy, but you succeeded in an incredibly tricky task. I feel it pulls the entire dress together, blending the colors effortlessly and segueing from one part of the outfit to the next. All in all, a very exquisite piece. My sincerest compliments, Miss Marinette."
She stood there, mouth agape. "T-thank you so much, Mr. Agreste!" she exclaimed.
"You're welcome. Adrien, there are some people I must speak with. I assume you'll be happier remaining with your friends than trailing along with me?"
"Oh, could I, Father?"
"Of course." Mr. Agreste leveled a look at the four teenagers. "As this is a charity auction, the people have to see your outfits in order to bid. I do request that you refrain from grouping together too tightly, as it may turn off people from examining the outfits in greater detail. Adrien, stay with one of your friends at all times, understood?"
The four of them nodded. "Yes, Mr. Agreste," they all intoned. His eyes swept over them one last time, studying them to see if anything was amiss before turning away away and disappearing into the ever-growing crowd of people.
"Well, you heard what Mr. Agreste said," Alya said with a grin. "We can't cluster together." She snatched Nino's hand and spun around. "Have fun, you two!" she called over her shoulder.
"Wait, Alya!" Marinette cried out after her. Her friend ignored her and vanished into the crowd like Mr. Agreste. Within seconds, the sea of costumed people had swallowed her friends up.
"Come on, let me introduce you to some of the other designers." The warm voice of Adrien snapped her out of her ire at Alya. She tilted her head to him, meeting his green eyes as they crinkled at her.
"What?"
"Just because I'm not with my father doesn't mean I don't know some of the other big names here," Adrien explained. "I know you're probably super excited to meet them. It'll give me a chance to brag about your skills."
"Won't your father want you to talk about his designs instead?" She didn't want to encroach upon Gabriel's marketing time.
"Nah, he loved your outfit. And he really doesn't want anyone to know which are his designs until the end of the night. He says that prevents people from actively bidding against him. I've seen a few more of his models around here. Everyone will probably just assume yours is by him, too. That's probably the only fun thing about this event: figuring out who designed what." A playful smirk appeared on his face and Marinette's vision swam as another familiar blond-haired boy smirked at her in the same manner, superimposing itself over Adrien's face. She blinked, and the second image faded.
"O-okay, if you insist," she began.
"I do."
And with that, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the comfort of the food table and into the lion's den.
With a muffled squeak, she allowed herself to be dragged out into the crowd. Adrien deftly maneuvered them until he spotted a trio of people standing in a semi-circle on the edge of one of the tables. He tightened his grip upon her hand.
"Eep! Adrien, that's Lucrèce Gilles!"
"I know," came his reply.
"Adrien! I can't talk to him! He's like the pioneer of modern fashion trends in the younger generation. I've dreamed about his designs since I was a child. He's thought to have influenced your father's decision to go into designing."
"Yeah, I know. Father's often said that he used to be a mentor to him when he was first starting out. Now he's not too fond of him. Thinks he's too stuffy. Which is a bit rich, coming from Father. I don't know why they had a falling out, but he's still nice to me whenever we see each other."
"You're seriously dragging me over to talk to one of your father's rivals? Do you hate me? Are you trying to get your father to blacklist me?"
Adrien laughed. "Relax. Father still respects Lucrèce Gilles. He won't hold it against you." He stopped and turned to her, and she stumbled to the side to avoid running into the back of him. "I promise."
And just like that, she melted with a trust reserved only for her partner. She did trust Adrien. And not just because of her crush on him. She couldn't identify exactly why his words calmed her, but she didn't argue with her gut feeling. "Okay," she agreed.
Adrien broke out into a smile again and continued pulling her over to the group of people. In addition to Lucrèce Gilles, there was also a younger lady in her early twenties dressed in what Marinette would describe as a mermaid outfit – the lower skirt shimmered and gleamed like scales in the light and the gossamer fabric on top reminded her of ocean foam. Her smooth raven-colored hair cascaded down her back, emphasizing the wave-like features of the sea. Beside her stood the lady who wore the pumpkin dress that caught her attention when she first arrived. Adrien lingered on the fringes of the circle until Mr. Gilles noticed him.
"Ah, Adrien, my boy!" he greeted. "Come on over here." The designer waved him into the circle. Adrien smiled and grabbed Marinette's hand, tugging her along with him. "How have you been?"
"I've been doing well, Mr. Gilles," Adrien said. "And yourself?"
"Excellent! Can't complain! Who is this lovely lady beside you? Your date for the evening?"
Marinette flushed, sneaking a peek at Adrien and noticing the tips of his ears turning red as well. "Not quite, Mr. Gilles," he answered, "let me introduce my good friend Marinette Dupain-Cheng who is interested in fashion. She wants to be a designer when she gets out of school. Marinette, this is Mr. Lucrèce Gilles."
"A pleasure," Mr. Gilles said, grasping her hand in his and bending over her knuckles. He stood a head taller than her, built lean and wiry like a panther. His salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back out of his face and secured into a tight ponytail that just barely brushed the collar of his jacket. After nearly thirty years in the business, age did nothing to diminish Lucrèce Gilles' emanating presence and power. She wondered if all fashion designers emitted the same fearsome intimidation, but then the older man smiled and the atmosphere seemed to lighten. Though he still held the same power and sway as Gabriel Agreste, Mr. Gilles' smile and the crow's feet around his eyes gave an impression of a doting grandfather rather than a fashion empire magnate.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Gilles! I'm a huge fan of yours."
"Ah, thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Do give my regards to your father, Adrien. I see his designing talents have improved since I last encountered him." Mr. Gilles eyed the two of them. "Your dress especially piques my interest. It's refreshing to see Gabriel not stick to his trite designs of yesteryear and leap forward to embrace today's growing market. Even if his decisions are controversial, I must admit that I do like his style. If it wasn't for the fact it was his design, I might actually bid on the dress myself."
"Thank you, Lucrèce." Everyone turned to see the man in question standing a little bit away. Mr. Agreste walked up to the group. "But despite your poor attempt to suss out my designs, I shall give you this small tidbit: Miss Marinette is not wearing one of my creations." Mr. Agreste leveled an extremely smug look at his rival as he lifted a glass to his lips and took a sip.
Mr. Gilles' eyebrows rose high. "You're lying," he accused. "You wouldn't let one of your models show up in anything other than your work."
"Miss Marinette is not one of my models. She's a school friend of my son's. And I assure you I am not lying. Check the bid sheet if you want. You'll notice my name on that list."
Marinette paled. Mr. Agreste bid on her dress? But the minimum bid was €5.000! There was no way someone like him would bid so much on a dress designed by a student.
The older man laughed. "It's against the rules to bid on your own designs, Gabriel."
"I know." Another sip of drink. "That should tell you that she is not dressed in one of mine." He motioned toward the auction table with his glass. "Go ahead and check."
"If she's not wearing one of your dresses, then who is she wearing?" the elder designer demanded.
"Ah ah, that's against the rules, Lucrèce," Mr. Agreste tutted.
"But you know," he accused.
"She told me," Mr. Agreste said, calm and collected. His gaze slid back over to Marinette. "But that was before she was aware of the social rules surrounding this event. I think she's been briefed in the interim and you'll find yourself hard-pressed to pry any additional secrets from her."
All eyes turned to her and she blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that it was a guessing game between everyone."
"Don't worry, Miss Dupain-Cheng," Mr. Gilles assured her. "That just means I won't feel extra guilty bidding on your dress, knowing it's not Gabriel's."
Mr. Agreste favored the group with one last knowing smile before lifting the glass to his lips and finishing it off. "I'll take my leave now. Do play nice, Lucrèce."
He wandered away.
"Pardon me," Marinette said, excusing herself from the conversation. "I'll be right back." She turned and darted after Mr. Agreste, catching up with him after a couple of seconds. "Mr. Agreste," she called after him.
He paused and twisted around, allowing her enough time to approach him without dashing across the room. "Did you need something else, Miss Marinette?"
"Uhm, you bid on my dress?"
"Yes."
"But why?" she blurted out. "I'm not a designer and I didn't know that these dresses would be auctioned off for so much and it's not made by anyone special and you really didn't have to bid on my dress. So, why did you?"
Mr. Agreste settled one hand upon her shoulder to halt her ramblings. "I like it," he said, simple and direct.
"My dress?"
"Yes. You'll find that I'm not the only one who's placed a bid, either," he informed her.
"What?"
A ghost of a grin flickered across his face at her astonished outburst. "It would appear you've turned quite a few heads, Miss Marinette, and I suspect you'll turn a lot more before the night is over. Please excuse me." He released her shoulder and walked away.
She stood there for a few more seconds, stunned at his revelation that not only did her idol bid on her dress, but so did other people. Her dress! Her design! Her legs wobbled with the rush of adrenaline that flushed through her. She didn't know how she made her way back to Adrien in her shocked state.
"Are you okay?" he whispered to her as she approached.
"People are bidding on my dress," she whispered back.
"Hey, that's great!" he praised.
"It's insane! I'm not... this isn't... wow..."
Adrien chuckled at her astonishment. "I think that's what Father said the first time his designs were showcased and bid upon. At least that's what my mom used to say to tease him."
"Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I think I'll head over to the auction tables to place my own bid. I can't let Gabriel beat me for that lovely dress of yours," Mr. Gilles said once she arrived again. "It's been a pleasure to meet you and I hope to talk to you again before the night is over."
Marinette snapped out of her daze and smiled at him. "Thank you, Mr. Gilles."
The older designer stepped by them both, bending and whispering something into Adrien's ear as he passed. Adrien beamed at him and nodded, to which Mr. Gilles hummed in approval before leaving.
That left the mermaid-themed girl and the pumpkin lady staring at Adrien and Marinette.
"Well, that was certainly exciting," the pumpkin lady said, her eyes twinkling as she smiled. "Your father has a unique way of motivating people," she said to Adrien.
He sighed. "You have no idea," he said. "I think you caught him on a good day," he joked.
The two ladies laughed.
"Forgive me," Adrien apologized. "I've been rude. Marinette, this is Gwendolyn," he pointed to the pumpkin lady who nodded in greeting, "and Kira." The mermaid lady waved at her. She smiled and waved back. "They're free-contract models, so we're not supposed to know who designed their dresses," Adrien said. "They've both worked with Father before as well."
"I love your dresses!" Marinette exclaimed. She turned to Gwendolyn. "I saw your dress almost immediately when I came in and I thought that you looked amazing in it! I could never pull off something like that. And that mermaid dress is so pretty! I love the way that it makes it look like you're actually in water."
Both ladies smiled at her. "Thank you," Gwendolyn said. "I noticed your dress almost instantly, too. You were registering at the table and I couldn't help but be amazed at the details on your dress. Lucrèce was right in wanting to bid on it."
"Kylian told me about your dress," Kira added. "He said it was amazing and I needed to keep an eye out for it. He wasn't wrong."
"You know Kylian?" Marinette asked.
"Wait, you know Kylian?" Adrien directed at Marinette.
She nodded. "We met before you arrived," she explained. She gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth. "He didn't tell you who designed my dress, did he?"
"Kylian knows?" Adrien exclaimed.
Kira shook her head. "He said it was a secret."
"Oh phew," Marinette breathed out. Kylian had kept her secret. Maybe he was her partner after all. Chat always honored her wishes, even when it went against what he really desired. "Such a loyal kitty," she mused with a smile.
Adrien choked beside her. "What?" he croaked out.
Kira and Gwendolyn laughed at the blond's dismay. "Oh, Adrien, you haven't seen him yet? He's dressed up like Chat Noir," Gwendolyn said.
"He looks pretty good in that suit," Kira added. "Almost like the real thing."
"Mhmm," Marinette hummed in appreciation, a smile appearing on face.
Adrien's eyes flashed over to her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, turning to Marinette.
She blushed under the scrutiny. "All I'm saying is that he does the image of Chat Noir justice. That's all!"
"Oh, really?"
"He does fill out that suit really nicely. I wonder if he would look that good in leather," Kira mused. She winked at Gwendolyn and both of them watched Adrien's face grow steadily pinker.
"You know he would," Gwendolyn agreed.
By now, Adrien's face flamed beet red. The two girls burst out laughing. "Relax, Adrien," Kira said. "We're just teasing you. You should see how much you're blushing."
"You're the Ladybug to Kylian's Chat Noir."
"That would mean I would need both of your Miraculouses," Marinette chimed in. "I'll control you both."
"I wouldn't mind that," Adrien mumbled.
"What?" Marinette exclaimed. Kira and Gwendolyn exchanged wide grins.
Adrien blinked as his words caught up to his brain. "I-I mean, if Hawkmoth is someone as nice as you, then there's no way you could do anything evil with the Miraculouses, right?"
Kira rolled her eyes behind Adrien's back. Gwendolyn grabbed the younger model's arm. "Kira, I think we're needed."
"Uh, yeah. I see uh... yeah... pointing..." Kira quickly picked up on Gwendolyn's cues.
"I don't see anyone pointing," Adrien said, peering around.
Another eye roll behind his back at the blond's obliviousness. "Well they are. Pointing. At us. So we have to get going. See you around!"
And the two ladies took off, leaving Adrien to face Marinette once more. "So uhm," Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck as he struggled to find something to say. "Want to dance?"
"Me?"
He nodded.
She gulped. "S-sure."
"Great!" He grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor, just in time for the music to begin playing a slow song.
She rested her arms around Adrien. After one or two awkward starts and stepping on Adrien's toes, Marinette relaxed and the two swayed to a gentle rhythm. She sighed. She got praise on her dress, people actually bid on it, she got to meet one of her fashion idols (second to Mr. Agreste, of course) and she was dancing with Adrien. And no Chloé in sight to dampen the evening for her.
This was perfect.
And nothing could ruin it.
How wrong she was.
Author's Note: This is part one :) Part two will be posted for one of the other prompts later this month. Which one? Ah, no spoilers ;)