Originally posted on Ao3, thought I should have a version here, too. Cross-posted on Archive of Our Own under 1004_Angel and tumblr under the-noble-idiot


Chapter 1

"Hello?"

"Talk to me."

Marinette rolled onto her stomach, her phone balanced casually against her face as she lay against the pillows. It was almost one in the morning, and she had long ago accepted that she was not going to be able to sleep tonight. Hours of tossing and turning could confirm that. So with a heavy sigh she dragged her phone off her charger and punched in what she knew was Alya's number.

The reporter didn't answer. In hindsight, she probably wouldn't have. She'd been working her butt off on their latest assignment, and had probably crashed hard. So Marinette worked through the remaining numbers on her mental list, until finally, Nathanael - sweet, shy Nathanael - picked up.

"Um…"

"I know it's almost one in the morning but I can't sleep and I know you," Marinette practically begged, rolling over to her other side. "Just, I dunno, talk to me until I fall asleep."

"I, uh…" he coughed, and a rustle indicated he had made himself comfortable. "Sure, I guess. What do you want to talk about?"


Adrien wasn't sure how he'd managed to wind up on the phone with a stranger at this hour. But he was glad. The girl on the other end of the line was witty, slightly sarcastic, and utterly fearless. Adrien, as he lies down fully clothed on his comforter, imagined a pretty girl, maybe with long brown hair and brown eyes… or maybe blue. She sounded like someone who would have blue eyes.

"Oh please. Deadpool could totally kick Spiderman's ass."

"And what's your evidence?"

Adrien can't bring himself to tell this girl that he's not who she thinks she's dialed. He figured that he needs it just as much as she does. He couldn't say exactly why.

They flow easily from one topic to the next. From what he can deduce from her side of the conversation, the girl is a student, maybe about the same age as him. She asked her parents for a pet hamster the other day. And that she could totally kick his ass at Ultimate Mecha Strike III if she wanted to, which, if only a voice was any indication, he had not doubt she could.

"How is your sketching going? I know you started a superhero comic, and it's pretty popular online."

"Oh, um…"

Adrien grimaced. She had backed him into a corner. A quick glance at the clock displayed a flashing 2:15am at him, and he figured that this was as good a time as any to finally let the cat out of the bag. He couldn't pretend to answer questions like that, to pretend to be someone who he was not. As much as he enjoyed talking to this girl.

"Nathanael?"


Marinette yawned into the phone. It was almost two thirty am, and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. She could tell the time was getting away from Nathanael, too, because as they talked about nothing and everything, she could hear the lull in his voice, the sleep overwhelming him. He hadn't spoken in a minute…

"Nathanael? Did you fall asleep?"

"Uh… I'm… actually… um, not Nathanael. You have the wrong number."

Marinette froze, sleep suddenly banished from her mind as she sat bolt upright. She wrenched the phone from her ear and stared with shaking hands at the number that lit up the screen, tracing each digit until the final two.

Nathanael is 3458. This says 3469.

"Hello?" said Not-Nathanael, his voice a little anxious through the receiver. "I'm sorry that I deceived you, but it sounded like you needed someone to talk to, and-"

"Oh no! I'm so sorry, I mean…" Marinette fumbled over her words. "I suppose I was pretty lucky that you were awake! I mean, no wait, I'm sorry I kept you awake for a while, and I totally didn't mean to, oh my god, I'm so sorry, I'll just hang up now…"

"Wa-!"

Click.


Adrien stared at the wall, the monotonous drone of the dropped line ringing in his ears. She hung up on him.

He cracked a tiny grin. She was witty, slightly sarcastic, and a little cute. He quickly banished that thought, however. You don't know who that was, Adrien reminded himself, turning over on his side to kill the bedside lamp and plunge his room into darkness. You can't go calling random people cute.

Still, as Adrien lay in the dark with his phone screen illuminating his face, it wouldn't hurt. He hadn't had a conversation like that in what felt like years. Talking to a stranger, a stranger who let him ramble for a while about why David Tennant was a better Doctor than Barty Crouch Jr., a stranger who in turn ranted about her computer malfunctioning in the middle of a big project.

It was a free conversation. Like a mask, he wore it and could say however he felt, and talk about whatever he wanted. With a stranger he could be free of the bonds that chain him to his father, be free of the unforgiving stare of the camera lens, the merciless tabloid articles. He could be... himself. Someone far beyond Adrien Agreste, model superstar and son of fashion extraordinaire Gabriel Agreste.

A stranger like that, maybe, would be worth calling again?

Against Adrien's better judgement, he saved the girl's number. Lucky, huh? he thought with a half smile, and saved her number with a Ladybug emoji.


Marinette shook, her heart pounding against her ribs. She had just talked to a stranger for over an hour. The knowledge of that simple fact pounded against her brain. She ran over their conversation mentally, praying to god she didn't give away anything too incriminating about her identity. She mentioned school, but he couldn't possibly know which school she meant, right?

Maybe she should start carrying around pepper spray, just in case.

But he had been thoughtful, Marinette slowly reasoned with herself. He didn't ask her personal questions, didn't mention anything about himself… from the sound of his voice he couldn't be much older than her. Marinette continued to stare at the number in her call history.

What if she… kept it? Marinette wanted to disregard the idea. But it had felt so nice to talk to someone about anything, without the fear of being judged. She had known that whatever nonsense dropped out of her mouth at one thirty in the morning wouldn't bother Nathanael a bit, but it hadn't seemed to bother the stranger, either. Would it be all that bad to have someone to talk to?

Not that Alya wasn't a good friend, but the future reporter was a bit of a loud mouth, and had a bit of a habit for not being able to keep a secret for long. But this stranger didn't know anything about her, and she didn't know anything about him. There was no one he could tell about the weird girl who calls him on the phone, and who was she going to tell about him?

Marinette carefully reached for her phone where it sat by her foot, tapping the screen and opening up a new contact. She hesitated before typing.

Stranger was too obvious. If her parents ever got a hold of her phone… ugh. Or, heavens forbid, Alya. Think, Marinette.

She recalled at one point in their conversation, he had mentioned wanting to adopt a cat.

With shaking fingers, Marinette scrolled through the emoji selection until she found the one she was looking for. Tap tap, and now the stranger's number was identified with a smiling cat face.

Marinette still couldn't say if her decision was the right one, as she plugged her phone back in and turned off her lamp, the dregs of sleep overcoming her weary body once more. Because one would never know when they would need to call a stranger again.