A/N: slowly but surely gaining pace; there's plenty more to come ;) sorry for the formatting in the texts section, bleh. But please enjoy! And as always, comments are much appreciated :)
Chapter 2: The Short End of the Stick
"Dude," Nino says once Adrien finishes explaining the situation to him, "that is so messed up."
Adrien balances a basketball in his left hand, staring up at the cavernous ceiling of his room. "Is it really?"
Through the phone, he can hear Nino playing around with some sort of recording as they talk. "I mean, Marinette's cute and all, but do you really think you can pull this off? Like what exactly are you getting from this—and don't say cheap sweets."
At first, Adrien is a little bit taken aback by Nino's lack of support. But after listening more carefully, he realizes there's a certain slant to Nino's questioning, as if his friend is prodding to see just how serious he is about Marinette, fake relationship or not.
And he is serious, even if he doesn't quite know how to explain it yet. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there's the Marinette who rolls her eyes at Chat and the Marinette who sometimes stumbles over her sentences around Adrien, and he wants to figure out where they overlap.
Or maybe being Chat Noir has just conditioned him to have a soft spot for strong-minded girls with plans, no matter how convoluted those plans may be. If nothing else, Adrien could at least benefit from the experience. He's hardly one to think that all girls are the same, but any insight gleaned from dating Marinette could help significantly in his quest to woo Ladybug.
A bit of guilt pricks his chest at that thought. Does this count as infidelity? Is there even such a thing as fidelity in their arrangement? Is he allowed to talk to other girls? What if Marinette fake breaks up with him because he's a lousy fake boyfriend?
"...Adrien?" prompts Nino. "You still there, man?"
"Oh, god, Nino," he groans in response, dropping the basketball and covering his eyes with a hand, "I am in way over my head."
*.*.*.*.*
He seeks out Marinette first thing in the morning; she's already at her locker, waving a notebook around in one hand as she talks to Alya.
Adrien sneaks up behind her, slipping his hand into hers.
"A— Adrien!" reacts Marinette, jumping almost a foot into the air and nearly dropping her notebook.
"Morning, princess." Halfway through his wink, Adrien freezes. Oh, no. They didn't discuss pet names. What if Marinette hates them? Worse, what if she connects the dots—
Alya watches the two of them, smirking. " Well, " she declares, purposely projecting her voice, "it's nice to see you two finally being open about your relationship."
"Y— Yeah," says Marinette, who has recovered from gaping at Adrien. She looks up at him and smiles, seeming more at ease when she echoes, "It's nice."
They stand there for a few minutes longer, Alya and Marinette slipping back into their earlier conversation now that the disturbance caused by Adrien's appearance has resolved itself. It's awkward but not entirely uncomfortable; Marinette's palm is soft, though the callus on her thumb becomes obvious as she absentmindedly runs it back and forth across the back of his hand. Probably from pricking herself so many times with a needle, Adrien thinks.
He's not sure what to do with his other hand, though. He tries shoving it in his pocket, but it feels too much like one of his photo shoot poses, so he takes it out. Alya and Marinette do their best to involve him, but they keep flitting back to the same topic, the newest episode of some show that Adrien doesn't watch. (Pixie Girl, he files away for later.)
His boredom is short-lived, though for better or for worse, he can't tell.
"Chloe's here," he murmurs into Marinette's ear, squeezing her hand, eyes tracking the forceful path of a certain blonde.
"I know," she replies out of the corner of her mouth, squeezing back. When she sways closer to him, he gets a whiff of vanilla, and Adrien fights the urge to close his eyes and bury his nose in her neck.
"What should we do?"
"Nothing too flashy," instructs Marinette. "Just something simple, to show that we're obviously comfortable with each other."
"Like a kiss?" asks Adrien, thinking back to their contract.
"If you want." Marinette's eyes dart to the side, and Adrien realizes that Alya has conveniently disappeared.
"Okay." His heart beats a little faster as he places a hand on Marinette's shoulder. Should he just go for the lips? Somehow, in the midst of everyone else coming and going, it seems inelegant, too staged. A kiss on the cheek, then? Or is that too kindergarten? Do forehead kisses make him seem like a prude?
Marinette seems to sense his distress and pulls his hand off of her shoulder, tangling their fingers together instead. " Or you could just carry my books for me as we walk to class," she suggests, a teasing lilt to her voice.
Adrien reaches around her to pull out her history textbook, resting it in the crook of his arm. "After you, my lady," he gestures, regaining some of his confidence. As the two of them pass Sabrina and Chloe, he smiles to himself.
Crisis averted.
*.*.*.*.*
"So." Chloe corners him on the front steps immediately after school. Marinette has rushed home, something about not having started the project due tomorrow yet. "Are you and her," the blonde pauses, shuddering, " really dating?"
"Her name is Marinette," says Adrien, untangling himself from Chloe's arms, "and yes, we really are dating. We have been. For a while."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me, Adrikins," pouts Chloe. "After we've been friends for so long."
"Er, right. I just wasn't sure, um, how well you would take it," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
Chloe clasps her hands together and flutters her eyelashes at him. "You know I'll always support you, Adrien. So how long?"
"What?"
"Exactly how long have you two been dating?" prods Chloe, poking his chest.
On the one hand, Adrien wants to run as far away from this interrogation as possible. On the other, he needs practice rehearsing his and Marinette's cover story. And in a weird, twisted way, it feels good to talk about the fake history he and Marinette have conjured up, even if it's to Chloe.
"Since… midway through summer holiday," begins Adrien. "You know she does all that stuff for Jagged Stone now, and we bumped into each other during his concert—"
"Jagged Stone," repeats Chloe, wrinkling her nose. "How romantic."
"It really was," gushes Adrien, getting into it. "With everyone so close to each other and the flashing lights, we just started talking and I realized—"
"O- kay," says Chloe, holding out her hand to inspect her nails in a gesture that means she's moved on. "Enough about how you met. What about her favorite flower?"
"Favorite… flower?" Adrien repeats, floored.
"Yeah." Chloe sizes him up. "You've been dating for, what," she pauses to count the math off on her perfectly manicured fingertips, "five weeks, now? Surely you must know these things." She rests her cheek against her clasped hands, blinking at him innocently. Adrien is surprised Sabrina isn't somewhere nearby, recording the conversation.
"Yeah," he sweats. Think, Adrien, think. Chat Noir. Balcony. Veiny magenta petals. "Orchids," he blurts. "Marinette loves orchids."
Chloe looks at him doubtfully but doesn't question him, and it's then that Adrien realizes that she's unlikely to know Marinette's favorite flower, either. He presses the advantage, babbling, "She likes that they come in so many different varieties, and that she doesn't have to water them a ton."
Chloe opens her mouth, probably to spout something along the lines of "what a dumb reason", but Adrien is saved by the sight of his father's limousine pulling up to the curb. He breathes a sigh of relief; never has he been more grateful to see Gorilla.
"Got to go, Chloe. It was nice talking to you!" he says, dashing off. Chloe splutters behind him but manages to wave a sugar-sweet goodbye as they pull out of the curb. Adrien laughs when Sabrina appears mere moments later, her phone in hand.
"Eventful day, Mister Adrien?" grunts Gorilla, eyes focused on the road ahead.
Adrien disguises a snort. "You could say that."
*.*.*.*.*
Once he's at home, Adrien fires off a quick text before hopping into the shower.
Adrien: Question: what's your favorite flower?
Less than half an hour later, after toweling off his wet hair and flopping onto the couch, he picks up his phone to find several new messages:
Marinette: ooh well I like lilies
and gardenias smell nice
OH AND ORCHIDS!
wait
why
?
He fights back a grin, giving himself a mental pat on the back.
Adrien: Reasons.
His finger hovers over the send as he debates whether to add a winking face; he ends up deciding against it.
Marinette: fineeee
so what's up?
Adrien: Chloe got me today after school.
Marinette: oh boy
and?
Adrien: Told her our cover story. We're good. :)
Marinette: nice
!
Adrien: How's your project coming along?
Marinette: ughhhh
I'm taking a break
I can't believe you already finished yours
Adrien: Side effect of growing up with Nathalie breathing down my neck, I guess.
Hey, what's your favorite color?
Marinette: are we playing 20 questions or something?
green, I guess
what's yours?
Adrien: Blue. But not dark, more of a sky blue, like
Adrien slides off the couch and goes to his closet, fishing around for the scarf from his father. Snapping a photo, he sends it to Marinette.
Adrien: Like that.
There's a long pause. The little bubbles that indicate Marinette is typing appear and fade out, and after five minutes of silence, Adrien figures that she's probably gone back to work on her project. Eventually, though, his phone lights up again.
Marinette: yeah, I've seen you wear that scarf a lot!
it's from your dad, right?
Adrien: Yeah. Normally he gets me a nice pen for my birthday, but it's nice that he changed it up.
Marinette: hmm
what do you want for your birthday this year?
Adrien: You don't have to get me anything! My birthday's after our contract expires, anyways.
Marinette: so?
we'll still be friends, silly
Adrien: True.
I'll have to think about it.
What about you?
Marinette: chrono spacefighters 2!
Adrien: Why am I not surprised that you play that game…
Marinette: heehee
*.*.*.*.*
It's odd how quickly that first substantial text from him spirals into an endless conversation. Though he's considered Marinette a good friend for the past year, their conversations never ventured outside of the quotidian and typical. He never particularly delved into learning more about her and knew little more than these facts: that Marinette was a designer, her parents bakers, and her whole family some of the kindest people on this earth. Now, though, after five days of rapid back and forth, he knows, among other things: she blasts Jagged Stone's music while drawing but likes Air from Bach's Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D Major for sewing, hates peas in anything except for her mom's fried rice, and had to get stitches when she was really little because she tumbled down the stairs.
Adrien looks away from his phone briefly to make sure that no one has been calling for him, only for Raffaela, sitting across from him, to laugh. The Italian is a model herself, though not as visibly bothered by the daily stresses of the job as is her French counterpart. She perches idly on a divan, long, olive legs crossed and hands stretched out as someone does her nails. Adrien blushes. "What?"
Raffaela smiles slyly, replying, "You're very jumpy today." It's been only four months since she moved to the fashion capital of the world, yet somehow she's managed to grasp the ins and outs of Adrien's character and entire life story within that time span. She watches him with a scrutinizing but amused eye, interested to see how he defends himself.
"I'm not jumpy," he says sheepishly, "just… cautious."
"And because of what—your phone?" If Raffaela wasn't the one to say those words, it would almost have been as if Gabriel was scolding him. "I figured that Nino was talkative," she muses, "but this talkative?"
The blush coloring his cheeks deepens slightly as he murmurs, "I'm not talking to Nino."
"Oh?"
His eyes dart to his phone when it buzzes with a new text, fingers flying across the screen in response. Raffaela looks on in amusement, so piqued by this sudden spike in her friend's vibrancy that she nearly knocks her fingernails against each other. It's rare of him to express genuine happiness within the studio; she likes it immensely.
"Hey, lover boy," she prods, having guessed as much. Adrien's eyes blow wide, and he blubbers incoherently before his hair stylist complains that he is moving too much.
"I'm texting Marinette," he says finally, though not without giving her a pointed look. "You know, the girl you wrote an entire exposé on?"
Raffaela grins, waggles an eyebrow. "Taking those pictures was actually quite the experience. You could really tell that he was just dying to kiss her and that she wanted to do anything but."
"What makes you say that?" he asks, almost too quickly. He's willing to admit that under the guise of Chat Noir, his tendencies to flirt are more prominent than usual, but as for harboring any true romantic feelings for Marinette—well, not that she isn't wonderful, but it's simply out of the question. His heart is and only ever will be the property of one Miraculous Ladybug, and the fact that someone seems to think otherwise doesn't bode well for his efforts at all. (Not that Ladybug pays them much attention to start with.)
"My camera's zoom feature," Raffaela deadpans, then amends, "and their eyes." She looks away from her nails to hold his gaze. "There's a lot to see in a person's eyes," she murmurs. A semblance of knowing rests in her face's every contour, and it unsettles him, though only for a moment. Before long, she's engaged herself yet again in an inspection of her manicured nails, and any mention of the exposé is forgotten. Adrien is finally called for by his father's best photographer, and the models part ways, each posing for a different section of this month's Gabriel .
The photo shoot takes a few grueling hours, as per usual. Adrien sags his shoulders as he exits the studio; it's only four o'clock, and he's already beat. He has no idea how he's going to fare on his date—once every two weeks, to keep up the image—to the farmer's market with Marinette. In fact, when Raffaela comes up from behind and barely taps him on the shoulder, he jumps violently into the air.
"So," she asks, "what are you doing after this?"
"Meeting up with Marinette."
"First texts, now a date? This is certainly new."
"Not really, actually." Adrien pauses, considers his options before continuing, "See, we're dating."
Raffaela arches her eyebrow and giggles teasingly. "No wonder you were being so defensive earlier," she says. "It all makes sense now."
Of course, by this time, the guilt of it all has been eating at Adrien very, very quickly. Lying to Chloe is one thing, but to Raff? Aside from her gossiping tendencies, she's the first real friend he's been able to vent his occupational and familial frustrations to. Filling her innocent (yet certainly opportunistic) heart with lies seems to him like an incredibly wrong thing to do.
"Okay, well—we're not really dating," he says, "just 'dating'," and he makes sure to mark the word with air quotes. Raffaela blinks before folding her arms across her chest and eyeing him expectantly. Oh, yeah, Adrien muses silently, I definitely wasn't about to gain anything from lying to her.
He tries to fit as much of his and Marinette's initial conversation into the short walk from the studio's doors to his father's limousine. Gorilla stares at him all the while, but thankfully makes no motion to get Adrien into the car by force. As soon as Raffaela's figure is lost to shadow, the chauffeur turns the key in the ignition and speeds away in a direction opposite to that of the Agreste residence.
In the cushy interior of the limo, Adrien clasps his hands in his lap, gathering his energy. The afternoon might be long past him, but it feels like now is when his Saturday truly begins.
*.*.*.*.*
It took a lot of convincing from Nathalie, admittedly, for Gabriel Agreste to allow his son to idle around for one evening, but by some miraculous stroke of luck, she managed to secure her superior's approval, which is why Adrien finds himself heading to the farmer's market today. As an added advantage, the fact that Gabriel is aware of his newly budding "relationship" should only help with matters concerning Chloe, considering how much she tries to kiss up to his father.
Adrien knows that they are close when an amalgam of aromas filters in through the slit of his barely let down window. He closes his eyes and tilts his nose up, incredibly tempted to let it twitch. Plagg, tucked into the pocket of his shirt, inches out for an experimental sniff. The Kwami's eyes perk up almost instantly, and he whispers with excitement, "Oh, goodie!"
"Camembert?" Adrien asks, though he already knows the answer.
"Pounds of it," Plagg replies, humming contently just as they pull up to the front of the market. There are dozens upon dozens of stands littering either side of this street in Paris, and Adrien drinks as many of them in as he can. He mumbles a distracted "goodbye" to Gorilla before stepping to fully face the market. It is almost too much for him, this picture of culinary splendor, and he nearly forgets that he has to call Marinette and find out where she is.
"Hey," she breathes when he finally remembers.
"Hey. Where are you?"
"By the cheese stands, actually," Marinette laughs. "My parents need a few varieties."
Adrien blinks. "Your parents are here?"
"Yeah… I know it's not ideal but—"
"No, no, that's fine!" he says, smiling to himself. "I like your parents."
"Oh, okay. Should I hang up?"
"Uh, yeah! Yeah. I'll meet you there. Bye." He ends the call with his heart all in a tizzy because he's about to spend the rest of his day with two of the greatest parents he's ever met. Not that this doesn't put a damper on their image as an exclusive couple—as Chloe would probably say, who goes on a date and lets their parents third wheel? —but the opportunity to spend time doing something that's actually normal is heartlifting. Adrien runs a hand through his hair and blinks his eyes a few times before setting off, a newfound skip laced into his step.
"Adrien, over here!" calls out one very excited Sabine Cheng a few minutes later, her arm waving wildly in the air in an attempt to get his attention. Adrien waves sheepishly back while Marinette does her best to quell her mother's elation. Tom, in the meanwhile, stands off to the side inspecting an endless assortment of cheeses, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he finally settles on a pepper jack and a mascarpone, Marinette's father turns to face Adrien with a similar gleam burning in his eye.
"It's good to see you, Adrien," he says wholeheartedly, shaking the boy's hand. Marinette's mother, still a little jumpy, rushes up excitedly afterward, almost refusing to let the model's hand go.
"I'm surprised Marinette didn't tell us that you were dating sooner," she begins to ramble, "considering how she's had a cr—"
"Hey, Adrien," interjects Marinette, grabbing onto his arm and then rushing to let out the most incoherent sentence he's ever heard in his life: "I-think-I-really-want-to-go-look-at-some-cabbages-now-don't-you-of-course-you-do-now-bye!" She tugs him in the direction of the produce stands, to Plagg's disappointment. The poor Kwami has to hide a lamenting moan in the fabric of Adrien's pocket, though his partner taps his head encouragingly as a promise of Camembert later.
"So…" he offers, "cabbages."
"Yeah," she breathes. "You a fan?"
Adrien smiles, embarrassed by what he says next—"as far as Avatar goes, I guess"—but less nervous when Marinette snorts into her hands and giggles. "Me, too," she offers. Her eyes are a little downturned and she's holding her hands behind her back and there's this uncertain smile that's curling along her lips and he doesn't know why any of this is important, just that it's in his direct line of vision and he wants to put words to it. (Maybe this is the inner model persona speaking to him.) Adrien gestures to the rest of the street in a flourish before offering his hand, which Marinette gladly takes.
"Is there anything you like in particular?" he asks.
"Not really," she answers. "Why do you ask?"
"I was thinking I could buy you something." When she widens her eyes at him in surprise, he adds, "If that's alright, of course. I just thought it might fit the image."
"Oh. Oh, of course." She shakes her head, laughs. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"
"That's not true," Adrien counters. He looks up to find the leaves of a honey locust tree falling down to whisper along the angles of his face. Their elegant fall dance enraptures him for some reason, and he catches a few with his fingers, turns around and splays them out against Marinette's palm. She jumps at first, but settles down when he takes her hands and tries to hold her steady. A sly smile inches its way up her lips.
"You know, you're acting awfully romantic for a fake boyfriend."
He grins, leans a little closer. "I thought that was the whole point."
"Mm, true, but…"
"But what?"
Her gaze flickers up to his, hesitant. "But you're about to kiss me, aren't you?" Adrien can tell that it's difficult for her to say those words; the wild pulse of her wrist is a testament to it. And it's not that she's not good at this whole fake dating thing; after all, she did manage to survive every other morning of this past week in school. Marinette is just, if anything, a little nervous and in need of steadying by a certain someone—by him.
"First date, first kiss," he muses, "it makes for a good combination."
Marinette rolls her eyes. "Who knew you were so clever?" she teases in return, making clear reference to their "real" first kiss, in the hallway back on Monday. The banter is almost reminiscent of what highlights his rare midnight get-togethers with her: the ones where's she's more taunting than teasing and there's a mask to cover half of his face. In fact, if he weren't so caught up in the moment, he could half say that this is exactly what their star-studded, balcony conversations are like. The thought pricks at his throat, makes him question it all over again, but then Marinette's eyes are on him, waiting in anticipation.
Adrien swallows and licks his lips. He can't exactly back down now, but there's a part of his conscience that is trying to pull him back, telling him that adding a kiss on a whim—rather than to convince key witnesses—is terribly selfish. Does he really want to do that to Marinette? Does he really want to leave her with just the short end of the stick? (He tries to push away the thought that, in a way, she's doing just the same with him.)
"My father, for one," he jokes instead, and she laughs, before whispering with heavy breath, "So we're really doing this?" Her eyes are half-lidded in a blend of bashfulness and tension.
Adrien gulps. "Uh-huh."
"O-kay."
He leans in further, brushes her nose and tilts his head like the couples in movies. Marinette parts her lips and moves in tandem, and the whole world feels as if it's about to shake with the realization of this l—
"Well, well, well," comes Alya Cesaire's voice from the left, and the two instantly break apart. "If it isn't our little 'lovebirds' trying to stir up some action." Nino stands at her side, hand scratching awkwardly at his neck. Clearly, he isn't as willing to intrude upon the intimate moment as is his ex-girlfriend. The brunette walks up to the blushing pair and grins cheekily before snapping a picture.
"For the memories," she explains, when they both gawk at her in shock.
"Alya, don't you dare do what I think you're about to do," threatens Marinette.
"What," taunts the brunette, "you don't want for the world to have proof of your love for each other?" Marinette groans and runs a hand down her face before looking back at Adrien apologetically. "Do you mind if I…?" she asks tentatively, pointing in Alya's direction.
Adrien waves his hand. "Nah, go ahead," he says, "I'll take Nino." He can tell that his best friend is relieved to hear those words by the breath of relief that instantly escapes him. Adrien wonders with amusement how Alya managed to drag Nino out here in the first place. The two are on good speaking terms, thankfully, but as for being alone with each other, the atmosphere is usually more punctuated by a wavering tension than it is by amity now that they've broken up. He inches closer to Nino once the girls have walked a ways off and whispers, "So, what's up with you and Alya?"
"Nothing much," Nino mumbles, cramming his hands into his pockets. Though he's not as tensed up as a few seconds before, his gaze keeps darting to Alya's retreating silhouette on the sidewalk.
Adrien is used to thinking of love as a grand gesture; it feels like it should take something momentous to break two people apart. Some shocking secret, some strange twist of fate. But the way Alya and Nino had ended midway through last year had been more of a whimper, a soft but firm "I'm just a little too busy with everything, you know?" Nino had been forlorn for a while, but he'd bounced back pretty quickly. Watching his best friend now, though, Adrien realizes that it wasn't such a clean cut. Some feelings only bend, not break.
"Well, you still like her," Adrien tests, "and that's something, right?"
Nino blinks, caught off-guard, before answering, "I guess." He kicks an empty can across the walk, only adding to the dejected picture. Adrien rolls his eyes and decides to steer the conversation in another direction, one that will immensely please a certain four-by-four creature of particular tastes. Marinette and Alya are nowhere to be seen by this time, but maybe that's for the best. All in all, it's a good day for Adrien. A great day. He got to spend some time with the ideal parents and mess around with his "girlfriend", and now he's turning the tables and giving back for the good he got to receive. Adrien throws an arm around Nino's shoulder and noogies the boy through his cap before pulling them back into the disarray of the market, heading back towards the cheese stands.
"Now tell me something, Nino—what's your opinion on Camembert?"
