BEFORE MARINETTE COULD HIT the ground, she felt a strong pair of arms wrapping around her waist, steadily hoisting her back up until she wasn't in any imminent danger of eating a face-full of concrete.

"You okay?"

Her eyes had been squeezed shut in anticipation of the fall, but hearing that familiar voice immediately made them snap back open. Her heartbeat went into overdrive when a pair of green eyes stared back at her in concern.

"I — uh — fall?" she sputtered helplessly, her eyes unwilling to look away from none other than Adrien Agreste's gaze. Her mouth went dry at the realization of how close her face was pressed against his chest and the way his arms were still looped around her.

If she really wanted to, all she needed to do was tilt her head back, then roll up onto her toes, and she would practically be kissing him on the spot.

She was pretty sure a trickle of drool was making its way out of the corner of her mouth, but luckily, he stepped back once her heel-clad feet were stable enough to stand.

"That was a close one," he said, laughing a little. "Crazy high heels, huh?"

Marinette managed to honk out an awkward laugh as she smoothed down the front of her dress. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Alya shooting her a sly grin and a quick thumbs up before she disappeared up the rest of the stairs, bright hair snapping behind her in the breeze.

"Heels are just so complicated," Marinette said at last, giving herself a mental pat on the back for not stumbling over the words.

Adrien nodded, a smile brightening up his face. "If you want, I can help you walk up the rest of the way. It's no biggie."

Marinette's face split into what she hoped wasn't a creepy I-will-go-wherever-you-take-me grin as she straightened her back, accepting the arm Adrien offered her.

As they neared the front doors, she made an attempt to follow through with what Alya said — heels first, and then toes? Or, wait, was it toes first? — while subtly trying to get a whiff of Adrien's jacket. He smelled like clean laundry detergent and something pleasantly expensive; a hint of cologne that almost made her knees buckle. She leaned in closer, wishing she could bottle up the intoxicating scent forever and keep it in her room with all her other Adrien-related items.

In a completely non-creepy way, of course.

"Are... are you sniffing me?" Adrien asked, his head jerking to the side to look down at her in surprise.

Caught red-handed, she froze. She snatched her arm away from him, locking them behind her back. "Ah, ha, sniff? No, of course not! I was... um..." she twisted around, desperately searching for something to distract him with until her eyes located Nino bounding up in their direction.

"Hey, Nino!" she said with all the enthusiasm she could muster. "It's great to see you!"

He gave her a strange look as he made his way towards them, his DJ kit tucked under one arm at an uncomfortable looking angle. "Hey, guys. What's up?"

He and Adrien started to do their complicated fist-bump-slash-handshake greeting. Taking this as her only chance to make a quick getaway, Marinette wobbled up the last two steps and staggered inside the school. She didn't look back and continued weaving her way through the pack of bodies swarming by the entryway until she reached the auditorium.

On impulse, she made sure there wasn't anything embarrassing sticking onto her clothes, inhaled a deep breath through her nose, and strode inside the darkened room. There were balloons bobbing against the ceiling everywhere she looked, and streamers exploding with pink colours — courtesy of Chloè's bad taste in party decor, of course — dangled between them. The disco ball was already spinning, spilling flashy blots of silver lights all across the rapidly increasing body of students. The music had yet to be turned on, since Nino was in charge of being the DJ for the night.

Stealing another cursory glance over her shoulder, Marinette hurried toward Alya, who was craning her neck around the room with her cellphone held out at arms length.

"Do you think Ladybug might show up, Mar?"

I sure hope she doesn't have to, she thought silently before giving an indifferent shrug.

"She better. I want to — oh, hey, did you score any points with lover boy on the stairs yet?"

"Nope," Marinette replied. "He caught me sniffing him."

For a moment, her best friend only stared at her. Then, realizing that her leg wasn't being pulled, erupted into a peal of laughter, nearly collapsing against the table of appetizers and falling into a bowl overflowing with punch.

"You know what?" she said in-between fits of giggles, "I should make a documentary about your entire life! You could get internet famous, don't you think?"

Marinette only gave a small eye roll. "Very funny. You should be a comedian."

Her laugher barely subsided. "Honestly, couldn't you have complimented him instead? Like a normal person?"

"Compliment him? He's a model, Alya!" Marinettes arms flapped through the air as she tried to make her point. "He probably gets a hundred compliments every day. I just want to have a normal conversation with him without spewing awkward things."

"Well, you better think of something to talk to him about. He's just entered and already getting manhandled by Chloè."

Marinette's focus snapped toward the entrance again. Chloe, looking perfectly put together and glamorous in a lemon-yellow dress as ever, was looping her arm around Adrien's and chatting up a storm with him while leading him further into the room.

Marinette groaned. "I knew I shouldn't have come."

"Nope," Alya said, pulling Marinette back before she could retreat. "I'm not going to let you beat yourself over one guy. You worked hard on your outfit, and now you're going to have some fun, with or without lover boy."

Slowly, Marinette found herself nodding, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach dissipating. Alya was right. She had poured her whole heart into making her outfit as innovative as possible, and she couldn't allow herself to become hysterical.

"Lead the way," she said at last, managing a small smile. She followed behind Alya just as Nino started up the pounding music.

"Don't stab someone with your heels," Alya quipped, dancing out of harms way. "Or get punch on your dress."

Marinette could feel the beat vibrating all the way from her toes to the tips of her fingers. Still unsteady on her heels, she shuffled forward in time to the beat, feeling a laugh bubbling up from her chest as Alya began doing a number of complicated dance moves with her arms wildly arcing in the air.

"You look like a deranged disco queen, Al."

"Can't hear you!" Alya shouted over the bass. With a wide grin, she did an elaborate twirl, steadily maneuvering her elbows away from those holding cups containing punch.

Marinette gingerly took another step, followed by another, until she decided that she had finally come to terms with her heeled feet. Feeling compelled to join in with her best friend's overly exaggerated whirling, she let her shoulders relax and swayed along to the music, weaving through the writhing mass of bodies in her haste to keep up with Alya.

It didn't come off as a surprise when her gracefulness only lasted about five minutes.

She'd managed to keep up with Alya this far, but now her eyes darted around the room nervously when she realized she'd unknowingly ended up right in the center, the colourful strobes of light stabbing almost painfully at her eyes. There were kids starting to pair off already.

To her left, she could make out Chloè lugging Adrien all across the overly shiny floor with what she supposed was her signature death grip.

Marinette bristled at the sight, suppressing the urge to march over there and sink the hilt of her heel into Chloè's infuriatingly smug face.

She stood her ground, though, hands balling into fists as the techno beat decidedly shifted into a slow song. Mentally, she chanted a soothing mantra:

Must.

Suppress.

Homicidal.

Tendencies.

There. Now she just needed to get further back in order to push away the image of Chloè snatching her future husband.

"Let's see if there's anything to eat at the refreshment table," she muttered to herself. She spun around, accidentally ramming an elbow into a girl's face in the process.

"Sorry!" she squeaked. She made to move forward, but only ended up slamming her shoulder against someone else's side. Another apology slipped past her lips. Within taking ten steps towards the refreshment table, she had angered more than five people by ramming at least some part of her body against theirs, and she tried not to wince when she felt their skewering glares bouncing off her back. In a nutshell, this dance was really not meant for someone as gawky and ill-coordinated as her.

With her heels stabbing at the ground, Marinette hurried to the table of appetizers, loading a whole pile of powdered beignets into her arms. If she was going to be stranded in a room full of sweaty bodies and ear-deafening music, then she might as well keep her hunger sated. Besides, growing up with a father who owned a bakery had given her a sweet-tooth that had uncontrollable urges.

Cramming a whole beignet into her mouth, she made sure no one was looking before lifting the side of the floor-length tablecloth and ducking underneath it. The music sounded almost muffled in here, and even though the space was a bit narrow, a sigh of relief escaped her almost immediately. She kicked off her heels and shoved them to the side.

"Thwese are heavenly," she mumbled around a mouthful of fried dough. She glanced down at Tikki, who had popped her head out from her small purse.

"Aren't you going to go back out there?"

Marinette licked a powdery finger. "What would be the point, Tikki? I don't think dances are really my thing, anyway."

"Don't be so sure! The night is still young, isn't it?"

Marinette shrugged, popping in another bite to avoid answering her Kwami.

Tikki shook her head. "You worked so hard on your dress."

"It doesn't matter. I'll probably find a better use for it some other time."

She was just about to receive another response from Tikki when they both heard the shuffling of feet close by.

Marinette pried her purse open, hissing, "Hide, Tikki!"

The Kwami's head disappeared from view in the span of two seconds, and Marinette hastily zipped the tiny purse up in time to see a hand lifting up the bottom of the tablecloth.

Her mouth opened to protest, but shut closed when the figure ducked inside without warning, landing right next to her bare feet.

She stared at Adrien with a slack jaw, almost choking on her powdery bite of doughnut.

He gave a nervous glance over his shoulder, then breathed out a sigh of relief. He didn't seem to notice Marinette curled up with her chin tucked against her knees until she made a horrifyingly squeaky noise.

His eyes widened when they met hers. "Woah! Sorry. I didn't know anyone else would be here." He looked over his shoulder once more as a sheepish look crossed his features. "I'm trying to hide from Chloè. She's kind of, um, overbearing."

Marinette blinked, furiously trying to force her mouthful of beignets down. "Huwwo," she managed to get out with a dorky little wave before swallowing the powdery dessert in one large gulp. She licked her lips and swiped around her mouth, praying she didn't have any of the residue on her face.

This was her second time being this close to him today, but she didn't know whether to feel giddy or mortified enough to dig a hole for herself. Given the current circumstances, the latter seemed more like the appropriate reaction.

She lowered her knees, revealing the remaining pile of beignets that she had collected in her lap.

Adrien abruptly dissolved into that cute, boyish laughter of his when she tentatively offered him one, having no idea of what else to do. He accepted it and took a huge bite, finishing it off in a couple of seconds without a second thought.

Marinette began to wonder why Adrien eating a stupid doughnut was so attractive.

Then she wondered if the fried dough had fried her own brain as well.

"So, why are you underneath the table? Are you hiding from someone too?"

Marinette bunched up her shoulders into a shrug, almost baffled at the prospect of having a conversation (of sorts) with Adrien under a table with no more than an inch keeping their legs from grazing against each other.

"I, yeah. I guess. I just don't think dances are my kind of thing." She tried laughing it off. "I'm really clumsy, if you haven't noticed."

He rubbed the back of his neck, as if unsure how to proceed, but a small smile still flitted over his face. "Not really, unless you're counting the dress."

"You... you noticed my dress?"

"Sure. Did you make it yourself?"

By this point, Marinette was so flustered she didn't know what to say, only managing to open her mouth and sputtering out unintelligible words. "Oh, um. Dress. Yes. Blue."

He stared at her.

"Blue. Dress is mine blue! I made it!"

"Oh. well. Either way, it looks great." Now it seemed to be his turn to look a bit flustered. He glanced away, pretending to dust off white powder from his clothes.

Marinette's only form of acknowledgment consisted of a mere bop of her head.

She almost laughed — it was unbelievable how awkward they were. She didn't know what to make of it, which made her all the more frustrated. If it was Chat Noir, she found herself musing, he'd never be like this. In fact, the word awkward probably wouldn't even be in his vocabulary.

They started to eat in silence, and when only one beignet remained, he halved it, giving her the larger piece.

He tossed his bite into his mouth before leaning back, letting a lock of golden hair bounce against his forehead. "I guess one thing we have in common is our sweet tooth, huh?"

She nodded absently, too busy staring at him to come up with something coherent. An internal tug of war occupied her mind for a brief moment — grow some sense and ask him for a dance, or continue carrying on a nonsensical conversation that made her want to gouge her eyes out?

She nearly grunted with annoyance. Of all the boys she could've had a crush on, it just had to be the most unattainable boy to ever exist. If only he hadn't given her his stupid umbrella that first day, and if only he hadn't been so unbelievably nice, and if only he didn't look so attractive in a tuxedo that she wanted to rip it off completely and —

She shook her head. Nope. Creepy Marinette would not exist anymore. She would, for once, become level-headed. Cool as a cucumber. Totally in control.

Flicking her eyes over to him, she made sure to hold his gaze as she said, "So I was wondering if, well, you know. You would like to dance? With me? If you want, I mean."

Holding her breath, she waited for him to speak, to belt out an excuse as to why exactly he couldn't sacrifice a few minutes of waltzing around with her while she unceremoniously stepped on his toes from time to time, but a loud crash startled them enough to crawl out from beneath the table.

Standing upright and dusting off the front of her dress, Marinette realized that the whole room was suddenly being blanketed in darkness. Starting from the front of the room, lights were flickering off one by one as people were overtaken by panic, including Chloè, who resorted to screaming up at the ceiling, demanding that someone immediately come and explain to her what was happening.

"Ridiculous," Marinette could hear her over the roar of panic-stricken kids, "utterly ridiculous!"

"Why is everyone so freaked out?" Adrien asked, but Marinette could only give a confused shrug as she surveyed the room in search of Alya.

The music had long since tuned out, but lights were still popping out. She could make out the sound of sparks and wires being fried from above, and she immediately started backing away, already wracking her brain for an excuse to tell Adrien.

He seemed to be doing the same thing, though, taking several steps towards the exit with new-found determination taking over his features. Before he turned around completely, he glanced over at Marinette.

"I have to go to the bathroom really bad. Must be something in those beignets," he told her with a small laugh. "But about that dance? I'll take a rain-check on it if you don't mind."

Without another word, he disappeared between the throng of students. Marinette stood there, dazed, and she would've done so all night, trying to remember her name, but then the lights above her head gave out. The entire room was suddenly encased in pitch-black darkness.

She spun on her bare feet and bounded across the length of the room, opting for the corner between the girls' restrooms.

"Tikki, spots on!"

.

.

I know this was a bit uneventuful haha. I just want my kitty cat to show up already.