xox
II. Duet
xox
"Thanks for the help, M-marinette," the red-headed cellist said shyly, standing up as she did.
"No problem, Nathanaël." Marinette smiled at him as she picked up her sheet music and slid them back into her folder. The timid boy smiled back at her from behind his fringe, laying down his bow and leaning his instrument against the wall.
"I have to go now, but I'll send you the transcriptions tonight."
"Oh, that's not necessary, your handwritten ones are perfect—"
"No no, I insist," she persisted, gathering up her things in her arms and heading for the door. "Let me make it up to you for having to cut our rehearsal short, which again I'm sorry for by the way—"
"No, I understand—"
"I mean, you deserve polished work, not my chicken scratches." She was half out the door, having pushed it open by leaning against it. She held it open with a foot.
"So sorry again, gotta go! À plus!" She gave him another apologetic smile before ducking out the door, which heavily creaked shut.
"...your handwriting is far prettier than chicken scratches," Nathanaël sighed, gazing at the door with a wistful expression. He sat back down on the bench and, checking his watch, decided to practice for an hour more before going home.
He had only gone through half of the song when he heard a knock on the door. He stopped and looked up to see a blonde head poking through the half-opened door.
"Did you write that?"
"Euh, no," the cellist replied, a little bewildered at the question.
"I was thinking it kinda sounded like Yiruma but for strings, and with something else I can't put my finger on," the intruder surmised.
The redhead couldn't help grinning. "That's because I doubt you've heard of her."
Marinette finally took the time to pause and breathe after locking the door to her dressing room. She leaned against it, panting heavily, as she checked her phone.
"Okay, I've got seven minutes, should be enough."
She dropped her purse on the chair and walked to the closet, picking up a towel on the way to pat the sweat off her face and neck. She opened the cabinet doors, revealing an array of red and black outfits inside.
"Showtime."
Chat Noir strutted down the hallway, happily humming "Nobody but You" to himself. Sure, his mask hid half his face, but even as he was a celebrity among celebrities at the Agence des Étoiles Montantes, he still turned heads.
Since the only thing he had scheduled for the day was an early afternoon meeting, he had chosen to keep it simple. Of course he had to keep the signature cat ears and tail belt, but he kept his black jacket open to reveal a simple white shirt, and his skinny jeans ended in black Chuck Taylors. He had managed to get a pair with green highlights, a find he was particularly proud of.
And so he worked the corridors like a runway, with a confident stride and a K-pop tune in his head, until he spotted her.
Her red ballet flats were silent on the polished floor, but even in her silence her presence was magnetic, effortlessly drawing everyone's eyes to her and keeping them there. Ladybug had chosen to keep it simple too, with a white, sleeveless top, its whiteness broken only by the little red and black loose tie flowing out from under the collar. The top was tucked into a red and black spotted skirt that ended just above her knees. Her raven hair was done up in a simple high bun held together by a thin red ribbon, and although a few wispy strands escaped to frame her pretty face it gave Chat Noir a clear view of the back of her neck whenever she turned her head. Her exquisite legs were bare, and Chat Noir remarked to himself that she was rather petite.
'I should take her out to lunch sometime. Many times. Also dinner. And breakfast. Tea and cake—'
"Hey, chaton, it's not polite to stare."
He realized Ladybug was suddenly standing right in front of him, her eyes smiling behind her spotted mask and her lips curved up into what looked like it was about to erupt into laughter at the next moment. He grinned and straightened up.
"Forgive this silly kitty, milady." He bowed smoothly. "But I daresay nobody in the area could resist your charms."
"You flatter me." Her smile was playful but Chat Noir thought he detected a slight shade of pink creeping out from under the mask. "I assume you were on your way to conference room 215?"
"Been stalking me, milady? I'm flattered as well."
"In your dreams, minot."
"I would offer you my arm, but I'm afraid the rejection would be too much for my poor kitten heart." He pretended to sigh sadly as she turned to walk with him.
"Would this be too much for your kitten heart?" he heard her ask, and when he looked down at her in surprise she grinned mischievously and winked, hooking a hand around his elbow.
Chat Noir was taken aback, to put it lightly—Ladybug had always either ignored his flirting or straight out shot him down. But then he heard a passerby gasp, and guessed that she must be doing it for the publicity. He could already see the tabloid headlines: "Chat Noir and Ladybug: Dating Or Just Close Friends?"
So he decided to play along, capturing the hand on his elbow with one of his.
"Not this," he purred, batting his eyelashes and leaning close as he held her hand captive so she wouldn't pull away. "But a kiss from milady might."
"In your dreams, chaton," she said with a laugh, pushing him away with a finger on his nose. He found himself grinning, not minding in the least.
'Ah, there's my Ladybug.' He might even have been a little relieved—in addition to being a little disappointed.
Chat Noir instantly regretted not being fast enough to open the door before she did, unhooking her hand from his elbow. She stepped in first, finding their talent manager already in the meeting room.
"Good, you're both on time," Nathalie Sanscoeur remarked, standing up as they entered. She nodded in response to Ladybug's "good afternoon" and Chat Noir's "heya", motioning for them to sit across the table from her. The pop-rock artist in black leaned back in his seat, stretching out his legs under the table as she took her seat beside him, her back straight. It gave him a perfect view of the back of her exposed neck.
"Well, as I separately mentioned to you two on the day of the charity concert," Nathalie began, resting her elbows on the table to lean forward slightly. "The Agence has decided that the next step for your careers would be to pair up for an album and, should it do well enough, a possible nationwide tour.
"In addition to the two singles each that you have released—'Spots On' and 'Lucky Charm' for Ladybug, 'Claws Out' and 'Cataclysm' for Chat Noir—we will need seven more songs to complete the album.
"Ladybug, you told me you had two or three in the works, didn't you?"
"Yes," the masked popstar affirmed with a nod. "I'll be submitting demos of the first two by the end of the week."
"Good, good." Nathalie couldn't help a small smile of approval. "Then you only need to make the third one a duet, and then work on three more with Chat here." She then turned her attention towards the blonde boy, missing the subtle twitch in her female talent's features.
"Chat Noir, I know that song writing is not your...not your strongest suit," she began, ignoring the pout that was his reaction. "However we think that not only will it not be fair to have Ladybug do all the work, it will also be good for you as an artist to take this as a learning experience."
"Alright, got it." He straightened up, leaning forward to rest his chin on a hand and look at his now-partner. "I look forward to learning from my new teacher." He flashed her a grin.
"I appreciate the consideration," his fellow masked idol began, addressing Nathalie and ignoring Chat Noir. "But I would just like to express that I would not have minded the workload, as I believe I could have handled it.
"That being said," she continued, before either Nathalie or Chat Noir could cut in. "I am glad for the opportunity to collaborate with another artist, so we will do our best, won't we, Chat Noir?" She gave him a smile that he thought was just subtly threatening, and maybe a few notches sexier than usual.
Nathalie nodded and gave them a small smile of her own. "Good. Now, for the nitty-gritty details."
Marinette sometimes thought that her mask made her feel more powerful, more in control than without it, specially in situations like the one she found herself in right now.
Internally, she was reeling: a new partnership, an additional four songs to make after she finishes the three on her hands, recordings for those songs, the music videos Nathalie mentioned, the undetermined number of TV appearances and commercials they will have to shoot to promote the album—and that's not even considering the possibility of a tour, not to mention student duties on the side.
But as Ladybug, rising star and pop idol, she sat straight-backed and boldly met the gaze of her new partner from across the table, the expression on her face one of disbelief with a slight shade of disgust.
"Excuse me?"
Chat Noir shrugged and made an all-too-innocent face. "What? You can't have been planning to keep your mask on all the time, were you? At least not while we work."
The new pair had been left to themselves in the small meeting room, Nathalie having "other things" on her schedule, and the duo had agreed to take some time to discuss their new situation. Or at least, Ladybug wanted to discuss collaboration, and Chat Noir wanted to discuss "collaboration".
Ladybug took a deep breath. "Chat Noir, look, I don't know what the Agence told you when you first put on your mask, but I am under contract to never reveal my, erm, mild-mannered secret identity, except to Nathalie, which is necessary seeing as she's my talent manager."
"Hmm, I don't recall seeing that paragraph in mine," the green-eyed boy remarked thoughtfully, trying to recall the many papers he had signed. He shrugged after a moment's thought. "Oh well, they probably didn't think to include it, in which case I am totally free to—"
"No!"
Ladybug was suddenly reaching across the table, a hand capturing one of his in a tight, almost desperate grip. Chat Noir returned her intense blue gaze with one that was both puzzled and astonished.
"Don't." She continued, and Chat Noir couldn't decide if she was commanding or pleading. "Don't remove your mask."
"Ladybug?"
"It's better this way." She then released his hand, and slipped back onto her seat, sighing as if that burst of energy wore her out. "Neither of us should know who the other is, specially now that we're working as partners."
"Why?"
She met his eye, and was that slight bit surprised to find the usual flirty and playful Chat Noir replaced with a serious young man in a black mask and cat ears.
"I like to keep my work separate from my personal life."
Chat Noir stared. He was not satisfied with that explanation—it felt like there was more to it. But he was a gentleman; he was not going to push it any more than he already had.
"Fine, if that's what milady wishes."
"Good."
"You'd fall head over heels in love with me the moment you saw my face, anyway." He crossed his arms and grinned, wagging his eyebrows at her.
"You wish." The corner of her lips twitched into a small smile. In spite of everything she honestly hoped to get along with him, and a part of her had been afraid that her actions would ruin any potential friendship.
"So, three songs written by me, three songs by us, and—don't think I missed it, I can count," she resumed the discussion, bringing out her phone's note-taking app. "When she first informed me she had said seven songs, but today she only mentioned six I was gonna be working on, so I presume Nathalie means you to write one too?"
"Euh, yes." Chat Noir thought about his unfinished song but decided against telling her about it.
'Hey, a cat can keep secrets too.'
"I sing songs and play music, I don't write them—that's what I told Nathalie at least," he lied smoothly, shrugging. "But you know how she is, she says I gotta grow as an artist, so she wants me to not only have you tutor me but also to take the exam. Which means write a song solo."
"Hmm." Ladybug's mask wrinkled to follow her furrowed eyebrows. Chat Noir let her have a moment, thinking that even her thoughtful face was adorable. Finally her eyes focused on him again.
"Well, I think I know how we can work on this. But you'll have to work with me."
"Just say the word, pardner."
Marinette was exhausted. Running from school to the Agence, the draining meeting with her new and excitable partner, and then having to run back to catch the last class for the day—it took a fair amount of willpower to not just ditch everyone and escape to her and Adrien's garden—
'Wait. Why am I thinking of the garden now? Oh, right. I was trying to tune her out.'
"Are you listening?" Chloé's shrill voice invaded her ears.
"Yes, yes, I got it," Marinette smiled halfheartedly and nodded. "You hate jumping dynamics, the key of A-flat, and I should make sure to balance the song between you and Adrien."
Chloé nodded, pleased. Then she hooked an arm around Adrien's elbow and sidled up close to him, batting her eyelashes. Adrien leaned away slightly, his smile stiff.
"I mean, normally the singer should be made to shine, and the pianist merely accompaniment, but Adrikins here is something special, isn't he?"
"Chloé, it's been three years since my last competition—"
"Tut, tut," the blonde girl held up a manicured finger to his lips, and he had to close his mouth. "Don't be so modest, Adrikins dear, you know we'd look really good on stage—prima soprano and piano prodigy, don't you see? Let's just hope Marinette here comes up with a piece worthy of us."
"These are my grades too, you know," Marinette reminded her, an eyebrow twitching with irritation. "So rest assured I'll do my best."
"Good, very good." Chloé nodded, satisfied for a moment. She patted Marinette on the shoulder.
"Well, I've got some practice to put in, and I should go now before somebody mistakes my music room for theirs, so later!" She waved her fingers at the student composer and blew a kiss at the blonde boy standing beside her, and then she was out the door, phone in hand.
"Sabrina? Yes, where are you? I'm already on my way—"
"She's, well, she's quite a handful but she isn't so bad, really," Adrien assured Marinette, his expression apologetic.
"A little attitude adjustment would do her good," Marinette remarked dryly, before remembering too late whom she was talking to. "I mean, no offense, I know you've been friends since you were kids—"
"Don't worry about it," he said with a sheepish chuckle, a hand coming up to scratch his blonde head. "I know better than anyone else how draining she can be."
The composer felt a pang in her chest, and she wondered if it was due to him basically saying he knew Chloé best. In the next moment though, she had to keep her expression together when the piano prodigy turned to her.
"Well, the afternoon is young and I think I need a nap—shall we go to our secret garden?" He couldn't deny it, at least to himself; contrary to the stressful atmosphere Chloé seemed to radiate, he found the raven-haired girl's presence oddly soothing. He could never fall asleep in the chatty blonde's company.
'Oh wow he's smiling at me it's such a beautiful smile he's adorable those eyes are so green—'
"Y-yes, sure, I , euh, I could try to start on the piece for you and Chloé."
"Alrighty then, let's be off."
"By the way, Marinette, thanks for being our composer." Adrien glanced at Marinette as they made their way through the garden.
"No need to thank me, A-adrien." His name felt heavy on her tongue. Tasted delicious, but heavy. "It was a collaboration project whose groups were decided on by our department heads, I wouldn't have been able to refuse if I wanted to maintain my grades."
'Why does it feel like today I've been doing nothing but dealing with collaborations?' Marinette thought, reflecting briefly on the other new partnership she had to agree to earlier in the day.
"—thank you, I mean I see how passionate you are about what you do," Adrien was saying, a wistful note in his voice. "You like what you do, and you do it well—I heard Nathanaël practicing that piece you made for him, and he let me look at the quartet you arranged for him and his friends, not to mention the violin and viola duet. Chloé may think that the singer and musician are the stars of the show, but really we will not be doing much aside from interpreting what you write—the playwright to our actors, puppet master to our marionettes."
"You think too highly of me." Marinette looked away, hiding the small smile on her lips and the pink tinge on her cheeks.
They found the pavilion empty again. The two music students each took a bench, sitting across from each other. Adrien continued to talk.
"It's really admirable, I think. I hate hearing myself say this, but you've probably heard about me, right? How I started playing the piano when I was very young—I learned to read music before I even learned the alphabet—and how I was winning competitions left, right, and center, even on national and international levels, but then I suddenly stopped three years ago."
Marinette nodded, part of her wondering why she was being told all of this. "I remember hearing that you had stopped so you could concentrate on your academics."
"Hah," Adrien snorted. "That's the story they gave the world. The truth is—"he looked away, focusing on a little pink flower—"I hated it all. I hated the piano, I hated music."
Marinette waited, unsure of what to say. She was afraid to talk, anxious she might say the wrong thing. The blonde boy sighed and leaned back on the bench, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He could still remember how it felt—Chopin, Debussy, Rachmaninoff, all dead men who seemed to mock him with each opus and étude, the dead, wooden sound that came out each time he pressed a piano key, his father emphasizing how the piano was going to be his life, his cage, faceless people congratulating and complimenting him to his face but pitying "the poor motherless boy" the moment they thought he wouldn't hear—
"Can I ask what brought you back?" Marinette attempted, her question timid but steady. She could see that the memory still upset him, so she tried to bring a lighter tone back to the conversation.
Adrien's eyes fluttered half-open, and he chuckled bitterly. "It's obvious it still bothers me, doesn't it?" He raised his head to look at her for a moment before turning away, his eyes finding a little white butterfly flitting among the flowers.
"I had...plans. I was going to look for a school in America, study media. But then Nino—he's my best friend, he's in this school too—took me to a concert one day. It was a small event, everybody fit in an indoors studio, but I'll never forget it." He smiled, genuinely this time, as he recalled the memory.
"That artist—so much passion, so much power! Every note was bright and fresh, and vivid—it was like the piano keys were painted with the colors of the rainbow instead of black and white. And I thought, well, I want to be able to make music sound like that. I want to make rainbows gush from my fingers, you know?
"It sounds ridiculous when I put it that way," he remarked with a laugh, glancing back at his companion.
"No, it sounds like this artist really inspired you." She wondered if she dared ask. Marinette was fiercely curious but didn't want him to think she was a busybody. Besides, what if the performing artist Adrien saw was a girl? What if he was aiming to find her and introduce himself? Or maybe to be more than her friend?
And why did that particular question in her mind cause another pang in her chest?
"Yeah...well after that, I enrolled into this school instead. I had been avoiding it because it has my father's name attached to it, but—" He stopped short. Should he tell her it was because the artist that inspired him was under the Agence des Étoiles Montantes? Would she figure out who it was he idolized, the one he was head over heels for? Would she think him pathetic? She probably doesn't even follow pop stars—
"—but I thought I might as well," he finished vaguely. Then he chuckled when he saw the blank expression on her face.
"Sorry, I must be boring you."
At that, Marinette snapped out of the unpleasant place her thoughts had been leading her. "Oh no, no, it was all, well—I'm sorry you had to go through the bad part, but it looks like you've been able to find a goal."
"Yeah." He smiled so sweetly it hurt.
"Would you mind if I helped?" The question surprised her, even as it came from her own mouth. "I-I mean, you know, I just think it would be a nice challenge to write a song that sounds like the one you described, a piano piece that will make rainbows gush from your fingers."
Adrien stared at her with wonder in his eyes. She thought it was something else.
"B-bad idea, huh? Sorry—"
"Oh no, no, I think it's awesome!" Adrien sat up and leaned forward, almost jumping off his seat. "Would it be too much to ask? I know you'll be wonderful at it! Will you really?"
Marinette was now both glad and scared she had offered—glad because he seemed so happy to have her specifically write for him, and scared down to the heavy thing in the pit of her stomach that she would make a song that turned out to not be good enough for him.
'That smile on his face though—' She nodded and managed to return his smile.
"Wow, this day keeps getting better and better, I don't think I can calm down enough to take a nap, the way I'm feeling right now," Adrien practically sang. "Maybe we can work on the group piece right now? I might even catch a few tips on composing." He grinned hopefully at his friend. Marinette found her own mood lifting in spite of herself—that sunshine-y smile was contagious.
"Sure—let's get to writing this duet."
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HAH title drop 8D
How about it? Another music school AU but with MarinettexNathanaël? Or maybe a spinoff? I mean, my OTP is LadyNoir/MariChat/Adrinette/Ladrien but this adorable shy artist deserves some love too. Also I very much like the image of dear Nathan as a cellist, he's so precious~