A/N: A huge thank you to my betas Yamina20 and MsEvilGenius for whipping this one into shape. I'm sorry about my long absence from updating. Finals were horrible, and took so much study time I had significantly less time than usual to work on the chapter. Hopefully I have more time in the coming weeks.
Edited. Enjoy!
Marinette slumped forward on the desk, letting her head hit the table with a thump. The pain did little to distract from the dull, pounding headache that accompanied sleep deprivation. As she groaned from the pain, she internally cursed her overactive imagination.
Where had she gotten the idea that Chat could be Adrien? Her lovable partner could have never become such a false person. She had spent the past two nights debating about her hypothesis. Marinette had created chart after chart in her head to compare elements from their lives, going so far as to include their hobbies, personalities, physical characteristics, and lifestyles.
From what she had gathered, although Adrien and Chat were nearly carbon copies of each other, there was nothing about their personalities that suggested that they could be the same person. Adrien was aloof without trying, while Chat was naturally warm. Adrien purposefully antagonized her, only agreeing to marry her in self-interest, while Chat respected her feelings. She reasoned that her logic, comparisons, and charts all pointed to the fact that Chat and Adrien were different people.
Only her instincts screamed otherwise.
Marinette refused to entertain the possibility, because she didn't want to accept that Chat could be Adrien, to accept that a person could be so different towards other people. She just didn't think it was possible.
She remembered video calling Alya yesterday after to discuss Adrien after winding herself up into knots trying to think about the comparisons.
"Hey girl, how's it going?" The screen was fuzzy, showing pixilated blobs of color that was supposed to be Alya's room. Her friend's smile was stark white, startling in the background.
"Horrible."
Alya made a commiserating sound. "Didn't you have a pre-match meeting yesterday? How was it? Were you compatible?"
"No." Marinette paused, debating what to say next. "You know how I'm on my last match?"
Alya hummed in agreement. Marinette had told her in a fit of anger and frustration after her fourth match was broken off.
"I have no idea how they paired us, but he is the most insufferable person I've ever met!" Marinette could feel a rant building and Alya had the good sense to stay silent, even with a small smile growing on her lips.
"He's such an idiot!" Marinette punctuated the line with a jab in the air.
"Yes. Keep going." Alya motioned with her hands. "I feel something coming on."
"He puts on this facade of a caring person, but he doesn't care at all. The only person he loves is himself, and to hell with other people! He told me outright that the only reason he was going to marry me was because he didn't want to be bereft of those lovely benefits that came with being married. He doesn't care about me at all! The only reason why I agreed to marry him was because it was my last match too. I don't want to be 'a slave,' as he put it." Her arms waved around frantically as she ranted, and she smacked the screen occasionally, adding the odd whap to the middle of a sentence.
"It seems like you both can't stand each other." Alya looked like she was trying not to laugh, but she was failing miserably as a small snicker escaped.
"Not a single bit! You can't believe the amount of sass he kept giving off, snarky comments coming left, right, and center. He kept smirking and provoking me, and I just hated it, so I kept pushing his buttons as well." She crossed her arms across her chest.
"So...it's a beneficial arrangement with romantic feelings the temperature of the Arctic ocean," her friend concluded.
"That pretty much sums it up."
"So, who's this lucky guy's name?"
Marinette felt her cheeks heat up. "Adrien Agreste."
"Model son of Gabriel Agreste, designer extraordinaire? He's hot." Alya fanned herself with a hand.
"Alya! What about Nino?"
"Hey, just because I'm off the market doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty when I see it."
Marinette rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter how hot he is, it doesn't change the fact that he's a-a-"
"An insufferable, horrible, inhumanly annoying prat?"
Marinette nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly."
"There's a thin line between love and hate, you know." A teasing tone made its way across the connection before the lights in Alya's room went out. "Don't mind the lights. We've been having some power outages recently."
"I don't mind. Alya, what are you saying?" Marinette leaned closer to the screen, trying to make out her friend's facial expression.
"I'm just saying what people have been saying since the dawn of time." Alya's face was still shrouded in darkness, but Marinette was sure there was a smirk there.
"There may be a thin line between love and hate, but there is a thinner one between hatred and murder."
"I'd like to see who loses control first."
Marinette hummed. "No way to tell."
She had hung up after, citing a long night. Alya agreed, saying that she needed her beauty sleep.
By talking to Alya, Marinette had cleared a few things up in her life: that Adrien and she were destined natural enemies, that she needed to marry Adrien, and that she was using him just as much as he was using her. She tried not to feel too guilty about that last bit.
Her teacher's words broke through her thoughts. "As you all know, Gabriel Agreste, an internationally renowned fashion designer, holds a yearly fashion design contest."
Her eyes focused on the sheet of yellow paper in front of her, stamped with Gabriel Agreste's signature black butterfly.
A fashion contest?
As her professor gestured towards the door, she focused on her teacher's words. "Each year, there is a theme, often revolving around a particular style of clothing or current fashion trend. This year is an anomaly. Mr. Agreste challenges you to create a work of art...without a theme."
Marinette's head jerked up, her excitement piqued. It would be an easy way to add to her portfolio as well as challenging herself to design outside the box. She could already feel the gears turning in her head, pieces of fabric wrapping themselves around imaginary mannequins.
"Since you have almost completed a bachelor's degree, the contest requires each of you to create a three-piece collection. This collection may be composed of evening wear, athletic wear, or any in between. It must be reasonable, and is targeted for daily wear." A flash of blond hair near the exit of the room caught her eye.
"The winner of the contest will receive an internship with the company. Mr. Agreste prefers to see the entries with models wearing the pieces, and because it is his contest, the models wearing your designs will be models signed to Agreste Corporations."
Marinette felt her heart sink. No, it couldn't be. "Participation in this assignment is highly recommended. This is a good way for others to critique your work and for you to learn from this experience. Since a few students from my class enter this contest each year, I have already contacted Mr. Agreste, and he has sent a few models for you to meet. If you decide to participate in this contest, please do so now. This will be the only guaranteed chance for you to pair up with a model from Agreste Corporations."
Her teacher waved at the group of people standing near the door. "Come on out," Madame called. "They have volunteered to work with you today."
The models lined up, their faces bearing friendly smiles. They began to introduce themselves by name, and Marinette's heart sank when she heard Adrien's voice. She scrutinized the models, noting the diverse coloring and the uniform body size. Marinette made a mental note to work with Aurore, since her light blue eyes and blond hair would work well with what Marinette had in mind. She exuded a comfortable personality as well, and by working with her, Marinette hoped to avoid Adrien.
The professor sighed after the introductions. "However, this was the caveat Mr. Agreste gave to his models: if their match is in the room, they must work with their match, or both cannot participate in this contest. This condition is not new: Mr. Agreste has required this of his models since the Act has been active, believing that a working relationship may strengthen bonds."
Marinette felt anger burning in her, and she silently cursed Gabriel Agreste, no matter how talented he was. She had to work with Adrien. The only bond this contest will strengthen is their hatred for each other. Perhaps she could poke him with a sewing needle and claim it was an accident; such mistakes happened to even the most experienced of seamstresses.
She brightened as she realized she could just not enter the contest.
But not entering the contest wasn't an option. This was her last year of study, and if she wanted to make a splash in the fashion world, participating in Gabriel Agreste's contest could help her grow as a designer and draw attention to her designs, even if she didn't win.
There would be benefits for Adrien if he entered as well. But he was already internationally known, and had been listed as one of the most promising models in recent years. So why was he here?
Marinette moved towards Adrien, determined to start working. This was a once of a time opportunity, and she'd be stupid if she didn't use it. Hopefully, his desire for the possible prizes would prove greater than his disgust for her.
She scanned him, taking in the white shirt and jeans. He was wearing a casual outfit? She had thought that he was certainly aloof enough to be wearing suits every day.
He smirked. "Really? Now you know that I don't."
She could feel her cheeks turning red as she realized she had said the last bit that out could feel the mortification rising. "I was wondering if you wanted to enter the contest."
"I don't really need to." He looked down on her.
She sighed. "There'd be benefits for both of us, and although I know that you're an upcoming model and Gabriel Agreste's son, exposure is always welcome."
He didn't look convinced.
"It's a great opportunity," she spread her hands out. "I know that you can't stand me, and you already know that I can't stand you, but don't let your personal feelings get into your way of career advancement. Not to mention, we can improve our relationship?" The last sentence came out of gritted teeth, and Marinette made a conscious effort to smile.
"Right." He drew out the word. "Parroting my father isn't going to get you anywhere. The whole point of the contest is to create something new, something avant-garde. You won't be that if you copy others."
He shifted his stance. "If I'm going to work with you, we'll need to make a few guidelines."
Marinette looked up. "I agree. Why don't we draw one up right now." She didn't trust him any further than she could throw him.
She led the way to her desk and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. "First things first: a professional attitude."
"I find it insulting that you think I can't be professional," he commented.
"And yet, I see that my fears are justified once again." She pointed the pen at him. "Can you?"
"Yes. And you?"
"Of course. I wouldn't have asked it otherwise." She scribbled another condition down, reading it aloud. "Next. Be cooperative."
"That goes both ways." He added something in parentheses, loopy, elegant words appearing on the paper. "That means no stabbing me accidentally with a pin."
She could feel her hopes dying. "And don't lie to me about the fit of the clothes, either. You'll end up looking like a fish otherwise."
"I look good in anything."
"Even in a trash bag? I'll take that with a grain of salt."
He snorted. "You just won't admit how hot I am."
"You being attractive has nothing to do with anything!" she snapped.
Adrien lifted an eyebrow. "Yes, it does. I'm a model. Which leads me to believe...that your vehement denial of my attractiveness is because you like me."
She rolled her eyes. "You've got to be kidding. How juvenile is that?"
He began to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind his back in a poor imitation of a professor. "Studies have shown that the more children like each other, the more they antagonize each other. And since you dream of stabbing me with sewing pins –"
"– and needles –"
"– you obviously like antagonizing me. Therefore, you like me."
"In your dreams."
"There's thin line between love and hate."
"Are you suggesting that you like me? That goes both ways, you know. You antagonize me as well. It's not like my dislike for you is one-sided."
He grimaced.
"Double-edged sword. Be careful of what you say."
"Be careful of what you do. I might just back out of this contest."
She stared at him. "You wouldn't dare."
"Watch me." He seemed serious.
They stared at each other, stubborn stances mirroring one another. He wouldn't, would he? But she wasn't willing to call his bluff, so she sighed and agreed.
"Alright. I'll cooperate, if you will."
"I will." He scanned over the short list. "I think that's about it."
She read through it again. "I've got nothing to add." She reminded herself to calm down.
Marinette then picked up the contest flyer, carefully reading through the constraints.
There was approximately two months to create a design, but the designs had to be sent in a week before the garments were submitted. That left her seven weeks, and she usually set aside a month's time to create and adjust clothing, which left her with three weeks to for inspiration.
"This seems to be on a tight time schedule," she commented, driving the conversation away from their less-than-positive feelings for each other. Be professional, she reminded herself. "Any reason why your father would do that?"
Adrien shrugged. "It's always been a component of his design contests. He says he does it that way to see how well people hold under pressure."
Unlike you,his eyes sneered.
"Alright. I know you have a job, so is there any time we can meet up so I can take your measurements and adjust the clothes?"
"My job is sporadic," he stated. "Photo shoots don't always notify me with much notice, and they can last anywhere from a few hours to the entire day. It's going to be fashion week in October this year, and I'm going to be extremely busy with the process. In fact, all of the models will be."
He pulled out his phone and glanced at the calendar. "The only times I am guaranteed to be free is the hour we agreed to spend with each other each week for pre-match meetings. Unless you'd like to replace that with a session, I can't say that there's a time and place for us to meet up."
Marinette sighed. It was just as she suspected. Adrien was a model in high demand, and for him to have time was like finding a diamond in the desert. She already had his measurements, but it was always advantageous to take new measurements again. There was no telling how recently he was measured. "How about I measure you now?" she suggested.
"But don't you already have my measurements in the profile?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No. Not all of the ones I need."
He shrugged. "If you'd like."
"Is there a place you'd like to change? We have curtains over there."
"Yes," he said curtly. "Despite being a model, I'd rather not take my clothes off in public."
He followed her to one of the changing rooms. "Now if you could just take your shirt off," she directed, "I'll take a quick measurement of your upper body." As he slipped the garment off, she looped the measuring tape around his chest. With a shrug, she measured his neck, arm, and waist as well. She always wanted those measurements handy in case she decided to design evening wear.
"Can you take your pants off too? I need an upper and lower hip measurement as well as the inseam."
He nodded, and she bent down, measuring him quickly. Scanning his body once again, she asked, "How many people have your exact measurements?"
Adrien frowned, pulling his shirt over his head. "I don't see how this impacts your designs in any way."
"Humor me."
"If you're talking about body measurements, then quite a few. Models need to be a specific size to fit into clothing."
"People with your height and coloring was what I meant."
"Then not as many. Green-eyed blond guys aren't exactly everywhere," he said. He secured his pants with a belt. "Even further, a minuscule amount of people become models. Is there someone you're looking for?"
Marinette shook her head quickly. "No. I just wanted to know how unique your look was."
Suddenly, she realized that she had indirectly objectified him. She felt bad for treating him as lower than a human being, and even if he was a despicable one, he deserved the acknowledgement, at the very least. As she was opening her mouth to apologize, he interrupted.
"Trying to gain an edge over competition?" He smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Guess us being matched together was not a complete waste."
"We'll see about that," Marinette muttered under her breath. She looked up, expecting a snappy comeback, but instead, she saw a flash of something in his eyes before he replied.
"Yeah," he answered. "Maybe."
The atmosphere had become awkward, all of a sudden. Marinette didn't know where to look, and she was unsure if he wanted an apology. She opened her mouth to start one, but closed it again when she realized that he still wasn't looking at her. She decided to break the silence.
"I know you're busy, but when can we meet up again to start the fittings? It'll be at least a week or two before I'm finished with the rough prototypes."
"I'll contact you. Do you have my number?"
"No."
"Check the profile, then."
She sighed. It seemed that she had offended him with her comments, and he was unwilling to cooperate. She didn't want to incite him further by reminding him about the cooperation clause, but she really did need his number.
"What if it isn't on the profile? Mine is 33-63-67-66," she offered, hoping that by offering her own, he would tell her his.
"33-63-51-24," he said.
A distant bell signaled the end of class.
He nodded. "Alright. See you then." She watched him stride out of the changing room and turn down the hall, the blond hair creating a halo around his head.
As Marinette watched Adrien walk out of the classroom, her heart sank. That's Chat all right, she thought grimly. From the walk to the talk, Adrien was Chat Noir's carbon copy. Her determination to prove herself wrong had her listening intently to his voice, from its inflections to its nuances. Fighting by Chat's side had cemented all memories of Chat's voice in her head; she could imagine him saying nearly anything with a crystal-clear imitation.
Once she paid attention to Adrien's voice, Chat's voice played in her head.
She had been too stunned to say anything, choosing instead to treat Adrien with a cool indifference. He seemed to be holding back today as well, and she thanked the gods above for his behavior. She didn't want any more to deal with, other than the design competition – which she still had to sign up for.
"Madame!" she rushed towards her teacher's desk. "May I sign up?"
"Of course," she pushed the paper towards Marinette. "I know it's on a tight schedule, and if you need any help, just ask me."
Marinette smiled at her teacher. "Thank you." She'll definitely be taking Madame up on that offer soon, if she couldn't summon any inspiration.
Marinette flopped onto her bed, devoid of any inspiration. The only images playing in her head were images of Chat superimposed with Adrien, their voices blending together in harmony. She re-lived each and every one of their akuma battles, their nighttime patrols where they gradually became friends.
It was also where she began to develop a crush on Chat. Which meant a crush on Adrien. But whenever she tried to tell herself she liked Adrien¸ she felt nauseous...and slightly giddy.
What is she going to do now?
A/N: Thank you for reading! Thoughts, anyone?