AN: Hi, guys. I've been considering this like the scarf thing (woops, bad idea), so instead of hurting Marinette's feelings and telling her outright, Chat's doing the next best thing—trying to make her fall in love with his normal self.
Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc
"Thank you, Marinette!" Alya praised with a grin clear in her voice. "That was perfect."
The dark-haired female blinked, surprised, and met her friend's smug expression with inquisitive eyes. "Did you just take a picture of me... drinking water?" she asked slowly, wondering whether the red-head had started to lose her mind. There wasn't anything relatively sexy about the picture, especially when it was paired with the fact that over three-quarters of her features were hidden from view. "Why?"
Alya made a noise of disapproval. "For your nails, of course."
"Oh." They were painted a light coral colour; the only product that had been included in the sponsor package. "Does this count as the sponsor image, then?"
"One of many." The red-head grinned, showing the whites of her teeth. She leaned back into the sofa in their kitchen, sighing audibly as she stretched her arms above her head. "Now, let's get to the juicy stuff—I heard you've been on a date recently."
She hummed under her breath. "Marinette or Lady?"
"Probably both." Alya chortled. "I'm not asking about your alter ego this time."
When her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her shorts, she was impressed that she didn't jump in surprise. Her expression moulded into polite interest at her friend's word, and when the red-head didn't notice the panic that had flashed in her eyes, she was inwardly relieved. Ever since her disagreement—if it could even be called that—with Chat at the beginning of the week, Marinette had avoided her e-mail like the plague. Her parents had ended up calling up the previous evening since they hadn't received an answer from her (though, they were mostly worried that reporters had caught up to her, rather than the possibility that she'd been kidnapped).
"Then I'm afraid you're mistaken," she replied casually, retrieving her cell phone and gazing at the illuminated screen to see the name that had contacted her. With the amount of restraint she was showing with her expressions that evening, Marinette was sure she could have a career in acting if she wished. "I had coffee with a friend on Tuesday—yes, a male friend, Alya—but that was it."
The message made her heart jerk uncomfortably in her chest.
'Prince Chat:
Please don't avoid me forever, Marinette.'
Even if she was damned, she was still going to try. Marinette swiftly put her cell phone away and flashed the red-head on the sofa a polite smile, hoping that she'd accept the prompt to delve into further questioning—because, at that moment, dealing with Alya's inquiries about her romantic conquests was a lot easier to deal with than face her trembling feelings.
The only problem was that Alya had a different idea. "You're not a good actor, Marinette," she started slowly, raising her eyebrows slightly as the dark-haired female stiffened. "I know you, girl. I've seen you develop breasts, and go through your awkward stages!"
"I wasn't that awkward," Marinette defended herself weakly, rubbing the back of her neck self-consciously.
"And I'm a supermodel," the red-head deadpanned.
Her muscles relaxed at the attempt at humour. "You could be in your leather pants," she said with a straight face, "I can almost see my reflection on your ass at times."
Alya's red-stained lips curled into a mischievous grin. "That's just how I want it."
She scrunched her nose in distaste. "How is that boy-toy of yours lately?" Calling him by the incorrect name seemed offensive, so the handy name for him would have to suffice—it was as if Alya was going to use a codename like she had. "Has he seen his face on your ass?"
The red-head snorted, throwing her arms to rest on the back of the sofa. "Not yet." She winked purposely, taunting. "We're taking it slow again, so I'm not allowed to send naughty pictures any more."
"Any more," Marinette parroted with a neutral tone. "I had no idea just how open you are—and that doesn't mean just your legs, you minx."
"What's the point of being shy and docile?" She shrugged, head lolling back to gaze at the ceiling. "I may not have had any luck with men around here, but that wasn't from lack of trying. But now—with him—there's someone interested in me and we're not doing some weird mating dance around each other."
She blinked. "Except you're taking it slow now; are you trying to tell me they're two different things?"
"I've got to keep some of the mystery, Marinette." At the snort she received in response, Alya narrowed her eyes at her across the room. "Being a tease isn't a crime, nor is it considered bad manners. Are you just being sour because of the lack of nudes you're receiving?"
It was her way of fishing for information. Marinette stubbornly crossed her arms beneath her bosom, raising her eyebrows at the red-head. "Did you really think I'd spill everything at that little jab? And I'm not showing him any of myself—the only picture I've sent is actually the one you took before."
The response she got almost made her jump in surprise for the second time in that small amount of time. Alya groaned loudly, allowing her face to fall into her open palms. "Why? You're absolutely terrible at being a seductress, Marinette!"
She rolled her eyes. "Then give me a guidebook on what to do," the dark-haired female replied sarcastically, almost missing the contemplative expression on her friend's face. "That was a joke, Alya. Don't you bloody dare."
Alya jutted her lower lip out with a sour face.
"Nor do I want you to e-mail me magazine articles about the female body—I'm still traumatised about the one about finding your own g-spot, honestly."
The tanned female's lips twitched. "You can't deny that it was informative, though."
"That's besides the point." She scowled. A stray thought was swirling within her mind from the brief mention of Nathaniel, so she decided to try and sway the topic of their conversation into safer territory. "Do you remember that comic you mentioned before? With the prince that looked like Nathaniel?" At Alya's enthusiastic nod she asked, "Do you know why it was taken down?"
"Last time you asked about that, you just said it was impossible to find—why are you asking again now?"
Marinette made a noise of frustration. "It came up in conversation with someone else. I was wondering if you wanted information about it; actually, I don't even know if you liked it."
"Of course I did," Alya replied, clasping her hands together. "It was one of my favourite comics before the artist took it down. The blog disappeared, too, and there weren't any copies on other websites."
That was a surprise to hear. Marinette absorbed the information, unsure whether telling the red-head that she'd heard the news from Nathaniel would mean that Alya would attempt to purse conversation with him (which would be after intensive questioning of why they were conversing normally).
"It's being turned into a television series," she revealed, tapping her fingers on the countertop. "There's still some details that need to be sorted out, though. I don't know anything else."
When Alya moved within a flash and grasped the dark-haired female's hands excitedly, Marinette did jump in shock for the first time. The red-head squeezed her hands enthusiastically asked, "Really? You're sure?"
"...Yeah." She didn't think Nathaniel had lied.
"Yes!" Alya cheered, throwing her arms around her shoulders and hugging her tightly. "It's not going to be released for ages but I'm so excited! Do you think the teaser will be out soon? Or character designs? Do you know if it's animated or—"
Rather than trying to keep up with the red-head's rapid fire questions that were going over her head, Marinette rocked slowly on her heels and made noises of agreement every few sentences, idly wondering whether Nathaniel was the creator—it was plausible, she realised. Her friend was an avid fan and hadn't been able to uncover the news, while the male had freely admitted the information during their time together. Then again, he could have been a close friend of the creator, and that was the reason why the main character resembled him. Marinette hummed as Alya pulled back, grinning happily and started to drag her in the direction of her room.
"Alya?" she questioned, unsure on what she had signed herself up for.
The red-head paid her no mind. "I'm sure you'll love it," she announced, placing the smaller female onto her bed and quickly turned the laptop on and hooked it up to a television screen within the room. "Even if you don't like the story line, the outfits are really pretty. As in, gala worthy at times."
Apparently she'd signed herself up to watch a show of some sort. Marinette watched with a bemused expression, settling herself into the mountain of pillows on Alya's bed and watched the screen become illuminated and a video slowly take up the screen. Alya settled in beside her, linking their hands together and visibly vibrated with excitement from sharing her interests. It was endearing, really; much like Rose when she shared her obsessions, too.
"Anything important you'd like to point out now?" she asked lightly.
Alya shook her head, gesturing to the screen with her index finger.
It was an animated series that had a bright opening theme and scenes, which showed a lot of violence and psychotic smiles at the same time. It was a crime drama, from the first real scene within the small office of detective unit. Alya had given her the task of guessing her favourite character by the end of the first episode, as that would be late enough for Marinette to whisk herself away to the safety of her bedroom. When the main character came onto the screen, she wasn't expecting much—he had lacklustre brown hair and nothing too impressive with his appearance (the only reason she knew he was the protagonist was because of the opening scenes), so when he opened his animated mouth and began to grumble about a criminal on the rise, she stiffened and barely kept herself from gasping aloud.
She knew that voice.
The episode ran for the duration of twenty-four minutes, and by the time the ending credits came around, she leaned forward in bed and squinted to see the text appearing on the screen better.
"Silencieux?" Marinette questioned, the name feeling uncomfortable on her tongue.
"If that's your guess, then you're correct." The red-head laughed, clasping her hands together loudly it what seemed to be a single clap. "He's my favourite voice actor, so, of course, I have to appreciate the characters he plays."
She tried to avoid catching sight of Alya's hazel eyes. "Do you know anything about him?"
Alya turned off the television screen and swivelled the laptop around. "Not really," she revealed, tapping away at the keyboard without turning to look at her, "voice actors are sometimes really mysterious, and I think that just helps with their appeal, really. Silencieux has some social media accounts, though."
It was possible there was a mistake, one that would have been quite embarrassing, but the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together astoundingly perfectly. She'd spent a good hour with Nathaniel, with the shy male actually talking, and she was certain that it was his low, melodic voice that had came from the television. Him being his alter ego—a secret identity, certainly—of Silencieux explained his sporadic absences from university, along with the titbit of information he'd given about why he didn't like to converse often. He'd claimed that there had been a few instances because of his voice! Surely, if he was able to woo the likes of Alya with the low tones of his voice, then a lot of others had to have been his fans, too.
"How long has he been active?" Marinette asked, trying to control her tone.
Alya hummed, thinking aloud. "Eh, I—oh, for about three years now. Almost four, I believe. His first series was a success and he only became more popular after that." That would've been before, or after, Nathaniel's sixteenth birthday. His voice would've been deep for his age, so there was still the possibility that her theory was correct.
It would have been awfully mean to reveal him, though. It was akin to someone outing her to be Lady. If Nathaniel was as popular as Alya was making him out to be—someone who had a astoundingly popular selection of fans, who supported each of his works—then it was plausible that she had a comrade whom she could talk about the dilemma of the blog to. The only problem was broaching the subject with him, though; if he really was Silencieux, then he was taking a gamble and assuming that she wouldn't recognise his voice.
"Thanks for showing me this, Alya." Marinette grinned.
-x-
When she arrived in the usual room at the company Vincent was the only one within the room. Although there was another bag beside him—while his was by his feet—Marinette deduced from the pattern that it was Simon's, and that he'd wandered off while waiting for the rest of them to arrive.
"Hello," she greeted, attempting to coax the blond male into conversation.
Vincent crossed her arms, staring adamantly at the door. She bit the inside of her cheek to restrain herself from laughing aloud; since it had became clear from Théo's explanation of the male's character, it was almost adorable how awkward he was in a female's presence. Was he like this with higher-ups, too? Certainly, an all male's university had a few female teachers, and there was the matter of Penny when they swapped over their roles within the company—so he couldn't be completely hopeless with the opposite sex, could he?
The sleep faces of her fellow interns came slowly. Simon came back with a steaming cup of coffee, which was as cheap as it smelled, and she was surprised to see that he passed one wordlessly to her, and with a slight nod towards Vincent. The blond pursed his lips and muttered a quiet word of thanks, all while avoiding her gaze, still. Théo trudged in soaking wet from the sudden downpour of rain outside, and she couldn't hold in her laughter at his disgruntled expression.
"Y-you—" Marinette chortled, holding a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You look like a drowned cat!"
He shivered violently. "The sexiest drowned cat you'll ever see," the male retorted.
"If she's into that kind of thing, sure." Manon strut through the door, flashing the brunet a sadistic smile when he noticed how dry and perfectly groomed she looked. "I've heard our girl Marinette's into more... popular things, rather than common house-cats."
Oh, no. She narrowed her eyes at the smaller girl, hoping to convey the message that the conversation needed to stop going in the direction that it had been pushed to.
"Oh?" Théo asked, removing his drenched jacket—that didn't have a single dark spot of water, as the whole thing was soaked—with a frown. "Are you referring to her boyfriend, you troublesome sprite?"
Manon smiled, showing off her incisors. "Of course I am."
"No, you're not," Marinette chastised, crossing her underneath her bosom. "Adrien already has a girlfriend." She had no idea if it was true, but the sheer want for the gossip between the two of them to stop caused her to blurt it out. "I... I can't say who it is." He had mentioned to liking someone—as had Nino—on their last webcast together, so, perhaps, he had bucked up the courage and confessed.
Théo raised his eyebrows and hummed, making it abundantly clear that he wasn't believing her words.
The other female was more vocal about her distrust, however. She made a noise of disagreement and loudly sat down in a free chair, purposely scooting away from the wet male so there wouldn't be any water droplets on her outfit, no matter how little. "Well, if you say so," she murmured, so only the two of them could hear. "Max and I were rooting for you both, though."
She blinked. "Have you been started to talk yet?"
"Well, yeah." Manon sniffed. "It took only half a bloody week—that boy sure knows how to play hard to get. Now I'm getting hearts in every message."
The second description of their conversations suited the dark-skinned male a lot more than the first; he'd probably followed Chloé's advice, if anyone's at all, about how to deal with the situation of flirting with a girl (after all, Aurore had revealed that he was about as talented at dating as he was at river dancing). There wasn't time to respond to her, as the doors open and Xavier swept in and announced the tasks for that day. Manon was the one selected for running around as their errand person that day, and Xavier only laughed as she moaned loudly and put her face on her arms upon the table. When they began to trial out to go to their designated, her expression grew concerned as Xavier pulled her to the side.
"Marinette," he started, as they were certainly casual and felt that last names were only used when an individual had truly messed up, "I've been asked to talk to you." At her quizzical expression—that was slightly scared, too—he began by saying with a firm tone, "It's come to our attention that you may, or may not, have a personal relationship with some that you're working with here."
And there it was. She stilled, unsure whether her opportunity was going to be sullied because of simple connections that she hadn't taken advantage of. "Sir..."
He held a hand up to quieten her. "If this had came out before we'd selected you, then we'd be singing a different tune. There's a week left of you in my department, so I can only protect you for so long. Penny would like to see you in her office immediately; you can return to work normally after that."
She nodded stiffly, uncertainty brewing and knotting uncomfortably within her stomach. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly.
"You're good at what you do, Marinette," he replied, voice softer than before, "without these connections of yours, you would have made it by yourself."
It was high praise, indeed. She nodded, not trusting her voice not to crack. He motioned with a hand for her to disappear and search for Penny's officer, and that's exactly what she did. Marinette almost tripped as she rounded a corner, spilling apologies from her lips from the disgruntled expressions on the employees. Penny's office was on the other side of the company, she knew, on the left of the cafeteria and onwards, rather than the right. She didn't catch sight of any of the other interns to tell them that she'd be late, and she didn't see Manon trudging along as though she were walking to her death from doing chores. When she rounded the corner after climbing up a flight of stairs, she groaned quietly to herself at the sight of the hallway. Penny's office door was open, with no one inside, and there were a few individuals simply walking through the hallway without a care in their modelling clothes; it was clear that there was a shoot that day, and, apparently, it had called Penny's attention elsewhere.
Her original plan was to wallow outside of Penny's office and hope she'd show up eventually, but there was drawbacks—mainly, she might be sidetracked for more than thirty minutes and therefore the dark-haired female would miss quite a lot of her internship that day. As Xavier had said, the next week was the final one; therefore meaning they had to present the outfits they'd made for their assigned characters to be judged accordingly.
Marinette tugged on the collar of her dress, suddenly feeling flushed.
The new plan was better, marginally. Marinette cleared her throat to catch the attention of the nearest model who had their back to her, and was surprised when she recognised the face when she turned around. Mireille Caquet with her beautifully tanned skin, bright hazel eyes and shining black hair that was chopped messily by her shoulders met her eyes with an equally surprised expression.
"I recognise you," Mireille started, knitting her dark eyebrows together. The unspoken question of why was hanging in the air.
Marinette tugged on her dress' sleeve self-consciously. "I was a first-year at university when you were in your third." It didn't clarify enough. Marinette nervously shot her a small smile, hoping that she'd reveal the information she needed rather than share awkward small talk.
"Oh!" Mireille gasped before breaking into a grin, shocking her by reaching forward and clasping her hand enthusiastically. "I recognise you now! You're the one that Chloé always grumbled about."
She made a strangled noise of protest. Mireille, however, had other plans and grinned wider to show off her white teeth. Marinete was cut off before she could say a single syllable by the tanned girl giving her a tug and pulling her along through the hallway, opening a red door with a bump of her hip and waltzing inside with an awkward tag along in tow.
"Hey!" Mireille called the room to their attention, waving enthusiastically in the air. "When's the new girl shooting?"
It became apparent that she was referring to her. Marinette gaped before fixing her expression to meek and rather terrified. "I—Mireille," she tried to catch her attention, but it was to no avail. The tanned female had pulled her towards a group of models who were all smiling, though a few were rather strained. "H—h-hey!"
"Hello," they replied, amusement clear in their tones and expression now that they'd heard her stutter in their presence.
Within the middle of the group, a woman with blazing red hair knitted her eyebrows together. "There's no one new scheduled for today," she stated slowly, emerald eyes flickering between her and Mireille. "Are you sure she's here for that?"
It was the little push she needed. "I'm not," Marinette said after clearing her throat. "I was looking for Penny when she—I—oh, got distracted."
Mireille blinked. "Well, why didn't you say so, silly?" Her laughter sounded delightful, and her smile was genuine as when she apologised quickly. "She's just over there, talking to Nino quickly."
Oh. "Thank you." Marinette gulped, eyes following where the tanned female had pointed.
The models wished her good-bye as she walked slowly across the room, determined not to trip and damage the inside of the set while gnawing on the inside of her cheek in anxiety. Nino wasn't the type to make a scene, was he? He was a good-hearted male, and it was entirely normal for two persons to be involved in a fight. He wasn't going to speak up and create more of a problem at the company than had already happened without him knowing. And as she'd been told, Penny with her freshly dyed purple hair was standing conversing with a taller Nino, who was smiling while animatedly contributing to the confusion.
He caught sight of her first. Nino blinked in surprise before grinning, raising a hand in greeting. Penny caught attention of the movement and looked over her shoulder, her features contorting from surprise to realisation quickly. She shooed the dark-haired male away quickly, and he didn't give a second glance at her, thankfully, as he walked away in the opposite direction. Marinette rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously, unsure whether that was the desired response she'd wanted from him—he'd been friendly, but politely so, as he would with anyone else. It wasn't the fact that she wanted to garner a special reaction from him, but a more real one; one that would portray the strain they currently had on their relationship, rather than treating her like someone he was acquaintances with.
"I apologise for not being in my office," Penny started, drawing her attention back in, "we'll go there now to continue this conversation."
And with a gesture of her hand, they were walking briskly through the hallway before stopping in front of the office. Penny went in first and held the door open, allowing the dark-haired female to walk in timidly. It wasn't how she'd expected it to be. While the room was painted a soft ivory and the desk, chairs, and coffee table in the corner were stained a beautiful light brown, there were papers thrown everywhere and folders on almost every surface. Penny collected a few of the selected folders and flicked through them as she sat on her plush white chair, and Marinette sat down gently on a stained oak one that had a white cushion upon the top. The older woman hummed as she searched through her files, making a louder noise when she grinned and pulled a photograph out from one of the folders.
She pushed the shiny photograph across the desk, eyes trained on the dark-haired female rather than the image itself.
It should have been expected. It was a photograph that she hadn't seen before—perhaps it had been in Adrien's possession—but she expertly schooled her expression so it wasn't clear that she had absolutely no idea when it had been taken. From the lack of felines, she was assuming it was before they'd appeared; she was still missing a tooth, though. The three of them were stood together against a large tree, that was now a stump in Alya's garden as it had been cut down, with matching grins and brightly-coloured wands in their hands with bubble surrounding them. It was obvious what they had been doing, yet her eyes were drawn to how they were posed specifically. Nino was on the left beside Adrien, standing at least a step away, while Marinette had her arm intertwined with the blond, which looked quite awkward with how small their limbs were. Slowly, it was becoming obvious why it had been assumed there was more between them.
"This is you, Miss Dupain-Cheng," Penny started, tapping her finger upon Marinette in the photograph, "and this is Adrien Agreste and Nino Lahiffe."
There was no need to say it aloud. "...Yes." She resisted the urge to tug at her collar from the use of her last name.
"There have been a few... concerns about how you were awarded your position," the tanned woman started, her fingers tapping in a consistent beat. "I, however, don't believe that you were able to sway Nathalie Sancoeur with your friendship of her boss' son." Well, that was a relief to hear, but didn't rule out the reason for her being within the office or being referred to by her last name. "I'm well aware that you've received a lot of interview offers, and I've personally been in touch with your parents about this," she elaborated, circling her fingers around the two boys' faces. Marinette's heart beat uncomfortably within her chest at the mention of her parents—they hadn't told her that the company had contacted them; they were selected as her emergency contacts, but that was all. "I would like to interview you for our magazine."
Marinette blinked, bewildered. "I don't—"
"Think carefully, Miss Dupain-Cheng." Penny gave her a smile, but it was a borderline smirk combined with the glint in her eyes. "If another magazine caught wind that you were working here, wouldn't they assume that it was because of your connections?" Her smile grew, showing her incisors off as she raised her eyebrows. "We, of course, know that that isn't true, don't we? Therefore, it'll be much better coming from the source... Miss Dupain-Cheng, your interview here would much help you further your future career."
By broadcasting that she had relationships within that particular line of work. Marinette gnawed on the inside of her cheek, realising how true Penny's words were, though they were equally buffered by her extreme want to stay hidden with that information. "I don't want to say much," she said slowly, "I want this to be because I earned it, not because of them."
"Of course," Penny agreed, turning the photograph around slowly. "Will you agree to this, then?"
"I—" Marinette cut herself off, clearing her throat. "What do you have in mind for this?"
Penny's dark-stained lips curled into a victorious grin. "Just a small article, Miss Dupain-Cheng." The conversation was still on last name basis, apparently. "I'd like to for someone to ask you a few questions, and to include this photograph within it. We won't release a new picture of you, unless you'd prefer that."
She shook her head. "That should be fine." And it should. She could be vague enough to breeze through the questions, and it certainly wasn't like they were expecting her to spill their deepest secrets with a single interview. Nino had been conversing with Penny easily, and the photograph had, most likely, appeared from his possessions and given in, prompting to exchange between them. It was another subtle reminder of why he was suddenly insisting that their relationship had a strain after seeing her and the blond together, once again—but hadn't he been happy? It didn't seem appropriate, right or even the expected response from him.
"Come down here tomorrow morning," Penny interrupted her inner monologue. "I will talk to Xavier, and then you can have the rest of the day off."
It was unclear whether that was supposed to be a reward. Marinette curtly nodded in agreement, swallowing the self-conscious comments that were resting upon her tongue, and smoothed the wrinkles on her dress as she waked briskly through the hallways. There weren't any models lingering within the rooms any longer, nor was the dark-haired male anywhere to be seen.
When she returned to the rest of the interns, they didn't ask questions. The actors were kind and welcoming, and even invited the small group out for drinks that evening, if they were free. Marinette politely declined, as she'd planned her evening with Alya, watching more of the series they'd started while eating overly seasoned food they were planning to order. Manon hugged her tightly and promised to update her on any gossip that was uttered over drinks, and the dark-haired female spluttered and laughed aloud of the thought of having a mole within a bar.
On her bus home, she gnawed on her lower lip while staring at her cell phone in consideration.
'Marinette:
Just a heads up. My boss is running an article about the three of us, including a photograph and a small interview from me tomorrow.'
If she was in the position where she was unaware of what was happening, having someone warn her would've been heavenly. She sent the message to Adrien, unsure whether Nino had told him beforehand of the possibility.
As she was settled in on Alya's bed, waiting for her food to cool, she hadn't expected the chimes of her cell phone to interrupt the opening song, which she'd found out Silencieux had sang. Alya threw her cell phone over with an impatient noise—that had nothing to do with her mouth stuffed full of rice—and gestured wildly to the screen.
Marinette rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively.
'Adrien Agreste:
Thank you for the warning. I didn't think you'd give into an interview, though. What changed your mind?'
It was strange how well he remembered her personality. She threw the cell phone to the side, deciding it was best not to go out of her to respond to the two cousins—or, specifically, the one that had caused the irritating troubles by being overly friendly—and promising herself that she'd respond to her Chat when the time was right.
After the third episode had ended, Marinette's stomach was full and she felt warm and perfectly content to stay in bed with her friend, she clawed at the duvet to reach her cell phone.
'Marinette:
I got called in at work and it was basically do the interview or get fired, if I read between the lines correctly.'
Feeling particularly meddlesome, she sent a message to Nathaniel asking whether he was a fan of the show they were watching. Would he think she was too obtuse to connect the dots—or was she really delirious for assuming it was him? It made sense, still, in her mind. So when he responded saying he hadn't had the chance to watch it, but had read reviews and such, she hid her smile behind her cell phone so Alya didn't catch on to her mirth.
"The next one's pretty... emotional." Alya traced upon the touchpad of her laptop idly. "But it's also Nino's favourite."
It was a little slip of information she didn't need to know about the imposter. "Is it?" Marinette hummed. "Fascinating."
From her peripheral vision, she could see the red-head scrunch her features in distaste. "I thought you'd like to know that."
"You can keep lover boy's information to yourself," she replied, lips curling into a polite smile. "It's confidential that you're talking dirty—or talking at all—isn't it?"
Alya pursed her lips. "All right—what crawled into your ass and died?"
Marinette ran her fingers through her fringe, sighing. "Sorry," she apologised half-heartedly. "I'm just a bit flustered today. This has helped, though. So thank you for that."
"Is it because of the interview?"
She blinked. "...How?"
Alya tapped her nose knowingly. "You can be as vague as you like, Mari. Only the three of you—well, just those two, actually—will know if it's the truth." At the dark-haired female's frustrated groan as she leaned back into the stack of pillows she'd created, she laughed fondly. "There's no point stressing yourself out about this."
"I doubt I'll be able to steer the questions where I want them to go," she grumbled.
"You can't put them in the bin," Alya deadpanned.
Marinette rolled over, pressing her face firmly into the fabrics.
"Listen," Alya commanded, snapping her fingers together to catch her attention. The smaller female didn't flip over, and instead shuffled further into the mound of pillows. "You will be fine. If they ask, the story is simple—they were neighbours who you played with in your innocent youth, and their cat fucking loved you. The end."
She grumbled into the pillow before realising she couldn't be heard. "People already know that," was her grumpy reply. "Someone's going to be a real ass and ask about my relationship with Adrien—not Nino, because there's been no photographs of us two together. Not even a cell phone one from the restaurant the other day."
"Restaurant?" the red-head parroted, puzzled. "When did you go to a restaurant, Mari?"
The first reaction that appeared was for her to still and breathe a sigh of relief that her expression wasn't visible the other day. "Not the date you heard about," she clarified, just to make sure, "after work last week I bumped into Nino, and I ended up somewhere with him and Adrien."
"Sounds fun," Alya commented, voice oddly calm.
"It wasn't," she felt the need to say. "I ran away."
A hum was the response she received.
"How are you and... Nino?" The name tasted sour on her tongue, and her facial features reflected her inner thoughts.
"Okay," Alya started in an uncertain voice. "I'm mostly worried about what will happen when we meet up, honestly. We haven't been able to set out a time, but I'm just constantly looking on the fucking internet to see who's on his arm at different times."
Marinette pushed herself up, eyebrows knitting together in concern from the tone of her friend's voice. "Alya..."
The red-head shook her head firmly. "No," she said before repeating herself in a stronger voice, "No. I trust him—and he trusts me—so I will not have this conversation."
Despite the flush on the bespectacled female's cheeks, she found herself laughing fondly at her stubbornness. "You—" Marinette had started to say before her cell phone started to ring, surprising her thoroughly as it wasn't Rose's set song, nor her parents. "Excuse me," she said to her flat-mate, padding through the bedroom door as she put the cell phone to her ear.
"Hello?" the caller said, and she found herself blinking in surprise from the low voice, pulling the cell phone back to gaze at the name.
It was baffling, to say the least. "Adrien?"
"Marinette?" he replied, a pleasant tone that was friendly and close to laughter.
"Can I help you?" she found herself saying, perching upon the edge of her bed. "It's almost eleven o'clock at night—don't tell me you've travelled elsewhere and you're calling me at some absurd time." It was a possibility, after all. She hadn't seen him that day, or heard news about his doing, and it was surely in his job description that he had to travel a lot.
His laugh was melodic, even through a cell phone. "No, silly," he denied. "I apologise if this is too late—would you like me to let you go?"
With her free hand, she tugged her socks off. "A bit late for that now," she chastised, a small smile appearing upon her lips as she rephrased her previous question. "What can I do for you?"
"It's more about what I can do for you," the blond clarified, a teasing quality to his voice.
At his words, Marinette found herself shaking her head. "Enlighten me, then."
"I thought, perhaps, you'd be in need for an enthusiastic talking to before your interview tomorrow," Adrien explained. "Who better to give you one than your dear husband, eh?"
She scoffed. "Thanks, darling."
"That's the spirit." His grin was obvious in his voice. "What do you think they'll ask you about? It's an interview solely by you, by the way; we were specifically told that."
"I'm not too sure, honestly," she confessed, uncertainty bleeding through the microphone. They had both been informed about it, then. Squeezing the material of her dress, Marinette tried to soothe her sweating hands with the action. "The picture is the three of us with bubble wands, if that helps? They might ask about that—Penny said they're not taking any new pictures of me to include in there."
"Shame," he murmured, "I'm sure they would've been beautiful. I do remember that, maybe. I think it was in Nino's garden?"
Of course being charming came natural to him—he was a famous model who held the hearts of many within his palms. "That's the one."
"Nino's mother took that one," he started slowly, willingly supplying the information she'd need to say within the interview, "and she adored you, Marinette. She used to comb your hair and remark that she'd much prefer you as their child, since Nino disliked letting anyone do his hair. His parents kept that photograph upon the mantle until just recently; which was, well, my fault, actually..."
She laughed despite the growing warmth upon her cheeks. "Did you knock it over from seeing your wayward wife?"
"Almost." He chuckled, a breathy laugh that was quite endearing. "I tripped over Plagg, actually."
"I assume that happens a lot," she joked.
He made a noise of distress. "He loves knocking me over more than anyone else—what can I say? I fall for him every time he does it."
"No," she breathed, incredulous.
"Please, you've heard worse," Adrien defended himself with a laugh. "Now back to my bedtime story for you, darling. You were rather offended with Nino that day, so you soaked his trousers after that was captured since he'd taken to calling you 'Nettie'."
A shudder went through her at the awful abbreviation. "I'd soak anyone who'd call me that."
"Oh, I know."
"Thank you," Marinette started hesitantly, wondering whether expression her gratitude was a wise decision. "You didn't have to do this—yes, I'm well aware we're married, hang on—but you've been nothing but sweet and I feel like I can't repay you very well. I'm not, well, the Marinette that you remember, am I? I may look like her, with breasts and longer limbs, but that's it, really." She was rambling, and she knew it. And yet, she couldn't stop the words from pouring out until she manually placed a hand over her bitten lips. "S-sorry," she squeaked.
To her surprise, a laugh sounded through the cell phone. "You're still adorable when you get nervous," Adrien began. She shifted at his words. "Did you know you had that habit when you were younger? You'd scratch your elbow and neck, too, and I saw you do that in person. You may not remember, but I do."
"People change," she said softly.
His voice was tender. "Not you."
-x-
The interview was rather nerve-wracking, but she managed to make it through without stumbling over her words. She fanned her flushed face while walking through her bedroom, depositing another finished piece of lingerie into a box she'd hastily scribbled 'for sale' upon. They were ready for listings to be put up later that evening after Alya had arrived home, and there was only a last detail of the outfit she'd designed for her assigned character that she was planning to delve into during her free time the following week.
'Prince Chat' flashed on her cell phone, once again.
'Prince Chat:
Marinette, please talk to me.'
She pursed her lips.
'Marinette:
Give me some time, please.'
It wasn't fair to push him away stubbornly. She was being irritable, idiotic and assuming. "Fuck," she swore lowly. It took a few minutes to scroll through her e-mails to find the correct one to respond to, and her heart was thumping uncomfortably and attempting to leap out from her throat while searching.
'Bulle-Chat
to Marinette D-C
RE: Tuile
Marinette,
I believe there's been some misunderstanding between us. It is with regret that I wasn't able to meet you—I can admit that I withheld information about my cousin with the hopes of keeping our conversations centred around us.
That is, if there's still a possibility of there being an us.
Yours,
Chat.'
A string of multiple explicit words were all that ran through her mind as she read the message until her eyes were dry and beginning to water. A hiccup escaped her mouth, followed by a dry sob that she swallowed down with determination. It was her own hole that she'd dug, wasn't it? She needed to sort through it herself, not allow the sweet male to charm her out of her well of guilt. The cracks of her wall keeping her emotions at bay were deepening, and the thought of exploding at the next altercation she was involved in was daunting.
'Marinette D-C
to Bulle-Chat
RE: Tuile
Chat,
Don't apologise. Please, just don't.
There's been more than one misunderstanding. Can you find the time to meet me in person, please? I want to tell you face-to-face and explain before we progress any further.
Yours,
Marinette.'
The reply appeared when she loaded her e-mail while drowning her sorrows in a particularly strong mug of coffee. She winced from the furry feeling of her tongue, from burning the flesh with the liquid.
'Bulle-Chat
to Marinette D-C
RE: Tuile
Marinette,
If I can't apologise, then neither can you. Chloé is hosting a party tonight, and I'd be honoured if you met me there so we could talk. It's seven o'clock if you agree, and I'll have someone waiting outside to escort you in (from your lack of physical invitation).
I hope to see you there.
Yours,
Chat.'
The previous, and first, get-together that Chloé had thrown hadn't been too terrible, though she pondered whether her presence was going to be welcomed from the host. Even Mireille had mentioned that the blonde had complained about her in passing, and that had been back when they were together in their first year—after Chloé had laughed at her twin-tails, that she had rarely wore and decided to style them into one of her first weeks. Despite the nagging feeling in the back of her head, she bucked up the courage and the opportunity, as her day was bound to be energy saving from the lack of work. Alya sent her regards via cell phone message, and Rose sent a picture of her screaming as her only response.
By the time the red-head had wandered into her bedroom, Marinette had been pulling a thigh-high sock on. The tell-tale sound of a camera made her wince and stubbornly tug the material up tightly, quickly throwing her dark dress over her frame with gusto.
"Honestly." Marinette huffed, blowing a strand of hair from her forehead.
"You love me," was the response.
She muttered under her breath, "Not as much as you love your blog."
"What's that?" Alya sang in a exaggerated and happy tone. "I can't hear you from the amount of money flooding our pockets."
"Oh, it's ours now?" Marinette retorted, reaching to behind to attempt to fasten the button. The red-head caught her distress and swatted her hands, doing the dress up for her. "Thank you."
Alya winked as she spun her around. "Can you do something for me tonight? I mean us, not just me, actually."
Tugging at the collar around her neck, Marinette shrugged half-heartedly. "I'm not committing murder for you, no matter what Chloé did to you this time."
The bespectacled female waved her hand dismissively. "That was an accident and in the past, Marinette," she reprimanded, "Chloé looked guilty after Aurore told her off for me." Although the blonde hadn't actually apologised for the innocent, Alya had glared daggers in her direction whenever they saw each other through the halls. It had been an accident, yes; Chloe had hit the lip of the bin with her coffee cup, and it tumbled to the floor while staining Alya's outfit in the process. "I'm not called Coffee Princess any more, too."
"You're still my princess." She smirked.
"Be quiet." Alya flicked the smaller female on the nose mockingly. "Do a little networking and see if anyone of her special celebrity friends know about Lady. I want to actually know from people, not magazines, if we're really popular."
"Really?" Marinette blinked, astounded at the request. "You've had someone attempt to hack the website, been featured within gossip magazines, along with several sponsor offers but you want me to ask around? What if I get recognised?"
Alya raised her dark eyebrows in challenge. "The only way you'd be recognised is if you were partially naked, silly."
Her cheeks coloured. "Still," she defended, "there's the off chance that someone will recognise me—especially if you post that picture!"
"This doesn't even show your dress." She shook the cell phone purposely. "Mari, please. You know how secretive we are, it's fine. Quit your worrying."
"I worry for the both of us, Alya." Marinette sighed and suddenly jumped in surprise when the red-head placed a burgundy-coloured lipstick in her hand and turned her to face the mirror.
Alya ran her fingers through the dark tresses of the smaller female's hair, separating the strands and beginning to braid. "You need a pop of colour," she explained, gesturing to the neutral make-up. "I won't take any more pictures, so calm down, okay? Go network yourself there, and maybe pick up a few numbers if that man of yours isn't up to standards."
"Fuck off," she replied fondly.
-x-
The temperature with chilly, and she felt the exposed skin of her thighs prickling from the crisp air. A few individuals had passed—either occupants or guests for the blonde's party—and sent odd looks her way, yet none had questioned why she was there, standing clad in a dress too thin for the weather with a small bag on her back. She shifted in her dark ankles boots, checking the cell phone for the time.
Chat hadn't showed, yet.
Alya had braided her hair back, apart from her bangs and a few strands to frame her features. The red-head had shoved her outside while admiring her outfit, and said she'd hold the fort until she was home (to give details, of course). Rose had messaged her a few times to ask what was happening, since she was spending the evening with Mylène and, apparently, missing out on the action. Manon had sent her spontaneous message of droning on about the gossip from her university, and then proceeded to ask what the dark-haired female was doing for that evening; from which, Marinette had stated she was going to spend it doing something that required courage. The brunette, comically, assumed that she meant rock climbing.
"Mari!" she heard before arms were around her neck, and her face was pressed into someone else's golden hair. "I'm so glad to see you here but, well, why are you here?"
If the distinct smell of her perfume hadn't given her away, Marinette doubted there was anyone else that would have given her such an enthusiastic greeting. Aurore was smiling, clad in a white sundress that had a deep neckline, revealing the ample curve of her breasts.
"I see they're out today," Marinette remarked, a grin curling around the edge of her lips.
Aurore stuck her tongue out childishly. "If you'd draw your eyes away from them, you'd notice my shoes are a lot more appealing." Attractive if she was interested in the same sex, rather; Aurore had bright crimson shoes that were made of various straps, and with a higher heel than she'd seen for a while. "Great, right?"
"If you say so," she said with a whistle. "Are you trying to impress someone tonight?"
"You," the blonde deadpanned.
She grinned. "You caught me." Offering her arm, Marinette let laughter burst through her stained lips when the blonde-haired female linked hers through it, shooting her a flirty smile while raising her golden eyebrows. "I'd escort you in, my lady, but I'm waiting for someone."
Aurore's brow raised higher at that. "Really now?" she questioned, pulling the smaller female in closer. "Is this a recent development?"
"Eh..." Marinette trailed off, free hand self-consciously moving to rub her occupied elbow. "I guess you could say that?"
"You owe me a lot of details, Miss Dupain-Cheng," Aurore proclaimed, sounding her tongue in a noise of disapproval. "Imagine that I had to read about your scandalous relationship."
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "In a gossip magazine, no less," she agreed.
"Quite." Aurore huffed. "So let's have a date during the week, okay? I'll clear up time to catch with some coffee." Before she could reply with the affirmative, Aurore simply raised her eyebrows before darting forward and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek mischievously and walking past the security guard to venture inside. Marinette didn't have the change to wave good-bye, nor give her any kind of witty response.
"You and Aurore really are close," a voice remarked behind her, a teasing quality clear within the low tones. "I think I may be a bit jealous, actually."
Her cheeks coloured despite the roll of her eyes. Shooting the male a look with narrowed eyes over her shoulder, she wasn't surprised to meet his amused expression, nor the bright emerald eyes that she'd come to associate with silly comments. "If you're jealous of her," she began, watching the lopsided smirk play across his lips, "then I have every reason to be jealous of the models you work with."
"Would you prefer to be draped over me instead?" Adrien asked, smile widening at the bewildered expression that appeared on her face. "I'm here to escort you inside." It was similar to the words she'd said to Aurore mere minutes ago.
Marinette tilted her head to the side quizzically.
"Nino will be... late," he explained, offering his arm in a gesture reminiscent to her interaction with her friend. "I've been instructed to be your guardian angel, for the time being."
"My hero," she replied wryly, linking her arm through his.
The security guard didn't question the plus one on Adrien's hand; perhaps they had known beforehand. The journey up to the apartment door was tense at first, but Adrien broke it by asking about the weather, and she snorted despite her attempts to keep her laughter under control. By the time he was pushing the door open, nodding at the hired help that was adequately dressed and ready to take coats that were offered, Marinette had tears brimming upon her eyes.
"The weather?" she questioned, winded and incredulous.
He sniffed. "It's rather cold, if you haven't noticed." Not that it was bothering him, from the seems of it. He was clad in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a few buttons not done up, along with dark-washed jeans and clean shoes.
They were almost showing the same amount of skin. The flesh between her thigh-high socks and dress, and the sleeves that ended just below her elbows meant they were almost equal.
"Your hair should be keeping you warm," she noted, eyeing the strands that were brushing the top of his collar. "Are you growing it out?"
"I'd never be allowed to," Adrien explained, running a hand through the tresses of his bangs that were swept to one side. "It's in my contract, actually."
She blinked. "Then ask about it? I'm sure whoever you negotiated with would allow you, eventually, if you explained it was what you wanted."
His grin didn't meet his eyes. "You try talking to my father," he joked.
A waiter waltzed past and thrust a brightly-coloured drink into each of their hands, thanked them for coming before moseying onto the next group. Marinette's eyes flickered around the spacious apartment, taking in the groups of people; she recognised Chloé, naturally, who was talking animatedly with Aurore, and Max and Kim in the same group. Mireille was with a female that she didn't recognise, and the other four scattered through the rooms she was unfamiliar with. Adrien unlinked their arms and flashed her a reassuring smile, one that was genuine that time, and took a hold of her hand and pulled her gently to the nearest leather sofa.
She shifted from the cold feeling on her thighs, tugging her hand free from his. "You're very touchy feely, aren't you?"
"Only with those I like," he assured her.
"I should greet Chloé before she screeches at the sight of me," she suggested.
Adrien took a sip from his drink. "I'm sure she'll be fine with you here. Why don't you stay with me for a bit?"
Pursing her lips, her eyes flickered between the inviting blond beside her and the female who was grinning while twirling in her teal-coloured dress. "Fine," Marinette relinquished, "but not for too long. I'm supposed to be networking tonight."
"Oh?" he questioned, a finger playing along the edge of his glass. "Is this for your job?"
"No." She shook her head. "A request from a friend."
Perhaps it was to show off, but Marinette couldn't help but be envious as he raised a single eyebrow in question. How was she supposed to bring up the Ladyblog anyway? Randomly placing herself into a conversation then bringing up a completely different topic with the only reason being that she wanted to know if anyone knew it was strange, to say the least. Admitting that she knew the owner—did Rose could as an owner, too?—wasn't an option either.
"It's a strange one, isn't it?"
There was her opening! If she was alone, she would have clicked her fingers enthusiastically. "Yes," she confessed, beaming from the opportunity. "It's to help research a topic for one of her projects—sadly, she and Chloé aren't exactly friends."
He chortled. "That's not a surprise. She's very uppity when she wants to be."
"Definitely," Marinette agreed, grateful that he never attempted to defend the blonde's attitude. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions, then?" At the shake of head, Marinette could only hope that the further conversations that evening would be as smooth as the current one. "Have you heard of the Ladyblog?"
Adrien blinked, visibly surprised. "Perhaps I'm rather conceited lately, but I thought this conversation was going to go in a completely different direction. To answer the question, though, yes. Of course I've heard of it."
Rather than be surprised at his first confession, Marinette stiffened at the answer. Of course? What on Earth did of course mean? Although she knew it was slightly popular, the man sat a short distance to her left was famous throughout the world for his looks, and was highly sought after—the difference between him and Lady was drastic. "Of course?" Marinette choked out.
"Well, yes." He blinked, eyes trying to decipher her reaction. "There's a few brands that are mulling over contacting her to model for them—but that's very selective information, so maybe don't include that in there."
Her response was to rasp, "I'll tell my friend that, then."
His eyebrows knitted together slightly. "Was that not the answer you were looking for?"
"I'm aware it's... popular," she said, the word sour upon her tongue, "but I didn't think that someone like you would know it."
"I can't tell if that's a compliment or not," Adrien teased, hand brushing against hers upon the sofa. "Lady's very popular in the business, actually. She's like a rising star that some designers want to snag because she sells clothing, too. Nino's a big fan of hers—but don't tell anyone, or he'll deny it until he dies. His computer background is even from her site."
Gulping the thick lump in her throat, she uttered, "Really?"
"Yes," he confirmed, flashing her a sincere smile. "He's usually quite a big fan of models and such, so I assume that the whole mystery debacle makes Lady even more attractive to others."
"I-I see," she choked out.
The blog made them money, along with various sponsor products, but it wasn't helping with her confidence as much as she'd like. Hearing that the one male she'd wanted to never see it had actually browsed the site, and was even a fan caused her heart to thump awkwardly and cause her to wonder what would happen if she ever revealed herself—but it was too soon for that. She needed to tackle one hurdle at a time, not reveal her best kept secret.
"Thank you," she said, placing her hand on top of Adrien's warm one briefly, "but I should get going now."
His eyes were trained on their hands a moment before withdrawing his, lips curling into a lopsided grin. "All right," he agreed, running his fingers through the golden tresses of his hair. "Remember I'm supposed to be your guardian angel for tonight—so call if you're in any trouble. Chloé or no Chloé."
She rolled her eyes fondly. "You're insufferable, did you know that?"
"I'd prefer charming." He grinned.
"If you're always this overbearing, I'm going to consider that divorce," the dark-haired female teased, pleased as his grin grew in amusement.
Waving in good-bye with her free hand, Marinette crossed the room and greeted Mireille with her unknown conversation partner with a nod, and walked purposely towards the section of the room that hosted Chloé—by the bar, it seemed. If she kicked her out, that would've been fine, albeit just a tad embarrassing, but she was determined to at least stay until Nino arrived. Just before she came to the blonde, she pulled her cell phone from her bag to send a message quickly.
To her surprise, there was already one from Nathaniel. He'd asked her for coffee the following week, the same time as last. The thoughts of Silencieux floated through her head, and if, perhaps, they revealed their pseudonyms to each other, then he would have been able to coach her to be in the mentality of not flinching from every mention of her alter. Nathaniel had been popular for years, from his debut, so, surely, he would have tips and tricks to share (if he didn't gulp and run when she hinted towards his secret career).
'Marinette:
When do you think you'll arrive?'
She wasn't expecting a reply. And Nino didn't give one.
Chloé curled her upper lip in distaste upon the sight of her, but that was all. She thanked the blonde for allowing her to come, and Chloé grumbled under her breath in response before donning a bright, and fake, smile that showed the whites of her teeth.
"Marinette," she started, playing with the top of her glass, "it seems you're rather well known—a lot more than I expected, honestly."
She baulked. "T-thank you?"
"Not sure if it's a compliment." Chloé huffed, blowing a stand of hair away from her face. "But I don't have anything against you, are we clear? We're just... acquaintances. That's us, all right."
"Sure." Marinette blinked, bewildered. "I never considered us friends in the first place."
Chloé's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "That's great." To her surprise, the golden-haired female stood up from her chair upon the bar, and linked her free arm through Marinette's (a common theme for that evening). "Come along now and I'll introduce you to everyone that's here. Don't worry, though, I won't make fun of you."
"Okay?" Marinette said, perplexed.
"Okay," Chloé repeated, grinning wildly. "You, of course, know Max and Kim from last time. Kim's currently heartbroken from his rejection from Aurore, and Max is smitten with some mystery girl who he won't tell us much about—I suspect it's the girl from the event, but I'm not sure."
Marinette pursed her lips, not revealing any information from Manon. It seemed that Chloé had an agenda of her own as she whisked the dark-haired female around the room, pointing out names and then a titbit of information that was rather private. She learned things about a small group of models that she wasn't aware (particularly a piercing somewhere), and then was told that Aurore used to be chubby when she was younger, before her stint on a television show. When they rounded a corner, still with linked arms, and Marinette's eyes connected with Adrien's bewildered ones, he tilted his head to the side silently in question. Discreetly, she shrugged her shoulders in a non-committal answer.
"Oh, yes," Chloé said with a gasped, pulling her along near the bar. "I don't need to make any introductions here, right?" She hadn't been making introductions; just saying names and little secrets, not telling individuals that her name was Marinette or anything. "Adrien here is a good friend of yours, eh?"
"Yes, Chloé," Adrien answered for her, raising his eyebrows at the interaction between the two females. "What are you two up to, then?"
The blonde's smile grew. "Just introducing your good friend to everyone. I'm afraid I have to depart now, though. Don't make any more headlines, you two. Okay?" And with that said, Chloé was waltzing away with a sway in her hips and a brightly-coloured drink soon in her hands from a passing waiter.
"...She is odd," Marinette remarked.
"Before you, she was my only friend other than Nino," Adrien confessed, shaking his head at the thought. "It was a rather lonely childhood until you threw a ball in my face."
Her head whipped around to face him with a shocked expression. "Please, tell me you're joking."
"Oh, no," Adrien denied while laughing. "I'd ventured into Nino's garden—against orders, of course—and suddenly, a bright pink ball collided with my face and there was blood everywhere. I think you just followed your toy, so when it was stained red and I was there clutching my nose, you choked a bit before tackling me to try and stop the bleeding."
"That doesn't sound smart," she remarked weakly, aware that panic was still showing on her expression. Of all the things she'd heard from him, the story of how they'd actually met hadn't been on. Did she know Nino back them, or was it through the ball that she met them both? There was a pink-coloured ball stuffed away in her room at home, still, so perhaps that was the miracle ball that had given her such great childhood friends. "I didn't break your nose, did I?"
He laughed, placing his chin upon his palm. "No, I'm just a bleeder. You did tear off half of your shirt and try and stuff it up my nose afterwards—and that's how you met Nino, too, actually. He came out wondering what the noise was and then thought you were attacking me."
"Well, I was," she mumbled, cheeks colouring at the revelation.
"It was a pretty glorious meeting," Adrien soothed her, surprising her with a wink when she looked up.
She grumbled in response, "You're a flirt."
"I still prefer charming," he teased.
Shaking her head fondly, Marinette excused herself with the reason being for networking, the same as last, and actively avoided the group of people that Chloé had merged herself in with. Her brief conversation with Aurore was full of wonder, mostly because the female had already became quite intoxicated, but she still revealed that she was a fan of the Ladyblog. Apparently, she'd even ordered underwear from the site and was waiting for more designs, so she could attempt to order them, too. Max and Kim had mentioned they knew of it, too, but they promptly avoided eye contact after the small expression, so she didn't question their motivations. The group of models, especially the one with the peculiar piercing, gushed that they knew of it—and even that they were friends with her. She was dumbfounded at the sheer audacity of their bragging, but they didn't take the statement back after she'd asked. When she announced it was research for a project, they said to contact them at the company the following week for more information about Lady, as they had a shoot scheduled there. Even Mireille said she'd heard of it, but didn't claim to be her friend, thankfully.
Marinette resisted the urge to rub her eyes at the bar. She rested her elbows upon the countertop, wondering just why the blog had been so popular—sure, she could understand young men interested in the particular style of pictures, but females and even models?
"You look like you need this."
A drink was pushed her way. She took it gratefully and sipped at the liquid, almost choking when she turned to the right and saw Nino standing beside her, a gentle smile on his lips and curls pushed back and tamed. "H-hi," she choked out, swallowing.
"Hey," he returned, signalling the bartender for a drink of his own.
Her cheeks coloured when she realised he'd given her the drink he had. She sipped from the glass tentatively, wondering how to approach the delicate subject with tact.
"I don't remember you," she blurted.
Perfect. It was exactly as she'd imagined—she'd have a plan made up perfectly and ditch it at the last moment to blurt whatever was on the tip of her tongue. Nino's expression quickly turned perplexed, and as he opened his mouth to question her, she held her hands up frantically, knocking the glass over in the process.
"W-wait," she stuttered, gratefully accepting the napkins that were thrust her way with coloured cheeks. "If you talk, I don't think I-I'll be able to tell you everything."
Nino made a hum of agreement, settling himself down upon a seat and looking at her intently.
She nervously scratched the back of her neck, Adrien's reminder that it had been a habit she had when she was younger running through her mind. "I was in an accident after you left, and I've had amnesia ever since. I—well, I don't remember anything before it; that means you, Adrien, Plagg and Tikki. Anything that we did together—I'm s—I'm so sorry for deceiving you but I really didn't want to! It just happened!"
"Are you okay?" Nino asked, voice laced with concern.
"I—I'm fine," she stammered, inwardly cringing as her face coloured further. It was harder than she'd expected to confess everything to him. She'd imagined many different scenarios; from him being outraged and angry, and terribly confused, but never had she imagined that he'd be concerned about her nervous stuttering or flushed cheeks. At least she wasn't tearing up from guilt (yet). "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She hiccuped, hands running along the flesh of her face and messing up her make-up in the process. To her complete mortification, tears began to well up along her dry cerulean eyes, and despite the constant blinking she couldn't will them to go away.
"Marinette," the dark-haired male started, a hand gently touching her back as he began to make soothing motions. "Hey, it's okay. Marinette?"
The calm tone of his voice paired with the comforting presence—she could feel the warmth from his body in front of her face—just made her eyes well up more. She sniffled, pawing at the countertop for a remaining tissue to dab at her eyes and nose.
"Marinette," he called again, voice stronger that time. "It's okay, really. That must have been hard for you to say, and I absolutely appreciate that you told me."
She swiped at her eyes furiously. "I should have told you sooner," she croaked.
The answer she received made her blink in surprise, rather than from her drying tears. "You had no obligation to. This was your choice to tell me."
"I... I suppose so."
"Thank you for telling me," Nino replied with a sincere grin that showed the small, barely there, dimples upon his cheeks. "It means a lot to me."
All she could say was, "Okay." Was he intoxicated? Did he not care about the information? She'd just admitted that she couldn't remember him at all, and that had been the foundation of their strange relationship. And yet, he was smiling gently at her as if she'd told him good news.
"Your mannerisms are still the same," he started, drawing her attention back. "Holding your elbow or touching your neck isn't very common—Adrien got the neck habit from you, too. It's fun to tease him for it."
And there he was, bringing his cousin into the conversation willingly, contradicting his words.
Marinette excused herself, dashing for the unoccupied bathroom. With tissues and the basin's help, she cleared up the smudges of make-up that were streaked around her eyes, and willed herself not to be such a coward. He'd said that he was thankful for her telling him; not upset, not deceived, and certainly not angry. Perhaps, it was too good to be true.
-x-
Alya had been overjoyed with the response Marinette reiterated to her. To celebrate the research that had went so very well, she snapped a picture the following morning when the dark-haired female had been brushing her hair. Marinette rolled her eyes at the action, unconcerned with the image as she was almost fully dressed at that point. After slipping a blazer upon her clothing, she disappeared and kept herself wrapped up in her thoughts.
Chat hadn't responded to her texts—or was it adequate to call him Nino by that point? They'd conversed in person, after all, and it was easy to associate the two together; apart from the glaring fact that Nino was polite and certainly hadn't began to flirt while within her presence. Perhaps, he was waiting to build up to that (especially after the confession she'd stuttered through). But now, thankfully, he would know that she held no affection feeling for his cousins, other than that of someone who could, potentially, be a good friend.
Adrien was... disarming. He was a whirlwind of positive emotions, smiles, and willing divulged precious childhood information in the hopes of helping her. Even with his constant teasing, she could see why they had been friends in the first place.
It didn't feel right to change his name on her cell phone to Nino. Alya and Rose had a habit of scouring through her contacts and messages some evenings when they were bored, and they knew that she referred to him as that name. To save any drama, she left it as it was.
Xavier picked her for errands that day. She nodded dutifully and picked up the different folders of paperwork that she had to deliver to different offices, moving robotically from the amount of time she'd spent tossing and turning the previous evening. If she'd known that Nino would have reacted so well, and not sent a single message afterwards, she'd have swallowed a few more fruity drinks before groaning on her mattress in distress.
Narrowly avoiding colliding with someone, Marinette sat down at the nearest table to sort through the different folders. She knew the layout well enough of the company by that point, so she organised the different parchments in order of where to go.
"Marinette!" Her head snapped up to see Penny waving at her with a folder in her hands. "Give this to Xavier, will you? Thank you!" And with that, Penny threw the folder a small distance to the table and winked at the dark-haired female, unconcerned when it missed and fell to the floor, spilling pieces of paper for everyone near to see.
Marinette scrambled to pick up the papers before they were trodden on, curiosity getting the best of her. She peeked at the contents of the papers as she sorted them, crumpling the edges in her hands when a page contained pictures of Lady. This—this wasn't good, was it? Penny, a higher-up in the magazine division, giving a folder containing her alter ego to another higher-up? What were they planning to do—ask her to be involved in their company? She already was—they just didn't know! They didn't need to know. She placed a hand upon her frantically beating heart, telling herself she was simply fantasising.
There were still papers littering the floor. Picking them up robotically, Marinette was trying not to let her panic show on her expression.
"Marinette?" Fucking glorious. She stilled in surprise, crumpling the edges of another piece of paper. A body was soon on their knees beside her, plucking sheets of paper from the floor and passing them towards her. "Oh, are you doing something with Lady?"
"Not... personally," Marinette replied, smiling stiffly.
Nino's smile was enthusiastic, meeting his dark eyes. "Then someone here is, right? I suggested the idea to Penny a while ago, but I had no idea if she'd agree to do it."
"Adrien wasn't exaggerating that you're a fan of hers, then," she commented lightly, taking the offered papers and placing them back into their folders.
"She is rather beautiful," he agreed, standing up and brushing the dirt from his clothing, "but my... infatuation—if you can call it that—was before I started talking to this really amazing girl."
Fighting the urge to scream loudly in surprise, Marinette's expression was, thankfully, calm and collected. She raised her eyebrows—as she couldn't raise one alone—a small smile playing upon her lips. "Oh?" she questioned.
"Yeah." Nino's smile grew, showing the whites of his teeth as pink began to splatter across his tanned cheeks. "She's everything I could want in someone. Don't tell the press that, though. They can't catch wind of this."
She croaked, "Okay," in a way similar to the previous night.
He winked at her. "It's a secret between us."
"Okay," she reiterated, bunching the folder beneath her arm as she clutched her elbow through her blazer.
Nino caught sight of the action and merely chuckled, wishing her farewell as he needed to leave. She watched him leave with a mixed expression, wondering why something seemed to be missing in their interactions. Although he could make her blush—but then again, most could—there was an element of their previous conversations online that wasn't translating well in person.
The folders were passed out to the correct rooms, and she took a breather at lunch to collect herself. Checking her cell phone, she blinked in surprise from the message.
'Adrien Agreste:
Would you like to go somewhere with me? We always said we'd go when we're older.'
There was no feeling of disappointment that it was from Adrien.
'Marinette:
Okay.'
That was her favourite reply lately, it seemed.
He replied much the same.
'Adrien Agreste:
Okay.'
She smiled.
PREVIEW: "Your sweet tooth is quite endearing, my dear."
