AN: Découvrir; to discover, to find.
Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc
She was able to wrap herself up in a cocoon of work, stitching and sewing and by the time the following Friday was over, Marinette had brightly-coloured band-aids (courtesy of Rose), dark circles that she was too lethargic to cover with concealer under her eyes, and a constant yawn that couldn't be covered by her hand forever. Xavier had looked, critiqued, and decided the winner of his section on the spot—Marinette had came second, as Sarah had remarked that she wasn't fond of the shoe choice. The bloody shoe choice! Vincent had came first, and the smug expression that appeared on his usually scowling face was strange to see. They had, thankfully, been given the weekend off, so Marinette was lounging on the sofa in the kitchen, an arm thrown over her eyes as Alya whisked some concoction by the stove and she could faintly hear Rose running inside the apartment.
Through the week, Rose had taken it upon herself to burst into the dark-haired female's room just to tell her something vaguely important.
"I saw some guy slip his hand beneath Aurore's shirt! She kneed him between the legs!"
That had been the information on Monday, and when she had coffee with the irritated blonde—since Nathaniel had cancelled last minute for their drink after class with no explanation—Aurore had moaned and groaned about her life as a scantily clad female. She explained, "It's almost February, Marinette, that's the month of love—therefore the month of skin. I'm preparing myself for the cold air." But not the warm hands trying to cop a feel, apparently.
"That awful pimply thing in my class asked me out!"
Tuesday's. A male had been hitting on Rose—or, trying to—since their first year, and she was slowly becoming more fed up with it.
"Nino posted a topless picture!"
Wonderful information. Marinette had rolled her eyes that day and adamantly refused to look.
"Juleka just posted a picture with her girlfriend! Oh, oh—fuck, she's really pretty."
If the blonde didn't almost worship the floor Nino walked on, then she would've assumed there was more than platonic feelings between her and Juleka.
"Chloé said my shirt looks pretty. I'm burning it."
There wasn't a common theme that she was expecting from the bubbly blonde. So when Rose burst through the kitchen door, panting visibly with flushed cheeks and short hair askew, Marinette blinked in surprise.
"You okay?" she asked.
Rose held up a hand, signalling she needed a moment to catch her breath.
Alya laughed and continued to whisk.
Turning around to sit up, Marinette stretched her arms over her head and sighed at the feeling. It took a few moments to realise, but the blonde leaning against the countertop was fanning herself with something that looked suspiciously like a magazine. She hadn't mentioned any upcoming interviews from Nino, so she was perplexed to see it.
Curiosity got the best of her. "What have you got there?"
"What do you think?" Rose huffed, blowing the hair from her forehead forcefully. As she waltzed through the small kitchen, she was momentarily distracted by marvelling over the creation that the red-head was dutifully making, and she hummed in appreciation while attempting to slip her finger into the mixture to taste a portion. The bespectacled female whacked her with the whisk and pointed towards the sofa, banishing her from that section of the room. "It's yours."
Raising her eyebrows, Marinette said coolly, "I didn't buy anything."
She winched when Rose hit her with the rolled up magazine. "Your interview, you beautiful idiot."
"You need to work on your insults," she mumbled, sinking slightly to the side as the blonde sat down beside her.
The magazine was sleek, glossy and the same as always, with the sharp printed words, a professionally taken photograph of a celebrity on the front—
"Fuck," she blurted, noticing the cover picture was Adrien. There he was with his golden halo of hair that was perfectly styled, with a few strands falling loose to rest upon his forehead. He was in casual clothing that looked form-fitting and great for his body, and from the barely there dimples showing on his cheeks he was enjoying himself—and she realised why when her curious eyes trailed to his shoulders. "How the actual fuck?"
"He's not even his," Rose mumbled, crossing her arms after she'd thrust the magazine into the dark-haired female's lap.
Marinette made a noise of disapproval. "They share him, actually."
Plagg with his luminous green eyes, sleek ebony fur and average body size—she was relieved to see he wasn't overfed and large, actually, from the description she'd gathered about him—was balancing upon the blond's shoulder, claws digging in through the fabric of his shirt in an effort to stay in. She wondered how long the picture had taken to be perfect, and just how they'd managed to have the feline stay where he was, rather than stay far away from the staff and hide in a dark corner.
Tikki would probably never be that friendly again.
"So, this contains my interview," she started, staring at the clearly delighted feline that was enjoying his time with Adrien, "and it probably has a few pages of Adrien inside, too."
"A section for you and your lover." Rose winked.
Marinette rolled her eyes. "At least people think I have one."
The blonde gawked openly before bursting into laughter, placing a hand over her heart with a mock offended expression. "How dare you? I'm the married one of the two of us."
Well, that wasn't really true any more, was it? Marinette's lips twitched in an effort not to laugh. "Your wife is unfaithful."
"It's an open relationship."
She gnawed her lower lip briefly. "Then why aren't you dating anyone?"
Rose raised her eyebrows. "I'm exploring my options."
"Please," Marinette replied, knocking her shoulder into the blonde's, almost knocking the magazine off of her lap. "You haven't been on a date in about... six months, I think?"
"Maybe," she mused, tentatively stroking her chin with her finger, "that's about the last time I shaved down there, anyway."
"Rose!"
Rose grinned widely, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, come on, Mari. That was a joke—you know I'm saving it for someone special! Not until marriage, like my mother taught me."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Your mother fell pregnant at fifteen—she was definitely not married to the father you don't even know."
Waving her hand, Rose dismissively said, "Details."
She rolled her eyes that time. The first few pages of the magazine were relatively normal, surprisingly, and then came the moment where she stilled in surprise. Adrien had four pages—fucking four—which featured him and Plagg in various different shots for the first two. She glossed over the paragraphs of text, opting to gaze at the pictures as she flicked through to the other half. Rose made a high-pitched noise, snatching the magazine from her fingers and fawning over it herself. Adrien had allowed them to use some pictures from when he was younger; meaning, him, a young and slightly dirty Nino were posing together with Plagg balancing upon both of their shoulders. At the other childhood photograph, Marinette's throat felt dry and constricted.
It was her sat down shoulder-to-shoulder with Adrien, leaning against the bottom of an ebony sofa, Tikki fast asleep in the blond's lap, while Plagg was draped across her gloriously. The two of them had matching grins—she was still missing a tooth, she noticed—and from the askew angle she assumed that Nino had been the one holding the camera.
"I'll read it later," Marinette said quietly when Rose started to trail her finger along to the text.
Rose didn't question it. "Sure."
"Are you two going to smooch and be done?" Alya's voice cut in. "Food will be ready soon."
"Yes, mother," the two chimed in together.
Her section was after Adrien's, and consisted of only one page, thankfully. Her lips pursed into a tight line when she saw the plethora of images strewn across the paper—the bubble wand picture that she'd been shown by Penny, the imagine of Adrien kissing her hand at the charity event, and the final one was the one she'd been shown before; her holding Tikki in the garden. The text was roughly what she had said—that they were neighbours, her parents owned a pâtisserie, and that there was no romantic involvement between them, despite the gossiping articles about them. It was embellished, though, and the writer had added a section along the bottom that was questioning their adult relationship and speculating which of the two she would be involved with.
Marinette sighed, closing the magazine shut and standing up to stretch.
"At least they didn't say much about you," Rose commented, eyes focused on the paragraphs. "'Marinette Dupain-Cheng, an average girl that is best friends with two of today's superstars since they were mere boys. With the help of her parents' cooking, she charmed the two males at an early age...'"
She groaned. "Stop."
Rose accidentally snorted in her laughter. She looked horrified at the noise before seeing Marinette's uncomfortable expression and shifting. "They didn't mention that you currently work for them, or about which university you go to. It'll be fine."
"Yes, I'm sure," she drawled sarcastically. "People just asked questions about them before—now they'll harass me even more."
"It's the only action you're getting." Rose winked.
She grumbled in return, "More than you."
-x-
'Adrien Agreste:
Morning, Marinette. How did you sleep?'
It was seven o'clock in morning and the chimes from her cell phone had rudely woken her up.
'Marinette:
Go away, Chat. It's too early.'
It was her first Sunday off, fully, since the internship had started. The tell-tale sound of bells sounded five minutes after her dismissive message, and she rolled over and pressed her face firmly into the fabric of the pillow until it was hard to breathe.
'Adrien Agreste:
Are you okay?'
She blinked.
"Oh, fuck."
It wasn't who she'd assumed it was from. There wasn't many that messaged her early in the morning, and the assumption had slipped before she'd even checked the name with bleary eyes. It hadn't even occurred to her that she'd requested for time before talking to Nino—well, they had conversed in person, so that had counted, hadn't it? The fact that Adrien had messaged her so early in the morning, however, was enough to make her rub her tired eyes in confusion.
'Marinette:
Yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that. Why are you up so early?'
It was amazingly more coherent than her thoughts.
'Adrien Agreste:
Fuck, my bad. I forgot about the time difference. Please, try and sleep again!'
Strangely, she wanted to actually hear him curse. It seemed very out of place from his appearance.
'Marinette:
I'm awake now, don't worry about it. How about you tell me about where you are?'
Marinette sighed, kicking the duvet from her body.
'Adrien Agreste:
Abroad currently. I apologise again.'
She blinked.
'Marinette:
Well, anything else to tell me?'
His reply came after she'd brushed her teeth and crawled back onto her mattress, pulling her laptop onto her lap.
'Adrien Agreste:
I'm really not good with heat. I get nosebleeds when the temperature changes too rapidly for me.'
That was news to hear. With curiosity and feeling like a terrible stalker, Marinette searched for the blond's social media to find further details about his trip. She found a few quick posts which contained images of him within a plane, walking through the airport and smiling brightly within a restaurant while displaying his food. She'd asked for the details that he'd showed to his followers, but the insert of personal information was very open and friendly.
'Marinette:
I'd make a joke about you seeing attractive women, but that would be of poor taste.'
When she'd finished the leftover pancakes that Alya had made, she was glad she'd already swallowed before reading his message.
'Adrien Agreste:
That would be pretty ap-paw-ling.'
"Fucking cousins," she grumbled, washing the dishes with more gusto than needed. A few clumps of bubble flew up, attaching to her clothing. "Always so bloody full of puns, and stupid dimples that are really fucking cute."
A throat cleared from behind her. Marinette whirled around, causing soapy lukewarm water to splash on the countertops and on the red-head beside her, along with bubbles that hilarious landed on Alya's breasts.
"'That would be pretty ap-paw-ling'..." Alya started, raising her eyebrows and darting between the cell phone in her hand and the female with soaked hands and an awfully surprised expression. "I thought I was snatching your phone to find sexy messages, but you're just making bad jokes at each other. What the fuck, Mari?"
Her cheeks warmed. "Alya!" she scolded, wiping her hands on a stray towel before attempting to grab her cell phone. To her horror, the tinkling of bells sounded and caused the red-head's expression to turn positively gleeful.
Alya visibly vibrated in excitement. "'Sorry again for waking you up, darling. I'll send you the details about where we're going later, I need to board the plane now.'"
"Al—"
She was cut off by the red-head throwing her arms around her neck and squeezing tight. "He even called you darling—I'm so proud of you, girl! How the fuck did you seduce the fucking god that is Adrien Agreste?"
"It's out of context!" she groaned, slapping the wandering hands away. "Don't look too far into it, Alya, because only you are."
The red-head's grin was wolfish as she passed the cell phone back. "I'm always here if you want to know how to send sexy messages."
"Fuck off."
She barely caught the cell phone that was thrown her way. Marinette blew air into her cheeks, making them bulge with the pressure and display her disapproval as the red-head beside her snickered, snatching the cloth from her hands and scooting her out of the way. Alya was very particular about dishes being clean—so she washed a lot of them two times, if Marinette or Rose had attempted to clean them by themselves. The red-head's mother had taught her well, and the cooking training wasn't the only thing that she had a talent for.
"Heads up, by the way, there's an interview airing tomorrow, and Nino's having another webcast soon," Alya mentioned, gazing into the soapy bubbles with a small smile. "Rose will probably want to cook again."
She blinked. "You mean, she wants to help weigh the ingredients and then watch me do the work while she twirls her pretty little apron at Nino's pixilated face."
"What else?" Alya grinned.
"Any idea what she'll want to, well, help with?"
She hummed. "Something sweet, definitely."
"Why, you don't say—I forgot I'm only allowed to cook the sweet treats around here."
Alya's voice shook with her laughter. "I'll always remind you."
-x-
The stares within classes had gotten worse after the interview had came out. A few class-mates had wandered over to her, waving the magazine in her face with a wide smile, but that was all from the ones that were distant to her usually in the classrooms. A few individuals had approached her in the hallways and asked rather strange questions; whether Nino had broken bones when he was younger, who their crushes were, if they'd worn embarrassing underwear that she'd seen at a young age, and the weirdest she had uttered to her that afternoon was from a bespectacled male from Alya's class—and from the fact that she could see the red-head shaking with laughter through the window, she had to assume that she'd sent him her way—that had asked if Adrien had ever worn her clothing.
"No," Marinette said slowly, knitting her eyebrows together. "Why?"
The male before her coloured considerably. "He would've looked nice in them."
Well, with his cherubic looks that were still there slightly to that day, he could have dressed in clothes designed for the opposite gender when he was younger without problems. Her chin wobbled from trying to hold in her laughter. "Okay," she started, voice slightly breathy. "I'll be sure to tell him."
When she was walking through the hallway after a particularly harsh class, where the professor had been a firecracker and wanted nothing more than to snap at certain students, she was rubbing her neck to try and get rid of the strain that had built in her muscles there. A body suddenly collided her, almost causing the dark-haired female to lose her balance and fall forward, which would've resulted in her white cotton dress showing too much skin.
"Marinette!" Aurore sang, wrapping her arms around her. "I'm so glad you were a bitch to me that one day."
She smoothed the hair back into her ponytail, rolling her eyes at the comment. "You and me both, Aurore."
The blonde turned her around, grinning as they were face-to-face. Aurore had bright crimson-coloured lipstick on that made her cerulean eyes pop, and her golden strands of hair were plaited intricately into two braids that fell to below her breasts, on top of her pastel green cardigan over her brown dress.
"You're dressed rather... covered today. Do you have something to tell me?"
Aurore blinked. "I'm not joining the church, don't worry."
Marinette placed a hand over her heart, letting out an exaggerated breath. "Wonderful to hear! I was very concerned about you, just for a moment. What can I do for you, Miss Beauréal?"
The blonde linked their arms with a gleeful smile. "You can come grab a drink with me again. I've already seen that Cherry Boy's absent again, so you're all mine."
"Darling, I'm always yours," Marinette drawled, laughing as the other female winked at her.
"My sweetheart."
When they reached their usual coffee-shop, Aurore insisted on paying and despite her protests, she gave in with a huff and crossed arms after the queue behind them had built up during their bickering. It wasn't that she absolutely hated others spending money on her—she was fine with appropriate gifts when they were given at the right times of the year, after all—but having Aurore, who's parents were loaded with money and constantly splurged on her whenever she wanted something, attempt to buy her things whenever they were together, she felt like she was taking advantage of their relationship. In return, Marinette insisted she paid for their next round of coffees, if they got together before she forgot.
As it turned out, Aurore wasn't pressing her for details about her relationship with Nino and Adrien, still. The blonde simply remarked that Chloé was obscenely jealous, and had always claimed that she was Adrien's only friend growing up—she'd only found out about Nino after she'd aged into a teenager, and even then she was sworn to secrecy. Marinette had guffawed at the right moments of the story, and it certainly explained Chloé's reaction the last time they had been in the room together. She was closer to Adrien than Nino, as the tanned male wasn't usually interested in following her whims and fancies.
"So if Chloé's good friends with Adrien, and you, how close are you to him?" she found herself asking curiously, nursing the warm mug between her hands.
"So-so," the blonde replied, fiddling with the end of her braid. "We mostly met at Chloé's, or special events, but we don't openly seek out conversation with each other. I... I might've spilled a drink over him when we first met, actually. I think he thought it was on purpose."
She gnawed on her lower lip, trying to restrain her laughter at Aurore's distraught expression. "What was the drink?"
"Coffee," was the reply with a visible wince. "It was really cold that evening, then I went to shake his hand and it just went everywhere, and I think he might have squeaked in pain, but I'm not really sure."
If it was still a hot beverage, she would've certainly squeaked in pain from it falling over her. "What a lovely first impression. Well, he did know your name when you disappeared at Max's event—he didn't call you a demon or anything else, so I think you're okay."
"I hope so." She sniffed. "Otherwise he wouldn't approve of me being your girlfriend."
She choked on her coffee, throat suddenly feeling tight and eyes burning from her attempt to cough, to breathe freely. After a few moments of frantic coughing with Aurore's hovering hands unsure whether to pat her back in comfort or not, Marinette recovered with pink tinged cheeks and glared playfully at the half-grinning female across the table.
"Girlfriend?" Marinette questioned. "I'll have you know that I'd be well aware if we're dating—gossip magazines think I'm currently with Adrien. Does that mean you've been woefully sad from my infidelity?"
"Awfully." Aurore grinned. "Anyway, girlfriend. Do you want to come out to a nightclub at the weekend? Chloé actually asked if you were coming."
"Well..." Marinette started awkwardly, her hand self-consciously trailing across to touch her elbow. "I'm not too fond of them, really."
The blonde quirked an eyebrow. "You're fond of me, though."
Somehow Aurore had managed to convince her to attend. Marinette trailed home while shaking her head; the blonde had harped on about how shocked Chloé would actually be, and the fact that Aurore was speculating that the uppity-female would attempt to befriend her, although it would be quite half-heartedly.
By the time Alya was back from class, a mountain of new lingerie for the blog's shop was ready and placed into a box upon the red-head's bed. Alya had shouted loudly in happiness and announced that she was making Marinette's favourite meal for dinner, and while she was trying to calm down the excited bespectacled female, Rose had came charging through the flat with her hair mused and askew, cheeks flushed and looking much like she'd ran a marathon.
"...Hello," Marinette started slowly, knitting her eyebrows together.
"I-I am—fuck, I'm leaving! I'm going!" Rose babbled, rushing forward to open the cupboards for the selected items that she had in mind.
Alya jumped into action first. "Are you okay?"
"Did someone make fun of your cast again?" Marinette asked.
Rose held up her free hand, indicating for them to be quiet so she could talk. The bag she carried for university was perched upon the countertop, the contents from within thrown onto the side as she replaced the items with packaged sweets that they'd stored away for a rainy day.
"Rose," Marinette tried again, watching as the blonde placed the bag back on and began to walk towards the door with an expression of determination.
Thankfully, she paused in the doorway and looked conflicted for a moment. "I need to go," she started in a small voice, fingers running through her short hair to distract her. "The... I just got a call from the hospital, finally. He's woken up."
"Scrapbook Boy?"
"Don't call him that!" Rose snapped at the red-head, narrowing her eyes in her direction—and for the first time, it wasn't playfully. It was one of the first times since the blonde had hit her teenage years that Marinette could remember that she was defending a male that wasn't a celebrity. "He's not coherent, but I want to be there for him—there's no family members, still, and it'll be awful if he's alone when he realises what's happening."
A small smile played on Marinette's lips. "Okay," she said softly, trying to express that she understood. "Travel safely."
Alya didn't protest either. "Make sure to call your parents beforehand, and contact your professors tomorrow, too."
Just before she left, Marinette called, "What about Nino's interview?"
"I'll watch it another time!"
Her eyes trailed to Alya's, the two of them raising their eyebrows in surprise. Rose watched his interview religiously, and it was absolutely rare for her to willingly miss one—if she was on vacation, she tried to watch the interviews on her cell phone or attempt to find a television at the warm place she'd travelled to.
When the atmosphere had calmed down after Rose had disappeared into the distance and began her journey home, Marinette retreated into her bedroom after dinner. Stretching her arms above her head, she checked her e-mails and sighed in frustration from the amount of reporters that had contacted her, yet again.
There was an absence of a certain name on the list.
Marinette bit her lip, wondering whether to pursue her trail of thought.
'Marinette D-C
to Bulle-Chat
Subject: Soufflé
Hello,
Thank you for the time and space; I'm sure I'm ready to converse with you again. I'd like to apologise for the misunderstandings again, and ask whether you'd like to forget about them to move on.
Yours,
Marinette.'
It was during her lesson where Nathaniel was absent, again, when she found the time to check her e-mails during the professor's lecture. She assumed that the red-head had disappeared for his job another time, and that was why the professors weren't permitted to say any information about where he'd vanished to—they had hedged around the answers before, after all. Marinette stopped doodling upon her paper to illuminate her cell phone, eyes searching the column of names looking for the particular one she wanted to see.
'Bulle-Chat
to Marinette D-C
RE: Soufflé
Marinette,
Thank you for replying. I was becoming worried that you didn't want to talk to me any more.
Yours,
Chat.'
Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Although she had excused herself from their conversation, there wasn't much that had indicated that she had wanted to cut communication between the two of them. She didn't feel as strangely relieved as she did with Adrien when she had came clean around her deceit—perhaps, the fact that he hadn't reacted at all how she'd predicted from any of her imaginary scenarios was part of the reason.
'Marinette D-C
to Bulle-Chat
RE: Soufflé
Chat,
Should I say how I've missed you and your awful puns, or would that inflate your ego?
Yours,
Marinette.'
The professor droned on before snapping at a student for not paying attention at the front. Marinette gnawed on her lower lip, unsure whether to risk herself with the illuminated screen in her hands—the windows were covered within the room, so it was darkened and without enough light so it was earlier to see the screen at the front by the professor.
'Bulle-Chat
to Marinette D-C
RE: Soufflé
Marinette,
Well, just about any positive attention inflates it. Sorry we didn't get to talk at Chloé's, though. I was caught up.
Yours,
Chat.'
She blinked. And blinked again. She read through the e-mail countless times, checking whether he'd edited his words in a new e-mail, or if the words were truly correct and she was wondering whether she'd imagined their last encounter in person. His reaction had been rather odd, definitely, but what did he mean with his message? He most definitely wasn't intoxicated when he'd arrived, so that theory of why he'd forgotten was gone. Marinette knitted her eyebrows together, only snapping out of her trail of thought when students began to pass by her with a few strange stares directed her way. Marinette shook her head, shoved her cell phone into the back pocket of her shorts and decided to deal with it later.
When she remembered about her predicament, she was relaxing into her mattress listening to Alya's mumbles and grumbles in the next room, only muffled slightly by the thin walls.
"Well," Marinette mused, looking through her messages, "I didn't hear these."
The headphones on her ears had muffled the noise on the way home. Marinette replied to her parents, and Rose who'd sent a small update, and replied to Manon's hysterical babbling about the interview that she'd finally seen. The last message, however, was from Adrien that caused her to narrow her eyes at.
'Adrien Agreste:
How does Thursday sound for you? In the evening, of course.'
It took a few moments to realise what he meant.
'Marinette:
Will you tell me where we're going? I'm curious what our younger selves wanted to do.'
There were a few options, and a lot of them seemed like they were suitable for young children. What was available late in the evening that nine-year-olds, or younger, would enjoy?
'Adrien Agreste:
It's a secret, sweetheart.'
She squinted. Was it a clue, or was he calling her bad names? Darling was pushing it at times, but she allowed it within good humour in their conversations. Marinette tapped her fingernails on the illuminated screen, pondering her reply while allowing her laptop to start up to access her e-mails.
'Marinette:
I'm assuming it has something to do with sweets. Watch your weight, handsome boy.'
There was no doubt that his diet was restricted, especially as he never drank more than a few sips of alcohol at events, too.
'Marinette D-C
to Bulle-Chat
RE: Soufflé
Chat,
That's okay. When did you arrive?
Yours,
Marinette.'
She'd mulled over her words carefully and chose the most cryptic ones.
The reply came when she was halfway through making a lace-trimmed skirt.
'Bulle-Chat
to Marinette D-C
RE: Soufflé
Marinette,
After you left, unfortunately. Maybe we'll see each other at the next one.
Yours,
Chat.'
She swallowed to cure her suddenly dry throat.
Marinette clenched her hands anxiously, gripping the material of the skirt in her lap in confusion. After she had left? They had conversed before then—she had excused herself and then left. Adrien had even seen and spoken to her, which was per his request, or so she had assumed.
Blinking rapidly to soothe the burning sensation of her eyes, she took deep breaths before reading over the messages, making sure she understood the contents without jumping to conclusions.
She stared at the screen.
"It's not Nino," she concluded incredulously.
Nino had conversed with her that evening, and most definitely saw her excuse herself and leave. Nino knew about her amnesia and had comforted her during her stumbling apology with an odd expression. The tanned male had asked his cousin—
No, that wasn't right, was it?
Perhaps saying it aloud would help her comprehend. "Chat's not Nino."
She breathed loudly.
It was her assumption, after all. The e-mails had never explicitly said it was Nino from the beginning—except she'd contacted Nino's manager, hadn't she?
Her nails were clawing onto her thighs as she scrolled through the sent e-mails, looking for the first e-mail that she had sent to Nino's agent. Once she'd confirmed the name, making sure to jot it down on a piece of paper beside her, Marinette browsed the internet to make sure she had the correct information in the first place. Her throat felt parched when she looked at the information before her—there were new articles about the manager since the reveal about Nino's and Adrien's connection came to light. She scrolled through the various articles that were on the first page, looking through the details that were revealed.
Both cousins had two managers. They shared one that was for within France only, and had more hands on managers for the rest of the time.
"D'Argencourt," she concluded, hands running through her hair in frustration.
The manager had passed her e-mail onto Adrien—clearly the one who had left her the letter, the one who she'd addressed as 'Boy' in the past, and she'd foolishly assumed it was someone else.
She licked her lips.
The assumption had been fully on her part, she realised quickly. When they had arranged to meet, no wonder she'd literally crashed into the blond-haired male at the light reveal, or that she'd walked into the designated café which resulted in him asking for her to sit down. And oh, goodness—she'd asked how he knew her name!
Pulling at the hairs at her temples, Marinette took a deep breath.
"It's not Nino," she repeated, almost hysterically.
Nino hadn't been the one that had sent sweet messages that occasionally woke her up at strange hours of the morning, and he certainly wasn't the one that had been so heartbreakingly charming during their conversation. No wonder that strange tight feeling in her chest that had been there previously in their long exchanges hadn't transferred to the bespectacled male in person—he wasn't the one that had said any of that anyway.
It couldn't have just been a slip up and Nino had forgotten they'd conversed—it had to be not him.
Yet, she found herself questioning more than before.
When they'd spoken at the company, Nino had mentioned a girl that he was smitten with—but it couldn't mean her. In his previous webcast, she remembered a section where the two cousins had teased each other about liking girls—it wasn't her.
The 'm' he'd uttered could have been for a nickname he called her, or simply the girl's name could have started with it. All she knew that it wasn't her.
She felt like she needed to raid the stash of alcohol they kept in their kitchen as she scoured through the internet to find the previous webcast, just to confirm her suspicions.
"Adrien is Chat," she murmured with a breathy voice as she paused the video. "Adrien is Chat."
When he'd called after she'd said she didn't remember their childhood in the café, she'd called him Nino on the phone. She could recall the smile that didn't reach his eyes before she'd left, and now that she knew why and it knocked the breath out of her lungs with guilt. Her throat was dry, parched, and absolutely uncomfortable but she felt that she deserved it at that moment—just trying to imagine how confused and disappointed Adrien had felt when they had finally met in person.
A hysterical bubble of laughter burst from her throat.
Chat had given her Adrien's number. Did he have two cell phones? Why? Was one a cell phone designed for work that he'd given her in the first place, or had he given her that one the second time?
He'd clearly had expectations of their relationship. The small, intimate stories that the blond had slowly revealed to her had clearly suggested that they were particularly close.
"It's Adrien."
She gnawed on her lower lip.
The little comments when she was actually aware she was talking to him—saying they were married, calling her sweet nicknames that were just a little bit endearing but she had simply assumed they were in good humour. Was he—oh, fuck, were they going on a date together on Thursday?
Her heartbeat wasn't steady.
"It was always Adrien."
He... Marinette covered her mouth to stifle the slightly maniacal laughter that came in spurts. He'd—no, Chat, had made an argument about Adrien. By that point, Adrien had assumed the vague identity of his cousin while conversing with her, and had purposely began to mention the relationship between her and his actual self. He—he was conniving, hysterically sweet, and absolutely a little bit insane, and that caused tears of mirth to wet her eyes as she gasped for breath from the laughter.
He wasn't trying to hurt her—that much was clear. Goodness, he was pushing her towards him with his ridiculous assumed identity, just so he didn't have to potentially break her heart by telling her the truth.
It wasn't particularly smart; it was fucking stupid, but the ridiculous idea had her smiling nonetheless.
How was he planning to continue, though? In one of Chat's latest e-mails had asked whether she was okay with possibly having a relationship of sorts between them; how was he going to proceed from there on? Although he had certainly communicated more with her recently with his actual identity, she was curious about what his plan exactly was—slowly let the communication between her and Chat dwindle while he pursued friendship with her in person? What if she went to Nino with her questions, though? Did—Marinette gnawed on her lip in worry—goodness, did Nino know about it?
"No," she mused, shaking her head. If he knew that they were conversing at all, it was unlikely that he'd allowed the blond to assume his identity.
'Marinette D-C
to Bulle-Chat
RE: Soufflé
Chat,
Perhaps one day when the stars align our meetings won't end up in disaster.
Yours,
Marinette.'
-x-
The only information that the blond had been willing to supply was that she needed to dress casual, slightly warm for the weather, and that didn't soothe the burning curiosity that was piqued from all the ideas spiralling within her head. Marinette had sent her address and was waiting on the pavement outside, nervously rocking on the heels of her boots to distract her attention. Alya had disappeared to spend the night at Alix's, surprisingly, and hadn't questioned Marinette's frizzy hair from the constant touching and kneading she'd done around her temples from restless hands. She'd nervously clad herself in a ebony pinafore dress, with a scarlet dots along the small intricate trim along the bottom, with a white long-sleeved t-shirt underneath, a knitted hat after she'd brushed her loose and ridiculously mused hair to hide the effects of her nerves, and slipped on a dark crimson-coloured cardigan upon the top for the weather.
She wondered whether the outfit was too casual. The thigh-high socks she'd been eyeing might have been a nice addition, or a completely different outfit that didn't show her legs so she could claw into her thighs from anxiety when he wasn't looking.
A sleek car that was black, ever-so-shiny with tinted windows drove up and stopped by the curb, engine purring and continuing to run as a door at the back slowly opened. She should have expected that Adrien wouldn't have been the one driving, or that they wouldn't be getting a taxi, but when the blond stepped out of the car with a wide grin on his face, Marinette's expression clearly showed her surprise on her expression.
"...Hi," she started, eyes trailing between him and the open door.
Adrien smiled softly and parroted, "Hi."
"You have a chauffeur," Marinette blurted, cheeks warming to a rosy colour from embarrassment.
He nodded slowly. "I should've mentioned that, eh?"
She toyed with the small bag strap on one shoulder. "Maybe."
The seats within were a soft ivory-coloured and they were clearly expensive—if she had worn anything leather, even faux, then she assumed that she would've slid right off of the seats and fallen onto the clean floor. Marinette almost tripped as she climbed into the car, thankfully managing to maintain her balance at the last moment, and scooted across to press her fabric-clad shoulder to press against the window. Adrien climbed in after, and she noted thankfully that he sat on the farthest seat (leaving one adequately seat between them).
Her fingers twitched.
"Any ideas yet?"
She had been adamantly watching their surroundings through the tinted windows, trying to figure out in which direction that they were going. The chauffeur was a large, bulky man with gray hairs by his temples and a stern expression while he drove. He was silent, and only responded to Adrien's polite prompting of wanting to begin their journey with a stiff nod of his head.
"I'm not sure," Marinette mused whimsically, noticing that they had stopped from traffic. "Something sweet, right?"
It was obvious from the tone of his voice that he was smiling. "Maybe."
From her peripheral vision, Marinette saw him bouncing one leg repeatedly. "You're good at keeping secrets, aren't you?" she found herself saying, watching him for his reaction.
His leg stopped moving. "Maybe," Adrien repeated.
Maybe, indeed. A smile played on her lips as she shifted in her seat, tilting her head slightly to the side to see the sheepish expression that had appeared on his face. "Adrien," she called, aware that her heart had started to beat erratically.
He raised his eyebrows in question.
"What's your stance on cat puns?"
Comically, he blinked in surprise before breathy laughter escaped his lips, and his body shook with the guffaws as he shook his head in mirth. "Really?" he asked, voice deeper from use. "I thought you were going to ask something profound."
Her lips quivered as she tried to keep a straight expression. "This is very important."
"Well, I've sent you one," he mused, running a hand through the stray strands of golden hair, "so you can imagine that I'm not opposed to them."
No wonder he had named himself Chat.
She smiled. "Good to know."
The car stilled to a stop before their conversation could start up again. Marinette watched as the blond beside her visibly smiled, looking through the tinted windows with chin raised in the air to fully see the view. She peered around his shoulder, their destination becoming clearer when he exited the vehicle and stood outside, holding the door open for her. Marinette emerged from the car and smoothed the material of her dress, looking around the area with a wondrous expression.
It was an average sized fair, with brightly-coloured stalls filled with different selections of food and drinks, various small games and competitions to take part in, and large rides that were sure to make her stomach flip if she were to experience them. Marinette took in the bright lights, the variety of banners and the loud positive music that was blaring throughout the field.
"It's a fair," she stated.
Adrien shut the door behind them gently. "It's the fair."
This was where they had wanted to go when they were young, and she could definitely see the location with child-like wonder from the bright lights to the various attractions. If the fair had survived over a decade, then it was surely very popular when it was open. As her eyes trailed to the loud and vibrant crowds of people, who were partaking in games and indulging on high-calorie foods.
"Apparently so," she agreed, rocking on her heels. His chauffeur had disappeared, driving into the distance until they were done, probably. "So, what did we want to do first?"
His grin reached his eyes, and with the bright lights reflecting in the deep emerald, he certainly looked very happy. "Various things, darling. I'll escort you through and point out which you particularly wanted to do."
"Okay." Marinette fell into step beside him, head turning in different directions to see the attractions from a different view, and as they walked slowly to the side of the crowds, she was aware that her stance was rather shy and awkward, and that the male beside her was exuding excitement in an endearing way. "How much are you allowed to eat tonight?"
His grin was lopsided as they made eye contact. "Officially, not much. Let's just hope no one takes pictures of me eating too many doughnuts."
She wrinkled her nose. "How many is too many, though?"
"One is." He laughed.
Their footsteps were drowned out by the loud beats of the music, and as the blond stopped in front of the first stall and lightly grasped her hand to pull her to a stop, Marinette let out a squeak of surprise and then coloured considerably. Adrien's grin grew at the noise, and he squeezed her hand briefly in a comforting gesture before letting her fall to her side, and gestured to the stall. It was a ridiculous game involving water guns, and all she could think of while they were playing was that it really did seem like the childish game she would've enjoyed. They were both equally awful at it, in the end, and as they shared grins when the individual running the stall said that they both had failed to win and prizes and would have to pay once again to attempt more tries.
"You certainly didn't bring me here to impress me," Marinette commented as they searched for their next designated stall.
His grin grew. "It was for you to impress me, actually; you always beat me at every game we ever played."
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not exactly sweeping you off your feet, am I?"
"You could always trip me over instead," Adrien said with a wink.
Despite the colouring of her cheeks, Marinette stuck her tongue out childishly before running off and selecting a stall herself. It was a shooting game, and when she won a prize with a loud noise of surprise, Adrien was still smiles despite the slightly disgruntled expression on his face. Then a pattern appeared—Adrien would heartily attempt to win the selected game by going first and fail gloriously with a grin or a groan, and then Marinette would snatch his weapon of choice and upstage him, evening if it was only marginally. There were a few good-hearted taunts and jabs thrown in, and Marinette found herself enjoying his company thoroughly with tears of mirth pooling in her eyes, and as she met his eyes and saw the slightly flushed cheeks and happiness reflected within his expression, a revelation ran through her.
He was Chat.
The blond-haired male that was wearing a rather tight shirt that clung to his skin, showing a slight glimpse of abdomen when he raised his arms, and clad in designer jeans that did wonders for his legs and physique in general, was the same man who had been sending her stupid, absolutely childish and very ridiculous cat puns through e-mails. He was the one that had stirred up such warm feelings, the one that had she'd—
She tried to keep the curse in. "Oh, fuck."
He was the one she'd almost touched herself to.
He was the one that had touched himself to her.
"Marinette?"
His voice snapped her out of her daze. She looked at him with vibrantly flushed cheeks for a moment before averting her eyes from his curious expression. They were stood beside the first food stall that they'd ventured to, so she pointed to a random confectionery in hopes that it would be okay, just so she could rock on her heels in pent up embarrassment on the side. When Adrien joined her holding a slightly shiny looking treat for himself in one hand, and a small plate that had something almost completely covered in icing on the other, she accepted it with an oddly neutral expression, adamantly staring at her hands rather than him.
"Are you okay?" he questioned.
With a jerky nod of her head, Marinette grasped the gooey treat in one hand and took a bigger bite than intended and almost choked on it. Her cheeks were permanently coloured by that point, and as Adrien placed a concern hand on her fabric-clad arm, she chewed thoroughly before swallowing loudly.
His eyebrows were pinched together in concern. "What's wrong?"
"...Just hungry," she rasped.
"Well, you've got icing all over your face now," Adrien pointed out with a laugh, reaching forward to swipe the sugar from her cheeks.
Marinette stilled from surprise as his fingertips touched her cheeks, lifting some parts of the icing in the process. He wrinkled his nose at the texture, rubbing his index finger and thumb together with the sticky substance.
The grin upon his lips grew wolfish. "Your sweet tooth is quite endearing, my dear."
She licked her lips.
After he wiped his hand on a napkin, that he was storing in his back pocket, they gnawed on their foods while walking slowly through the fair. She cleaned her face and willed herself not to flush from the soft laughter from her actions. A shoulder jostled her from the crowd and she tripped, only regaining balance since the blond beside her caught her wrist and an arm wrapped around her lower back to keep her steady. Marinette froze in his mock embrace, before her hands were pawing at his limbs to push him away with incoherent words spilling from her lips.
"Marinette," he called again, drawing her attention from the grumbled words as they stood face-to-face.
She licked her lips. "Adrien."
"You..." Adrien trailed off, and as her eyes trailed down to his empty hands, she realised that from the jostling that they'd both dropped their food onto the floor accidentally (her from the fall, him from catching her before she joined the confectionery). "There's no need to be nervous around me."
She shifted on her heels.
Their shoes were almost touching from the short distance between them. Marinette regretted the hat choice; if her mused hair was free, then perhaps the heat of her face wouldn't have been so concentrated. As he smiled gently at her, a non-threatening gesture that warmed her heart, showing the soft, barely there dimples on his cheeks and watched as the golden strands were blown by the breeze that she was convinced were most definitely the reason for the shiver working through her body.
She found herself asking softly, "Why would I be nervous?"
"I don't know," Adrien replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "There's been something... reserved about you tonight; if my assumption of nerves was wrong, then I apologise."
"You're not wrong," she blurted, an uncomfortable fluttering feeling appearing in her stomach as they made eye contact. "I—" Marinette cut herself off, taking deep breaths to calm her beating heart. "It's pretty, well, surreal to be here with you."
The smile on his lips grew. "No one's harassed us, though."
"Not yet," she mumbled.
His expression was gentle, gentler than she had expected, as he lifted a free hand in offering with his intentions clear. Marinette stared at the offered hand, noticing the lack of scars littering his skin and the smooth and even skin tone—if she squinted, she swore she could see tiny, barely there callouses that were just as miniscule as his dimples. With flushed cheeks and a grip that was too tight, Marinette slipped her hand into his and stiffly walked forward, tugging him along as he tried to muffle his laughter at her attitude.
"Marinette," he called, pulling her to a stop. "Hey."
The skin beneath his fingers was slightly rough, and that was the only rugged part of him. Adrien gently squeezed her hand in a comforting gesture, but it did nothing to soothe her rapid pulse.
His voice was soft, like a caress rolling off his tongue. "Am I bothering you?"
He was Chat.
"No," she whispered.
Opening his mouth to talk a few times but deciding to close it at the last moment, Marinette watched his lips move as he pondered, visibly, over his response.
Her hand twitched within his.
"...Did you want Nino here, too?"
It was easy to read between the lines—would she prefer for her idea of Chat to be there?
Chat was there, though.
"No," Marinette repeated, slightly stronger than before. With more bravery than she had thought she could muster, she linked her fingers through his in an intimate gesture and squeezed slightly, revelling in the warmth of his skin against hers.
His answering smile was almost blinding.
And then, so were the flashes of cameras around them. Marinette gasped and gaped visibly, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of the shutter sound that was audible over the music pumping through the speakers of the fair; there were white spots appearing in her vision, and she felt slightly dizzy very suddenly from the sheer amount of confusion running through her. Adrien muttered something under his breath, but she wasn't able to understand it. His grip on her hand tightened, tugging her towards the direction of the exit with her feet almost tripping over the floor.
There was no conversation between them, but from the frown on his lips and the small crease of frustration between his eyebrows, he was surely irritated by the turn of events. Although it was certainly not a rare occurrence for him, the dark-haired female had naïvely never considered the possibility of it happening when they were in public. It hadn't happened the time they were in the small restaurant together with Nino, nor the social events because either only a select amount of reporters were allowed inside, or none at all. The possibility should have been buzzing around her head, yet she'd shoved it aside and had been relieved that no one had approached the blond for an autograph that evening. In hindsight, she should've hoped for a few fans rather than five or more photographers, some that were heckling the duo as they advanced towards the sleek car that was parked a few minutes walk away.
His chauffeur didn't say anything when they quickly got in, and she was suddenly thankful for the gaudy tinted windows.
It took a few minutes of driving, and Marinette either staring out of the window at the passing scenery or at their still entwined hands, before she chose to struck up a conversation. Adrien had his elbow propped up against the door, chin within his open palm and a frown clear on his lips—he hadn't expected the night to end that way.
"I had fun," she started tentatively.
He smiled into his palm.
"That's good," he murmured.
Hers felt sweaty.
"Why—" Marinette cut herself off, pursing her lips. He obviously had a plan of sorts with the identity he'd created for himself, but how was he planning to deal with their relationship in the coming future? "Thank you for taking me."
Adrien glanced at her, and as they made eye contact she could see his smile was genuine from the light dimples. "The pleasure was all mine," he drawled, and she could see the mischievous glint in his eyes, "even married couples need to go on dates."
She found herself asking, "Was this a date, then?"
Surprise was clear on his expression before he recovered, but the sheer happiness in his smile caused her heartbeat to stutter. "It's whatever you want it to be."
When the car stuttered to a stop outside of her apartment, Marinette wiped her clammy free hand on the material of her dress discreetly. She hadn't gotten in and scooted to the other side as the first time she'd been inside the car; instead, Marinette slowly detached their hands and felt the cold air from the open door caress her warmed skin, and carefully exited the vehicle without falling flat on her face.
She held onto the roof for support, peering in to meet the grinning blond's eyes.
"Good-bye," Marinette murmured.
He waved slowly with the hand that had been wrapped around hers. "Farewell."
-x-
'Marinette D-C
to Bulle-Chat
RE: Soufflé
Chat,
I've been pondering over one of your last questions, and I've come to a decision.
I don't think there's a possibility of being an us any more; I hope you can accept that.
Sincerely,
Marinette.'
-x-
Penny Rolling was all smiles with bright white teeth and burgundy-coloured lipstick when she greeted the interns for their department switch. The others had already commented on her article—Théo had even questioned who she had to pester to get a feature within the magazine already—but she hadn't answered their questions and simply looked at them with a neutral expression. They already knew the results of their previous competition of sorts which Xavier had overlooked; so, when Penny trotted over to the section of the building past her office that had featured Mireille and other models (with scandalous piercings), Marinette shouldn't have been surprised to see the small group that was huddled upon the floor with a pack of cards passed out between them.
Marinette wiped her palms against her ripped jeans when she caught sight of a blond mop of hair. They had speculated since they'd been told their future task that she wouldn't be able to pick Nino, Adrien, or any of the other high-end models that were going to be featured within the show, yet they were sat laughing with their co-workers upon the pristine flooring. Her thoughts didn't wander when she saw Nino's smile, nor when he looked up and waved specifically towards her when the models heard the oncoming noise.
The smile wasn't enough, though. "Hey, Marinette!" Nino called, waving purposely towards her and standing up upon shaking legs. From the mere fact that he almost fell face first onto the floor, and the only reason that he didn't end in disaster from his cousin steadying his body with a huff, Marinette assumed they had been waiting a while. When Penny had strode into their waiting room, she'd simply said to follow them with a blinding smile without explaining anything they were going to be doing that day.
She waved, cheeks colouring from the blatant stares in her direction. "Hey."
Penny cleared her throat and clapped her hands together for added effect, drawing their attention in. With her hands on her hips, her smile grew. "Well, it looks like everyone is here," she started, eyes trailing between the group of models that were standing upright, lean and tall, while the interns were huddled quite awkwardly together. "I'm sure you're aware that Xavier thought it would be fun for one of them to win the rights to choose who to model for one outfit of the show."
One of them? Manon's hand slid into hers, and the dark-haired female squeezed in return at the offered information. They hadn't been informed that only the winner would be allowed to choose—were the others there to help, or would they somehow be allowed to style one, too?
"Vincent," Penny called with a coy smile. "Why don't you come here and select whoever you fancy?"
The wording had Marinette shifting uncomfortably.
The blond didn't move from their little group. Vincent stayed on the other side of Théo, and in a move that didn't shock anyone that knew him, he selected an up-and-coming model that was dark-skinned and in his late twenties rather than a female.
She counted fifteen models remaining. There was an equal number of each gender, and some of the faces were familiar. Within the line-up was Mireille and her red-haired friend that she'd spoken to before, along with models that she'd seen within magazines but never in the flesh (perhaps they had passed each other within the halls without realising).
"And now for the remaining four of you," Penny said, a sly smile upon her painted lips, "why don't we have the models choose if they want to be styled by you, eh?" Well, that answered whether they would be allowed to participate as much as the blond—she just had to be deemed suitable by an adventurous model. "If any model would like to, please step towards them—only one per stylist, of course; it's first come first serve."
She made the mistake of meeting Mireille's eyes. The dark-haired model grinned openly and pointed behind an open palm to the two cousins, in a gesture that wasn't at all discreet (she could feel Manon shaking with contained laughter at it).
"Go ahead, then."
It should've been clear even sooner—hadn't Nino silently persuaded her to sit beside the blond at the restaurant, too? With a shove that was quite audible, the curly-haired male pushed his cousin towards her and he literally tripped over his feet. Marinette wildly flailed her hands in an attempt to catch him, but he managed to regain his balance a few centimetres in front of her and flushed as he glared at Nino.
He soothed the material of his clothes before announcing his choice. "Marinette."
Théo was picked by Mireille's red-headed friend. Simon was a quivering mess of nerves that wasn't picked, unfortunately. When Marinette turned to look at her brunette friend's expression, she had to bite her lower lip to restrain her laughter at the disgruntled expression from Nino choosing her.
"Well, thank you for choosing... some," Penny said with raised eyebrows when her gaze trailed to Simon, who was clenching his hands anxiously from having not been chosen, "have no worries, interns. You'll still be doing the same amount of work as each other. Take a few minutes to acquaint yourselves with your model, and then you can have the day off." And with that, Penny swept her body down in a elegant bow that was good humoured and departed, leaving the interns to look at her departing form with confused expressions.
"She's always like that," Adrien murmured, interrupting her gawking. "Don't worry about it."
"Good to know," she replied, raising her eyebrows when she realised how close he was standing. "You haven't seen any of my designs—I hope you didn't pick me for our friendship."
His lips twitched. "I can't have you undressing other men right in front of me."
Surprisingly, she didn't splutter. "I'm not sure that's classed as in-fur-delity."
His reaction to the cat pun should've been obvious. Adrien burst into unexpected laughter and clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound, but they still brought attention to themselves. His chortles disappeared soon after and her lips were curled into a proud grin from the incredulous expressions her fellow interns were shooting her—if she were to focus on Manon, she was sure the female would gesture something obscene at her.
"We were all shown your work with Xavier first," he confessed, cheeks slightly coloured from his laughter. "So it's not a completely blind pick."
She hummed. "I see."
He'd opened his mouth to reply, but the tinkling of bells cut him off. Marinette mumbled a quick apology and retrieved her cell phone from her back pocket, illuminating the screen and knitting her eyebrows together in confusion as she read the name upon the message.
Her eyes widened considerably and she almost dropped her phone in shock when she saw the contents, however.
'Alya Césaire:
Isn't it hot today? Though I do wish this was you.'
It wasn't just a message. A picture was attached underneath of her red-headed friend with crimson-stained lips that were wrapped around a frozen popsicle suggestively—and fuck that was Rose's last popsicle, she was going to be so annoyed—with her nose being the top of the picture, and ample cleavage on show from her short, tight white crop top with her black brassiere visible through the material.
Her grip tightened around her cell phone, clutching it against her chest in horror as Adrien had picked up on her strange reaction and she'd realised he could possibly see—see that her best friend had accidentally sent her a dirty message and picture, right in the middle of work.
She met Adrien's curious expression with a pale face, and his raised eyebrows didn't help the matter.
Bells sounded despite the fact her cell phone was crushed against her chest. From the multiple sounds, she'd assumed that Alya had realised her error and had began to badger her with two possible attitudes; either she was going to be horribly embarrassed, or simply go along with it and make the best of the situation.
Marinette took a step back, making sure no one could see her screen.
'Alya Césaire:
Oh, fucking fuck. So very much fuck. At least tell me my breasts look okay.'
The first message had her spluttering in contained laughter.
'Alya Césaire:
Actually, do you think I should take a different picture? Is the popsicle too much?'
Really? Marinette's grip on her cell phone grew tighter.
'Alya Césaire:
Oh, it'll be fine. He'll get an erection anyway. Thanks for your help, Mari! Go back to work!'
"Alya," she hissed hysterically at her screen, unsure how to respond to the sudden blasé attitude that her friend was portraying. She knew that the red-head was rather open with her body, but the fact that she wasn't embarrassed had Marinette awed at her confidence.
"...You okay, Marinette?"
Adrien's voice broke her out of her trail of thought.
"Yes," she croaked, clearing her throat after. "My friend sent me a message that, well, it was—it wasn't meant for me."
He blinked. "Okay."
The steady beat of a popular song filled the studio for a moment, and she quickly realised it was a particularly loud alert from a cell phone as Nino pawed at his jacket in search for the device. His lips split into a wide, sincere grin showing his small dimples when he read the screen, and Marinette watched in muted horror as she could briefly see an image reflected in his spectacles—perhaps others saw it, too, if they had focused for that small detail. It was clear to see how happy he was, and as he excused himself to a disgruntled Manon and waved in farewell to the other models before exiting the room, Marinette could only let her eyes trail after his with a suddenly pale face.
She was a fucking idiot—it was just confirmed.
She'd seen her best friend's sultry picture reflected in Nino's spectacles, and that was confirmation enough that her red-headed friend hadn't been delusional that she was the one messaging Nino—in fact, Marinette had been the deluded one that had wrongly assumed such things.
And she wanted to curl up back into her small ball of denial and make sure that Alya would never find out about her stupidity.
"Sorry to cut this short, but he's my ride today. Good-bye, Marinette!" Adrien interjected, waving briefly in farewell before tailing out of the room in search of his cousin.
When she'd arrived home, Alya started to rave about the positive reaction her message had gotten and profusely thanked the dark-haired female for her help, and Marinette had nodded dumbly and simply asked her to not make it a repeated occurrence. Alya had cackled with laughter when Marinette told her the tale of Manon's disgruntled reaction, especially when Nino had waltzed up to her with a friendly grin and she'd frowned right back at him.
-x-
'Bulle-Chat
to Marinette D-C
RE: Soufflé
Marinette,
I'll respect your decision, though I am quite confused by how sudden it was. I'll back off if it'll make you happy.
Sincerely,
Chat.'
If he could scheme while trying not to hurt her, then she could reciprocate.
'Marinette D-C
to Bulle-Chat
RE: Soufflé
Chat,
I apologise, still. It seems my heart is fickle.
Sincerely,
Marinette.'
-x-
The models hadn't been there the following day. Penny had passed out folders containing details on each of the models, including their sizes and in case they were allergic to any foods or anything else that could cause a disaster, and Marinette found herself quite disappointed that she didn't run into a blond-haired male within the hallways. Manon had grumbled about her choice of model the whole time, and then they were sent off to do specific tasks for the rest of the day.
By the time she was relaxing at home, her cell phone rang.
"Hello?" Marinette answered, barely stifling a yawn.
"Marinette, my love!"
Right. The sound of Aurore's loud, excited and bubbly voice reminded her of what she'd agreed to earlier in the week. "...I forgot."
"I thought so," the blonde replied, amusement clear in her tone. "You have about fifteen minutes to get ready—the car will be outside waiting for you after that." And with that, Aurore ended the call leaving the dark-haired female gaping at her cell phone.
Nightclubs weren't her forté. Marinette dressed herself in a tight dress with no sleeves that fell above mid-thigh, showing a glimpse of cleavage and coloured a beautiful deep navy that she'd originally wanted to use for scraps before she'd altered the dress for special occasions; which, apparently, meant being invited out with Aurore and Chloé to disappear into the night. Marinette touched up her make-up from earlier that day and used her small bag with the strap on her shoulder to store her small amount of possessions before ranting quickly to Alya about where she was disappearing off to.
She should've expected the experience of being picked up by someone with obvious wealth to be just as gaudy as when Adrien had done it. A sleek ivory-coloured car pulled up beside the pavement, and the door was pushed open for her to see three faces within—one welcoming, another pondering whether she was worthy of their time, still, and the other sparking a feeling of recognition within her and equally bewildered her at the same time. She climbed into the car and slid onto the leather seat, thighs sticking to the shiny material instantly.
"You cleaned up well," Chloé murmured, eyes appreciatively eyeing her dress.
"Thank you?" Her reply came out as a question.
The third female turned out to be named Sabrina—she was the female that Marinette had bumped into at the park, and the strange comment that red-head had uttered to her was still spiralling around in her mind. Through the night she picked up little hints and clues about the relationship the new female had with Aurore and Chloé, hoping to find out the mystery. She found out that Sabrina had an apartment across the hall from Aurore, and that the blonde had jokingly convinced their neighbours to leave recyclable materials outside of the red-head's door repeatedly over the months.
"This is the first time I've met Sabrina," Marinette murmured as they were walking along the pavement back to the car, and she was certainly thankful that she hadn't consumed too much alcohol, "does she not come out often?"
Aurore laughed. "She's very efficient; has to complete projects or anything else before she's willing to come out with us. Chloé's particularly close to her, actually. Sabrina used to tutor her in school."
She blinked. "You've known her a long time."
"Oh, yes," the blonde agreed, twirling a curl of her golden hair around her finger. "Her parents won the lottery around, well, ten years ago, I think? She moved and transferred to our school after that."
Ten years ago meant there was a possibility that they had known each other, then. "Did she live near my parents?"
"Why the fuck would I—wait, I do know where your parents live, even if you haven't introduced us." Aurore sniffed. "I saw it within a gossip magazine, actually; they even mentioned how good the food was. Are your parents bribing the reporters?"
Marinette snapped her fingers to catch the rambling blonde's attention. "Did she live near there?"
"Yes!" Aurore said, grinning widely. "Her neighbour was some old guy that kept convincing her parents that they needed to change their tea to be happier in life. Apparently, the day they did was when they won the lottery. That guy is a fucking genius."
She pursed her lips.
Despite her attempts to start conversation with Sabrina through to the early hours of the morning, the red-head wasn't very open to them; she wasn't talkative at all, actually. Marinette had watched as Chloé had nattered on and Sabrina had hummed or nodded her head in time with her words, simply making the appropriate noises and gestures to keep the one-sided conversation flowing. It was unclear whether Sabrina was genuinely enjoying herself towards the end. As Chloé and Aurore stumbled into the car, Sabrina had had half as much to drink as the two blondes while Marinette had stayed away from brightly-coloured liquids in favour of any carbonated drink she could get a hold of, just to keep her wits for work the next morning.
-x-
'Bulle-Chat
to Marinette D-C
RE: Soufflé
Marinette,
Then I hope your heart decides on the right man for you.
Sincerely,
Chat.'
This was his plan, then. Slowly push her towards his actual self and then say he understood, completely, and had no hard feelings about their brief relationship—was he going to let her think it was Nino all along? How awkward would it have been if she'd approached the curly-haired male and struck up the topic with the intent to know more? Adrien had been inexplicably lucky that she was a coward at confrontation most of the time, and that was honestly frustrating. If their positions had ever been reserved, there was no chance the odd identity swap would've gone so well.
She wanted to toy with him—have him squirm and wonder whether she knew the truth before she revealed she did in the best way possible.
'Marinette D-C
to Bulle-Chat
RE: Soufflé
Chat,
I realised from our unfortunate not-quite-meetings that this wouldn't work between us—it seems that fate is against us, actually.
Thank you for pushing me towards your cousin (unintentionally).
Sincerely,
Marinette.'
She hoped he choked when he read it—just a small payback that he deserved, even slightly.
"Marinette?"
The female in question partially flinched. "Sorry," she apologised, shoving her cell phone within her bag and smoothing the material of her dress. "I was distracted."
"I noticed." When she looked up and get a pair of kind emerald eyes that were framed by thick black eyelashes, she recognised the female as the model that had chosen Théo, and the one that she had conversed with beside Mireille previously. Marinette smiled, taking in her doll-like features from the blazing red hair that was styled into curls with a ribbon wrapped around as a hairband, the light dusting of freckles upon her cheeks, paired with a sweet dress that had a bow underneath a collar. "I'm Caline, by the way."
She accepted the offered hand. "It's nice to meet you."
The other interns had already wandered off from lunch, and Marinette had taken a few moments so search through her e-mails at the suddenly empty table.
"I'm going to be blunt, if that's okay," the red-head started, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, revealing a single piercing upon her cartilage. At Marinette's inquisitive expression and slow nod, she continued, "If I don't ask, then someone much... harsher will, so—are you Adrien's girlfriend?"
She was thankful she'd already finished eating.
"No," she choked out, cheeks warming despite the denial. "If I was, I don't see why that would be any of your business."
Caline shrugged, an easy smile upon her lips. "That's what I thought, though; the other girls were a bit snappy after we saw you on Friday. I'm just going to kill the rumour mill for you."
"I'm not sure whether to thank you or not," the dark-haired female blurted, unsure whether it was a sign of friendliness or if Caline had an ulterior motive with their conversation. "Why would knowing if I'm Adrien's girlfriend matter?"
Caline blinked. "He's rejected just about anyone who's asked, always saying he already has a girlfriend. Some are still stinging from the rejection—although he was rather sweet about it, really—and were wondering if you were the mysterious girl. The tabloids certainly seem to think so."
The news warmed her heart. A smile played upon her lips as she thought about the various tall, beautiful women he had let down gently, simply because he was a stupid romantic.
She found herself saying, "He doesn't talk about his various pursuers often."
The red-head laughed openly. "From the amount I've seen since he's visited this company, it's no wonder. He even opened a package and lingerie fell out once. He went red to the tips of his ears."
The image was amusing. Marinette chortled at her imagination, joining in the red-head who she had decided had only genuine and friendly interests in her approach.
She didn't know why she said it.
"If you want to quell the vultures, you can tell them his girlfriend is Lady."
Trying to hide the surprise from her own expression, wondering why the bubbling feeling of possessiveness had caused her to blurt such a strange piece of information that certainly wasn't true (yet), Marinette felt positively gleeful when she heard Caline audibly gasp, not questioning the information one bit. The mere fact that the red-head didn't have to ask who Lady was should have made her panic, should have wanted her to curl into a ball and rock underneath the table where no one could see her, but at that moment all she could feel was glee that others would know he was unobtainable, even more so than before.
So when the red-head disappeared into the distance to tell her co-workers the titbit of information, she realised she had to inform Adrien, too—it was a good thing he wasn't there that day.
'Marinette:
I thought you should know that Lady's agreed to be your... fake-girlfriend. It's completely my fault.'
His reply was swift.
'Adrien Agreste:
...Do I want to know how you managed this, darling? I thought you were my dating experience, not that you were going to set me up with someone else.'
She pursed her lips.
'Marinette:
We haven't established if our last outing was a date yet. People keep badgering me if I'm your girlfriend, so I accidentally blurted that out.'
There was an obvious plot hole in her explanation, and she shouldn't have expected him to gloss over the information.
'Adrien Agreste:
Are you trying to tell me you're secretly in contact with Lady, and that's why you were doing that strange networking at Chloé's?'
"Not quite," she murmured.
'Marinette:
Yes; I'll keep your secrets if you keep mine. Enjoy your new girlfriend.'
Her pulse quickened from his response.
'Adrien Agreste:
Fake-girlfriend. I'm in the process of wooing someone currently.'
She tried to keep her laughter in, attempting not to draw attention to herself.
'Marinette:
Should I say con-cat-ulations?'
From the amount of smiling, her cheeks were beginning to hurt.
'Adrien Agreste:
Be paw-lite, love.'
PREVIEW: "Should I dress you in a catsuit?" she started, voice low and quiet so only he could hear.