under leaves so green

by realfakedoors

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same)

11. Ficus Trees

Marinette?

She could still hear Adrien's voice, low and hesitant. The sound was heat lightning, strange and glowing in the absence of rain, but the energy alone brought light to the world, so electric that the it dragged goosebumps down her skin.

Can I kiss you?

Oh, the differences a day could make.

Marinette woke well before her alarm, which was, needless to say, a rarity in the Dupain-Cheng household. The curse of her job had her typically set to be blarred into awareness at precisely 9 AM, but that morning, Marinette blinked at the easy miracle of sunshine that tickled her face just after 6:30 AM. The lazy weight of rain from the day before had sunk into her bones, making her sleep dreamless and heavy. Toying with the idea of going back to bed, Marinette rolled over and squeezed her eyes against the brightness amplified by her skylight. The longer she waited, the more memories from the previous night rushed to greet her and the more futile any attempt at sleep became.

Blond hair, kneeling in a river of creamy orchids and sympathetic lilies; slow, warm hands brushing the dirt from her cheek. Exhales tickling her wrist and twisting around her fingers, causing her hair to stand on end. The first kiss, soft and exciting, mingling uncertainties between their lips in the most intoxicating way imaginable; then there was the second, this time lighter and more brilliant than the sun that ached behind her lids, a perfect smile brushing against her jaw with thrilling pressure.

The memories were electrifying, and Marinette deemed any echo of sleep a lost cause when her lips began to tremble with absence, hungry for the kisses she half-believed she dreamt.

She was in a relationship with Adrien Agreste.

They kissed.

Twice.

It had just been about 9 hours, but Marinette still never came down from the high. If she hadn't pinched herself a dozen times last night, called Alya, squealed with Tikki and informed her parents of her change of relationship status (much to her mother's pleasure and her father's chagrin - he wasn't looking forward to doing the laundry for two months), she wouldn't have believed it.

Even with that, she almost still didn't believe it, but there was a tiny battery-powered candle sitting beside her computer monitor that argued otherwise.

Once her stomach grumbled, partially from the waves of fluttery nostalgia but mostly from hunger, she rolled out of bed and began her day. Her parents were already opening the store - a baker's hours always started early and ended late - so she was able to get ready more-or-less in peace.

Marinette flipped on the news while enjoying some perfectly tanned toast, gripping her phone incessantly in case of a text message from her - her…

"Boyfriend." She needed to say the word, to make sure the reality of it could roll off her tongue. It sounded rather pleasant, so she tried it again.

"Boyfriend."

Yes, that wasn't so bad.

"Boyfriend."

It was sort of nice, actually.

"Boy-friend."

Adrien was a boy, but not "just a friend." Not anymore, Marinette thought smugly.

She wanted to try it again, just one more time.

"Boyfriend."

"This is getting a little weird," Tikki admitted, and the sudden appearance of her kwami caused Marinette to start. She almost fell straight off the couch.

The kwami had materialized silently, descending from Marinette's room who-knows-when. The unexpected audience to her babbling was more than enough cause to blush.

"H-hi, Tikki, sorry…" Marinette mumbled, shoving the remainder of her toast in her mouth before she said anything else that would make her seem even creepier.

Little red features smiled up at her, plopping beside the girl on the couch.

"No, no, Marinette. I mean, this - the news."

Blinking, Marinette's features fell to a scowl as she refocused her attention to the screen. She hadn't even noticed the proverbial sideshow happening in front of her, wrapped up as she was in her… um, verbal experimentation, but when did face the television... well, the longer she watched, the stranger things got.

The local meteorologist must have lost a bet, or Marinette decided she had lost her mind.
Why else would the young man on her television be dressed up in an inflatable sun costume, dancing in front a green screen?
"Yep, it's hot, hot, hot out there, folks. A recorder breaker! Be careful and stay hydrated."

Tikki had started to giggle rather pointedly, and Marinette joined in.

At first, she had to assume it was just the news station's attempt at humor. Honestly, it was in such poor taste that she bet Adrien would have just loved it. Maybe there would be a YouTube clip she would be able to find by the time she got to work, she mused. After all, she had free reign to text him whenever she wanted to; they were together now.

That thought had cup both of her own cheeks in an attempt to stop from blushing.

At half-past eight, she stepped outside to brave the early morning heat, and Marinette was a little chagrined to find that the weatherman had not been joking. The heat was absolutely unbearable. If the warning had come from anyone else, she might have been more inclined to believe it.

The clouds from the previous stormy day had come back for their vengeance, descending from the atmosphere with thick and latent humidity. It clung to everything - her skin, her hair, the sidewalk and the fanfare of people who rushed by in their morning activities. Fog and haze blanketed the city in the early hours of the morning, and Marinette almost felt bad for wasting a shower to wash her hair. The back of her neck, collar, and forehead were slick with sweat almost immediately upon stepping outside, and even her coffee lost some appeal with the sticky moisture permeating the air.

To have worn a sweater on her way in the day before felt like a joke, and now climate change was throwing a pie in her face to really hammer-home the punch line. Well, that is, if the metaphorical pie was made of very literal droplets of sweat, bagged eyes, and frizzy hair.

Still, the pie was sweet and tasted of banana chocolate ice cream; Marinette's complaints through the morning heat were scarce.

She chattered happily with Tikki the whole way, an extra large haul of sweets in her hands. Tucked in the wax-paper bag, her kwami chomped away merrily at macarons and meringues while Marinette wove around pedestrians with the world's goofiest grin on her face.

Alya would be coming by a little after lunch today, and her parents were agreeable to her suggestion to bring her best friend some extra pastries to share. Maman, Papa, and a infamously fox reporter-to-be all vehemently denied having anything to do with Adrien mysteriously getting into the flower shop last night, even though her parents had the only other set of keys in the whole city and Alya had conspicuously just come from her house under the pretense of bringing her good-luck-coffee. Unless Adrien was a master cat burglar by night, could pick old locks and be in two places at the same time, the whole lot of them were all in cahoots and had sworn one another to silence.

Marinette scowled the thought with a good-humor about her, coming to a halt upon reaching the store. She bent to set her coffee on the ground while scrounging for her keys. Usually, Tikki would offer some aid if she was tucked in Marinette's purse, but the kwami's attention was taken by more sugary concerns.

After a moment's fumbling, she managed her way inside and pushed through the door. The familiar first inhale tingled her senses as she breathed in the waves of flora and inexplicable heat - who knew sunshine had a flavor of its own? The beating rays above her head had even called out her crowd of insects, and she spotted an occasional pill bug nestled in the soil of her planters mixed with the quiet harmony of buzzing of honeybees. Marinette loved their company on days like this, all quiet but for their toiling honeyed labor, stopping to kiss the tops of her many blossoms that crowded the shelves.

She had always considered the shop to be a calming oasis in her life and in the bustling metropolis that was Paris, a natural wonderland she could seek refuge in away from the demands of the rest of the world. Now, though, everything felt even more miraculous, reflections of romance that and reminded her of dimples, emerald eyes, and sweet words of music to her ears at every turn.

Marinette took another deep breath, feeling refreshed despite the waves of heat, and set herself to task with the help of muscle memory, and the store was prepared before she knew it. Lights on, cash counted for the register, new stocks placed out where she could, Marinette was ready to open for business as the morning yielded to the ninth hour. To open then would be a waste, though, as it would be silly to expect anyone to come in outside of posted hours, so she instead retreated to the back of the store and began to prepare the funeral flowers for pick-up.

Greeted by the ghostly meadow of funeral arrangements, Marinette sighed a little sadly. She knew gifting people in the wake of death must have been a poor excuse for the memories fostered by the one lost to death, but memories of people like Madam Kleinstein gave her hope. Mournings, like mornings, were celebrations, a farewell and an ode all at once; she greeted the sun for another day, the never-ending march of time a reminder to the days lived by those we lost.

She felt herself smiling through the work as she arranged each trumpet of white petals by size and variety for her pick-up girls in the afternoon. The soam that stained her hands felt soft and warm with life, and while Marinette knew creation to be a tedious task, she knew it helped return things to a semblance of normality.

Taking a seat at the desk, Marinette pulled out some stationary from a drawer and crafted a few quick notes for the orders, offering her sympathy, thanks, and what were hopefully reassuring words during the difficult time faced by the family.

All in all, the thoughtful work carried her for about twenty minutes, and at the half-hour Marinette checked her phone. She didn't expect Adrien to be awake yet or to text her by any means, but he was and he did.

Adrien "Anything" Agreste (9:12 AM):

Marinette! What did the German Chocolate Cake say to the baker?

Marinette had half a mind to text back "I'm breaking up with you," but it was risky. He might think she was serious, and that was definitely not what she wanted. She was resigned to indulge him, but not without some teasing of her own.

Marinette (9:31 AM):

Hmm… I hope it's not a joke about "getting in the oven," because Madam Kleinstein would be very disappointed in you.

Adrien "Anything" Agreste (9:32 AM):

Omg Mari. No!

Adrien "Anything Agreste (9:32 AM):

it was supposed to be "gluten morgen" but now you made it dark

Wearing a satisfied smirk, Marinette put her phone away again. She heard Tikki rustle around inside her bag of sweets, and she was just about to unravel the bag and search for a tasty treat of her own when the bell at the front of the store called out to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Marinette raised her voice, patting her already soiled hands on the edge of her apron. "We're not... open… yet?" As she turned the corner to the front of the store, her polite greeting turned to confusion.

A woman wearing a pencil-skirt-suit-combo that was a little too tight stood framed in the doorway, and her getup was accessoried by horned-rimmed glittery red glasses and black pumps. Flanking her left and right, two men decked out in service uniforms stood ramrod straight, chins pointed dutifully forward. The lot of them occupied the space in front of the door with judgmental eyes casting over her pots and plants, and it left Marinette with a curled lip of distaste.

She knew this woman, though the men were faceless to her. It was the event coordinator from Le Grand Paris who stopped in last week.

Keeping her tone brisk, Marinette swept the hair from her eyes and repeated her original salutation. "I'm sorry, we usually don't open for another half-hour. Is there something I can help you with?"

Curtly, the woman stepped in Marinette's direction.

"I would like to place an order for this Saturday."

If the raven-haired girl didn't know better, she'd think the woman was trying to intimidate her. Years defending Paris had toughened her up, though - it was going to take a lot, lot more than a bad attitude to get under her skin.

"Okay…" Marinette began slowly, strolling behind the counter and recovering her clipboard. "Again, I hope you don't mind I wasn't quite ready; we aren't technically open yet…" She flipped through to a fresh page for invoices. "Okay. So, is this for Le Grand Paris, or a personal request?"

Pursing her lips, the woman motioned for the men to follow her all the way to the counter. Their presence practically exuded lucre, so Marinette had a pretty good idea this was something for the hotel.

"Le Grand Paris' usual supplier is unable to accomodate the volume of our request," the woman began stiffly. Marinette wrinkled her nose; she didn't care for the lingering scent of tobacco that flitted from the woman's breath. "We need seventy additional arrangements of the following."

A tablet was shoved into Marinette's hands before she could do much but blink, and the soft metal was supple luxury against her fingers compared to the tough plastic clipboard in her other hand. The tech was probably more expensive than anything she owned, and it was a little disconcerting that this woman just plopped it into her grip without so much as a second thought.

Eyeing the list, Marinette raised a brow. "Umm, I'm sorry, did you say seventy? We have all of these, but..."

"Is there a problem?" The woman interrupted. Marinette flickered her attention up from the detailed instructions, not appreciating the smug expression fixed behind the woman's glasses. Glasses continued. "As I recall, your website says any speciality orders can be accommodated within three days notice. 'Guaranteed' as, I understand it?"

"With all due respect, Madam," Marinette replied flatly, setting the tablet across the counter and pushing it back towards her. "That guarantee is implied to be, well… you know, within reason? We would be glad to help with the reception, but our business is small. It would be impossible for us to match the quantity you've requested with a week's notice, let alone our three day promise."

The tablet remained squarely between them, a careful list of demands for Marinette's time and attention.

Across the counter, the woman raised both brows.

"You're refusing our business? We are happy to pay a rush fee." Her tone was troubling - why did she almost sound happy about that?

Marinette responded dryly. "Well, I um - I don't know if refusing is the right word… We'd be happy to contribute, but could we maybe coordinate a more reasonably sized request?"

"Most guarantees don't usually include bargaining," the woman pointed out, narrowing her eyes and scooping the tablet from the glass display case. "For sake of consistency, we will have to decline. The more florists we enlist, the more we will have to coordinate - deliveries, purchase orders…" She sighed and locked the tablet, turning and striding towards the front door. "It's unfortunate - but what am I saying? You're in the business, you know how difficult keeping track of it all is. You understand."

At that, she had to force down an annoyed hiss that grumbled in her throat. The woman was clearly up to something, and the false politeness that lavished her words only made it more suspect. Torn between relief and anger, Marinette watched the group take a few steps toward the door, clenching and unclenching her fists. To lose a sale that large was literally rather costly, but it's not like her family needed Le Grand Paris' business. Heck, Marinette didn't even want their business - everything tasted bitterly like a scheme if it came from the Bourgeois family.

Kill them with kindness.

That was Mo's advice when dealing with… less than pleasant customers.

She affixed her face into a sympathetic smile and walked around the counter, waving.

"Yes, I am so sorry we won't be able to help. Please give our regards to the Le Grand staff and we wish you the best of luck."

What was doubtlessly a condescending comment from the woman was silenced by the loud ringing of the bell, and Marinette's grin widened as the hotel's entourage disappeared into the daytime. Once they were gone, though, her smile flickered and faded to a downturn at her lips, and Marinette firmly tucked her hands in the front pocket of her apron. She turned her back to the door and stared blankly at the register, her own mind registered an annoyed, tempestuous storm. With difficulty, Marinette tried to consciously stop the uncomfortable squirming in her stomach, not enjoying the unpleasant taste each mannerism of the entourage had left on her tongue.

Most irritating, it all made her feel guilty.

It's not her fault the woman had made an unreasonable request. Maman and Papa would have said the same thing if they had been in her position - no way they could complete an order like that in just a few days. Marinette tried to tell herself that she was just being realistic.

The mantra of reassurances sounded entirely forced, and a pit started to form in her stomach.

Marinette knew for a fact that there was a very real reception on Saturday at the hotel for Le Nuit, and she had already firmly decided not to attend since Adrien would not be going. It wasn't exactly her sort of soirée anyways, but knowing green eyes and blond hair would be conspicuously absent from the evening made it all the less appealing…

What if she worked through the day on Saturday? Up until meeting with Nino and Alya for the actual museum hopping?

If she stayed late everyday, she could probably finish all the orders…

"No, no," Marinette shook her head and ran a hand down her face. The doubts had rooted her in the center of the store, staring blankly at the back wall.

This was silly.

She was just getting herself worked up over nothing.

Figuring a conversation would clear her head, Marinette assumed Tikki had heard the whole dialogue carry from the front, so she decided a vent session would help unwind her nerves.

Marinette pulled out her bun and began running her fingers through her hair, starting to comb the layers in comfort as she turned around.

"Okay, tell me I'm not being crazy… That was seriously - aHhAHHHH!"

Marinette screeched and leapt backwards, almost tumbling over the counter in surprise. Blinking beyond the glass windows, a pair of green eyes appraised her, looking much more amused than they had any right for frightening her.

For her part, Marinette could do little more than huff irritably, hands busied with covering her heart in a wasted attempt to stop the erratic thumping that pulsed against her ribs.

It's not like Chat Noir was necessarily a scary person, though his lame attempts at humor could err on the side of horrifying; it was just the surprise of seeing his his sincere smile that caused her heart to flutter and breath to hitch, not made better by the fact that she was sweaty and tense from the conversation.

Needless to say, Marinette was not used to having so many visitors before the store opened. She dropped her hands a brushed the tangled waves of her short mane from her face and puttered quickly to the front door, wrenching it open to a cacophony of city sounds.

"What in the world," she breathed, feeling a smile find her lips despite herself. "Are you doing here?"

Chat slid right through the front door, the bell at his neck ringing in time with the one above their heads. Thankfully, no one seemed to have spotted the hero slink inside, else Marinette might have a crowd of fans to deal with atop of all of this morning's strangeness.

Wearing a crooked smile, Chat Noir bowed. "I didn't know I needed a formal reason to visit the prettiest girl in all of Paris."

Marinette snorted, very aware of the knotted-frizzy-mop of hair that clung to her shoulders and the line of sweat that kissed her brow.

Wearing a crooked smile, Chat Noir bowed. "I didn't know I needed a formal reason to visit the prettiest girl in all of Paris."

Marinette snorted, very aware of the knotted-frizzy-mop of hair that clung to her shoulders and the line of sweat that kissed her brow.

Chuckling, she turned away and walked towards the back, the invitation for him to follow implied. "Very funny, minou."

The hero scowled but kept up her pace. "I would never joke at your expense, Purr-incess."

"Well, then the girl you're looking for is probably in some air conditioned room somewhere," Marinette called over her shoulder, and Chat merely scoffed and claimed his usual place on her chaise while she took the chair at her desk.

Rubbing her temples, Marinette squeezed her eyes closed. Too much was happening, and she was starting to give herself a headache.

"So, how are you today?" She managed, still repeating the therapeutic motions. She made no attempt to keep the haggard quality from her voice.

"Well..." her partner began, eyeing her carefully. "I'm excellent, actually. But now I feel rather bad for scaring you. Has something happened? If it's a boy, just give me the word and I'll gladly throttle him for you."

Giggling, Marinette dropped her hands in her lap and met the cat's gaze. He was pawing at the fabric in a frustratingly cute way, and she some of her earlier annoyances evaporated.

"I don't need you defending my honor, minou, though that reminds me…" Marinette paused, clearing her throat. "I do have some… boy-related news to share with you."

He adjusted his weight, flaxen hairs dancing along his forehead and casting tiny shadows over his face. "Have you been sneaking other boys in your room, purr-haps?"

Marinette shook her head. "Now I'm not telling you anything."

Chat's grinned turned impish, and she swore his green eyes danced in the sunlight. "Oh, come on! Are you trying to kill this poor cat with curiosity?"

Rolling her eyes, Marinette didn't realize how much she missed Chat until he was here, beaming at her stupidly; his light-hearted attitude was a welcome reprieve from stressful days she's had. Even all of the recent reasons she had to be down-right thrilled had brought some anxieties, so it was nice to simply sit here with a familiar, happy face.

As Marinette, her relationship with Chat had always been friendly, if not a little more flirtatious than she would have liked, so she hummed in amusement at the thought of how he might react to the news.

"Sooooo…?" His tail flicked around, animating his playful interest. Thankfully he didn't knock into any of her displays for the funeral, though it would have been a good excuse for her to start keeping a spray bottle around. The prospect of threatening him with harmless water whenever he got on her nerves was almost hilarious.

Biting her lip through a smile, Marinette coughed. "Right, so… I, umm…"

"I'm dating someone now. I have a... boyfriend." She almost laughed at the word now, recalling how silly she must have sounded that morning when Tikki found her on the couch. A little more confidently, she added, "So, you know, if you see me out and about with… ah, with Adrien Agreste, I'd appreciate it if you didn't 'throttle' him."

"Adrien Agreste? Hmm…" Chat Noir hummed momentarily, taping his chin. Marinette thought his tail looked even more spirited, and his ears even perkier than usual - probably the silly boy trying to come up with some clever new ways to tease her.

When he did respond, Marinette felt herself redden.

"That's the one who's pictures are all over your room, isn't it? So the model did catch your eye," he said through a spreading smile.

Ah. Right.

She had almost forgotten Chat had seen her embarrassing display of posters in her bedroom. Still, she smiled so big that her cheeks hurt, entirely unashamed and too happy to care.

"Yes, actually. Yes. He's handsome - like, stupidly so - but... Well, after you visited the other day, I decided I was going to tell him how I felt but... things just sort of fell into place. I was going to tell him myself, probably… eventually… it was driving me insane not letting him know, you know?" They exchange a smirk, and Chat urged her to continue. "I just couldn't believe it when he asked me out… I thought I was going to explode." Marinette dropped her face in her hands to muffle a giggle, the memories of a million feelings - shock, excitement, disbelief and amazement, to name a few - all swirled together into a magical harmony of happiness when Adrien had come to see her on Sunday, only to be compounded further by the memories of yesterday. The whole experience had been like a dream, and repeating it outloud made it almost sound unreal.

If she hadn't memorized the feeling of their lips crashing together, she might have convinced herself it was a very visceral dream; but even her loveliest fantasies could never have imagined how wonderful his kisses could taste.

When she looked up, Chat was leaning back with his arms crossed. An ever-characteristic, teasing grin lined his features.

"Well, Princess, that is paw-sitively excellent news. Though I'm glad you didn't actually explode, that could have been cat-astrophic." His smile widened when Marinette blew a raspberry at him. "But! Do let me know if this boy ever wrongs you. I'll gladly throw him from the top of the Eiffel Tower if you want."

"Chat Noir!" Marinette swatted a hand in his direction, giggling. "Don't say things like that! You're a hero. You can't use your powers to roughen up civilians."

"I can if they hurt you, Mari," he winked, sounding entirely sauve. Marinette just rolled her eyes. "So I expect reports on this Agreste guy. Only the best for a Princess."

A well-humored sigh passed through her. "Fine, mon chaton, though I'm certain nothing bad like that could happen. He's amazing, and his puns are actually good."

Where she expected Chat to react in offense at her jab, he instead beamed gloriously.

"What a lucky guy. He's got the Princess and the jokes. Now who will care for this poor stray, if he's got your heart?" Chat whined, yawning and rolling over slightly in the chair. His pose caught Marinette by surprise, like an adonis of old - arm propped up to support his head on one side, the rest of his body stretched long and covered tightly by layers of leather. Immediately, Marinette felt herself pink when she realized what she was doing, more than a little embarrassed by the rather suggestive look he was giving her.

As if to call out her mortification, Chat slyly added, "I'm sure he thinks you're the cat's meow."

Marinette crumpled up an old order that had been collecting dust on the desk and threw it right at his stupid face.

Chat rubbed his nose. "Hey! It's felonious assault to harm a superhero!"

"Aww," Marinette put her hands under her chin and faked a pout. "Does kitty have a papercut?"

Chat's pout morphed into a flirtatious smirk almost immediately. "Yes! I do! Right here, in fact." He paused at pointed at his utterly unharmed lower lip. "Maybe you'll kiss it and make it all better?"

"Chaton!" Marinette said, voice indignant through a laugh. "I just finished telling you I have a boyfriend! You can't say things like that."

"But Princess," his voice turned to a whine again. Chat turned over, propping his chin up between his hands and fluttering his lashes. "You know I can't help it - you're just so purr-tty! And besides, the whole thing out of my control; it's all explained by the core principles of Cat Physics." He sang the last part, and Marinette just leaned her head back on her shoulders, neck resting on the top of the desk chair.

Staring at the ceiling and feeling utterly exasperated, Marinette took the bait. "I know I'm going to regret this, but what in the name of mille-feuille is cat physics?"

"Why, I'm glad you asked, Marinette." The black-suited hero sat up in the chaise, legs turned over the edge to face her. She could tell he was trying to maintain a straight face, but the occasional twitch along his lips betrayed his dumb little smiles.

"There are three c-laws to Cat Physics, but only one that applies here," he began, holding up three sharpened nails to demonstrate. Marinette raised her brows, and Chat needed no invitation to continue.

"Today's lesson will cover the main properties of Cat Inertia, of course! So, the theory goes, a cat will not move, or stop its given path, unless acted upon by an outside force. In my case, my mental energy has been trapped in a perpetual loop, captured by the wit of a teasing, charming girl," he stopped to wink, and Marinette just snorted. "Though occasionally the feeling is only strengthened by the smell of croissants. Sometimes, a dastardly akuma attack will throw off my direction, but those are less important. So, it's not my fault. Really, if you're looking for someone to blame, it's the universe."

Marinette could only laugh at the proud look he wore; Chat was evidently pleased with what she deemed to be entirely silly logic. She had half a mind to ask if he have this joke in his back pocket the whole time, or if he really came up with this stuff off the top of his head.

Sighing, the bluenette made an attempt to play along. "Well, of course, then. I've been a fool, what in the world was I thinking, imagining you could act like a normal human being when his friends get in relationships. Curse you, universe!" She shook a fist at the ceiling.

Chat laughed openly, cheeks flushing from the joke, and Marinette felt herself smiling.

Glancing in his direction, her gaze flickered at the wall behind his head, and her expression turned apologetic when she spotted the clock.

"Well, kitty, for as great a morning this has been, I think we'll have to end it there." She stood up and threw her hair up in a fluid movement, not bothering to capture all of the small strays that danced around the nape of her neck. Speaking while securing the mess with a hair elastic, she stuck her tongue out at him; he was staring at her with wide-eyes and his mouth hanging open. "If you want to stay, you'll be signing yourself up to a day of hot, manual labor, so I'd suggest you go before it's too late."

Instead of replying with the smart aleck response like she expected, Chat just continued studying her, eyes rather conspicuously going up and down the length of her apron. His ears were pointed straight up, and the whole moment was starting to make her feel a little self-conscious.

A light blush dusting her cheeks, Marinette tried to keep her tone light. "C-Cmon, Chat."

After all, she'd been caught staring at him in much the same fashion before - they were just teenagers with the weight of the world on their shoulders, it's not like either could be faulted for occasionally zoning out a little too pointedly. It was almost bound to happen given the amount of time they spent together.

Crossing the length of the office, Marinette put her index finger under his chin and forcing his hanging-mouth closed with an audible little pop.

"You'll catch flies like that."

At her touch, Chat blinked and leaned backwards, managing a very dorky smile. Marinette rolled her eyes and motioned for him to follow, leading the way around the front of the store and stopping at the counter to scoop up her clipboard.

By the time she reached the door, Marinette found herself feeling considerably better than when she first let him in. Sending a smile in his direction, she hesitated with her fingers round the handle.

"Alright Chat Noir, it's time for you to go meow."

Visibly enthused, the black-masked hero leaned a little closer, and Marinette felt his tail tickle her exposed ankles. "Oh? And will you tell your boyfriend that you still use my puns?"

"Chat!" Marinette elbowed him in the ribs. "You are unbelievable, I swear."

"Don't I know it," he replied with another freakin' wink, and Marinette wrung her hands at his obstinacy, ushering him to leave.

He paused half-way through the door framet, brow drawn together in an unusually severe look. Marinette was just about question what was wrong when he spoke, rubbing his chin.

"By the way, you never did say what was bothering you… If it's not your new boy toy, I do at least hope you're alright?"

"Oh," Marinette paused. For all of the her partner's flirtations, he was always genuinely concerned about her, as Ladybug or Marinette. It was one of the things she appreciated most about him.

Tone a little gentler, she picked at the dirt in her nails. "Right, yeah, I almost forgot. But, no, I'm fine. I was just dealing with some goons from Le Grand Paris before you showed up. Who comes by before business hours and orders seventy arrangements? Seventy!"

His head tilted. "That… sounds like a lot? I don't really have a frame of reference…"

Marinette pursed her lips, recalling the conversation with the caustic woman from earlier. "Yes. And they tried to hold our 'three day guarantee' over my head, like I was a bad person for refusing their business. I'd probably work myself to death if I accepted, so forget that."

Chat's eyes narrowed, which Marinette thought to be sort of an odd reaction. He appeared as if he was thinking extremely hard about something, and just as she was about to wave a hand in front of his spaced-out expression, he blinked a few times and shot her a sheepish grin.

"Well, sounds like you scared 'em off. But if you ever need some reinforcement of the cat variety," he shimmed his shoulders, almost dancing in the doorway like a fool, and Marinette giggled while pushing him out the door.

"Good bye, Chat Noir."

"Let me know if you ever want another Physics lesson!" He called, shooting her a salute while reaching for his baton. He was gone in a flash of dark leather against a bright Parisian backdrop, taking his silly self to the rooftops no doubt.

Marinette sighed and shook her head, but made no attempts to mask her smile. Chat Noir, for all he was, always knew just how to put her in a good mood; he was about as bright (and unbearable) as the sunshine overhead, and Marinette was already feeling exhausted from both.

She decided to fetch herself a bottle of water from the back.

Tikki caught her eye now that Chat disappeared, fluttering down from Mo's Wandering Jew.

"You know," she mused at Marinette's shoulder. "If Chat Noir's behavior ever gets to be too much, you could always consider taking… pun-itive action."

They paused, making eye contact of vast skies to teeming seas, only for Marinette to collapse dramatically over the face of the desk.

"Noooo," she groaned, ignoring her kwami's incessant giggling. "Not you too, Tikki. I can barely stand the boys as it is."

Beaming, red antena tickled her nose as Tikki hugged her cheek. "Oh Marinette, you don't have to put on a brave face for me. I know you like Chat Noir's and Adrien's jokes!"

"I don't think so," the girl argued with a derisive smile, standing up properly and glaring at the sun overhead. "Tolerating Adrien and Chat and enjoying their jokes are very different."

I hope you know, you're signing up for lots more puns. And no take-backsies.

Let me know if you ever want another Physics lesson!

"Dorks," she muttered under her breath.

Taking a sip from her water, Marinette eyed the remainder of her 24-pack dubiously. It was going to be a scorcher today (if the crazy meteorologist from that morning served as any indication), so she decidedly heaved the 20-odd bottles in their plastic prison up from their hiding place in the back office and brought them out to the front of the store. People and plants weren't so different, after all, and they were all going to need plenty of water on a day like today.

Marinette was glad to have shooed away Chat Noir when she did. Just as she situated a dozen of the bottles in a spare wire basket top of the counter, her first customer came in. The conversation and sales were easy, and if Marinette didn't have money or a credit card in one hand, she was heaving her watering can to-and-fro to sustain her flowers. At one point, teetering over her soft shield ferns and offering the greedy roots almost an entire watering can of respite, three customers came in all at once. Marinette made a mental note to look into the cost of having a revolving door installed as a substitute for the traditional front door; such an entrance would be better suited for her shop with the incredible volume of customers she dealt with that day.

Familiar faces were plentiful, and Marinette felt like each little piece of chatter was austere and pure. Brielle came through for another modish selection, a gaggle of predictable teenagers snatched up her flower crowns, and many other regulars frequented the shop and caught her ear as the minutes turned to hours.

Just before noon came the appearance of another regular, by the name of Old Man Bitty.

Well, Marinette didn't actually know his name - he was a longtime friend of Mo's, and the shopkeep had introduced the graying man with what she learned to be his long-time nickname - and he wasn't by any means a regular old man. Still, Marinette called him Monsieur Bitty, and she was happy to see the familiar curmudgeon putter through her door.

Marinette had taken a moment to catch her breath and was resting in her stool behind the counter when the bell announced his arrival. She looked up and smiled immediately, surprised to see him with a younger woman at his arm. (Younger relative to him; she was probably at least ten years older than Marinette).

"Oh, Monsieur Bitty!" The dark-haired girl leapt down from her seat, surprised and pleased by the appearance of the old man. "I'm surprised you made it down here in this heat. And, I'm sorry, I don't think we've met," Marinette added politely, dusting off her hands as she came around the counter to meet the pair.

The woman didn't have the chance to answer, though her short curls rolled in time with her eyes.

Bitty spoke on her behalf. "Nice to see you, M. But don't get attached to this one. My daughter only comes to the city once every decade."

"Wow, thanks, Dad." She met eyes with Marinette and smirked. "I'm Heather, and I like to think I come at least twice a decade, thank you."

Marinette covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers, laughing lightly. "Well, welcome back to Paris, then. I'm -"

"Marinette," the woman answered automatically. "Sorry. I feel like I know you already - from the times Dad and Mo have talked about you. It even feels a little weird using your name, they just call you…"

"M?" Marinette suggested, earning her a warm smile and a nod.

"M." She agreed.

Heather pursed her lips when Bitty bowled past the both of them, muttering about women and chit-chat, heading towards her larger planters with a purpose.

"So," Marinette cleared her throat. "You knew Mo?"

"You could say that," Heather answered after a moment, reaching for the bag at her hip. Marinette moved a bit closer at the woman's beckoning, and she watched as a wallet appeared in her hands. Matter-of-factly, she angled a pocket-photo in Marinette's direction. "My wedding."

Studying the picture, Marinette felt her face break into a smile - Heather, several years younger, was pinned to perfection in a cream-colored gown with a dark-skinned gentleman at her hip. Pointing, but careful not to touch the surface of the picture, Marinette wagered a guess. "Your husband?"

"Yep," she answered in time with a nod, and Marinette shook her head and handed back the picture. The real stars of the portrait were neither the bride or groom, but a pair of old men pulling their mouths open and sticking their tongues at the camera, eyes-crossed and noses turned up in a hilariously unbecoming scene.

"That…. seems like Mo," Marinette stated, and Heather nodded with comical severity.

"They basically fought to walk me down the aisle. It was a nightmare for Josh - my husband - because he basically inherited two fathers-in-laws." She shrugged and put her wallet away, Marinette giggling all the while.

They began to move away from the door, following after Bitty.

Marinette, a little wistful, shot a glance at the woman. "I'm sorry if you came by to see Mo... It's weird to think he's been gone for a month."

"Oh yeah," the woman swatted a hand. "Josh and I got Dad a webcam, so they keep in touch. The real fun was getting Dad set up with his own Skype account. That was a trip."

Marinette watched Bitty as he inspected each of her eucalyptus plants with intense scrutiny, trying to imagine. Mo was… not exactly proficient with modern technology, so the mental image brought a laugh to her lips.

"So what brings you to the store, Monsieur Bitty?" Marinette asked as Heather pulled out her cell phone.

"Nothing really," his daughter answered. "We were just taking on the town, ce la vie, all that jazz."

Bitty turned and shuffled to them, a finger pointed at Heather. "Jazz is a curse to music, how dare you bring that up in my presence!"

"Oh my god, Dad," the woman shook her head, and the springy curls bounced in time with her actions. "You can't be angry at everything all the time."

Marinette had to suppress a bark of laughter when he winked at her and muttered, "Well, I can certainly try."

Another few customers came in while the father-daughter duo shopped, so Marinette left them to their peace to help the other clients. A mother-of-the-bride appeared and took much of her attention, and they set up an appointment for next week to do a bridal consultation.

Just as she bid the woman farewell, Heather and Bitty appeared at the counter.

"So, did you all settle on anything?"

Bitty eyed her suspiciously. "I don't settle, M. I only buy the best."

"Of course, Monsieur Bitty," she answered promptly, pretending to salute him like a general. The man smiled and nodded approvingly.

Heather leaned across the counter, whispering definitely-loud-enough so he could hear. "Don't encourage him, for my sake."

Marinette just laughed and scratched her cheek, her attention flickering over their shoulder when the bell rang.

She squeaked in surprise, and both daughter and father turned in interest. A warm complexion, brightened by a glowing smile and accented by green eyes and blond hairs waved politely. "Hello," Adrien greeted, one-hand behind his back.

A light breeze followed him in with a draft through the door,, tousling Marinette's already disheveled their hair and causing the vines overhead to sway carelessly.

Always a gentlemen, he quietly gestured to the pair in front of her and turned away, pretending to browse. "Take your time."

Marinette felt light of head, surprised and flustered by Adrien's unexpected visit. Her face reddened, voice hitched, and all of her pores were even sweatier for it. She hadn't seen him since he kissed her goodbye last night, and to have to deal with customers with him in the store was suddenly much more difficult than it should have been. Her very-messy bun, perspiring face, and dirty apron felt much more prevalent than they had a few seconds ago, and since when did her hands start shaking?

Mercifully, Heather cleared her throat and Marinette blinked back into focus.

"Anyways, M, I think Dad wants two of the Weeping figs."

"I can speak for myself, thank you," Monsieur Bitty shook off his daughter's arm and met Marinette's gaze. "I…" He cleared his throat. "Would like two of the Ficus bejamina."

Confused, the dark-haired girl looked between the two.

"Umm… Those are the same thing. Two ficuses, right?"

At that, Heather narrowed her eyes and breathed a few exasperated words. "Now you know why I moved to Nice."

Unable to help herself, she giggled with bubbly waves of laughter as the father-daughter pair began to bicker. Their company was almost pleasant enough to distract her from a perfectly coiffed head of hair bouncing around the aisles, nestled atop a broad set of shoulders, with a face quirked up in a smile so adorable it should be considered a crime and -

"If it's not any trouble," Heather eventually said, breaking away from her conversation with her father and wearing an irritated scowl. "We'd like to take them with us rather that delivery. I think I could handle helping you get them to the car - "

Monsieur Bitty perked up immediately. "I don't need you all fussing over me, kiddo, you can't - "

"Dad," the woman pleaded, running a hand down her face. "You can't even beat mom in an arm wrestling match. Let us handle this."

The man was stubborn. "It's not my fault your mother is freakishly strong."

"Maybe you're freakishly weak," Heather suggested, and her father spun on his heel so fast Marinette was amazed he didn't fall over.

Marinette's eyes flickered back and forth, feeling a little awkward but mostly amused by their argument, and she wordlessly accepted payment through the spat (Bitty always paid in exact change).

"You can't be lifting these things, Heath'! You're pregnant, and I ain't - "

A third, unexpected voice entered the arena, and all eyes turned to the new challenger.

"I could help."

Adrien had approached the counter, the spiraling conversation easily audible in every corner of the store. It was only the four of them in the moderately-sized green house, and the pair had been making no effort to keep their voices down. A hand raised meekly to his chest, palm facing out like he was waiting to be called on by a teacher, Adrien offered himself as a tribute with a sheepish smile.

Heather looked pointedly from the blond to Marinette, brows raised. Before she could comment, Adrien held up his other hand up to display a fisted river of green fabric.

"I, um, work here… seasonally," he coughed, unravelling an apron. Marinette blinked in surprise - it was the same one he had given him last week to thank him for his help. "I could help load up your car while Mari watches the store."

That seemed to seal the deal for Bitty.

"Well, now that's great, M. You didn't say you hired new help."

"Uhh…" She deadpanned, distracted by the sight of Adrien lifting the apron over his head, dazed by the smile he wore while tying it round his waist. The addition to his usual ensemble made his chartreuse eyes pop even more than usual, and when they flickered up to meet her, she felt herself pink.

"Guess it's about time though," the man continued as he walked up to Adrien, appraising the blond with his ever-critical eye. "Need more people in here with Mo gone. It's tough work, and you ain't a superhero, M."

"Ahhhhhh, eehhhh, yeah, hah, yeah..." Marinette laughed awkwardly, swallowing at the desert in her windpipe while the old man directed Adrien to the plants he had picked out. Marinette scrambled to grab for one of the bottles of water she had left out for her customers.

"Dad's great," Heather sighed, placing a hand on her stomach; she must be newly pregnant, Marinette assumed, because she wasn't showing. "But sometimes he's a headache."

Marinette just hummed noncommittally, thoughtful for a moment. "Did he mention why he picked ficus?"

She missed the confused expression on Heather's face, as her eyes were following the peek of gold that hovered above the rows all the way to the Eastern wall. A tropical tree like a Ficus seemed an appropriate selection under this sort of oppressive heat, and Marinette wiped her brow in vain.

"No, I don't think so. Just a houseplant."

Mumbling, mostly to herself, she tried to remember the lore that Mo had taught her. "Mmm… there's a nice history to the Weeping fig. Lots of cultural stories."

Once the men were out the store - Marinette using all of her mental effort not to stare at Adrien's muscles, tensed beneath the weight and size of the plants Bitty had chosen - Heather posed a question.

"Isn't that... Adrien Agreste?"

Marinette inhaled so sharply she started to hack, and the woman watched seemed amused as the girl's face turned beet red.

"So it is him. I thought he looked familiar…" She put a hand at her hip and eyed Marinette seriously. "I hope you didn't just hire him for his good looks."

Laughing too loud and too forcefully, Marinette crossed her arms, uncrossed them, crossed them again, and ultimately settled on sticking her hands in the front pockets of her apron.

"N-nope! Definitely… definitely didn't do that. I did not hire him…" She stumbled through the lie. "F-for that. Didn't… nope, didn't do that at all."

Heather seemed to find the whole situation humorous, judging by the tiny smile she wore.

"Well… if you didn't, then I suppose it wouldn't make any sense to mention that he was staring at you since he walked in."

Marinette's skin turned from pale to pink and back to pale quicker than she could have transformed to Ladybug.

"Maybe he was the one who took the job with an ulterior motive," Heather continued to muse, smiling in Marinette's direction. The girl simply stared blankly back at her, too embarrassed to perform whatever motor functions she should be doing to keep up some imitation of sanity.

After a brief goodbye, (very brief on Marinette's part, in the form of a squeaky "'Bye!") Monsieur Bitty and Heather boarded a large truck parked a few spaces down along the street, and Adrien re-entered the front of the store.

"Wow, it's hot out," he said, running a forearm across his perfect forehead. Even glistening with sweat, his face was frustratingly handsome.

Marinette had nothing to say. She did open her mouth, but she quickly closed it again - turned half-way through the door, the bottom of Adrien's shirt lifted ever so-slightly above the top of his jeans when he raised his arm, exposing a slit of bare skin, and she felt that familiar hunger she recalled from the first time they kissed.

He quirked a brow at her when she didn't respond. "Marinette?"

Marinette who?

Abs.

Adrien smirked, and if he noticed her ogling, he mercifully did not comment. Instead, the young model merely smiled fondly with cheeks aglow beneath the bright sky, the color of roses ghosting his complexion.

Feeling lame, and frankly too surprised to do much else, Marinette blurted the first thing that she could think of.

"I - wow, why are you… what are you doing here?"

Adrien's grin widened by degrees, and he promptly crossed the length of the store and invited himself around the counter. Marinette hadn't reclaimed enough of her wits to argue against it, and with his apron and self-declaration of employment, he at least looked like he belonged there.

"Well… I, um," he began shyly, scratching his cheek. He was so close, and Marinette's lungs practically protested with each inhale of his presence.

In lieu of a verbal answer, Adrien leaned down carefully and kissed her. Lips fierce and warm, his hands moved to her cheeks and pulled her face just a bit closer, and Marinette melted against his touch. Her own enthusiasm, addicted as she was to this new and wonderful feeling, twisted her lips between a wanton pucker and a cheeky smile against him.

The moment was brief, but the action left her entirely breathless. Between the heat of the room and the warmth of the kiss, Marinette was going to pass out if she didn't get herself under control.

Instead of pulling their faces apart, Adrien drew back only his chin and leaned his forehead against hers. Marinette should have been bothered by how sweaty she knew her brow bone to be, or worried that a customer could walk in at any moment, or thoroughly confused by what the heck he was doing here, but the infuriatingly adorable grin that played at his lips - only an inch away - was far too distracting.

His voice was timid, and it made her hairs stand on end. "I'm sorry, I know… I shouldn't just show up like this, but, I just really wanted to see you again."

Of course, in typical Adrien Agreste fashion, he had to proceed to ruin the moment. "Plus, I thought of a joke about our tu-lips kissing, and I had to tell you immediately."

"You're terrible." Marinette groaned through a smile, pushing him away. "You came all the way here for that?"

"No," he answered matter-of-factly, fixing his apron. She tried not to notice how cute he looked with it on, or the fact that his cheeks were stained pink. "I came here mostly to invite you to dinner tonight, but I couldn't pass up the chance. Who else will I ever get to use that joke on?"

She wanted to be annoyed, she really did, but he was already a step ahead of her, wearing apologetic eyes. Marinette just released a tiny sigh.

"Well… fine, okay. I'm surprised you want to go out again so soon…"

Clearing his throat, Adrien looked a little embarrassed. "Well, you don't have to accept if you don't want to, but I promised my father I would keep him updated about… well, us. I told him about, er, you agreeing to be my girlfriend, and he said he wanted you to come by tonight for dinner."

"Your dad invited me?" Marinette tilted her head, a hand poking into her cheek. "Well… I mean, I would love to have dinner with you guys. I'll have to ask my parents, but it'll probably be fine."

Adrien's features lit up, and he took one of her hands eagerly between both his own. "Really? I didn't even have to bribe you with ice cream. And yes, I was prepared to do so."

She narrowed her eyes at him, as he seem entirely too pleased with himself.

"Say…" Marinette began, tapping her chin. "If you were here just to invite me to dinner, why did you bring back that apron?"

Her attention flickered down to the loop of green fabric round his neck, and Adrien appraised himself with a grimace.

"Oh. Right."

"Busted?" She offered jokingly, and Adrien grinned.

"Okay, okay, maybe…" He took a little step closer, and considering they were only a foot or so apart, the shrinking proximity elicited a sharp inhale of surprise from her lips.

"Maybe I'm also guilty of just wanting to spend some time with the pretty florist around the corner. I don't have anything to do until I'm meeting up with Nino in a little while," His fingers brushed some hair from her eyes, and Marinette felt her skin turn to fire beneath his touch. "And I thought, maybe, if I offered to help you with work, then you wouldn't have any excuse to send me away."

She scrunched up her nose, only to keep herself from smiling and giving away how absolutely elated she was to hear his adorable confession. That he wanted to spend so much time with her was thrilling, and she could feel her tummy erupted with enough butterflies that even Hawkmoth wouldn't be able to tame them all.

But, Marinette, as the manager-in-lieu-of-actual-management, had to keep up some appear of professionalism.

Chewing her inner lip, she decided to call his bluff.

"So… you want to work, do you?"

Adrien tilted his head to the side. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

She snatched one of the remaining water bottles from the counter and tossed it at him. "Then you better hydrate, cause I wouldn't my first 'employee' to pass out on his first day."

---

Adrien was bouncing.

Metaphorically, but literally, too.

His excitement came in the sound of the fabric of the chaise brushing against his jeans as he went up-down-up-down-up-down like a fighting game combo.

Marinette had accepted his offer for dinner, so he would get to see her after work (even if it was under the promise of having dinner with this father), and now she agreed to give him a pass to spend some more of the morning with her.

Plagg was convinced he had a problem.

"That's twice, already. First as Chat Noir, now you're going there again as Adrien? It's been like, two hours since you've seen her, kid. Get a grip."

There were worse things to be addicted to than a beautiful, soft-spoken, kind-hearted girl, so Adrien didn't mind.

This time, Adrien tried to do his best to always keep his eyes on her face - he reveled in the moments he could catch her blushing, or to see the smile just before she started to laugh. At one point, she had started to busy herself with deliveries, and Marinette tossed him her clipboard.

"Alright," she began, and he could just hear the smile in her voice. "You've got the apron and you're in the special, reserved-access employee area, so what do you say - you read me the things on the list while I work on the orders?"

Adrien scowled as the words processed, eyes training over the scribbles in his hands, but his face blossomed into a smile after a few moments.

"But of course," he responded, sitting up a little straighter with the list in his lap. "Do I start here…?"

"Wherever the last unchecked order is," Marinette waved a hand at him. "I think it should be a pair of corsages."

"Right," Adrien cleared his throat. "You wrote - roses, BB's blush, CJ, Y/Y/W, W/W/Y."

Marinette nodded seriously. "That's perfect," she declared, marching through the front and bustling around.

When she returned, she had small, odd-looking scissors sticking out of her apron pocket and a variety of flowers in her hands.

"You realize no one would ever understand what this says except for you?" Adrien indicated the clipboard as she started to twist and weave, using her apron and lap as a workbench.

Head bent low, Marinette's voice was focused. "Yep. Can't have someone coming in here and stealing my secrets."

Snickering, Adrien pursued the list and saw much of the same, with lots of scribbles lining the margins. Invoices stuck out at weird angles between thoroughly itemized lists, and Adrien found himself reading over her most recent notes for a wedding.

"So much goes into this stuff…" He murmured, and Marinette didn't respond at first. Assuming she was just wrapped up in the task at hand, he tried to uncode Marinette's extensive cipher. The irony of the moment wasn't lost to him, as the experience felt very much like talking to Marinette about anything - he could never quite figure her out, and that just left him wanting to puzzle through her secrets even more.

When she looked up, her gaze was light. "Thanks for your help with Old Man Bitty, by the way."

"Bitty?" Adrien's brow furrowed for a moment, but he smirked in understanding and let out a small laugh. "Oh, the man and his daughter. It wasn't a problem; it's sort of nice to have something to do that doesn't involve sitting in my room or in front of a camera."

"Yeah?" Marinette's expression softened, and her complexion looked powdery and delicate.

Adrien took a drink of the water bottle she'd given him, using the chance to recover his voice.

"Yeah. I'm sure it's one of those, 'grass is greener' scenarios - and yes, Marinette, that was a pun," he grinned at her predictable chagrin, and continued. "But even if it's work, it's sort of nice to do something… hmm, productive, I guess."

The girl nodded slowly, the first corsage coming together in tones of parchment and honey, creams and clouds. Adrien had to admire how quickly her deft hands worked; it was similar to watching her sew a few nights ago.

"I suppose that makes sense - Mo used to say some junk about the flowers bloom best when fed by sweat rather than from the rain. Which is gross, but I guess there's something poetic about that. There are some reasons I do love this job, though the back pain and copious sweating I could do without."

Laughing, Adrien reveled in the sparkle that flashed in her eyes when she looked up momentarily.

"So then, what's your favorite part of the job?"

"Hmm, now there's a question..." she mused, stopping to hold up the nearly-finished corsage.

"Wow, that looks great," Adrien remarked truthfully, but Marinette wrinkled her nose.

"Thanks… actually, could you do me a favor?" Brilliant blue eyes peeked at him through long, dark lashes, managing to look both enticing and shy at the same time.

Adrien barely managed a nod.

"Hold out your hand?" She asked.

Wordlessly, he complied, and gentle fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist and forearm, and she began to use the end of his arm to measure the strap that would secure the flowers in place.

He was having a difficult time focusing on the conversation, but Marinette picked it up anyways.

"Do you know what floriography is?"

Adrien took a little longer than he usually would to answer, gazing at Marinette's pale hands brush against his.

"Ummm… I don't, but if the name is a clue, I'm guessing it's about speaking through flowers?"

They glanced at each other, and he was thankful for the stillness in the store - no customers or phones ringing. For a few, blissful moments, there was silence. Just him and Marinette, and the world was quiet and beautiful, just like her. A few inches apart, Adrien admired the color that flowed through her cheeks, deciding he could watch it forever. He adored knowing that he was the one who elicited that reaction from her.

And as quickly as it occurred, the moment passed. Marinette smiled and glanced back down at her work.

"Yes - the language of flowers. It's a sort of umbrella-term for all the symbolism out there - like how I told you about the Wandering Jew," her attention flickered above their heads, and Adrien gazed at the sinewy vines in time with her explanation. "Or the Banks' roses. All flowers, plants, herbs… even some vegetables and fruits, according to floriography, they all have a story. I'm sure I read too much into all of the lore, but it makes me feel like I'm part of their story when I sell them something - if it symbolisms greed or love, hostility or forgiveness… or sympathy." She glanced at the carefully arranged pile of lilies and orchids that she had moved next to the door. Adrien had to assume it was part of the pick-up process.

Matter-of-factly, she finished her work on the corsage and plucked it off his wrist. "My favorite part isn't exactly the flowers or the customers or the backdrop. I mean, all of that's nice, but it's the stories that I really love."

The sincerity with which she spoke brought a smile to his lips, and Adrien felt he rather agreed. His favorite part of this place was listening to her recount legends and stories, gifts carried through seeds and roots, left behind by time.

"Tell me a story, then," he offered jokingly when she rolled away in her chair, and Marinette giggled.

"Once upon a time…" she began teasingly. But, honestly? Adrien was content to listen to anything she might have to say, so he just waited patiently for her to continue.

Scowling adorably, Marinette folded her hands in her lap before starting the second corsage, focusing her attention instead on crafting a story.

"Hmm… okay, there were once two young men. They were really different - in some ways, you might even call them opposites. But, they were best friends, for years and years, they did everything together." She grinned as Adrien pulled his knees up beneath his chin, wrapped in the tale as he was like a child.

"And they both grew a little, learned a lot, and stayed close through it all. Even after having families and moving away and growing up, they never forgot each other, never tired of each other. And one day, one of them came back to the town where they first became friends, and visited the old friend's house. Instead of his friend, he found something else. There was a store, and inside it was a modestly priced, simple talisman inscribed with a few words: 'Peace and Growth, for you always, my friend.'"

Marinette started working on the second corsage, the same palette but with the colors of the petals inverted.

"It wasn't the same thing as seeing their friend again, but in some ways, it was better. Unexpected, like striking oil or digging up treasure. The man left with the talisman, and everytime he sees it, he's reminded of the friend he made and the memories they made together. The man came for new memories, and left with old ones, all for the price of a simple stone. The end."

Adrien blinked deliberately once it was over. He was, of course, surprised that Marinette had indulged him, but even more he was amazed by how naturally the story came to her.

"Wow, Mari. That was really beautiful. Did you make that up?"

"Eh," the girl shrugged, always humble. "I can't take much credit for it. If you substitute the talisman for the two Ficus trees you hauled out to Old Man Bitty's truck, then it's really just the story of him and Mo's friendship… with a little creative license from your's truly," she finished with a proud little grin.

He still needed a minute to process.

"Wait - that was…?"

"Mohamed, the old owner, and Bitty's story. The talisman serves as a nice example, or like a handwritten letter, because inscriptions are great and are blatantly obvious. Like hitting someone over the head with a sign that says 'Just date me already!'" She raised her eyebrows, and her expression combined with the reference made him laugh. She had said something similar when he asked her to be his girlfriend.

"Flowers do the same, but they just speak a more subtle language than French or English or Arabic. There's intention in the act of buying, choosing, giving, sharing flowers, just like anything else… That's what I love most about this job."

More confidently this time, Marinette moved closer to put the finishing touches on her corsage. "Hand, please," she asked with a grin.

Adrien happily obliged, watching her hands quietly and using the opportunity to tease out her story. The young woman and Bitty mentioned the store's previous owner while he helped them load the Ficus tree in the car, and Adrien had been left with the impression they weren't usual customers. He would never have imagined such a touching backstory could be hidden in the loamy soil that offered stability to the roots, or that the drooping green and gray leaves were actually keepers of a friendship older than he was.

Incidentally, Marinette must have been following a similar train of thought, as she addressed his silent curiosities.

"Yeah… so, Old Man Bitty acts tough, but I think he's a sweetheart beneath it all. I find it hard to believe it was an accident that he picked out a Ficus on a whim. And even if he did, it's sort of nice to imagine, isn't it?"

Adrien felt his lip twitch, a smile spread as Marinette's fingers danced around his forearm, tickling light strokes as she measured and repositioned the corsage.

"It is. I can't even remember the last time someone told me a story," Adrien commented off-handedly, leaning forward a tiny bit. The familiar scent of cookies and chocolate was intoxicating, especially strong as Marinette had her head bowed between them. "I guess it was when my Mom was still around."

The words were out before he caught himself, and both of them realized his faux pas. Marinette's diligent fingers paused momentarily, and Adrien's posture turned a bit more rigid.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Marinette let him stay if he was going to work, not suck all the happiness out of the room with a dumb remark.

When she looked up, her brow was drawn. "Why are you sorry? I'd…" she hesitated, and her voice was soft. "I'd like to learn more about your mother sometime, she must have been an incredible woman from the way you talk about her."

They were both quiet for a moment, and Adrien hated the tension. It was clearly on him to say something, to accept or decline her offer to talk about his mother, but he really just didn't know what to say. It's not like he couldn't talk about her, or that he might even want to, but the offer was so foreign he just didn't know where to start.

As it happened, the burden of breaking the silence fell to neither of them when the door at the front of the shop rang out, and they pair practically flew apart in the small office. For as tense as it had grown, it only made their private break feel even more intimate when Adrien realized how close they had been sitting the whole time

Marinette coughed and stood up "W-well, customers'a'waitin," she motioned for him to join her, and Adrien popped up from the lounger to follow her to the front.

"Bonjour," Marinette greeted, stepping up to the register. Adrien lingered behind slightly, always watchful for cameras. The customers were two young men, probably near their age, so he could at least cross his fingers that they weren't like Wayhem.

"Let me - er, us," she glanced at him. "Let us know if you need any help."

Adrien relaxed when they half-waved and strode down an aisle. Beside him, Marinette bent under the counter and pulled out some plastic bottles of water from a small cabinet.

"Can you put these in the wire basket?" She asked, holding up two at a time, and Adrien was quick to do as he was bid.

Once they restocked her little bin of waters - which, he noted, was just such a Marinette thing to do - the head of ebony hair turned to him again.

A little quieter, she asked, "Anyways… what time were you supposed to meet Nino again? Alya is supposed to be coming by for lunch, too."

"Ahh…" The blond smacked his forehead, checking his watch. "In about twenty minutes. Maybe I can see if he and Alya want to both come here again? I could get used to Pizza Wednesdays."

Marinette covered the giggles that leapt from her lips. "You've been 'working here' for about an hour, and you're already establishing a lunch pattern?"

He smiled easily. "Sure am."

"And will Nathalie be glad to hear you're changing your plans all the time?"

His grin grew wider. "Sure won't."

Marinette rolled her eyes, but she was beaming, and the sight was austere happiness.

"...Fine. You can ask them if they want to come by, but I'm not closing the store this time and we have to eat inside, okay?"

"That's fair," Adrien agreed, slipping around the corner to retrieve his cell-phone from his pocket.

A few texts later, a suspiciously easy-to-convince Alya and Nino, a patient but resigned agreement from Nathalie, and he peeked his head around the corner to share the good news. His breath caught.

Marinette was seated at her stool, astute and professional as ever, with a small and delighted smile gracing her lips. Her pale skin, almost translucent beneath the sunlight, and charcoal-colored fingers, clung to by dirt and toil, stood in stark contrast to the bright pops of color that juggled between her hands, the beginning of a Fauvist dreamscape coming to life under her fingers. She was the foreground, and the rest of the gentle winsome world faded out to a green memory behind her, framing her like the loveliest portrait.

It almost seemed to disturb her, for her to be at such peace, but Adrien had been indulgent all day. He was going to be greedy again.

"Marinette," he whispered, calling her to come to the back. She looked at him, and then away with a frown, quickly hopping up and meeting him at the frame between the halves of her store.

"Why are you whispering?" She whispered, ironically. "Is everything okay?"

"Um, yes," he looked over her head to make sure the customers were still browsing, and when he determined the coast to be clear, he leaned down close.

"I just wanted you to know that you look adorable. And that I really want to kiss you again."

She flushed in that same shade of rosy pink, and her mouth fell open a tiny bit in surprise. Swiftly, before the chance was lost, he ghosted his lips over her own sugar-spun ones, inhaling the sweet taste of confections and confidence that radiated from her warm lips against his. He could not speak floriography, but he hoped that she might perceive the secret language he tried to speak without words, how much he wanted to be brash and young and stupid with nobody but her.

He didn't know if the message was received, but when he pulled back (and let out a tiny sigh of relief that the young men hadn't spotted them), her dimples and blush at least penned a response of mutual excitement. Breathless, he smiled and laughed a tiny bit, not because anything was funny, but just because he was so stupidly happy there wasn't much else he could do.

---

Bonus Scene:

Plagg narrowed his eyes, listening to Adrien and Marinette's conversation across the office while munching on a piece of croissant. It wasn't nearly as good as the cheese bread, but he was hungry so this would have to do.

Well, he was trying to listen to them, but he found his attention continually being pulled to a soft humming at his ear.

A red antena occasionally bounced in front of him, and that only made it more distracting.

Indeed, the black kwami didn't even realize his charge left the room until a voice roused him.

"Maybe I was worrying for nothing," Tikki said quietly when they left to address the customer situation. "I love seeing them so happy together."

"Uggggggggggggggh," he replied, rolling over on his back and throwing an arm over his face. "I don't, they're so in love that it's sickening."

Giggling, Tikki quipped, "I know you don't mean that."

Plagg lowered his defense in the shape of a tiny arm, green eyes squinting at her. "You know nothing!"

She floated beside him, a brow raised at his impressive lethargy. "I know you don't have to be so dramatic all the time. It's a good thing you didn't get matched with Marinette; you'd be pretty unstable together."

"Pfft," he swatted a paw at her, averting his eyes from her own pretty blue ones. "I've got plenty of instability in my life, thanks. Adrien's is rather too bright and excited, or down in the dumps."

"Maybe you're the unstable one," Tikki suggested, and Plagg hissed.

Beaming and snickering, the red kwami poked his stomach. "Oh Plagg, you're adorable."

He jumped, floating back into some shrubbery. Indignant, he tried to will the creeping green from spreading along his whiskers. "H-Hey! I'm a fearsome, powerful god. I control the power of destruction! Don't call me adorable!"

Tikki shrugged. "You can be terribly powerful and adorable at the same time.

"NO," he whisper-shouted, just in case the kids heard them. "YOU CAN'T."

Appearing hurt, Tikki placed a little red paw over her heart. "So you're saying I'm not adorable?"

"I - " he stopped, eyes wide.

"Or," her tone turned deadly, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you calling me weak?"

Damn this stupid, stupid cute kwami.

Damn her.

"I - I, um, well, c'cmon Tikki," he held up two hands, knowing when he's been bested. "Don't be like that. You know you're the… cutest kwami out there."

He bit down on his tongue, probably drawing blood, when he noticed her scarlet complexion turn dark ruby.

Oh god she's so cute.

Why Master Fu.

WHY.

Tikki, looking entirely smug, bid him to hold on. She reappeared after a moment, struggling with her chosen's over-sized mobile.

Grateful for a distraction, he cleared his throat. "What if that rings while we're in here? Won't we be found?"

She was already pressing buttons in the screen, and Plagg felt a tiny bit jealous. Adrien never let him play on his phone.

"No, Marinette knows I'm hiding here - she doesn't know you are. She won't come expose me, so we'll both be fine."

Unconvinced, Plagg replied, "Won't Adrien be suspicious that the girl stores her phone in the dirt?"

At that, Tikki let out a tiny, frustratingly adorable snort, and queued up a video. She turned the volume low, so they both moved close to the screen to watch.

"I love Adrien," she said as it buffered. "I really do. But do you think he's observant enough to catch something like that?"

"... You've got a point." Plagg conceeded, and his attention was drawn to the name of the video for the first time. "Paris Weather Man Loses A Bet, or Loses His Mind?"

A red face turned to him severely, paw pressing his mouth shut. "Shh, it's funny! You'll like it, I promise."

Plagg's face turned warm and he nodded, turning his attention forward. Even if it wasn't funny, he was going to love it either way.

---

Bonus Scene 2:

"Okay…" Alya stopped pacing, brought her hands together as if in prayer, and exhaled deeply through her nostrils. "We got this."

"We won't if you keep yapping and Marinette spots us," Nino said, shushing her. "There they go! Once they turn the corner..."

"Aww," Rose cooed beside him, and she grabbed one of Juleka's arms. "Isn't that so romantic?"

The dark-haired girl smiled and kissed the top of her girlfriend's wavy blonde hairs, but remained quiet.

Ivan and Nino met eyes, and the boys nodded in unison.

"Go time," he said, mimicking spy motions. "Remember - Alya on ice cream, Rose and Juleka on candles, Ivan and Mylene work on setting up the table."

A brush of dark skin bummed into his hip, and Alya's voice was the epitome of sarcasm. "And what are you going to do, 007?"

"Me?" Nino scoffed, standing up and adjusting his glasses. "I will supervise."

"Like hell you will," she replied, taking his hat and tucking it over her own hair. Nino had to gulp, hating how sexy she looked with it on. Now was not the time for that. "You'll keep watch, or I'll take your glasses too."

"Are you so blind you need double prescriptions?" He tilted his head, waiting for the sassy remark.

It didn't come.

Mylene politely jumped in before Alya could respond. "We should go now; if we wait til they're done, the ice cream will all be melted."

Smiling, Ivan nodded and squeezed her shoulder while Alya and Nino rolled their eyes simultaneously.

Clearing his throat, the self-declared leader fixed his glasses and stood up a little straighter. "Fine. Are you all ready?"

"Um, Rose and Juleka are already inside," Alya pointed over his shoulder, and Nino practically yelped.

"Ah - shit, shit, well let's go!" He was running across the street, not even bothering to look for passing cars, and jumped through the front of the store.

Gasping for air, partially for the theatrics, but mostly from the sprinting, he lifted his arms at their incredulous expressions. "Why didn't you wait for my signal?"

Ivan and Mylene filed in behind him, quietly setting to work on the table while Alya hauled in Adrien's black duffle bag and cooler.

"Um," Juleka scratched her chin, reaching on her tiptoes to place one of the flickering lights high in Marinette's bushes. "What was the signal?"

Rose jumped in before Nino could respond, intimidating his spy hand gestures from earlier. "I thought this was the signal?"

"No, no," he sighed, shaking his head. "The signal was supposed to be, we put our hands together and say, Glaciator 2: Attack of the Loam? And then we all head over together?"

"Then what was this?" Rose repeated the hand motions again, and Nino scowled.

"That was… I don't know, me being awesome?"

"Nino," Alya called his name flatly. "Shut up and watch the door, will you?"

Scoffing, he turned on his heel but moved towards the front, facing the glass windows when his phone buzzed.

Adrien (7:32 PM):

Thanks again for your help dude. I'm sort of freaking out right now tbh.

He smiled and chuckled to himself, accomplishing zero percent of what his girlfriend instructed while he penned a response.

Nino (7:33 PM):

Np, bro, you got this! We are all rooting for you! Glaciator 2: Attack of the Loam is A-Go. We'll be done in 5.

Adrien (7:33 PM):

That name.

Adrien (7:34 PM):

It's legendary.

"Alright, we're good. Let's move out!" Mylene clapped her hands together while Ivan helped her stand, and the group gathered in front of the door.

Pouting, Nino crossed his arms. "I thought I was the leader…"

Alya threw an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "Aww, you're the 'best-friend'! You know, you putter around and act annoying, but you're a crucial source of moral support for the team and for Adrien. You did good, bud."

"I feel even worse now, thanks," he responded, and they all laughed briefly at his expense.

"Say, leader, did Adrien say when they were going to stop the car?" Rose put a hand at her hip.

Juleka answered, looking around Ivan's broad shoulders.

"I can see them coming up to the door right now."

"Okay… OPERATION GET THE HELL OUT STARTS NOW, LET'S GO, LET'S GO," Nino whisper-screamed frantically, directing everyone through the office and and out the backdoor. He barely managed to stumble onto the terrace when he heard the front door swing open, and everyone hastily filed out after him.

Slowly, so slowly, he began to creak the door shut, his heart pounding a mile-a-minute while the others watched in mute horror.

From within, Nino heard the occasional catch in his best friend's voice, sounding a little more frantic than usual.

"I-I know, you know, work is probably …"

"… whole city, Marinette."

"Surprised?"

After a century, the door fully closed with a satisfying click. It was like a gunshot in the tense silence, but Marinette and Adrien didn't seem to hear a thing.

"That… was too close." Mylene gripped her forehead, panic and subsequent relief shaking each one of them.

"That's why I'm the leader," Nino dusted himself off, making no attempt to sound humble.

Well, at least, not until he turned to Alya, and then came Glaciator 3: Revenge of the Angry-Girlfriend.