AN: So I've never had Chloé being the almighty witch of the story, and there's a reason for that. She's not a perfect character, but I like to think she'd be a good friend (eventually). Thanks for all the support for this story! Sorry if anyone thinks this is dragging on... but they haven't even kissed yet, and it's not even halfway? My bad.

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc

It wasn't obvious that there had been growing expectations swirling around within her mind until the day passed, she'd settled down into the lumpy couch in the apartment while waiting for her friend to come home, when she checked her cell phone and finally realised the date. It was the day where she had possibly expected some sort of contact from the ever-busy Adrien, but that wasn't the case at all. The fourteenth was a quiet affair of her afternoon classes, then receiving a message from Alya that she was going on a date for that evening. And so, that left her cooking a simple meal, thinking about her internship for that week that was the last few days to prepare everything until the fashion show the following Friday.

She was nervous about many things—making sure the clothing fitted her mischievous model correctly, the budding relationship with said model, and how she was going to deal with the business proposal. Alya had contacted and accepted the offer, and details were going to reach them as soon as possible. As much as she wanted to simply message Nathaniel and ask for his advice on how to keep her identity a secret, she was mostly curious about what she would be doing. Lady was not known for her face—and surely, that would've been mentioned in the proposal—so there was a clear plan there, one that she hadn't been quite told yet. If it was known that Adrien was involved in the series, then there were bound to be reporters everywhere, waiting to snap a glimpse of him when he walked to or from the building. Then again, not many knew that he was delving into that side of a career. So far, he had simply been a model that occasionally went on television, radio shows, and had appeared on television shows.

Social media was filled with acquaintances posting pictures of themselves on dates, fans speculating what their beloved was doing that evening, and Marinette scrolled through each and every one with a bored expression. There was no material to start making the clothing yet; the company was providing all of it, in return for their work, so she had to wait until the following day for picking the best ones. Perhaps, there would be a battle between all of the interns in an attempt to get the most pleasing fabrics, but that would've been counterproductive. She shook her head, willing the harsh thoughts to disappear.

She didn't know if Adrien was back in the country, whether he was busy for the evening, or what he was doing at all. It was disconcerting to realise that she very much cared what he was doing with his free time, and the curiosity wasn't quenched when she typed in his name within her cell phone's browser to find one of his social media pages.

That was odd, was it not?

It's what most would resort to when they wanted to know about someone, though. She tried to reason with herself, adamantly closing the page and instead going to load her e-mails when her cell phone vibrated.

"Hello?" she said, phone hitting her ear audibly.

It was her mother. The conversation with her family was swift, straight to the point, and rather amusing. Her father had had trouble choosing a restaurant for that evening, so they'd decided that Marinette was perfect to choose for them—clearly, they hadn't expected her to be out, despite the date. That was quite a blow to her ego, but very true.

There was no use fussing. With a smile on her lips from the parting joke her father had uttered, Marinette knitted her eyebrows together in confusion as she looked at her contact list.

"Adrien Agreste," she read aloud, scrolling down, "and Prince Chat."

He had two cell phones. Well, of course he did—but why? Which was he expecting to talk to her on? Adrien had suggested to avoid messages and calls while he was away so her bill wouldn't add up handsomely (despite the fact that they hadn't discussed that in the past, perhaps he'd only just realised), but she wasn't going to wait for him to answer her last e-mail—it had been almost twenty-four hours by the point, and when he was busy, he usually sent a quick message her way.

She was almost becoming clingy.

Marinette slapped her cheeks, murmuring how pathetic the feeling of attachment was. He had his own life, she had hers, too, so the few moments where their time interlaced together was precious, and she needed to accept only that. They couldn't always be together, or meet during their free time, as his schedule was harsh and she needed to focus on her education, too. So, after biting her lower lip until it was slightly swollen, she'd decided to treasure the fleeting moments where she was enjoy his sweetness all to herself, and pressed to call the correct name.

There wasn't a long period of time until he picked up."Chloé? What's up?" Adrien asked, his voice sounding tired and low.

Blinking, the dark-haired female corrected, "...Not Chloé."

"Marinette?" he guessed, suddenly sounded more awake than before. "What the..." After he'd trailed off and she'd sat there upon the couch within the darkening room, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, she gnawed on her cheek while walking towards her bedroom for the evening. There was the noise of him fumbling with his cell phone for a few minutes, before he uttered a curse word under his breath. "Are you still here?"

The call was still connected. "Yes."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Nino changed your name to Chloé—there's no Marinette in my contacts any more."

"Well, I'm on your phone now."

"Did you—oh, fuck. That was even worse than me." And despite his words, there was obvious laughter in his voice, from the shaking volume and pronunciation, and after he'd finished he burst into guffaws that had her smiling, not at all embarrassed by the terrible joke (it had been for him, after all). "All right, Chloé, how can I help you?"

She rolled her eyes at the name. "You're not telling me off about the call, so I'm assuming you're back home."

"I'm actually in the back of a car right now," Adrien replied, breathing another sigh. "My sleep is going to messed up for a few days, that I know for sure."

"My condolences," she murmured, trying not to laugh at how utterly disappointed he had sounded. "Aren't you glad that you're back with Plagg soon?"

He made a noise of disapproval. "He's probably scratched up Nino's furniture while I've been gone. I'll have to replace it before it's seen." And before she could question it, he continued to say, "Yes, he has abandonment issues and releases them by destroying my cousin's things—he's particularly fond of scratching his speakers, somehow."

"Good to know," Marinette tried to reply in a steady voice.

"Hey!" Adrien exclaimed suddenly, interrupting her contained laughter. "What if we have our date this weekend? I think I have the perfect idea for it."

She blinked, mind wandering to think about whether she really had the time. There were projects for university that she had to wade through, along with creating the suit that he had to wear for the oncoming week. It would be a stretch to fit it all in, and make sure she had above-average results, so with a frown on her lips, Marinette replied that she didn't quite think she could. He didn't sound disappointed; the blond made a noise of understanding and changed the subject, asking about her days instead. The conversation was light, sweet, and the fact that he wasn't pestering her about any heavy topics was refreshing.

When she mentioned that Alya had disappeared on a date with his cousin, it was revealed that Adrien hadn't even known that detail. He'd exclaimed, loudly, how vocal Nino had been on the journey back from dinner with them last night, practically reciting all the ways that the red-head was wonderful and just fun to be around, and to hear such things from Adrien in a mocking tone was more amusing than annoying—he couldn't be annoying if he tried, it seemed. Even when he pestered her for a date, when he wormed his way into her apartment unexpectedly, and even with there was the identity confusion, he had never irritated her. It must have been a talent.

They talked well into the late hours of the evening, and his words were quite slurred from sleepiness by the time that she wished him a good sleep with a wide smile. He'd stumbled over his words, and the sound of how adorable he was when lethargic was just so adorable that she couldn't quite hold back from coddling him slightly.

Alya's date had been a success. She'd proudly walked into Marinette's bedroom well past midnight, slammed the door open which created such noise that it startled her awake, and placed her hands on her hips in a powerful pose. Her curls were unruly, free, and her spectacles were gone for the evening in favour for contact lenses, and her dress had such deep cleavage that she visibly gaped at her. The red-head announced that Nino was a dork, that they'd kissed, and that was it. After shooting a wink at the bewildered Marinette, she strut out of the room and shut the door behind her. That was all the information that was offered, and that was all she knew.

The following day, when she was huddled with the other interns and walking to be shown where the materials were kept, she found out through the gossiping employees they passed that Nino had posted a picture with him holding hands with someone the previous evening. She soon found the picture of his social media, and it was most definitely Alya's hand—she had the sponsorship nail colour on—and that was about all that it showed. It was simply their clasped hands placed upon his thigh, with a caption stating that he was having the best evening.

It was nice that her friend was happy, and that she'd found someone who had genuine feelings for her (from what she could tell). It couldn't be helped that he was a celebrity, and she was certainly happy that Alya hadn't fallen for him through films, or other naïve means; she was purely interested in him after they had typed to each other, and that was enough to make Marinette feel proud of her friend.

Of course, some fans were outraged. She just hoped that Alya wouldn't receive negative mail, too. If it was found that she was close with Marinette, then perhaps the hate would worsen and fester into something spiteful. Marinette had decided she could handle the hateful comments, the rude messages that were scrawled across pictures, as long there wasn't anything physically awful; as soon as dead animals, or maybe even something to do with bodily functions, then she was going straight to the police about harassment.

She was strong—a few messages weren't going to break her. There were kind, loving friends around her, and that was all that she needed.

Manon was actively trying to get all of the interns together to party before their time at the company was over. The travel distance for all of them was playing a deciding factor in them all rejecting the offer, even when Manon suggested that they could stay at a hotel and rent a room. Even though they had been together for almost two months, the kinship between them all was shaky at best. Although she had grown fond of them all—on different levels, because for some the negative qualities was what was endearing about them—that didn't mean she was willing to travel an hour to go between all of their homes, and sleep in a single room together. Timid Simon had been the one to mutter his no first, and that was definitely impactful; sweet , shy Simon, the one that toddled along and blushed when addressed, was the voice of reason to the feisty Manon, who had taken to stomping her feet loudly while walking through the halls in protest.

They were given the measurement for the models—it turned out that while Simon hadn't been selected by a model, there were a lot more that were being featured in the show. He had simply not been chosen by the big named models that were going to be in attendance, the ones that the press and other new about beforehand. So, he was introduced to a choice of two towering models of either gender, so he could pick according to his design.

There was more than enough fabrics to go around. Marinette happily scooped up the ones she needed with a smile, rolling them up and placing as much as she could within her larger bag for that day.

When she got home, she ripped up the negative mail that had accumulated, conversed with Alya over dinner, before disappearing into her room to start with her design. The rickety mannequin within her closet was pulled out and assembled, and she began marking out her sizes with a smile tugging on her lips.

Adrien sent her a picture via cell phone of scratches across the side of Nino's speakers, with the culprit happily licking his paw in front of the crime scene.

They didn't talk until it was almost midnight, and she was stirred from her work by the sound of her cell phone. Marinette had jumped, dropping the fabric and scissors onto the empty desk, and blinked in surprise.

"Chloé?" she greeted, taunting their last call.

"Very funny," Adrien replied dryly. "I was wondering if you were still up, but I'm assuming you are from your cheeky attitude."

Pulling her cell phone back to glance at the time, she blinked. "Just because your sleep is messed up doesn't mean you can ruin mine, too. Some of us have places to be in the morning."

He scoffed. "Are you trying to say your life is more important than me? I'm wounded, Marinette. Truly."

"And here I thought your ego couldn't be any worse," she teased, settling herself upon her bed, back aching from having been hunched over for a long period of time. "If I were you, I'd utter something along the lines of you being my life."

If she'd expected him to be offended, then she really didn't know him. "You are absolutely correct," Adrien confessed, and she could tell by his tone that he was grinning widely. Adrien was one of the happiest, most easygoing individuals she had ever met, and knowing that he had been raised in the cruel world in the public eye, she wondered how he had ever been raised so fantastically. Perhaps that was being too judging, but knowing that he'd came out untouched by the greed and general ugliness of the harsh world was simply wonderful. "Is it too late to ask you to be mine for the holiday everyone loves?"

A snort of disbelief slipped out. "It's the sixteenth, Adrien. I think you can ask me next year instead."

"I forgot!" he defended.

"I'm sure," she replied dryly, raising her eyebrows despite the fact that he couldn't see. "I even called you that evening, while Alya was on a date with Nino. You really have no excuse." Her words were teasing, mostly, and she almost dreaded to think of what romantic gestures he would've done if they had been together; the most they had done was visited a fair that they'd spoken about before, and she doubted she had been much of a romantic when she was young. Whether he made good choices when it was up to him was yet to be decided. "Oh, I'm positively wounded."

The dramatic words she'd uttered caused an abrupt laugh from him. "Sometimes I wonder why I like you."

She did, too.

Their conversation trailed off once again, and she certainly didn't mind how casual and light-hearted their calls had become as of late, and the fact that he was opening his busy schedule to converse with her in the evenings was such a compliment, and it made fondness to swell around in her heart, heartbeat stuttering as she thought about how much she was enamoured with him. When they whispered farewell, her cheeks were warm and a happy smile was across her lips.

The tinkling of bells caught her attention once she'd changed into her pyjamas.

'Adrien Agreste:
I hope you'll save yourself for me next year, princess.'

So he was going to be embracing the nickname, too. Biting the inside of her cheek, Marinette rolled her eyes in light amusement and typed a reply with her cold fingertips.

'Marinette:
You know, it's said that marriages aren't recognised until they're consummated.'

Tying to imagine his surprised expression wasn't working out too well, and as she settled underneath the duvet and look in the room as she turned off the lap, a cold feeling ran through her body as she caught sight of the flash of golden hair upon her wall—Adrien had been in her bedroom, he'd seen the junk and what was plastered across her walls and on the desk, and he must have seen that there was one of him, placed snugly on her wall and practically glowing at that moment. He hadn't mentioned it, though—whether it was out of sparing her the embarrassment, or because he genuinely didn't mind, she wasn't so sure.

Her cell phone sounding stopped her trail of thought.

'Adrien Agreste:
Are you inviting me to seduce you?'

She wetted her lips.

'Marinette:
Do you really need permission?'

As it turned out, he didn't. Marinette had passed through her weekend, working through her time at the company—thankfully, she hadn't been selected for chores at all during the days—by carefully crafting her clothing for the upcoming event in less than a week, and she was thoroughly stressed and looked rather frazzled whenever she walked (or stumbled). Alya was busying herself different projects, and they merely exchanged weary glances over dinner, where they almost inhaled their quick food and ran away back to their bedrooms for the rest of their time. Marinette made sure to wake up first and fetch their post, sluggishly throwing the negative mail in the bin, and by the time that mid-week had rolled around, they received news that their missing room-mate was coming back.

Rose's cast had been removed at the start of the week, and she was ready to come back from the long weeks of her disappearance. Her professors were sure to be ticked off, and although she'd tried to keep up with her assignments, she might have spent far too long absent to catch up quickly. Alya had grinned happily at the news before looking paler, smile falling from her lips, and her deep sienna eyes were wide and disbelieving as she looked at Marinette for support. She didn't under, though; it was great news that their best friend was coming back, and there was so much to tell her—

Oh, fuck.

She didn't want to be there when Alya tentatively explained that she was romantically involved with Nino, not at all, but she knew that she had to be there for emotional support. The blonde was dramatic, that was true, but she was only going to be annoyed for having missed out on the gossip at first, and then it would sink in that the helpless crush that she'd harboured for years was useless, and if the tanned male ever came to visit, he was surely going to cause her a bit of pain, and no matter how small that was, it wasn't nice to think about.

Adrien had continued their nightly calls—well, they couldn't really be classed as calls, really. They were few, short, straight to the point and wishing her a nice sleep, and that was it. He was persuading her to sleep when she really wanted to stay up to correct and finalise the outfit, but he was having none of that. The blond stubbornly kept repeating that if she wasn't going to sleep, then neither was he (and he had interviews that week, too, which prompted her to agree with a jutted out lower lip). He didn't ask for any updates of the outfit, and that was strange to think about; she was unsure if the other interns had shown their sketches or progress to their models, but she simply continued and shoved that trail of thought aside.

Friday came along with dark bags beneath her eyes. She squinted into the mirror, brushing the damp hair from her face, before deciding to do away with the hassle and pulled it into a wet, high bun. Her fringe was clipped away, the cold strands not causing her teeth to chatter from the cold air when she went outside. Although the fashion show was that afternoon—she had time to worry in private—they were still expected to arrive at the company by their own means before being escorted by a selected vehicle. Their clothing was going to be stashed with the others, and hopefully untouched by the time they were there, and the set-up time was when she was sure her stomach would churn uncomfortable and possibly make her feel nauseated from nerves.

Her attire was simple; tight, dark-washed jeans that had tiny rips at the knees, a striped t-shirt that she was quite fond of, and a block-coloured shirt that she left open on top. It was casual, and bright enough to hopefully distract those she met from inspecting her puffy eyes, and dark circles from the lack of sleep. Thankfully, there weren't any cuts on her hands or arms. She laced her flat boots, taking in deep breaths to combat the nerves.

Alya was asleep on sofa when she ventured into the kitchen to collect a cold water bottle. She considered waking her up, but after checking the time it proved that she still had time for a precious hour sleep that Marinette was deeply jealous of. So, with her bag upon her back and hair still damp, the small female carefully wrapped her work up in protective coverings before making her way to catch the designated bus.

Manon was buzzing with excitement, hazel-coloured eyes wide and darting everywhere, and she'd covered her clothing with bubble wrap. Trying to hold back at snort at the quirky alternative, Marinette took her seat while they waited for the rest of the interns to arrive. The brown-haired female babbled on, flicking through topics quickly and talking for the sake of distraction rather than interest, and Marinette simply nodded her head in response and made the appropriate noises, knowing that she didn't much care for her answer.

Théo covered his in a black bag that was surely meant for bins, Vincent had used plastic, and Simon had wrapped his in fabric. They all expressed their nerves in different ways, and, thankfully, there were no uttered insults at each other, despite their close proximity when they were ushered into a car together. Marinette was constantly clenching her fists, teeth biting into her skin, and trying not to think of the worst. There wasn't a clear failure; it was a fashion show. There weren't going to be judges announcing their scores, or anything like that. Although reporters had been informed that a few of the selections from that day were going to be made by interns, they weren't going to be told specifically which—the prominent named designers were going to be featured, too, so it was a matter of attempting to make their works up to par.

They were directed towards a large dressing room, bare of any decorations other than the rails full of protected clothing and various stools and mirrors littering the room. Marinette wandered over to the selection, picking her own and holding it protectively in her arms while the others did much the same.

Manon wandered over to her side, pulling her by the hand to settle down on chairs together. "I never really said this, but I'm sorry if me complaining about Nino ever upset you."

She blinked, bewildered. "Pardon?"

Waving her hand, the brunette explained, "When I stayed over your apartment—I said some pretty rude remarks about him, without realising that you were friends. It was inconsiderate of me, and very immature." Working with him, however briefly, had probably opened up her eyes tos ee how narrow-minded her dislike at been.

"It's fine, Manon," she replied, trying not to laugh at the wide, innocent brown-coloured eyes directed at her. "How were you supposed to know? I don't openly talk about it much."

"Well, I basically said I despised one of your friends, and had a crush on the other—not the best way to make someone like you."

She really did laugh at that. Marinette's guffaw was abrupt, slightly breathy, and the accompanying smile reached her bright eyes. "I've missed you," she murmured, wrapping an arm around the brunette's shoulder to pull her closer fondly. "It's going to be strange not seeing you every week."

"A blessing in disguise for some," Manon quipped, raising her eyebrows as she wrapped her arms underneath Marinette's open shirt. "I could always attach myself as a leech and live with you, I'm sure your room-mates would be cool with it."

She rolled her eyes. "You're not quite small enough for that."

"I dream small." Manon grinned toothily. "Do you remember what I told you about my lovely mother?" Without waiting for her to respond, other than the slight nod of her head, she continued to mutter, "She's coming here."

From what she could remember, Manon's mother was a prominent figure of some sort that was always away from home—no, that wasn't right. Manon lived with her grandmother, barely saw her mother, and used to receive gifts through the mail before they dwindled and she'd donated the last one to charity. "That's not a good thing, then," she mused. Even though Manon's dislike for Nino had been because of how her mother had marvelled over him—had they met, and she'd gushed about him? Or was it connected to her mysterious work?

Manon scowled, burrowing her head into Marinette's neck and squeezing her tightly. "Absolutely not. She never attended my school plays or anything, but now she's only here because of work—it's never me."

The female beside her was one starved of parental love, and the bitterness of abandonment was showing, once again, through their conversation. Unsure of how to comfort her from the hole that was blatantly left in her heart, Marinette wrapped her other arm around her and squeezed in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. Although they didn't speak for some moments, she was sure that the movement was somewhat appreciated since she didn't pull away. They had become close, definitely, and Marinette hoped that they would continue to converse further than the wacky messages they exchanged when the internship was over. Officially, they had two days after the show to be together during company times, and then it was done. They were the two that lived closest out of all the interns, but that was still some distance.

"I'm babbling," Manon mused, nuzzling against her flesh, "quick, distract me with your problems."

Making a noise of contemplation, Marinette wondered whether she remembered her silly dilemma. They had spoken before about her mysterious friend from the past, but that risked the chance of said blond walking into the room with the other models and perhaps overhearing the conversation.

So, with a smirk across her lips, she asked, "Has Max contacted you yet? It's been a while."

"That hurts," Manon complained, poking a finger into Marinette's side and causing her to yelp in surprise (and for Théo to raise his eyebrows in their direction). "I said your problems, not my lack of a love life."

"Okay, you devil," she replied, voice quivering from restrained laughter. "I don't really have any...?" After trailing off, Manon jabbed her side with the clear meaning for her to continue. "Fine. Remember that guy I told you about before? He knows now, and we're... going on a date soon."

Manon pulled her arms back, sitting upright with wide eyes and a large smile. "Really? That's great!"

"That's all you're getting," Marinette pointed out, eyes narrowed. "I mean it."

"Mari," Manon sang, snaking her arms around her waist again and resting her chin on her shoulder, "don't you want to share your woes with me?"

She snorted. "No, you wench. I'm fine."

Making a noise of disapproval, Manon frowned openly. "And you're no fun, too. I'll have to turn to gossip magazines to find out the details of your love life."

"Oh?"

"Well, yes," the brunette replied, winking. "It's all the rage nowadays—poor girl Marinette being seduced by the blond prince who she'd known from childhood."

She glared. "I don't quite think that's right."

A new voice appeared along with a shadow casting over them. "She's the one actively seducing me, actually." And along with the soft, low voice that she was becoming increasingly familiar with, loose jeans came into view, along with Adrien's raised eyebrows and crossed arms. "It looks like she's cheating on me right now, though."

Of course he'd appear while they were mentioning him! She'd thought there was a possibility, but to see him standing before her with a curious expression, with hair that was coiffed as perfectly as usual, caused her cheeks to burn and become more aware of how much body contact she was sharing with her friend. Adrien was there, smiling despite the interruption, and she narrowed her eyes in his direction and hugged her tighter.

"Oh," Adrien gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest, "my heart can't take this betrayal."

"Then don't butt into conversations," she scolded, watching Marinette's bewildered expression in her peripheral vision. "It's not polite."

His hand fell to his side, and he winked. "I'm here to introduce myself to your friend, so if you'd willingly relinquish your hold on her, I'd appreciate it."

With raised eyebrows, Marinette unwrapped her arms from her friend—who was comically silent, which was not a quality that was associated with her often—and scooted along the seat to allow a bit more space between them. Manon stood up, wiped her hands on her dress, and stuck her hand out in a clear welcoming gesture with a smile. Loud, enthusiastic, little Manon had said that she had a crush on him before, but she hadn't really looked for the signs; the brunette had been fine with Max, especially when they spent the evening walking around together, but when faced with the opportunity to shake her childhood crush's hand? That was when she was tongue-tied, and it caused Marinette to pretend to itch her cheek to hide her smile.

Shaking her hand with a wide smile, Adrien said, "I heard you called my cousin a ponce—among other things—and I'd like to say that I completely understand."

"Manon," she blurted, not removing her hand after the movement had ended. "I, well—I kissed your friend Max."

If there was a better way to be introduced, Marinette didn't know. She broke into laughter much the same as Adrien, and she positively giggled and Manon covered her mouth with her hands, looking absolutely flabbergasted and not believing what she'd accidentally said. Well, she hadn't mentioned that detail from the charity event, and after weeks of no contact with the male, too, it was a strange move to mention it. Manon's cheeks burnt a bright red, and to relieve her of some of her embarrassment, the dark-haired female stood up and wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulder in a half-hearted hug.

"And I've probably kissed this buffoon in front of us," Marinette quipped, smiling at her friend, "but then again, who knows what marriages between children entail?"

Manon blinked, turning her embarrassed gaze to her—the silent plea of saving her any further humiliation in her bright, hazel-coloured eyes.

"I'll have you know that I was the perfect gentlemen," Adrien pointed out, making a noise of disapproval. "I never had the girls have germs stage, but I was taught only to kiss on the cheeks—so that's what you got, you evil wife."

She breathed out, pushing strands of hair that had fallen loose from her face. "My cheek?" she questioned dramatically. "That's scandalous!"

Narrowing his eyes, the blond pointed out, "You're the one that proposed to me."

"Both times?" she asked.

"I asked after the first divorce—but that's irrelevant right now." His tone was light-hearted and playful, and the shaking of the brunette's shoulders beside her showed that their impromptu conversation had relieved her worries of embarrassment. "Anyway, I've come to tell you that, unfortunately, you won't be the one undressing me today."

Trying not to roll her eyes at his choice of wording, Marinette prompted him to continue with a wave of her hand.

His grin was lopsided. "We can remedy that later, no problem." And with those words, she narrowed her eyes and tried not to be offended by Manon's splutter of laughter. "Interns are here to watch and observe, so you'll all be sat down back here unless you're requested to help anyone. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I was the first model here—Nino's picking up coffee for everyone first."

"I'd say we're fine if we get some coffee, too, but I doubt that's going to happen," she mused.

Manon shuffled away from the half-hearted embrace, flashing them both a small smile before excusing herself in the shy way that she'd shuffled into. It was quite endearing to see, and the rosy cheeks had disappeared as she wandered over to Théo's side, and she busied herself with conversing with the other interns while the dark-haired female was left standing in front of Adrien, a tentative smile upon her lips and unsure of where their conversation was going to take them.

"So," he started, chin raised and eyes focused on where she'd hung her outfit on earlier, "you really didn't include any latex, right?"

"The first question you ask me when we're alone is about latex?" Marinette teased, lips curling into a smirk. "I never knew you were into such things, Mister Agreste."

He visibly shuddered, shaking his head and causing the golden strands to fall out of place on his forehead. "It gives me the chills when you call me that at work, and all I can imagine is you addressing my father and that's bloody weird to imagine."

She blinked. Strange to imagine, indeed. "Did he ever know about, u-us?" Trying to play off the stutter as nothing, she didn't miss the widening of his smile of the steps forward he'd taken. It was a work setting, but they appeared to be close friends that were chatting away to each other; it wasn't much different than she'd done with Manon—rather, it had more space between them—but the unsteady beating of her heart as his shadow loomed over her was a giveaway that her feelings weren't platonic, and they hadn't been for a long time. "Sorry, that was a weird question."

"Not at all." Adrien hummed, shaking his head and smiling softly. "Your parents never knew about me, so it's understandable. I don't think he was ever told you name, but I was supposed to be busy studying whenever I stayed at Nino's, so my aunt and uncle kept our playing a secret. They wanted me to be more like a child."

Knitting her eyebrows together, his emerald eyes had an unreadable emotion in them. "Then how did you ever explain about Plagg or any bruises you had?" she questioned quietly, making sure their conversation wasn't overhead.

He wetted his lips. "I was a clumsy child."

Snorting, Marinette asked, "And how did you did you get away with that?"

"With make-up to cover the bruises, but other than that he wasn't around often enough to see the damage. It was only a problem at work."

Seeing him talk about such topics with nonchalance made a pang of pity run through her, and she was quick to cover it from her expression. It wouldn't be good to openly display that she felt sorry for him; or, rather, his lack of a childhood. He was where he was today because of such parenting, and even if she didn't agree with it, voicing her complaints wouldn't mend the rift or the bland voice he talked about his father in. So, with a tentative smile and making sure to look into his composed eyes, Marinette edged forward to take one of his warm, slightly calloused, hands into her own and simply squeezed when he was visibly surprised.

"Why, Marinette," he started, lips curling into a grin. "We're at work."

"I have three days left," the dark-haired female pointed out, squeezing his hand in reassurance. "And I was just going to say I won't rough you up so you have to cover yourself in make-up for work any more."

It was the wrong thing—it was so completely wrong, and from the curve of his lips as they pulled into a wolfish, and smug, smile, she released a groan and rolled her eyes. "And what if I said if I was into that?"

"I was trying to be serious!" Marinette scolded, attempting to tug her hand from his, which resulted in his tightening his grip and keeping her captive. Instead, she hit his shoulder lightly with her free one and scowled openly. "What is someone hears you? There's enough rumours about us already."

His expression didn't falter. "Let's make them not rumours, then."

Despite the fluttering of her heart from their contact combined with the teasing words, she huffed, clearly disapproving of the suggestion. "Yes, absolutely. That would go over really well—why don't you announce to everyone that we're married while you're at it? I never knew you were such a genius, Adrien."

"With this attitude, I'm going to have to call our lawyer again."

"That would be my pleasure," she quipped, pursing her lips afterwards. The words caused no change for his teasing expression, though—if anything, he looked happier from her sarcastic remarks, and knowing that he wasn't offended by her personality nor the fact that she wasn't the innocent child any longer was warming to her heart. He wasn't expecting the young Marinette, the one that he'd grown up with and known fluently; the blond standing before her was getting to know her for her, not the connection to the past that was foreign. If he had only wanted her previous self—no matter how naïve and childlike it would've been—then he would've disappeared after her confession about amnesia, and yet, he hadn't. He'd stuck around, trying not to hurt her feelings and attempting to push her to his real self without causing trouble and unnecessary drama. "So, have you decided a day for our date?"

Raising his eyebrows, the blond replied, "And here I thought you were discreetly rejecting me."

Staff were beginning to pile within the large open space. The stools and seats were being taken, rails having clothing hung up upon, and noise was starting to buzz around them. There was limited time left, yet they were standing there, hands awkwardly clutched together in not quite a sweet way, and she couldn't have been happier with the result.

"Perhaps," Marinette answered slowly, drawing out her syllables, "or I'm trying to play hard to get."

His laughter was quiet, a few melodic sounds escaping, and his shoulders shook almost silently for a few moments. "The only thing hard to get with you is sleep," Adrien retorted before grimacing, his free hand raising to touch the nape of his neck in the self-conscious gesture that made her chest warm whenever she saw it. "That came out wrong. I—not that you're easy... I—just—"

She snorted, releasing her hand from his grip to poke his chest with her index finger. "Smooth."

Even though he wasn't offended by her laughter, Adrien narrowed his eyes, golden-tinged eyelashes creating shadows along the soft skin of his cheekbones, and leaned forward to whisper, "I'll take that as a challenge." And as his breath splashed across her face—he'd recently brushed his teeth, she noticed—and warmth blossomed across her cheeks, a strangled gasp of surprise escaped as his lips placed a chaste kiss onto her cheek. He pulled back with a mischievous expression, a wide grin that showed his dimples, and simply winked before departing, seeking out his fellow models across the room.

Well, at least they'd upgraded from the cheesy hand kisses.

-x-

When Rose had burst through their apartment clutching a variety of magazines to her chest while throwing her bag upon the floor straight away, Marinette had openly gaped at the sight of how happy her friend looked. The blonde looked healthy, definitely; the short golden strands had grown slightly, making the cut not look too awkward any more, and the cast was gone with no embarrassing after-effects. She ran, feet thundering against the floor, and dove upon her and Alya on the couch with an audible loss of breath from the movement. Rose grinned, showing the whites of her teeth, and positioned herself so she was lying across both of their laps, head propped against the arm of the sofa in what should've been an uncomfortable position.

"Well, hello to you, too," Alya said, blinking. Her spectacles were askew.

There weren't any tears. Only happy words were exchanged, and then Rose proudly presented the magazines that she'd brought with her. It was more important than the news of her time away, apparently, and from the cover image being a shot of both Nino and Adrien, she understood why. With her teeth gnawing into her lower lip and hands trembling, Marinette flicked through the glossy pages until she arrived at the section she wanted. The first magazine—one of three, the blonde bought quite the selection—showed a variety of the models that had been featured, and they showed Théo's design unknowingly. There were speculations in the paragraphs over who designed which, but none were going to be revealed from sources other than the designer themselves.

She found hers in the second and third magazine. Swallowing in an attempt to rid herself of the lump in her throat, Marinette stared at the largest picture of Adrien featured—the elegantly coiffed hair, golden-tinged eyelashes framing his bright eyes, and the plump lips that were arranged in a stoic expression. It was strange, really, knowing him so well and then seeing such a neutral expression; it was how he made a living, and it was no wonder that he was an expert at masking his emotions at that point in his life. Growing up, he must have swallowed his woes and put on a brave face per his father's request, and then it was ingrained in his mind to do it at every show. The bright and smiling pictures of him within magazines didn't do him justice either; they couldn't capture the depth of his eyes, the curve of his almost there dimples, or the sheer warmth he gave out.

So, along with the image she'd previously had of him on her wall, Marinette carefully placed her favourite picture of him in the outfit she'd created. It was a mostly black-coloured ensemble—dark suit jacket, shirt, and trousers—with cream accents scattered throughout. The buttons upon the shirt were bright, the collar much the same, and the buttons by his wrists stood out, too. She'd opted out of having an elbow patch, deeming it too bright and out of place, and instead chose simplicity to compliment his skin's colour and how fell he was able to pull off dark-coloured clothing. There were no visible loose threads or damages—which caused her to sigh in relief—and although she was present in the room, she hadn't seen the attire until it was fully on, when he was ready to step out and parade across the room.

The only disaster, if it could be classed as one, was that Nino had started to trip before finding his balance when it was his turn. He'd grinned, rubbed the back of his neck, and strutted in the maroon-coloured suit as though it was planned.

Her internship was over. There were no tears, though she almost received an awkward embrace from Vincent before he'd flushed and pulled away, never actually making body contact. Simon had hugged her briefly, and Théo had ruffled her hair and caused her bun to fall askew. Manon, naturally, had bright eyes that were filled with dramatic emotions, but no liquid escaped from them and neither did she whine or wail. Xavier and Penny had thanked them for their time, and although there were no job opportunities given out to them, they were welcomed to use them as references in the future.

Rose had quite the dilemma, though.

"His name's Ali," the blonde had explained, "and I think he might have a bit of a crush on me."

It was an understatement. Rose's cell phone was fixed, therefore she'd shared her number with the male that she was visiting at the hospital, and it seemed that they had grown close in the time they spent together. In a secluded room with a male, who had no close friends or family as he'd been visiting their country on a whim, who had no one visit outside of the hospital other than her had formed an attachment. She hastily explained that she thought they were friends; she'd pick up his selected items, spend the days reading or other activities that didn't require him getting out of bed, and then she'd started to notice the flush of his cheeks wasn't from his condition. The shy comments then became obvious, and before long she'd freaked out and blurted that she was married.

And so, Marinette found herself relaying that information to Adrien on Sunday evening, after she'd officially finished her internship and spent a good few hours lounging after with her friends. Their original plan to drink and laugh about their time apart had fallen through when Alya quipped that she still had work to do, and then that had sent the blonde into a panic about all of her missing time. With a quick embrace to each of them, Rose had darted out of the room and shut her bedroom door firmly behind her.

"It's just a joke that she's married, too!" Marinette said, leaning back against the pillows on her mattress. "I mean, I guess I can understand her panicking a bit? But claiming she's taken like that, especially when she has no ring, is absolutely ridiculous and I think he actually bought it."

Humming for a moment, Adrien mused, "Is this your way of asking me to buy you a ring?"

"I think you have a one-track mind," she replied grumpily. "Aren't you supposed to be thinking everything's about sex?"

He laughed, and she tried to imagine his grin. "If I am, I'm just not announcing it aloud."

That wasn't a lie. She couldn't recall off the top of her head whether they'd actually flirted with that topic aloud, though they certainly had in their messages at times. Warmth flooded her cheeks as she remembered his casual admittance to certain activities, quite a while ago, and wondered whether he still partook in them. When she'd considered venturing down that trail of thought, she'd denied herself—but what was stopping her now? There was no confusion any longer, and the attraction was clear between them. Status was the only thing separating them, but they were still conversing as often as possible (talking in hushed tones in the late evening, longer after it was usually deemed appropriate). With that thought in mind, Marinette shifted her legs, well aware of the stutter of her pulse from her distraction.

"Marinette?" he called, voice soft.

Right. "Sorry," she squeaked, pushing her cheek into the pillow as she turned to the side. "I was... distracted."

"By my secret thoughts?" Adrien questioned, amusement clear within his tone. "I can assure you, you're the starring role in them."

Oh. Marinette blinked, blurting out the first thing that popped into her mind, "I'd be offended if I wasn't."

His laugh was low, breathy, and absolutely sinful to listen to. Although her cheeks were warm previously, her ears were soon flooded with uncomfortable warmth, and she ran a hand through her hair in frustration at how eloquent she could be at times. Yes, it was strikingly easy to attempt to prompt him to continue that specific side of their relationship—

"Crap, hang on," he said suddenly, voice louder than before. There was a flurry of noises, scraping and other such things, as he fiddled around before providing an explanation. After there was fumbling that caused her to wince, Adrien sighed audibly to announce to return. "I spilled water on my shirt, so I got changed quickly."

Well, that wasn't what she was expecting. A laugh escaped before she could contain it, and she choked out, "Is this where I ask what you're wearing?"

There was no noise of surprise, nor disgust (though there was thoroughly unlikely as it was), and the responding laugh was as wonderful to hear as always. "I thought I was supposed to be the one seducing you?" Adrien questioned, cutting himself off afterwards to clear his throat. "Well, I'll tell you if you tell me, too."

"I don't think this is how it usually goes," she pointed out, cheeks hurting from smiling.

"You're right."

She blinked.

"Let's see..." Adrien hummed, taking his time to fill the silence as she wondered where he was going to bring their conversation to. It was teetering on the edge of teasing, and it was completely up to him whether he wanted to pursue a different direction to usual (she had to qualms about it, just more than a few nerves). "What if I told you I saved that picture of you in the sweater?"

Heart hammering loudly in her chest, pulse spiking from the words, Marinette bit the inside of her cheek from retorting the first thing that popped into her mind. If they were really going to do—do this, then she needed to keep calm, if that was possible. The picture—the damn picture—that she'd sent back before she'd known it was him, the one that she'd been hesitant to send, was the one in question. "Then I'd reply that I had no bra on."

He choked. There was no other way to describe the noise, and she covered her mouth with her hand to smother the laugher that desperately wanted to escape.

The reaction caused courage to swell within her chest; just knowing that such a small detail, practically insignificant to her, had resulted in his lack of breath for a moment was an utter compliment. "I don't have one on now, too."

"...Marinette," he breathed, sounding ever-so-flustered.

Squashing the urge to press her face further into the pillow, she whispered, "Yes?"

"I already knocked over something because of you." Because of her? All she'd done was respond to his usual silly flirting—oh. She'd responded verbally, for once, and that was what was different. Trying to imagine him with that bright smile across his lips, uttering the flirtatious words before becoming flustered and clumsy was amusing, and still complimentary. "Are you trying to hurt me?"

Her lips quivered from trying not to laugh. "No, not at all," Marinette replied, attempting to sound innocent. "I'm just slowly telling you what I'm wearing." Or, rather, what she wasn't.

"I—" Adrien cleared his throat, and her smile grew. "I'm ready to sleep?"

The phrasing combined with how confused he sounded caused the fondness she felt for him to grow. He was just as utterly lost as she was, and that was reassuring in many ways. "Very specific," she teased, smiling widely.

Laughing softly, he said, "I don't think we're very good at this."

"We?" Marinette parroted, voice intentionally dramatic. "I think you'll find the fault is all on you."

"Definitely—it's not like all you said was that you're not wearing a bra." The grin was clear in his voice, and it only made her smiler wider. He was so utterly endearing, and that fact that even though they'd failed miserably at such a spontaneous attempt hadn't caused him to feel offended was wonderful. "I think we should probably go on a date first."

With a warm face, drooping eyes from tiredness, and cheeks hurting from sheer fondness, Marinette murmured, "We've already been on one."

The choice had been there before—Adrien had offered her to decide whether their time at the fair had been a date, and it had been completely up to her. It was when he didn't know, and she'd been tentative and confused, but now that her feelings were sorted out and completely in the right place, she'd made the decision.

"Well," he whispered, and she could picture him grinning, "are you free on Friday?"

"I am," she mumbled, pondering where they were going to go—it was rare that they'd been allowed such time together in public as they had, without reporters or other such individuals had noticed his presence. Perhaps they would have to stay secluded within walls, much like Alya and Nino had for theirs. "Are you going to tell me this time?"

He laughed. The noise was fond, warming, and infectious so she found herself laughing quietly right back, even though she really wanted to whack his shoulder for withholding the information constantly. "It'll be a surprise," Adrien said instead. He didn't need prompting to continue. "Make sure your weekend is free, okay? I'll handle the details, but I can probably reject any work so I'm all yours."

"You're presuming too much," Marinette said, huffing. "What if I was busy? I'm practically a celebrity as well, you know."

The words had be meant as a joke. "When you're ready to come out as Lady, I'd be happy to be your date."

It would happen one day, but not in the immediate future. Preferably, she would've liked to have finished university so it didn't collide with her schedule, and if the television series was successful and included her part in the opening, she was sure there was going to be a few offers more than usual in the upcoming months. The Ladyblog had never meant to take over her life, and she never thought that she'd be selling her designs using the name—well, profiting from toying around with lingerie and selling them—and becoming known because of it as well. The titbit of information would look ravishing on her résumé, she knew.

"That's a nice offer," she replied quietly, an uncomfortable feeling churning in her stomach—nerves, she realised quickly. "You might be bored of me by then, though."

He didn't laugh. "And how do I know you won't be bored of me?" Adrien asked instead.

She blinked.

"For all I know, you could—it might take some time, but eventually the poster of me on your wall will take my place in your heart, and I'll be left behind, utterly depressed," the blond continued. Her eyes grew wide at his words, wanting to swear from the casual mention, and also feeling the need to hit him once more for the lack of confidence his words were showing. If anything, their relationship was teetering because of her—her status, her hesitance, and her confused feelings. They weren't misplaced any longer, though. She wasn't trying to push her fondness onto another face, and the one she knew, the male who spoke teasingly on the cell phone to her almost every night, was the one that deserved them.

"But I like you," she found herself saying.

There was a pause. He didn't make a noise of surprise, nor choke as he did from her previous blurted sentence. Instead, he took the time to think about his answer, and she was gnawing on her lower lip savagely and not quite regretting the decision; if she'd have said love, then that would've been premature and impulsive.

He breathed. "I like you, too."

Clearing her throat, Marinette stumbled over her words, "I—a—I'm glad?"

"Now will you tell me what you're wearing?" Adrien requested, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

Of course, their serious moment couldn't last long. She laughed, freely and openly, well aware that she'd perhaps awoken her room-mates from the sudden noise. With her face warm from the guffaws and his words, Marinette choked out, "A t-shirt from a band I like."

"Are yo—" Adrien cut himself off to clear his throat, and she raised her eyebrows at how shocked he'd sounded. "I—it sounds like you're not wearing underwear."

"I am," the dark-haired female replied, lips trembling from trying not to laugh. "It's winter, after all. I wouldn't want to freeze in my own bed, especially when there's no one here to warm me." It had blurted out, and it was a sentence that was much more suited to coming from his lips, rather than hers. Her heart stuttered in sync with her intake of breaths, and as she was greeted by stunned silence—as she was sure that he wasn't taken aback—she chose to break it herself. "Please, forget about that. I'm already thoroughly embarrassed enough as it is."

When he spoke, his voice was lower than before, and it sent shivers through her body, right to where her pulse had relocated to beneath her abdomen. "You're right." She took in a deep breath as he took his time to say, "The fault is completely on my end. I think that's one of the most attractive things I've heard you say so far."

Despite wanting to press her face into her pillow and suffocate for a few moments, Marinette grinned. "You're not helping my embarrassment."

"Well, you're not helping my current predicament," he retorted. "All I can think about is that you've probably been scantily clad on the phone before without telling me."

A noise that was a mix between a gasp and a squeak escaped, and she ran a hand through her hair and gripped at the roots tightly. "Y-you—" Marinette spluttered, blinking her wide eyes.

"Me?" Adrien questioned, sounding mischievous. "Oh, what am I wearing? Just my underwear, actually, so I'm beating you."

Her response was a strangled noise. Her pulse sounded thunderously within her head, demanding attention and time from below, and she shifted her legs in a half-hearted attempt for friction. "A-Adrien," the dark-haired female whispered, voice sounding breathier than usual from feeling flushed.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, voice shaking from holding in his laughter. "I'll behave, if you want me to."

It was nice knowing that he was seeking her permission, even for such a thing as their flirtatious word over a call. She imagined that if she said it made her uncomfortable—although that wasn't true, not at all—he would've stopped without any qualms. There was a quality to him that was charming, sweet, and it was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was about him; there wasn't many negatives that she could conjure within her mind while thinking about him. Her closed off heart that had never quite thawed during her fleeting dates during the years was warmed, happy, from their interactions, and she had no complaints about it; rather, she couldn't think of anyone better that she could've opened up to.

So, she found herself voicing her thoughts without meaning to. "Can I kiss you?" Marinette blurted, taking in a sharp breath afterwards.

She could hear him breathing, not quite answering straight away. The nerves in her stomach churned restlessly. "I can't tell if this is awkward dirty talk, or if you're talking about in the future—yes to both, though."

"I—are you sure?" she whispered, eyebrows knitted together.

"Well, I've already told you I like you, right?" Adrien replied rhetorically. "Therefore, I see no problem with it; I wasn't going to kiss you first until I was sure about your feelings, just in case you pushed me away with harsh words." And if it hadn't been clear before, then the smile in his voice was shining brightly (as bright as his teeth, she was sure). "I'm not sure where this has come from, but I really do like you, Marinette."

Adrien, alone, in his underwear while confessing his feelings for her was more than enough to cause her to open and close her mouth repeatedly, unsure how to reply correctly. There were too many images swirling in her head—where was he? Was he alone? No, that one was ridiculous; of course he was alone, he wasn't going to strut around with a predicament while on the cell phone for others to see. Her face was flushed, thoughts were running wild, and her cheeks hurt from smiling far too much from his words.

And he continued to say, "I won't push you for it, okay?"

He was too kind.

Fumbling with her cell phone, Marinette sat up and pushed the hair from her face. "A—I... I'm tired, night!" With panicking fingers that were slightly damp, she took long enough to disconnect the call to hear him faintly laughing from the other end. Her hand was placed over her rapidly beating heart, taking in deep breaths and attempting to calm down while playing the conversation over again in her head.

It was official from her flushed skin, where her pulse was located, along with the damp underwear that was a beacon for how much she'd enjoyed their talk; she was smitten with him, and those feelings were reciprocated.

The cell phone was discarded onto her mattress, forgotten, as she shifted out of her underwear and changed into a new pair while blushing. The confession was enough for that evening; exploring her body, too, was far too soon—as he'd said, perhaps they needed to go on a date first. After she'd shivered from the new cold material on her, noticed how late it was from her clock, Marinette jumped in surprise when the tinkling of bells indicated that she'd received a new message.

When she opened it, she almost dropped the cell phone from sheer surprise.

She should've expected it—naturally, Adrien was photogenic from his career, so it shouldn't have surprised her how attractive his self-taken pictures were, too. And yet, there he was in most of his glory within her illuminated screen, showing his upper-half from above his navel, proving that he was telling the truth in their conversation earlier. Biting into her lower lip, her eyes travelled across the skin that was shown; the curves and dips, the bright smile on his lips, along with the wink that he was showing. It was simply him showing what he was good at, and knowing that it was for her, not for his followers or for career, was causing her pulse to stutter once again.

'Adrien Agreste:
Sweet dreams, princess.'

She wanted to throttle him as much as she yearned to embrace him.

-x-

"So," Aurore remarked suddenly as they waited in the coffee-shop queue, "I've got some major news to tell you, but I don't want you to judge me."

They had been waiting outside the door for a few minutes before shuffling inside, cheeks flushed from the harsh weather, and chattering about the most random of topics until they were pondering their orders. The coffee-shop had expanded their usual variety, trying different sweet-flavoured coffees that were quite adventurous. At first, the blonde—who's hair was piled upon her head in a braided bun, apart from thin ringlets framing her face—had congratulated her on the internship being successful, before she'd uttered that it was simply unfair that it had ended without so much as a consolation prize of sorts.

"Shoot," Marinette responded, craning her neck to see how many were in front of them.

Wrinkling her slightly upturned nose, Aurore shook her head. "Too many ears to hear my shame right now—I'll say when we've sat down."

"Sure," she agreed, shuffling along as they moved forward. "I'll be expecting some juicy details, then. If they're good, I'll tell you something equally great."

Aurore was nice. She could have been considered a socialite, even with his small career of being on television as a child, and despite the money that her family owned, she didn't allow it to go to her head. She was a genuinely kind friend, whose mischievous side could get her in trouble at times, but that didn't mean that Marinette didn't trust her. If there was one close friend that she was going to come clean about the blog and the upcoming television show appearance, then it would've been her. She'd been considering whether to confess her worries to another friend for some time, and although she wasn't too close to Nathaniel, he was surely the one that would've understood the most, however unavailable he was.

After they'd collected their coffees, in mugs as taking their time to enjoy the break before their next class, Marinette settled down against the squishy seat and revelled in how comfortable it was. As popular as the coffee-shop was, the orders were mostly to-go as they were from busy students, eager to get a caffeine fix before rushing to their next class.

Aurore played with the foam on top of her drink, staring at it as she blurted, "I might've sucked Kim off."

She was glad she wasn't drinking. Still, despite the lack of liquid, Marinette spluttered and choked from the sudden information. "What?" she questioned incredulously, louder than intended. In a slightly more hushed voice, Marinette enquired, "Why? You said you weren't interested in him like that!"

"It was a mistake!" Aurore replied hotly, cheeks dusted pink. "I wasn't thinking straight, okay? We bumped into each other and talked for a bit, and it was... nice. It was really nice, okay?"

She pursed her lips. "And then you rid him of his clothing and...?"

"It didn't happen like that!" the blonde defended, looking up from her drink to narrow her cerulean eyes. "It's all that stupid article's fault."

"Article?" Marinette parroted, blinking. "Wait, you're in an article? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

With a scowl, Aurore started searching through her bag, much to the dark-haired female's amusement. When she'd asked to see the magazine, she'd expected to be sent an address to type into a browser, not for a physical copy to be shoved into her hands some minutes later. Aurore adamantly refused to look at her, instead fiddling with her mug once again, and Marinette looked at the cover with wide, confused, eyes. It was a simply television magazine, one that featured different topics of what was airing on television that week. It wasn't anything special, so when she flicked through and found a section from Aurore's old show, that had been finished for over a good decade, she'd been baffled when it stated that there was going to be a reboot.

"This—this is great, Aurore!" And it was. The previous actors had been contacted for a series next year, and the half-page article had images of the main characters as they were before and how they looked now; the largest picture was of Aurore, and it was a beautiful image that couldn't quite hold a candle to how stunning she looked in person. "What exactly did this do wrong, then? I don't know what you had planned for the future, but I imagine that this would be something you're interested in."

Aurore frowned, looking up from her drink. "It made Kim want to get to know me again, I guess—I mean, maybe that's not why he did? I don't know. All I know is that I signed on for the show, this was published, and then we bumped into each other and he congratulated me for it. That's why we started talking properly, because he seemed so genuine."

"Okay," she said slowly, mulling over the information given. "Maybe it's the article's fault, but what happened between you two? You said you didn't suddenly jump him, and that you were actually talking, so what happened?"

A voice interrupted them before she could continue. "Hey," they said, a shadow casting over their table, "mind if I join?"

Chloé, with her straw-coloured hair in delicate waves, was grinning openly as she cradled a mug to her chest. She wasn't showing the open indifference as always, and Marinette simply raised her eyebrows in a gesture showing that she didn't mind when Aurore shot her a sharp look.

"Sure," Aurore exclaimed, hand waving to the free seat beside them. "You can share in my woes as well."

"Oh, excellent." Chloé grinned, showing the whites of her teeth as she settled down. "What's going on, then? I hope it's something juicy rather than simply failing a test." And after that was said, the blonde looked towards Marinette, acknowledging her presence with a nod of her head.

She wanted to gape, point out that she'd never received such a civil greeting, but instead she simply blinked and returned the gesture with muted bemusement. It was strange, really; she had always been told by Aurore that Chloé was simply spoiled and a bit misunderstood, and she'd relayed that message whenever her friends had complained about their encounters with her. They had never been quite civil to each other—the sharp comment about her twin-tails in their first year had stung—but there wasn't open animosity that caused arguments or other such things. It was simply a relationship of putting up with each other, and occasionally snapping when the time was right.

"It's about Kim."

Chloé snorted. "He didn't propose again, did he?"

The smirk across Aurore's lips was a nice change from the frowns. "No, thankfully. We bumped into each other a few days ago, and we—we got a tad intimate."

Marinette stifled a laugh. "If that's what you want to call it."

"Fine!" the blonde snapped, narrowing her bright eyes at her. "I sucked him off, are you happy now? He suddenly kissed me, and I didn't push him away—I'm an idiot."

"Okay..." Chloé trailed off, knitting her golden eyebrows together. "What's the problem, then? Because unless he was unable to perform correctly, I can't really see the issue."

The words, along with the fact of who they came from, caused Marinette to burst into spontaneous laughter. From seeing Aurore's reaction—crossing her arms stubbornly beneath her bosom, frowning openly with twitching lips from trying not to giggle—it caused her volume to increase, and before long Chloé had laughed, too, which caused her to guffaw even more so. There she was, openly enjoying a comment that had came from someone she'd been indifferent to for so long, and there was no feeling of dislike in the air around them.

Aurore released a loud breath, blowing the curly strands from her face. "The problem, along with being an idiot and going along with the mood, is that I had some gum before I did it—mint gum."

"I'm so sorry, and then I'm not," Marinette stuttered, eyes becoming wet from trying not to laugh again. "Y-you—"

"Did he scream?" Chloé asked, eyes comically wide along with her smile. "I wish I could've heard it!"

And at that, she really did laugh. Aurore groaned, face falling into her open hands and making noises of disappointment under her breath, all while mumbling about how much of an idiot she was. Her cheeks were pink from embarrassment, and Chloé's expression was much the same as Marinette's; unashamed and amused, despite the blonde's dramatic distress.

Marinette reached forward, poking the moaning girl in the shoulder. "I'm assuming you want to throw a party so you can drink your woes, then."

"I do," she replied, grumbling still. "Are you free on Friday?"

Adrien had asked much the same question, and the reminder of how upcoming encounter caused a smile to slip onto her expression. Thankfully, there was no warmth sprouting along her cheeks, and she was glad that her affections weren't showing freely.

"No," Marinette said, shaking her head. "It's my first weekend since my internship, so I'm already booked up."

Knitting her eyebrows together, Aurore dropped her hands and looked at her with wide eyes, a pleading expression that looked thoroughly out of place from her mature appearance. "Marinette," she complained, a whining quality to her voice. "This is my time of need!"

Surprisingly, it was Chloé that replied first. "And you have more friends than just Marinette over there. Aren't you going to ask whether I'm free?" she drawled lazily, stirring her beverage with her fingertip. "I'm offended, Aurore."

"Hush." Aurore wrinkled her nose, shooting the other blonde a scowl. "You know you're invited anyway—we live in the same building."

"You have Sabrina to invite, too," Marinette pointed out, wondering whether she'd actually seen the red-head at any of the events she'd been invited to. Although she had been present when they enjoyed a tense night together previously, she couldn't recall her at any of Aurore's parties, and certainly not Chloé's. When it was said that Sabrina didn't attend outings often, it hadn't been an exaggeration. "If you can pull her away from her studies, I think."

Chloé hummed, raising her fingertip to her mouth and licking the foam off. "Miss Raincomprix will only come if her parents persuade her to."

She blinked. "Aren't you friends?"

The smile across the blonde's lips wasn't sincere; it didn't reach her sapphire-coloured eyes or show her bright teeth. "As close as we can be, I guess. It's a bit hard to be friends with someone who's more interested in books than you." She never thought the day would come where she would feel genuine sadness for Chloé, and yet, it had. Marinette was unsure of how to comfort her, and therefore spoke no words of condolences, and instead looked at Aurore for some sort of guidance. On their strange night together, where the three of them and Sabrina had been together, there had been no sign of the strained relationship that was being hinted at. "I'm just being dramatic," Chloé said suddenly, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture quickly. "At least I didn't do something intimate after chewing gum."

"Fuck off!" Aurore groaned.

Their conversation after that was light, slightly teasing, and genuinely enjoyable and made her quite confused towards the end. Chloé hadn't snapped at her for quite a while, and when they'd collected their things to start their trek back to the university, Aurore excused herself to the bathroom quickly, leaving the two of them standing there, looking at each other with neutral expressions.

Chloé was the one to break the silence. "Don't hurt him."

She blinked, surprised. "Pardon?"

Tapping her foot against the floor, in what could've been classed as a nervous action, Chloé licked her lips before clarifying herself. "Adrien—if you're just playing with him, I'd like you to stop now."

This was Chloé, but not the one that she'd been around for over a year. This was the blonde that had grown up being friends with him, somehow, and showing her fondness and protectiveness in such a way that could have been considered endearing. She wasn't threatening, no, and her words weren't laced with venom; she was simply concerned for her friend in her own way, and that brought a smile to her lips despite the blonde's frown.

"I'm not playing with him," she replied softly, attempting to convey her feelings. "I wouldn't do that."

A stiff nod was the first response. "Good," Chloé said, looking at her with a neutral expression. "Enjoy your date on Friday."

And with that, she turned of her heel and exited the coffee-shop, leaving a gaping Marinette behind who was still waiting for the blonde to emerge from the bathroom. There were questions of where Chloé had wandered off to after, and Marinette wasn't quite sure how to respond to them so she shrugged and said that she ran to class. Either Chloé was excellent at guessing, or Adrien had confessed to her about their upcoming date and hadn't anticipated the confrontation.

She was glad he had friends looking out for him.

-x-

As the week continued, Rose settled back into their old routine. Originally she had a problem with wanting to shower while someone else was taking up the bathroom, but that was soon remedied when she remembered they had a schedule of sorts. Alya was positively beaming most of the time, scuttling to her room when her cell phone rang and being secretive, and it had only taken a few days for Rose to notice that something was wrong. While they were eating dinner one evening, when the red-head had beamed and left the room while a steady beat played from her device, Rose had turned to her with a perplexed expression and asked whether her company paled in comparison to the caller.

They weren't telling her yet. She had spoken to Alya when the blonde was away, attempting to think of how to approach the subject carefully, but that was quickly ruined when Rose's fanatic cheers were loud and very vocal when it was announced when the special episode that Nino was in was being aired. Marinette had blinked, utterly surprised that it was so soon, before realising it was going to be shown on the upcoming Thursday.

The news spread that Nino was going to have a live webcast as the episode aired. Adrien informed her that he would be joining, too, since he was in the episode as well. They were going to be around Nino's apartment, much like the first time, and the sheer excitement that the blonde-haired female was exuding from hearing the news was quite overpowering. Since she'd back, Rose had made sure to go over the news that she'd missed from her brief vacation, and had tried to react accordingly to them.

"Aren't you going to go join your friends?" Adrien asked, sounding amused. "I'll leave and go join Nino, too."

There was still ten minutes to go. "I want a few more minutes with you, actually," she replied, cheeks warming. "Is that too much to ask for?"

It was going to be just the three of them. It was going to be different that time, though. Different for Alya, as Marinette was sure her reactions were going to be defensive or she was going to grow... discontent with how the blonde reacted to him (much as Marinette had done so herself, back when the poster was by the front door). There was going to be some untouched tension, and something had to go wrong eventually—it was just a matter of who for.

"And what if Nino comes in here and airs our conversation for everyone to hear?" he mused.

She blinked. "Then I'll deny it. I doubt he's capable of carrying the camera and microphone all the way to another room." There was a high-pitched noise that certainly didn't belong to him, and from the breathy laughter that escaped him, she caught on who the intruder was. "Is that Plagg?"

"Yes," Adrien confirmed as there was rustling on the other end. She tried to imagine what the were doing—was he leaning down, petting him? "Our alone time is doomed already."

Grinning, she could hear the noises from the feline clearly. "I guess I can share you with him."

"He wouldn't have it any other way," the blond replied grumpily. There was a high-pitched whine in return, and Adrien muttered something under his breath to the feline that she couldn't quite catch. Hearing him attempt to converse with him, even in muffled tones, was endearing to hear, and caused her to smile wide in wonder of how they usually interacted. "So, am I allowed to ask what you're wearing today?"

Almost choking in surprise, Marinette stuttered, "I-it's not even night!"

"That can be sexual, if you want it to be," he mused, voice shaking from restrained laughter. "I was only asking because you're going to see me in a few minutes, aren't you? It's hardly fair since I can't see you."

That made more sense than her assumption. Despite the fact they'd only ventured into those sort of calls once, she was still shy about the mention of them. With warmed cheeks, Marinette retorted, "You're awfully cocky, aren't you?"

She should've seen it coming and prevented the upcoming comment of, "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Marinette looked scandalised for a moment before blowing air into her cheeks, scowling. "And with that, good-bye."

"Marinette!" Adrien called loudly, laughing. "I'm sorry, please stay?"

He wasn't sincere, not at all, and she still rolled her eyes. If it wasn't for the time, she would've happily stayed and continued to talk with him. It was one of the rare calls that wasn't to wish her a good sleep, and it was well before the sun had set, too. "It's time to leave and greet your audience, I'm afraid. I think Nino's probably started already—he'll start shouting for you soon." From the muffled noise she could hear outside, it seemed that her assumption was correct. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Marinette," he called again.

And she blinked, holding her tongue.

"I'd still like to hear what you're wearing later."

Breathing out loudly, Marinette disconnected the call and ruffled her hair, allowing it to fall freely beneath her collarbones. It had grown out during her busy weeks, bangs long enough to be swept to the side as they poked her eyes if left normally, and she needed to consider a haircut soon. She wasn't looking forward to awkwardly growing the bangs and having them look thoroughly out of place by the length, nor the hassle of long hair that went down her back. Unless she dipped into the money they'd earned from the Ladyblog, or waited for her next allowance, then she could perhaps attempt to see whether Mylène was available to do hers (since Rose's had only looked like a disaster during, and the end result was quite okay).

She was right. Rose's laptop was open, screen illuminated and showing a grinning Nino who was relaxed into his living room's sofa, fingers tapping along his fabric-clad knees as he waited for viewers to come. There was still a few minutes until the episode came on, and it seemed that was all that the blonde was interesting in; they didn't own a television because of the money they'd have to spend for a license, and they couldn't view the episode separately at the same time without signing up with a specific website that was too much hassle. So, they were going to simply deal with watching whatever scene the tanned male was going to show them.

"Almost there," Nino commented, stretching his arms above his head. "I'll answer questions afterwards, okay? Just from chat, though, as I can't be bothered to flick through lots of sites."

Rose clapped her hands together.

The laptop was positioned on the tiny island that functioned as a table, and the duo were sat around on the seats that weren't very comfortable after a long time. Moving to stand beside Alya, Marinette flashed her a smile before pulling her up by the hand, placing a finger to her lips in the gesture to be quiet.

Alya raised an eyebrow curiously.

Marinette simply grinned and held up her cell phone, illuminating the screen before selecting the camera. Placing her cheek against her friend's, she took a picture quickly that would simply have to do, as Rose made a noise of excitement as the time flickered and changed.

The image wasn't blurry, thankfully. It was just the two of them squished together, wild hair blending into each other, and smiling at the camera without the confusion from the sudden movement showing. It showed their upper-halves, specifically the red-coloured shirt that was Marinette was wearing, along with her short necklace, and Alya's bright t-shirt. Loading up her conversation with Adrien, she waited for the image to attach and send while focusing on the screen in front of them and settling herself into a seat.

"That took you a while," Nino remarked, scooting along and making room on the large sofa despite the amount of space left. "Did you get distracted?"

Alya danced around the kitchen, placing carbonated drinks in glasses in front of each of them—she was clearly busying herself, and Marinette bit her lip to restrain from commenting on how frazzled her friend's appearance looked. She was unsure how to react, that was for sure, and simply sat there staring at a male that she'd become intimate with was causing her to behave strangely. It wasn't as though Marinette could coach her there—she hadn't exactly sent a lot of sexual messages or pictures to Adrien to know from experience what to do. If anything, Alya was the experienced one of the two of them.

And then, Adrien's footsteps were heard through the mic, being the only sound as he approached, until there were the tell-tale high-pitched noises that she'd heard upon the her cell phone only a few minutes prior. Plagg ran in first, jumping upon the couch and making a loud noise at Nino before turning around and pointedly looking at the approaching figure. Adrien appeared, clad in dark-stained jeans that hugged his figure, and settled himself down on the sofa. Plagg soon pawed at the material of his white t-shirt, dark paws standing out against the fabric's colour.

Adrien grinned, a hand petting the feline's head fondly. "Sorry, I was distracted on the phone."

She could feel Alya's enquiring gaze, but she didn't turn towards her.

Nino raised his eyebrows, letting them be seen from beneath his thick-rimmed spectacles. "We'll talk about this after—the show's starting now."

Whether he meant after the show or the webcast had ended, it wasn't clarified. Nino had had someone else set up the program for him previously, so he was able to show the episode in a small box in the corner while the two of them were shown during it. It was a light-hearted episode, and their acting was up to par with the usual actors that were featured. Although it was one of Adrien's first appearances on television where it wasn't an interview, he did surprisingly well. It wasn't obvious that he wasn't experienced, and he stood his count beside his long-time actor cousin without any worries. They commented throughout the episode, noting what happened behind the scenes at times, and mocking each other's performance when the time called for it. Marinette had a soft smile on her lips throughout it, and her eyes were flickering between the box for the show to Adrien most of the time. Plagg was playing around the back of the sofa, jumping up occasionally to stand on the blond's shoulder before falling down and starting again.

"Well... I hope it's not a flop," Nino drawled, running a hand through his curly hair. "It was fun to film anyway."

Adrien made a noise of agreement, attention mostly on the cat as he rubbed beneath Plagg's chin. He was smiling softly, showing his dimples despite the distance from the camera. "Let me guess, we're answering questions again?"

Grinning, Nino poked him in the shoulder before retrieving his cell phone from his pocket. "You know it—let me just load the chat on here so we can pick some."

Cell phones. Marinette stared down at hers, still clasped in her hand without having sent the message. She bit her lip before pressing the button, placing the device onto the countertop afterwards and focusing on the screen.

There was a noise, and it certainly wasn't what she had expected. While Nino had an upbeat song to indicate his messages, Adrien's was a soft melody that was from a piano piece. He looked surprised, visibly blinking and looking baffled for a moment, before retrieving his cell phone and looking at the screen.

His dimples showed again as he smiled, bright teeth on display as he looked. Marinette felt herself smiling, too, and when Alya looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, she lifted her cell phone up and shook it gently, hopefully conveying the meaning without explaining aloud. When Adrien leaned over, scaring Plagg from his shoulder, and showed the device to Nino, too, she couldn't say she was surprised to see that he grinned as well.

Alya's smile was soft, gentle, and almost shy. It was one that wasn't quite suited to the loud and boisterous girl, but it was endearing to see nonetheless. She supposed that was how she looked most of the time when conversing with Adrien, though.

Adrien's cell phone was hidden away again, and Nino had selected the first question. Clearing his throat, the tanned male enquired, "Got a girlfriend yet, Adrien?"

He didn't read the pseudonym—that's what they usually did when selecting the questions. "Not yet," the blond replied, raising an eyebrow and looking at him pointedly, "but that might change soon—what about you?"

"Yes." He grinned, fingertip pushing his spectacles further up his nose. "I asked her last night."

Marinette blinked.

Beside her, Alya shifted, not speaking aloud and giving her reaction away, while Rose openly gaped and said loudly, "What? I—no."

It was the reaction that they had been expecting. The red-head was the first to respond, turning to look at the gaping female and ask, "Why no?"

"I—" Rose cut herself off, facial features scrunching up as she looked at Marinette briefly. "No—nothing. I didn't say anything."

And that was what they hadn't predicted. Marinette looked baffled for a moment, simply staring at her friend who was adamantly looking at the laptop screen, cheeks tinged a light rose, and there was a swell of pride within her chest. Her friend, the one who'd hopelessly had a crush on a celebrity that she'd never met, was perhaps maturing and realising the faults of her naïve infatuation with him, and maybe realising that it wasn't real at all—that it was one-sided, and purely on her part. And even though she knew it would come with sadness, it's what she wanted for her.

"Are you sure?" Marinette asked softly, noticing that Alya had grew tense beside her, not answering. "It's okay, Rose." It wasn't, but maybe it would be in the future.

Rose ran a hand through her hair, wet-looking eyes staring ahead. "Yes. I'm sure."

She didn't make a noise of excitement during the rest of the webcast, and when it was over, she excused herself and took her laptop away into her bedroom for the evening. Alya was sat there, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and Marinette mirrored her expression—for they had seen a withdrawn Rose, one that wasn't very common, and the one thing that could always cheer her up had resulted in the melancholic mood.

Then again, growing up was always painful.

PREVIEW: "Because he's yours, okay! And I'd kill to have her look at me like that!"