"Do you realize what time it is, M. Agreste!?"

Marinette – along with half the class – jumped in their seats at the sudden outburst.

"Sorry, Mde. Mendeliev. I had an emergency to take care of."

Mde. Mendeliev narrowed her eyes at the boy that had just burst in through the door, seeming to be thinking about a suitable punishment for him. While she was most apt to send people to the principal's office, detention was a close second for the science teacher. Today, however, turned out to be a busy day for her. And while seeing her students groan at the pink slip shoved into their hands always seemed to put some semblance of a smile on her face, she seemed to not want to take the time to fill out the paperwork at the moment. That was fortunate for Adrien in one respect; two detentions in one day might cross the line into "unforgivable" territory for his father. However, said science teacher also enjoyed – too heavily to really be allowed – doling out her own versions of reprimands and consequences. The class, especially the very, very late arrival, waited quietly to see what Mde. Mendeliev would do with the delinquent.

At long last – and Marinette tried to tell herself afterward that her teacher's lips did not twitch with mirth and her eyes did not turn toward Marinette for a fraction of a second as she considered – her teacher delivered Adrien's punishment.

"Hmph. Very well. You'll be working with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng today."

Marinette pulled her head off her hand where she had been resting it and gave an offended look to no one in particular while the rest of the class laughed out loud. Mde. Mendeliev didn't even bother to silence them (it probably had something to do with the hole Marinette had somehow burned into the ceiling the week before. That was still a mystery to everyone, even Max, and Marinette doubted Mde. Mendeliev would ever forgive her for it.) Adrien himself seemed to snicker a bit as he walked to the seat by her. They were working with mixing chemicals in the lab today and Mde. Mendeliev always liked to keep a close watch on Marinette those days…hence the bluenette's seat in the front row. It became her regular seat on lab days. Especially when Mde. Mendeliev couldn't think of a special job for the young lady to do in lieu of the actual lab assignment.

(Alya had long since resigned sitting anywhere near her best friend on lab days; she and Nino were in the back of the class, having gotten here early for that express purpose.

Rude.)

As Adrien sat down, Marinette looked at the smug smile on his face, absorbed momentarily on the act of scowling at him…until she was affronted with a familiar scent. It was so shocking coming from him, yet so surprisingly familiar, that Marinette held no qualms in sniffing openly toward Adrien, her eyes screwing up in concentration. He had grabbed her notes from in front of her and a blank worksheet and was pretending to be engrossed in figuring out what they were up to that day, but Marinette knew better. She knew that he probably could already tell what the reactions would be without having to actually "do" the experiment and would be able to complete the project itself within five minutes, finishing the paperwork in ten. Therefore, she didn't mind using her extra minutes to sniff – where was it coming from?

Sniff.

Ah, his hair.

Wait.

His…dry hair.

His dry, styled hair, that smelled…smelled exactly like her hairspray.

"Adrien Agreste," Marinette whispered harshly under her breath. "Where were you and what were you doing?"

Adrien said nothing, and Marinette flushed angrily when she saw how his shoulders shook in quiet laughter.

"Chaton, why do you smell like my hairspray!?"

He coughed after a minute, as if trying to keep his voice steady and unwavering.

"You know, Marinette," he finally whispered back, turning his head and leaning on his hand while he lazily looked in her direction. "When your parents saw me come in the bakery with soaked hair and then found out that you were the one to dunk my head under the faucet, they insisted that I use your bathroom and your hair dryer to fix my hair. The hairspray was just a bonus." He completed the whole "gotcha" speech with a solid, model-esque flip of his hair.

(Marinette tried to focus and not go slack-jawed.)

"Nice brand, by the way. It really does smell nice."

Marinette stared at him in shock. There were too many things, too many thoughts running through her brain for anything reasonable to surface to the top. Why was he in the bakery? What did he touch? What did he see!?

Oh, CATS! Did I clean up all my dirty clothes this morning!?

The warmth in her cheeks was all too familiar, but the more she thought about everything this boy had just said, the further the heat raced across her body. In a moment, she had flushed down her neck and onto her arms, making her feel fevered to the point of passing out.

Meanwhile, Cheery-Cheeks next to her was silently laughing again.

When Mde. Mendeliev turned, Marinette slugged Adrien in the arm. Hard.

And at the end of class – a class where she ignored him in every way, to the point that he filled out her paper for her (thank goodness) – she hurried out of the classroom in a huff, feet stomping and fists clenched at her sides.

(She may have shoved Adrien out of his chair before she left, but she would never admit that to anyone else. Probably.)

qpqpqpqpqp

Marinette unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. The school day was winding down, and Mlle. Bustier, bless her heart, had lost them all on another off-topic Shakespearean monologue (something about Benedick and Beatrice?) While their teacher's eyes were filled with hearts, Marinette's were only full of unshed tears from sheer tiredness.

When the bell finally rang, Marinette stretched her wearied limbs, looking forward to an afternoon at home, sleeping.

"Hey, Adrikins!"

Marinette started to pack up her bag a little faster. While Chloé wasn't nearly as bad (a term used lightly) as they were at age 14, age 17 still didn't make her sane enough for Marinette to stomach.

"Hey, Chlo," Adrien responded automatically, a smile curling onto his face as she gave him a quick side-hug.

"Adrien, Daddy's been gone all week at some stupid House of Whatever thingy, and he still won't be back until dinner tonight. Wanna go shopping or something to kill time and then come over for dinner?"

Marinette did not care. She didn't want to hear this. If she was honest, this was one of the biggest things she had to "work through" when she had figured out Chat's identity – his "friendship" with one Mlle. Bourgeois.

Marinette was about out the door when Adrien's reply came.

"Eh, Chlo, I, uh, I can't today. I've got detention."

Marinette performed a clumsy pirouette in the doorway, clutching her head and letting out a long, loud groan. One the whole class would have been able to hear if not for the loud exclamation that came at the same time from Chloé.

"WHAT!?"

Adrien only grinned sheepishly, but Chloé knew – she always knew, gosh dang it – who had to be the one to "blame" for this. The incriminating glare she shot at Marinette almost made up for Marinette accidentally forgetting about detention in the first place. Marinette grinned cheekily, waving innocently at the blonde chick. She was still reveling in her little victory of making Chloé upset that she didn't notice at first the girl's male counterpart waving goodbye to his friend until he walked past her, grabbing her arm and tugging her the rest of the way out the doorway.

"C'mon, Mari, dear. We have a date."

Haha…wait, what?

(( TOMORROW: DETENTION [Dun, Dun, DUUUUNNN] ))

(( And there's a little Chloé for those of you who asked for it. And, well, she might make another appearance. We'll see. ))