Old fic, very old prompt. I'm only finishing it now, because I want my folder of unfinished stories to become smaller.

The prompt was Marinette opening blind boxes, but it very quickly got away from that.

"I'm so sorry, Aly- awmigosh!"

After sprinting from her room at top speed, the last thing Marinette was prepared for was the mini heart attack confronting her at the door.

Nor the sparkling green eyes causing her panic.

"A-Adrien?"

If Marinette could've slapped herself on the forehead without making this situation anymore awkward, she would have. Well, duh – of course it was Adrien. Blond hair, gorgeous, saw him every day at school. She felt a sense of pride for being the only one of his fans who could've recognized him by the back of his head in a crowded mall – wait, no!

That was creepy. Creepy was bad, like something a stalker would be. Marinette was not a stalker, she just happened to have a really good view of the back of his head occasionally.

"You're here!" Marinette squeaked, before giving him a chance to talk.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to, which Marinette might've noticed if she weren't so currently dedicated to looking everywhere except Adrien's face.

"I-I mean... you're here! On my front door. But nobody warned me you'd be coming – n-not that it's a bad thing, but that was really unexpected, and, honestly, I thought you were Alya until five seconds ago..."

Internally, Marinette chided herself. This was not the first time Adrien had appeared at her house. 'Get it together, Marinette!'

"I'm going to stop talking now," she sighed in defeat.

Adrien looked fairly composed, despite having just witnessed Marinette's draw nearly dropping off her face. That was probably a good sign. Obviously, he thought of her as that the weird girl who panicked every time she exchanged glances with Adrien, but at least he was good at hiding it.

Immediately contradicting what she had just said, Marinette added a quick "Sorry for being so weird" after moving her stare to her shoes. Maybe if she pretended Adrien was Alya, she could have a normal conversation for once.

"I don't think you're weird," Adrien replied.

Since there was no chance he was speaking genuinely and Marinette had embarrassed herself enough already, she asked, "What brings you all the way to my house anyway? If you're looking for macaroons, we have some that just came out of the oven."

He was holding a box. The bakery provided its own boxes to paying customer, but maybe Adrien didn't now that? Or maybe Adrien wanted to use his own box, for some reason?

It was Adrien Agreste, so the possibilities were endless!

"Actually, I came here looking for you."

"You – "

Adrien Agreste wanted to talk to her.

"I mean – "

Outside of school, and Marinette was pretty sure she hadn't fallen asleep once she'd gotten home.

Just to make sure, Marinette pinched her arm and yelped.

"Okay, definitely not dreaming!"

Although his smile didn't fade, Adrien quirked an eyebrow at her. She met his eyes again, somehow surprised to see concern hiding in the depths. Well, of course he would be concerned! He was probably trying to decide if she was having a heart attack, suffering from a speech impediment, or just plain crazy!

"Sorry," Marinette apologized, inhaling deeply, just like Alya had told her. "Give me a second. I'm not used to other people coming over."

"I get that," Adrien replied. "One of Chloe's closest cousins has social anxiety. He gets like that too, sometimes."

Did she have social anxiety? Weird. For some reason, Marinette had never thought about that before.

For some reason, Marinette felt calmer now than she had before. Not only because of Alya's breathing exercises – although that had helped – but also, this realization that Adrien was a human being, same as herself.

"So, Adrien... Uh, what did you want to see me for?"

He held out the box.

Only now did Marinette notice that it was still sealed with clear packing tape, and the edges were a little worn, like they'd been handed around quite a few times. There was a shipping label on the side.

"I probably could have mailed this directly to your house," Adrien admitted, "but I thought it would be more meaningful to give it to you in person. Alya told me you were the one who gave me that scarf on my birthday, so – happy late birthday, Marinette. And thank you."

She took the box, and what was there to do after taking it, but open it? Using her fingernails, she peeled the tape off the sides, noting every noise the contents made every time the box was jostled. It was fun to guess what was inside – something too heavy to be cloth, but solid enough to avoid a "handle with care!" warning.

If he'd asked Alya to help him pick out a gift, it was probably something she'd talked about recently. A translation of that new book published by Germany's most prestigious fashion designer, for example. Graphic novels. Maybe a new serger, but she hoped it wasn't the serger, because even though Adrien could afford it, the one she wanted was expensive. Saving up money to buy it herself would be much easier on her conscience.

Instead, she lifted the flaps of the box to reveal dolls.

Multiple boxes of little dolls.

Adrien tucked his hands in his pockets as he confessed, "I wasn't sure about what to get you, to be honest, but I knew you've been buying these a lot?"

Marinette's face heated up with the knowledge that the cutest boy at school had recently watched her spend a month's worth of allowance on dolls. Not even real dolls, actually – they were packaged in blind boxes, and you could brush their hair, but they weren't poseable. Manon didn't like them very much, because they only came with one outfit (until Marinette had begun sewing more for them, of course).

Originally, she'd only want one or two. Something to make tiny clothes for when her stashes of scrap fabrics and leftover laces started piling up again. Then she'd realized how cute they were and became kind of obsessed.

Or like a lot obsessed.

She'd recently complained to Alya that there were only three dolls in the set she didn't have yet, and apparently Adrien had overheard her complaining. Which was kind of embarrassing, but also –

The fact that he'd paid attention warmed her insides. Like she'd just drank a gigantic cup of hot chocolate, but without the tongue burning and even though it was almost summer.

"Sorry I couldn't remember the names of the ones you still needed," Adrien mumbled, looking even more sheepish than before. "But, uh, there's six of them in there, so good luck?"

"Thank you so much, Adrien!"

Marinette would cherish these even if they were all duplicates.