Chapter Nine – Bored

Adrien gazes around the room with a bored expression, his cheek resting on his hand and his elbow resting on the table beside him, his knee bouncing up and down absentmindedly. Beside him, Marinette is stirring the ice in her water glass around in circles with her straw – a reusable one, that she brought in her handbag to use, because she's just wonderful (Adrien certainly didn't think to do that) – also bored.

While the first hour of the Designer Dinner – as they have dubbed it – was okay, what with saying hello to people Adrien barely remembers let alone knows the name of, and who Marinette recognises instantly but is too shy to walk up to and talk to, and with them having just eaten a salad sandwich each for dinner so they weren't hungry. The second hour, however, is not okay. They're tired, and hungry, and bored, and they're the only kids here, and the designers aren't exactly interested in talking to some children no matter how much knowledge one of them has on fashion, or who the other's father is.

It's not exactly fun.

"What time is it?" Marinette asks, leaning back in her chair as she continues stirring the ice around.

Adrien checks his phone. "Seven fifty–eight."

Marinette groans, reaching up to rub her eyes before she remembers she's wearing mascara. "Really? Only eight? Why am I so tired?" She closes her eyes briefly in the hope that it will somehow make them stay open longer afterwards.

Adrien smiles, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. "Are you still having trouble sleeping?"

"Yep." She puffs out a breath, trying to blow a piece of hair out of her face. He reaches over and tucks it behind her ear. Rolling her head to look at him, she smiles tiredly and releases a long sigh. "I'm really sorry."

Adrien frowns and sits up straighter, turning in his seat to look at her easier. His knee bumps against hers and pushes the skirt of her pink, A–line dress up her thigh slightly as he turns to sit sideways in his seat. "Why? For what?"

"Because you've had to come to these dinners before, by yourself, and now I'm here and you're still not having fun." Marinette says, reaching down to adjust the fabric back over her knee. Even though the dress only reaches her mid–thigh when she's standing, and it's just Adrien next to her, she still doesn't want to appear as being immodest in front of every single designer she's ever dreamed of meeting, as well as the boy she loves.

"I don't think they are, either." Adrien comments, nudging his head towards the centre of the room, where all of the designers and their partners (both business and personal) are standing in small groups talking. "And it's not your fault we're bored. There could be a UMS competition going on and I'm sure we'd still feel the same way."

Marinette giggles. "Maybe." She sits back up and reaches for her napkin. She removes her straw from her glass, dries it, and puts it back in her purse.

"Are we going soon?" Plagg asks from inside, keeping his voice low so as not to wake up Tikki.

"I think so." Adrien says, his eyes focusing on someone in the crowd. "Dad and Nathalie are on their way over."

Sure enough, Marinette looks up to see said couple weaving their way through the crowd, exchanging smiles and nods and quick words as they go past. Catching Adrien's eye, Nathalie makes a hand signal, telling them to meet them halfway. Adrien immediately stands up and offers a hand to Marinette, who takes it and interlaces their fingers together, smiling at him shyly as she does so. Adrien beams, guiding her away from the table they were seated at and over to where Gabriel and Nathalie have been stopped by another designer and his wife.

"Is that Abdual Āmūs?" Marinette whispers, recognising the designer.

"Who?" Adrien asks, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Abdual Āmūs. He's a wedding dress designer from Greece. His grandfather is Arabic – hence his last name – but his father moved to Greece to go to school, and that's where Abdual was born." Marinette tells Adrien quickly, voice drifting off as they get closer.

Nathalie smiles at the kids when they reach her and she puts an arm around Adrien's shoulder, drawing him into her side as she leans down to talk quietly to them. "Gabriel and I are going to stay a bit longer, but I've called G to come pick the two of you up." She gives them a knowing smile. "It looked like you were about to fall asleep over there."

Adrien and Marinette share a look, and smile. "We were." They say together, earning a quiet snort from Nathalie.

"Adrien," Gabriel chimes, moving to stand on Marinette's other side so the kids are in between him and Nathalie. "This is Mr Āmūs and his wife Mrs Āmūs. This is my son Adrien."

"Pleasure to meet you." Abdual says with a heavy Greek accent, shaking Adrien's hand.

"The pleasure is mine." He responds automatically.

"Forgive my wife," He says, putting an arm around her waist and smiling at her fondly. "She don't speak much French." Seemingly understanding, Elena smiles at Adrien apologetically, before her eyes drift to Marinette.

"Écheis éna polý ómorfo fórema." She says, smiling kindly.

"Oh," Marinette replies, not having understood a single word just said.

Abdual laughs loudly, startling both the kids. "She says 'you have a very pretty dress', miss . . ."

"Marinette. Marinette Dupain–Cheng. My intern and son's best friend." Gabriel supplies for her. "She designed and sewed her dress herself."

"Yes, I did. Thank you." She nods in thanks at Elena, who smiles and turns to her husband as he translates.

She says something back, gesturing between Adrien and Marinette, then down at their hands. Both kids flush darkly when they realise that they're hands are still entwined, but neither make a move to release the others. Abdual and his wife laugh between themselves, and Elena hits the back of her hand against Abdual's shoulder lightly, causing him to laugh some more.

"Do you think they're questioning the use of the word 'friend'?" Adrien whispers.

Marinette snorts slightly. "Why wouldn't they? Everyone else seems to."

"You want to be a designer like Mr Agreste?" Abdual asks Marinette, still chuckling.

She nods shyly. "I hope so."

"The kids are leaving now," Gabriel says putting a hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I thought it would be rude to let them leave without introducing you." He says, more so to Marinette and Adrien so they know why Nathalie called them over in the first place.

Taking that as their cue to leave, Marinette and Adrien exchange pleasantries with Abdual and Elena, before saying 'goodbye' and making their exit. Gorilla is waiting for them outside, and he gets out of the car and opens the rear door for them when they arrive. A short ride back to the hotel later, and Gorilla valets the car and takes them up to their room, letting them know that he will be staying with them until Gabriel and Nathalie arrive home.

"I'm so tired!" Marinette announces as soon as they're in their room. She immediately kicks off her shoes – a pair of tan sandals with a slight heel – and sits on the end of her bed, leaning back on her hands. "I'm glad there's no time difference."

"Yeah, if there was we'd be even more screwed." Adrien says, sitting on the floor to remove his own shoes, covering his mouth as he yawns. "And you'd think we'd be used to early mornings and late – not that it's that late – nights because of akuma attacks."

"There haven't been any attacks in ages, though." Plagg reminds them, emerging from where Marinette sat her handbag on the floor beside the bedroom door. "And lately you've been able to sleep in later because there's no school, so to have to wake up at five this morning is sure to make you feel like shit by the end of the day."

"Thanks, Plagg." Adrien says dryly. After a moment he crawls over to where his suitcase is – having still not unpacked it – and digs his pyjamas out. "I'm going to get changed, unless you want to first?"

Marinette shakes her head, halfway through taking her hair out of the side braid and messy bun that she twisted it into. "No, you're okay. Actually, I'll just get changed in here while you're in the bathroom."

Adrien swallows nervously and shuffles backwards to the bathroom door. "O–Okay. I'll, I'll be, uh, I'll tell you when I'm exiting."

She nods, pulling the last bobby pin out of her hair before pulling her fingers through the braid, unravelling it. "Okay."

Adrien ducks into the bathroom and leans back against the closed door, releasing a long breath. Nino's right, he thinks, I'm not going to survive the week like this. With her. Changing. Naked. In the room where we're sleeping. Together. In different beds – but together. Oh God, I'm screwed!

. . .

The flashing lights hurt Marinette's eyes, but she keeps them open and on the runway anyway, not wanting to miss a second. She can't believe she's actually witnessing a Dolce and Gabbana – one of the biggest fashion brands in Italy – fashion show. In real life. In Milan. On the first day of Milan Fashion Week.

While Marinette's eyes are glued to the runway, Adrien's are glued to Marinette's face. He knows that if Nino or Chloé were here then they'd be teasing him about being lovesick and wanting to kiss her (which he is and he does, obviously), but what's actually keeping his attention is her expressions. The way her eyes light up when she gets inspired. The slight gape of her mouth when she is shocked or surprised. The crease in between her eyebrows when she is studying the garments. The way she crosses her fingers on both hands whenever she feels like something is going to go bad, willing her Ladybug luck to kick in and stop someone stumbling or tripping or whatever scenario she has come up with in her head. He loves all of it, and he can't take his eyes off of her.

When the show ends and the overhead lights turn back on, Adrien looks away from her instantly, not wanting her to notice him staring at her. He fiddles with the hem of his light blue button–down shirt, before wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on the thighs of his beige linen pants – both items picked out by Nathalie for a reason he was unaware of until Marinette emerged from their room wearing a sleeveless light wash denim romper with small white buttons down the front and a tie around the waist – tied in a bow at the front – and the same sandals from the night before, carrying a light–weight beige cardigan for when she gets cold.

The surprised expression Marinette gave him upon noticing that their outfits match perfectly revealed to Adrien who the instigator behind their 'couples' outfit was (Nathalie). Expecting Marinette to blush furiously and start spilling word vomit, as Nino calls it, he was surprised when all she did was giggle a little and shake her head in amusement, before grabbing his hand and telling him that Nathalie and Gabriel were waiting (and they were, from the entranceway, watching them. Not embarrassing at all).

"That was incredible!" Marinette squeals, practically vibrating in her excitement.

"Yeah, it was." He agrees, and even though he didn't actually watch any of the show, he knows that from experience Marinette's statement is very true.

"Really?" Marinette asks, smirking as she tilts her head at him questionably, and Adrien feels his blood freeze at the unnaturally smug expression on Marinette's face. "I didn't think you would have noticed, especially since the show was that way," She points towards the runway, smirk growing wider as his cheeks begin to flush darkly. "And your eyes were looking this way." She points at herself, before booping him on the nose and standing up. "Come on, Nathalie and Gabriel are over there."

Adrien scrambles to follow after her as she weaves through the crowd quickly. He can hear Plagg laughing at him from inside his shirt pocket, enjoying Marinette's teasing of his holder far too much for Adrien's liking. He's just caught up to Marinette and slipped his hand into hers – so he doesn't to lose her, he lies to himself – mind still reeling and trying to come up with a comeback, when he hears his name being called over the voices of all of the adults around them.

"Adrien!" The person calls out again, and Marinette and Adrien stop and peer through the crowd, spotting a head of redish–brownish hair making their way towards them.

"Friend of yours?" Marinette asks.

Adrien recognises the voice of the person just as the crowd parts and he's able to see exactly who is calling out his name.

"Not exactly." He says, swallowing nervously as they draw closer. "In fact, they're basically the opposite."