Chapter Ten – One–Eighty
Marinette doesn't have enough time to question Adrien on what he means by 'opposite' when a tall boy – taller than Adrien – appears in front of them, the heads of people behind him following his movements like he's a unicorn in a field full of donkeys. And judging from his expression – not dissimilar to how Chloé looks whenever she's getting special treatment on account of being the mayor's daughter – he knows it.
"Adrien," The boy greets, holding his hand out.
"Slayton." Adrien returns the gesture and they shake hands as he smiles friendlily, but Marinette can tell he's feeling anything but.
"I am surprised you are not with your father. In my experience the two of you are always together." Slayton's eyes flick over to Marinette's questionably before returning to Adrien's.
"Father is . . . he is attending to business." Adrien swallows uneasily, saying the response he often says when questioned of where Gabriel's whereabouts are when he hasn't the foggiest clue.
"I bet." Slayton says, putting his hands behind his back. The action makes his chest puff out, and Marinette's eyes flick down to take in the three–piece light grey suit he is wearing, a pale pink dress shirt underneath. "Like what you see?"
Adrien stiffens beside her, but Marinette merely flicks her eyes up to Slayton's before indicating the brand on his sleeve jacket. "You're wearing Prada's special release suit from last winter." Marinette tells him, having recognised it as soon as she saw it. It was on the front cover of their magazine for the month of February. She probably has it in her desk somewhere for inspiration (the magazine, not the front cover). "I'm surprised seeing as it's the middle of summer and over a year old."
Adrien raises an eyebrow at him in silent question, backing up Marinette's observation. Slayton looks momentarily startled, before a smirk turns up the corners of his lips. At the familiar look, Adrien tightens his grip on Marinette's hand ever so slightly.
"I can handle the heat." Something in his gaze lets them both know he isn't referring to the temperature, but neither are entirely sure what he does mean. "What is your name?"
"Marinette." Marinette says, and she instinctively takes a step back when he moves slightly closer to her, partially hiding behind Adrien.
"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Slayton states, smiling as he reaches for her hand. She tucks it behind her before he can make contact, mind flashing back to all the time Adrien (well, Cat) would kiss her hand when she didn't want him to.
"Uh–huh." She replies, looking away to scan the crowd in the hopes of finding an exit or one of the adults accompanying them. She spots Gabriel and Nathalie talking to someone with their back to them, and she looks back at Adrien to point them out. "Gabriel and Nathalie are over there."
Before Adrien can say anything, Slayton steps up and slings an arm around the blond's shoulders. "You go on ahead, I'd like to have a privet word with your boy." He says, as if he has a say in what Marinette will and won't do.
She has half a mind to stay behind out of defiance, but the small headshake Adrien sends her lets her know that she should leave while she can. "Please don't tell me what to do." She says instead.
Then, because he's her prince and she loves him and maybe she wants to make him as flustered as he makes her, she stretches onto her tiptoes and kisses Adrien's cheek. "Be careful." She whispers in his ear, before walking away before he can see just how red her cheeks are.
Adrien has to clench his jaw to stop it dropping open in shock as his wide eyes follow Marinette through the crowd and towards his parents. He can feel heat radiating from his face, and knows that in a competition against a tomato and a fire truck, he would win Reddest Thing on Planet Earth right now. Without fail.
Slayton makes a low whistle beside him, drawing Adrien's eyes away from Marinette's retreating form, and he looks to his right only to see that Slayton's eyes are still trained after her, a small smirk on his face that makes Adrien's gut churn uncomfortably and something prickly in his chest close to possessiveness. He remembers feeling this way months ago when Théo Barbot was akumatised into Copycat, but this time he's determined not to let his jealousy get the better of him and lie about his relationship with his lady (not that she's his lady, or anyone's lady for that matter. She's her own person, not something that can or should be owned, but the light blushes and shy smiles she has started showing him whenever he calls her 'milady' lets him know she sees it as a term of endearment, not a possessive remark), no matter how much he wishes he could.
"Damn," He says, and Adrien becomes aware that he's glaring at the boy and tries (and fails) to soften his features. "You're lucky."
Adrien's eyes widen in shock and his jaw drops open before he can stop it. "Wha . . ?" He asks, voice trailing off as his confusion renders him speechless.
"What do you mean 'what'?" Slayton asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion at Adrien's confusion. "You're lucky. Marinette is very beautiful – like, gorgeous – and she seems to have a good head on her shoulders. I mean, half the people in here wouldn't – actually, not even half. I can guarantee that of all the non–models, non–designers in this room, there would be only two others who would recognise this suit, let alone what season, brand and edition it is from."
Adrien can only open and close his mouth, no sound escaping, as he tries to figure out where the leering, tormenting, bullying, womaniser (can a seventeen year old be a womaniser if the 'women' are also seventeen?) went, because this level–headed, well–mannered, respectful (?) version of Slayton is not the same as the one from the year before. Or the year before that. Or even the year before that. Or even the year before that.
"M–Mari's actually a designer." He eventually utters, wiping his sweaty palms on the sides of his pants. "So, it's not that surprising. That she knows. Where your suit is from." He coughs into his fist awkwardly, before gesturing to Slayton's jacket sleeve. "And there's a brand label."
Slayton looks at his sleeve in surprise, and lets out a sound of amusement. "So there is." He says, before clapping his hands together and focusing back on Adrien. "So how long have you and Marinette been together? When did you meet? Is she working for your father? Is she coming to the afterparty tonight? Am I overwhelming you with all of my questions? Also, I'm sorry if I was making her uncomfortable. I noticed she stepped back when I went to shake her hand . . ."
He's apologising? And shaking girls' hands instead of kissing them? Adrien thinks, frowning slightly. "Mari and I . . . we're not together."
"You're not?" Slayton cries, as if that's the most shocking news he's ever heard.
Adrien shrugs helplessly, not wanting to dive into the whys and why nots of their not–togetherness. "But we met last year at school, and have been best friends pretty much ever since." (He is, of course, referring to their friendship as Ladybug and Cat Noir, not Marinette and Adrien – that one's too complicated to explain.) "And yeah, she is working – well, interning – for Dad. As for the afterparty: it depends on what she wants and what Dad and–uh, he, um says we can do." He bites his lip nervously, hoping Slayton didn't pick up on his stumble where he almost added Nathalie to the parenting equation.
"Well, if you're dad does let you come, we'll have to hang out." Adrien tries to smile enthusiastically – he really does – but obviously he doesn't succeed because Slayton's smile turns apologetic. "I know I haven't been the . . . nicest over the past few years, but since you've seen me last, there's been some pretty big changes in my life. One of them being that I've started acting more like myself, and not letting other's rule my life for me." At Adrien's confused expression, he elaborates a bit more, dropping his voice so as not to be overheard. "You remember that girl from the last after party last year? The one I, uh, left with."
The implications of what he means be 'left with' aren't lost on Adrien, and his cheeks immediately burn red. "Sure." He squeaks, sounding much more like a five year old rather than the fifteen, almost sixteen, year old that his is.
"Well, her name is Amber, she's three months younger than I am, so she just turned eighteen last month, and uh . . ." His cheeks flush the smallest bit as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Unlocking it, he goes into his pictures, selects one, and flips the phone around to show Adrien. "This is our daughter Emma. She's three months old in two days."
The image shows an olive–skinned baby with a full head of reddish–brownish curly hair, sleeping peacefully on the naked chest of an also fast asleep Slayton, on what appears to be an unmade bed. Adrien can see from Slayton's attire that the photo is either taken early in the morning or at night, as he's wearing pyjama bottoms, and Emma's wearing one of those baby coveralls with the fabric folded over her hands so she doesn't accidentally scratch herself.
"Aww," Adrien coos, smiling at the sweet photo. "She's so cute. And she looks like you."
Slayton shrugs slightly, flicking to a second photo, this one from a closer angle and only showing the sleeping Emma. "Not really. She got the hair colour from me, definitely, but that makes sense since Amber's blonde and blond hair is recessive, meaning I'd need to carry the blond hair gene as well in order for Emma to . . . anyway. Sorry. Sciencey stuff. It's boring. Don't mind me." His cheeks flush darker again and he turns his phone around, flicking through some more photos until he arrives at one showing Amber nursing Emma, her focus solely on the baby in her arms.
"I like sciencey stuff." Adrien says, watching as Slayton flicks through even more photos of Emma, Emma and Amber, Emma and him, until he arrives at one of all three of them: a selfie he took of them at the park the other day, just before Emma fell asleep in the baby wrap Amber had to Google her way into after she messed it up the first five times.
"Me too." Slayton smiles, pocketing his phone when he realises that he's probably shown a bit too many baby photos for it to still be interesting for Adrien. "In September I'll be starting at university to study medical science."
"Really? Are you still going to model?"
He nods. "It pays well, but I'll be cutting back on my hours once uni starts, that way I'll have enough time to study and still see my family." He makes a face and pulls on the collar of his dress shirt. "My parents aren't very happy with my decision – nor is my agent, but she is at least a little understanding. My parents haven't really spoken to me since I told them Amber was pregnant, but Mum has come around a little since Ems was born. Amber's parents are godsends, however. They're letting me stay with them until we can get a place of our own, which will hopefully be soon now that we're both eighteen."
"I'm happy for you." Adrien says, not knowing what else to say. But he is. He remembers what Slayton was like in the years prior, and now he's done a complete one–eighty. Turned his life around for the better, and for the good of his daughter. "Fatherhood looks good on you."
Slayton laughs, clapping a hand to Adrien's shoulder. "Yeah, I think it does. Anyway, it was good seeing you again. Amber and I will be at the afterparty tonight – her mum's watching Ems for us for a couple of hours – so if you're there don't be shy. It was really good seeing you."
"You too." Adrien says, shaking Slayton's hand before waving goodbye.
They go their separate ways – Slayton heading back the way he came, and Adrien following the direction Marinette left in – and Adrien can't help thinking about how different Slayton is just one year later. He's an adult, mature, in a relationship, and a father. It's hard to believe that the same boy who used to point out which women in the room has the biggest boobs and what he'd like to do with said boobs is now raising a baby girl and going to university for medical science.
Marinette sees him coming from where she's standing, anxiously, beside Nathalie while they wait for Gabriel to wrap up his conversation with someone he went to school with, and her entire face lights up as she smiles at him, sending him a little wave. Adrien finds himself grinning back, his own hand lifting in a small wave as his heart flutters at the very sight of her.
"Hey," She says, before she squeaks in surprise when he wraps an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple, working on an autopilot he wasn't aware he had. "You–uh–um–what?"
He giggles, face flushing in embarrassment as his actions catch up to him (the look Nathalie's giving them also isn't helping), and he feels Plagg wriggle in his shirt pocket, as if to tell him to not make it awkward.
"H–Hey," He says, keeping his arm around her waist in a side hug. "You'll never guess what Slayton just told me."