So, it's definitely still April, right? Totally, let's go with that.

Enjoy! Part 8, apparently.

'Listen, I really need you to do me this favour, you're my only hope.'

Marinette was frozen at her desk, staring at the blond whom she had previously only seen in magazines and advertisements.

Right now, he was perched on the edge of his chair, a tattered jacket across his lap and his green eyes wide and pleading.

'Y-you're Adrien Agreste.' Marinette managed, finally lowering her pen from the blank notepad she had started on mere sconds before the famous model and the son of the owner of the company she worked for had burst into the tiny room.

'Yes, yes I am,' he grinned sheepishly. 'And you're Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I heard that you recently got promoted from intern straight to designer, of your own merit. That's why I'm here.'

Marinette felt her throat go dry. 'You've seen my work?'

'I've seen your work.' He smiled back. 'And now I need your help.'

Marinette's eyes fell to the jacket in front of him, and he held it up with a grimance.

Once a sleek, carefully stitched, emerald green jacket that was clearly to Marinette's trained eye, one of a kind, was now dirty, and heavily torn.

Marinette couldn't help but suck in a pained breath.

'It's from the line that's supposed to be released tomorrow. My friend convinced me to wear it out last night, and...' he trailed off, hanging his head. 'It got stolen from the cloak room along with a bunch of others, and I think the theif dropped it and it got run over. Or something. I just need you to fix it,' he glanced up at her, 'and I absolutely have to swear you to secrecy.'

'I,' she started. This model had her job in the palm of his hand, a fact of which she was keenly aware right at this moment. And yet the state of the unfortunate garment, 'I'm not sure if I could,'

'I'll reimburse you. I'll do anything,' he pleaded. He looked down at his hands.

'There's one more thing, I need to be on the catwalk with this tomorrow afternoon.'

Marinette paled.

But she saw the desperate look in his eyes.

She let out a breath.

She leaned forward and took the begotten jacket from his hands, before carefully spreading it over her desk.

He looked onward earnestly, his eyes flicking between her and the jacket. 'If you can't fix it, I'm going to be absolutely murdered. I snuck it out, I shouldn't have taken it,'

Marinette was running her hands over the garment with expert fingers, her brow pinched.

It looked decidedly like it had been run over; there were mud spatters and a split seam starting up the back vent, and one sleeve had been near completely torn off.

'Mr Agreste, even if I could, I don't have the materials I would need here,' she stared at her own hand now pulled through the shoulder hole.

'What do you need?' He immediately replied.

'Well, I would need more of the fabric and the same thread this was originally made from,' she removed her hand and flattened the fabric carefully.

'I can get them. The designer's away for the day, working on the Women's Gala shoot.'

'A-and, I don't think I could use the machines here without getting seen,' she added.

'I could take it home, but I'd need to,'

'Fit me?' He filled in as she trailed off, a pink dusting her cheeks.

'Y-yes, that.'

'I can go with you. I snuck out before, I can sneak out again.' He glanced up at her.

'Not that I want to force you,' he said worriedly.

She looked down at the jacket for a moment longer.

She looked up at him, concern in her eyes.

'I'm sorry, I don't think I can fix this.'

He hung his head.

'Ok. I understand.' He managed.

'But I can remake it.'

His head snapped up, abject shock on his face, his eyes wide.

'...are you serious?'

'The way some of these tears are, the original designer's bound to notice any alterations or fixings.' She started. 'But if you can get enough of the original fabric and thread, I can make a new one using this one as a pattern.'

He grinned, a wild look in his eye that had Marinette flushing. 'You're amazing, Marinette. I'll pay you whatever you want, you can name your price.'

'Mr. Agreste, I-'

'Please,' he said, raising a hand, 'call me Adrien. "Mr. Agreste" is definitely my father.'

'I brought chinese food,' he said, raising the bag, as soon as Marienette had opened the door to her studio apartment. 'I didn't know what you'd like, so I got a bit of everything.'

'You didn't have to do that,' she managed weakly, moving aside to let him in.

'You are literally saving my life, it's the least I can do.' He grinned. 'I brought the materials you needed as well, it was literally taken from the same bolt of fabric.' He proffed a shoulderbag he had slung over his shoulder. 'You said to get three metres, but I got a bit more, just in case.'

'D-did you leave anything on the bolt?' She said, taking the bag of takeaway from him carefully.

He looked back at her with a grin, setting the shoulderbag down next to the door with an unnervingly heavy noise. 'Should I have?'

She blinked at him.

Surely,

Surely this was a dream.

Surely the model and future head of Gabriel, not to mention devastatingly handsome blond was not standing in her tiny apartment with a smile on his face.

Surely she was not going to try and perfectly replicate a one-of-a-kind jacket to be presented on the catwalk tomorrow.

By Adrien Agreste.

Oh, god, she's going to have to sit and eat dinner with Adrien Agreste.

Something inside her pulled on its working hat.

'But before any of that,' she said aloud, 'I need to start tracing the pattern. Mr Agreste, you can sit and eat; I need to get started.'

'You can call me "Adrien".' He added a little half-heartedly.

But she was already diving into the bag, and pulling out a double-armload of green velvet and silk lining. 'I could never afford material this quality,' she freely admitted as she moved into the sole separate room from the main room: her work room. 'I could only dream of it.'

'Is this where the magic happens?' Adrien followed into her doorway. He turned to look at the rest of the main room, and his eyes fell on the little bed in the far corner of the room. 'You don't sleep in the bedroom?'

'"Don't work where you sleep, or you never will".' Marinette said, without looking up at him. She set the fabric onto the large cutting table, where the unpicked original jacket lay waiting.

He snorted. 'I know a few people who could learn from that saying.'

'I learned it the hard way, through lycée and university.' She plucked up a stick of marking chalk, and set to work. 'Seriously, go eat. I don't need you for right this second, but I will later.' She hestitated, looking up at him. 'Sorry, that was really informal,'

'Don't worry about it.' He was still smiling. 'I'm just grateful you're doing me such a huge favour.'

She found a grin of her own playing around her lips as her eyes fell back to the fabric. 'I'd advise you to keep that in mind when I give you the bill.'

He raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. 'Whatever it is, I can pay for it. This is such a big ask.'

She let out a breath, her eyes not raising from her work.

'How did you even find out about me?'

And yet over her shoulder, there was a dusting of pink on his cheeks as he replied.
'I've seen some of your work down on the designer's floor. I may only barely be able to sew a button myself, but I've been around enough good handmade fashion to know what's amazing.' His eyes fell from the shoulders of her bent form to her hands, which were marking with precise, expert hands. 'And I've never seen one designer with so much versatility. As soon as I saw what happened to the jacket I knew exactly who to come to.'

Her hands slowed, and she was glad that she was facing away from him as she didn't think she could blush any harder. 'I-I'm glad that my work stood out to you.'

'I'm just glad you recognised me when I burst into your office this afternoon, and didn't immediately kick me out.' He smiled.

'I wasn't about to "kick out" Adrien Agreste from my office.' She managed. 'You could have me fired with the snap of your fingers.'

The sudden quiet behind her made her look up, and she turned to see him looking horrorstruck.

Adrien took a moment to find his mouth. 'I would never-!' He blustered, turning pale.

She blinked at him, surprised, before shaking herself slightly and moving back to her work. 'In fact, I could probably be fired just for talking to you. If my boss ever finds out about this,'

'But,' he hestitated, 'you're still doing it?'

She turned back to smile at him brightly. 'If I couldn't handle being thrown from the frying pan and into the fire, then I certainly couldn't make it as a designer!'

He stared at her for a moment, suddenly struggling to find something to say, for a completely different reason.