'Miss designer, you need to come and eat something.' Adrien said, tapping on the doorframe, and she twisted to stare at him with wild eyes. 'It's one a.m..'

'I can't possibly! I'm so close, I'll need you to try on this in a minute!' She said hurridly, moving to turn back to her sewing machine.

'You've physically beat me back with a cardboard tube when I tried to bring the food to you, so I'm afraid I'll have to retry bring you to it.'

'No food in the workroom!' She half snapped. 'Half the fabric in here is irreplacable!'

'What's it going to take for you to eat, then?' He asked, leaning against the door casually.

'How can you be so blasé about this! I only have eight more hours to make the most perfect jacket I've ever seen!' She panicked. Yes, she was panicking. She could feel it seeping into the edges of her vision.

'Look, Marinette, please. As your friend, I want you to come and eat with me. Just for five minutes.'

She tried to take a few calming breaths, in and out. 'I don't think I'm allowed to be your friend, A-Mr Agreste,' she pointed out.

'I won't tell if you won't.' He smiled, reached forward to take her by the elbow, and carefully guided her from the room.

Almost in a haze she was seated on the tiny couch, and a container of mee goreng was deposited into her hands.

'Go on, eat. I've been around designers my entire life, I know how you need the reminding.' He prompted, before reaching for the bag of prawn crackers.

She took a few careful bites, before discovering she was ravenous.

'See? There you go.'

'You sound like Alya,' she managed between mouthfuls.

'Who's Alya?' He questioned.

'My best friend. She keeps me alive, sometimes. Reminds me to eat when I'm on a creating bend.'

He laughed. 'Even my father needs that, sometimes. I've heard his secretary complain about it when she doesn't know I'm listening.'

She glanced sharply up at him. 'Even your father?'

'Yeah, he doesn't do so much actual sewing anymore, but when the bug gets him, it eats him.' He looked up at the ceiling with a rueful smile. 'Do you remember last year's Women's Gala?'

'You had André Grimme working for you then, he was the main designer until, what happened?'

'I was there when it happened, it's one of my favourite memories. André was certainly having a bad run, and he came out with this awful line that was supposed to be presented. Father actually stood up, threw down his clipboard, and said "Even a monkey could make something better than this!" And off he went, he binned the line and designed a whole new one himself in the space of a week.'

Marinette stared. She'd heard that tabloids, but- 'in a week? A whole line? That's completely insane!'

'I don't think he slept the entire week. I swear he nearly died on three separate occasions. But I've never seen him look so pleased when those girls walked that walk at the end of it.' Adrien looked at the cracker in his hand with a smile. 'My only regret is I didn't film that day. Even a monkey...' he echoed, chortling.

After a moment, Marinette realised that her food had been hanging halfway to her mouth for far too long. Hurridly she stuffed it inside, and continued her meal with renewed vigour.

'You seem to get on well with him,' she said after a moment of fast eating. 'Even though I heard he's a bit,' she looked down at her food, turning red. 'I shouldn't have said anything.'

'No, no,' he said, a little ruefully. 'Father just, he's a very particular man.' Yet his eyes were distant, and his smile was fading. 'He has very high expectations, and it helps him maintain a high level of integrity.'

Something about his words sounded rehearsed, to Marinette's ears, but she didn't comment. 'Are you,' she started, before, 'do you enjoy working with the company?'

He looked back at her, as if snapping out of a revere. 'Yes, I do actually. I actually like the business side of Gabriel a lot, so I'm leaning more into that side.'

'But you still model,' she managed, a blush chasing across her cheeks. It was the reminance of before, she swore to herself.

'Yes, I still do that.' He sat back into the cushions. 'Don't tell my nutritionist about all this, by the way,' he gestured to the half-eaten boxes of fried food before them with a prawn cracker. 'She'll be first in the list of people who will want to kill me.'

Marinette smiled. 'I won't tell if you don't.'

He toasted her with his cracker. 'Cheers to that. Shame, I thought about bringing some wine as well, but I didn't think drunken sewing would help with the case of not assassinating me.'

She snorted. 'I know that from experience. I once tried to sew an outfit on the night before a night out with Alya and Nino, and Alya brought wine, and long story short I broke three machine needles and wore something I borrowed.'

Adrien laughed, before half choking on a mouthful.

She waited until he had snatched up his glass of water, and taken a few hasty gulps, before leaning forward.

'So, why me?'

He lowered his glass, looking at her. 'What do you mean? I thought I explained. I liked your-'

'No,' she waved him off, 'I mean, if you'd have stormed into my office, ordered me to do the jacket, and blustered out, I wouldn't have thought twice. So,' she looked at him with a gaze that sent a shiver up his spine, 'why me? I'm sure you could have equally paid off your main designer with the kind of money you have,' she trailed off. 'You don't have to be so nice to me.'
He looked down at his glass. 'I'm, not sure. You're easy to talk to.' He raised his eyes to meet her gaze. 'And I'm not the type of guy to start ordering people around, I'm not-I mean, I try to be kind.'

'You can't be very good at business then.' She said without thinking, before slamming a hand across her mouth in horror. 'I am so sorry,' she mumbled around it, flushing red.

'Don't worry,' he laughed. 'In a way, you're right. But I don't want to be- the kind of person who isn't kind when it's important.'

She knew her eyes were soft as she replied. 'I think that's very wise.' She frowned slightly. 'But you have to be careful, I hope you have someone to look out for you.'

'Well, Chloé tends to keep an eye out, but mostly I just tend to spend most of my time trying to cover my mistakes.' He grinned.

'Chloé? Chloé Bourgeoise?' She felt a twist of anxiety. 'The tabloids say you're dating her, but the rumours in the office say it's all fake.'

He looked at her for a moment. 'It's all fake.' He confirmed. 'We've been friends since we were toddlers. It'd be like dating my little sister, I've spent too many times peeling her off of a club floor to even consider it.'

For some reason, she felt a sense of relief.

She stood, suddenly flustered. 'I really should get back to it.'

He grinned at her ruefully. 'Sorry you have to stay up so late.'

'Oh don't think you get to sleep easy the rest of the night either, mister.' She grinned back with a wicked gleam.

He slumped back onto the couch. 'You know, I still want to die from last night, and yet here I am. This is the dedication I bring to the table.'

She started towards her workroom again, and he hovered behind her.

'You know, I'm still sewing the pieces together,' she said, hesitating at the doorway, 'you could take a nap if you need.'

'I mean, I don't want to sleep while you're working so hard,' he started, but the couch was looking at him with seductive eyes.

'Go on, at least if you fall asleep on the catwalk tomorrow that won't be my fault, you'll just look flawless as you fall.'

'I look flawless anyway,' he grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

'Models, you're all cut from the same cloth.' She groused, heading into the workroom to hide a smile.

'Was that a pun?' He smiled.

'Blame the sleep deprivation,' came her voice as he flopped down betwixt the couch's loving arms.

It was half past four, and Adrien was staring at himself in the mirror.

'I can't believe it, you're the greatest designer I've ever seen.' He said, his eyes wide as he shifted slightly.

'I haven't finished it yet, you can't thank me.' Marinette said through a mouthful of pins. She was carefully pinning one sleeve to exactly the right length. 'I still have the finishing touches.'

'Seriously, Marinette, I think I love you.' He freely admitted, and she flushed to the roots of her hair.

'Y-you're saying that too easily.'

'I'll say anything easily at half four in the morning.' He replied, shrugging his free shoulder and trying to not look at the dark shadows under his eyes. 'Would you like a marriage proposal as well?'

'Don't you dare.' She shot back, without venom. 'I'm so tired my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool.'

'Me too. I actually think I'm going to die.' He scrubbed at his face. 'Do you think this counts as a form of masochism?'

'Probably.' She replied. 'Ok, you can take it off. Give me two more hours and I'll be done.'

'You're amazing, and wonderful, and so wonderfully gifted,' he trailed aimlessly, carefully removing the garment with practiced ease.

'You need sleep,' she laughed. 'I can't believe you set a timer for ten minutes for your nap earlier.'

'I needed to be awake to help!' He managed.

'It'll be fine,' she soothed. 'You need to not look like death warmed over for your walk tomorrow.'

'I'll be fine! I can do a catwalk in my sleep.'

'You just might have to prove it, at this rate,' she smiled.

'How are you still so awake?' He demanded, a little blearily.

'I'm a designer. I have more coffee than blood in my veins.'

'That can't be good for you,' he mumbled.

'Says the guy who stayed up all night two nights in a row in the middle of the week.'

'Chloé said that if I go out then, It'd be less likely that I get recognised.'

She stood and carefully hung the jacket back onto the hanger behind her, then placed her hands on the model's shoulder's and started to guide him from the room.

'Seriously. Couch. I'll wake you if I need anything.'

'Alright, alright, miss designer.' He grumbled.

'My name is Marinette.' She chided gently as she guided him onto the couch again.

'Well my name is Adrien. And until the catwalk tomorrow, we're partners...' he managed, already dozing.

She moved to the doorway, and listened for a moment to his gentle snoring.

'Goodnight, Adrien,' she murmured, before a blush danced across her cheeks and she disappeared.