Adrien was awoken almost exactly two hours later to a hand on his shoulder and the smell of coffee in the air.

'It's done, but we have to go or we'll be late.'

It was Marinette's hand, connected to Marinette's wrist, connected to Marinette's arm, connected to Marinette herself, who was offering a coffee with her other hand.

'What time is it?' He croaked, and tried to clear his thoat.

'It's a quarter to seven, you have fifteen minutes to get ready and then you'll have to brave the taxi and traffic to get to the office today.' She took a sip of her coffee. 'If no one else, and at the risk of my job moreso than jailtime, I will actually kill you if anything happens to that jacket between now and that godforsaken catwalk.'

'Oh, right.' He took a gulp of coffee. 'Wait, you're not coming with me?'

'No way. If we get seen getting out of a taxi together going into work,' she shuddered. 'I'll take the metro, as usual.'

'Will I at least see you at the walk?' He was surprised to hear a hint of pleading in his voice.

'I-don't think I'd be allowed,' she said regretfully.

'I'll get you a pass. You should at least see the actual debut of the thing.'

'But, I can't ask you to do that!' Marinette shook her head.

'Don't worry, I'll pull some strings. I'm not the future CEO for nothing,' he winked at her.

She flushed, and took an embarrassed sip from her red-and-black spotted mug. 'I never knew that the future CEO was such a rebel, your interviews read you to be very straight-laced.'

'You read my interviews?' He raised his eyebrows at her.

Somehow, she flushed harder. 'It's good to keep an eye on what the people at the top are doing.' She mumbled.

'I see,' he swilled his coffee, a little disappointed. He scrubbed at his face. 'Holy cats,

I feel like I'm dying. I know you said you're a moving coffee pot, but I just don't understand how you're still so functional.'

'Honestly? I make no promises about my quality of work for the day.' She shrugged, and he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. 'But I'll live.'

He set down his mug and stood, stretching. 'Don't tell anyone, but I'm so glad I keep a secret toothbrush in my office.'

She snorted. 'A secret one too? Wouldn't you have to rebrush before every shoot?'

'And every meeting,' he pointed out with a smile. 'So where is the much-sought jacket?'

'I'm lending you a suit bag, it's in the sewing room.' She stood, moving towards it.

'The bag's getting added to your bill, by the way.'

'Makes sense,' he trundled after her, and took her proffed mug so that she could enter the room for a moment.

She reppeared, a suit bag held high with reverence. 'If you do anything to this bag on the way over, it's on your own head. But let me remind you about me killing you as well.'

'Don't jinx me!' He shot back, feeling a shiver down his spine. 'I would be so dead if something like that happened!'

'Something like that already did happen, you're just lucky you managed to pull off the recovery.' She grinned at him as he set down the mugs, and carefully took the bag from her.

'Do you need me to call you a cab?' She questioned.

'I'll just hail one, it'll be ok. You live surprisingly close to the building.' He glanced at her.

'Well I had to move closer, or else it would be a two hour fight with the metro every day.' She shrugged. 'Do you want a croissant?'

He blinked at her. 'Of course I do, I'm French and a starving model. Why? Are you offering?'

'Sure, just don't get crumbs down yourself. You'll be mobbed when you get in just for the crumbs.' She moved to her world's smallest kitchenette, and pulled out a paper bag. 'Eat it in the taxi, you'd better go.'

He hefted the much lighter shoulder bag and took the paper bag from her. 'Thank you so much,'

'Are you sure you have everything?' She questioned as he awkwardly shuffled to the front door.

'I think so.' He pulled open the door, before pausing, looking at her. 'Hey, Marinette?'

She paused in her bustling. 'Yes?'

He looked at her for a long moment, a moment that held a thousand lifetimes as she looked back, hoping against hope.

But no, he flushed and dropped his eyes.

'I'll make sure you get that pass. See you at two?'

She nodded. 'See you then, but I doubt you'd get the chance to chat.'

He shook his head disappointedly. 'That's true. I'm sorry, I'll be in contact then.' He took a breath. 'Goodbye, thanks again.'

'Anytime.' She felt a pang in her chest, and found she couldn't bear to watch him walk away, so she shut the door carefully against his retreating figure.

It was nearly noon when there was a tap at her door; a gentle one that was soon followed by a flushed intern.

'Emile! What can I do for you?' She said, her eyes on the brown envelope in the quaking boy's hands.

'I-I'm supposed to give this to you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.' His voice quavered, the boy couldn't have been more than a teenager.

'Of course,' she said warmly, taking the proffed envelope. 'Thank you.'

He hestiated for a moment as if half-expecting to see the contents, before jumping slightly and heading back for her door. 'Bye,' he said as he left, closing it behind him.

It wasn't until the door had settled in its frame that Marinette turned her eyes to the delivery, and opened it with haste.

Inside was a VIP pass with her name on it, something that all the designers wore to events, and a post-it note stuck to the back.

To start repayments, dinner Friday?

It was followed by a string of digits: his private phone number.

Marinette sagged in her seat, staring at the ceiling as a blush flooded her face.

How did I, she thought, trying to gather her scattered brain, how did this happen?

She slowly tipped foreward, until her head rested on her desk, the post-it clutched in her hand.

'I can't believe this is my life,' she mumbled. 'Also, aren't you supposed to spend the night with someone after you like and get to know them?' She hesitated. 'I didn't spend the night with him!' She shot back at herself.

After a long moment, she sat up and hastily stuffed the note into her pocket. 'I need more coffee.'

She stood, and moved towards her door, before pulling out the note again, staring at it.

Carefully, as if it would bite, she reached down into her bag under her desk and pulled out her phone.

She input the digits one at a time, entitled the contact Adrien, and hit 'save'.
But?

He just wants to pay me back for the jacket, right? She turned on her heel to face her desk. There's no way it's a date. Well, maybe it is a date, but it's just an event, not a date date.

Just then, her phone vibrated, and she jumped so badly it dropped from her hand and landed on the soft carpet below.

There was no way,

She hastily scrabbled for her phone, and punched in her passcode so quickly she had to try again.

'Hey girl! I just stopped for lunch, will you surface anytime soon?'

It was Alya, and Marinette found the breath in her chest again.

Alya worked at Paris Daily, and was fast becoming one of the best journalists around.

'I can't, I'm going to a walk this afternoon. Sorry,' she managed to reply. 'Next time?'

'For sure! Also, how come you weren't replying last night? Were you stress-stitching again?'

Marinette considered this.

'Yep! You caught me. Gotta fly though, I have to get everything finished!'

She shovelled the phone back into her pocket, and headed for the coffee machine.

'One more for the road,' she said to herself. She knew the dull headache she had at the back of her skull wasn't going to go away anytime fast.