A/N: If you like it, let me know! :3

3.

As soon as she was finished with Marinette, Nathalie returned to Adrien's photo shoot. She waited until his break to deliver the news of having found him a decent roommate.

"So what's he like?" Adrien asked, wiping the sweat off with a white towel. The sun was blazing hot, no one sane was out in this weather. People preferred to stay somewhere with an air conditioner, eat ice cream, enjoy cool drinks. Anything other than risk getting heat stroke. Adrien's photographer had different ideas.

"She is ideal," Nathalie emphasized that his new roommate would be a woman. Adrien blinked slowly, unsure if he'd heard wrong – earlier, his father's assistant had been adamant that he shared a room with a guy, even if it was awkward.

"Really?" He uncapped a bottle of water and took a deep gulp. Even though he'd gotten the drink from the fridge just before Nathalie waved him over, it was already warming.

"She seems clean and tidy. If you're determined to do this then you can't expect much better than that." She left it unsaid that Marinette's schedule was unlikely to change unexpectedly, since she worked in the design and sewing department of the same company.

"And she wasn't bothered by my photo on the fridge?"

There was a slight pause before Nathalie answered, voice cold and calculated. "She didn't mention it." Adrien looked like he was going to hug her any second, so Nathalie took a step backwards to put more distance between them. Not only was the supermodel dripping with sweat from standing in the sun, but it would be improper, even if they had known each other for almost an eternity.

"So what's she like?" he asked, curious.

"She's… sweet." Nathalie thought back to her encounter with Marinette. She had fumbled too much with her purse and tripped over her own feet more than once on their way to the elevator. "Her name is Marinette. She's a little nervous about this… flat-share." It still felt odd to call this arrangement that. "Clumsy, but nice enough, if your still intent on doing this."

"I am." Adrien confirmed.

"I will let her know then." Nathalie said, as the model dropped the used towel in its designated basket after the photographer called for the end of the break. He moved gracefully. One foot in front of the other, he held his head up high, hiding away all his family issues behind a radiant smile. Nathalie hoped it would all work out for him.

Certain that she'd get the apartment, Marinette started packing before Nathalie told her she could move in on the next day. Alya helped her, bringing out the boxes she'd convinced a nearby bookshop to give them just for this purpose. Then the journalist plopped down on the comfy sofa with an open bag of chips and approached the difficult subject again.

"I just don't understand why you can't go back to your parents' place," she shrugged, eating a chip. It made a loud crunch in her mouth. "They would let you, no questions asked."

"That's exactly why I can't go back," answered Marinette. She stared at her old pillow, the one shaped like a black cat, evaluating its worth before stuffing it into a box with a few more knickknacks. "You know my maman. She'll start pestering me about getting a boyfriend the moment I set my foot in that house. It's bad enough on the weekends. I can't put up with it every day."

"You've got a point there. Are you sure the guy's not a creep though?" Alya watched her friend with hawk eyes, determined to find out if she was lying. Marinette smiled. Her meeting with Nathalie had went well enough.

"I can't be 100% sure, since I've never met him, but based on Nathalie… Definitely not a creep. Maybe stiff and awkward," she remembered how professionally the businesswoman had handled things. "The apartment is so nice. You'll love it when you see it."

"That's why I'm worried, love," frowned the journalist. If something appeared too good to be true, it usually was. Alya intended to get to the bottom of this strange offer. She already had a plan in progress. "When did you say this guy stays in the apartment? Daytime?"

"Yeah. Just like in the ad."

Alya wiped her fingers clean against her jeans and pulled out her phone. She had saved the ad for research. "I still have a bad feeling about this."

"Maybe you just feel bad about marrying Nino?" The bluenette teased ruthlessly. "You can change your mind, you know."

"You wish, bitch," Alya laughed, using the insult as a term of endearment. "I'll miss your pastries though. Are you sure you don't want to leave those things here?" Her eyes followed Marinette to the kitchen where she'd laid all her things out on the table.

"Hell will freeze over before I part with any of these." Marinette caressed the white rice cooker affectionately. It was a gift from her mother's family in China. Although originally from Japan, this appliance had proved to be a life saver more than once. She had grown fond of it over time. "Well, you can keep the blender. And the toaster. And the coffee maker, too, now that I think about it."

"I bought the coffee maker," Alya snorted. It had been one of the first things in the small apartment, a necessity to fight sleep away before a rapidly approaching deadline, so she remembered it very well. Furnishing the flat had provided the two with a lot of entertainment over the first couple of months.

"Yeah, well, I love it like its mine," laughed Marinette. Though it seemed reasonable to assume that Alya would have used it more, it was Marinette who sang it praises day and night when she was anxiously making last-minute changes to her designs. Alya was sure Marinette had slept less in the apartment than she had.

"I can't wait to test their oven," the bluenette continued excitedly. "I hope it's good, because I would hate it if it wasn't. Oh what if it's terrible? I should have asked to make a test batch then and there…"

"Make sure you don't burn the place down." Alya smirked.

Marinette glared at her. "It happened once and it wasn't my fault!"

"Keep telling yourself that!" The brunette chortled and soon, Marinette's giggles joined in. It hadn't been Marinette's fault that the machine malfunctioned, but she hadn't helped the situation by baking tray after tray the entire night until the machine had decided that enough was enough.

"I was stressed, okay?" Marinette said between giggles. "It scarred me for life. I'm more careful now."

"Sure you are." Alya wiped a tear away and grinned at her best friend. "Tomorrow, I'll come and help you move in, okay? Nino's got a gig tonight, so he probably won't make it, but we both want to be sure you'll be alright there."

"Whatever floats your boat, Alya."

"And if you need to bail, you can count on me, you know?"

"I know." There was a slight pause. Hands on hips, she took in the sight of the items that she had yet to pack. There were too many, but she was hopeful. "Well, then… wanna help?"