Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug

Chapter 5: Showtime

"I'm so nervous."

"Don't be," Alya soothed, putting an arm around Marinette's shoulders. "Your designs are amazing. I retried almost every single one and they're all good. Not to mention that your favourite model is here to help out."

Marinette and Alya glanced over at Adrien adjusting the cuff links on his outfit. He looked just as gorgeous as always and the pride of having Adrien of all people help her with the project made her even more determined. The contest had plenty of young designers and artists, each showcasing their talents in a way uniquely theirs. It was a celebration of fashion and photography, and it was more official than any small town hat competition judged by Gabriel Agreste.

She was glad to have chosen her theme so distinctly. Parisians had unique landmarks and personas, Cat Noir and Ladybug included. The paw prints and polka dotted patterns had already been stitched to perfection. Nothing left up to chance. Now with her friends at her side, she would showcase what she had been creating, hoping to wow the jury adjudicating her and gain valuable feedback from representatives of the most prominent fashion hubs in all of Paris (with the exception of Gabriel Agreste's corporation, of course).

"It's about to begin." Adrien walked over to her, arms stretched. "Is this on right?"

"Yeah, almost. Just," She cut past Alya and pulled the vest down, straightening his necktie and hesitantly pushing his bangs from his eyes after giving Adrien a well deserved once-over. "There. Perfect."

He stared at her, bright green eyes on her face, and she wondered if she had done something wrong when, at Ayla's loud cleared throat, she noticed that she was still holding his wrist. "Oh! Sorry." Her flush said enough and she stumbled back.

"It's okay," Adrien said good-naturedly, shaking off the last vestiges of bewilderment and smiling at her. "I'm sure it's just the nerves."

She nodded and cursed her own awkwardness.

"All right then," cheered Alya, "we're going to start now. Nobody can stop you; not with these designs."

"These are going to blow everyone away," Adrien agreed. "I've seen plenty of the other designers' works before but yours are by far the best. It'll blow those judges away."

Marinette squeaked her thanks and rushed to the curtains. People were filtering in from the open doors, filling up the seats around the jury of fashion designers. She glanced to the booth opposite her with a young male designer who specialized in what appeared to be women's dresses. They locked eyes and she gave him a wave. The boy waved back to her just as shyly and visibly stiffened as an announcer came by to see if he was ready. His own models, two girls who Marinette had seen modelling in some fashion magazines she'd read a few weeks ago, pasted on smiled.

"Relax," whispered Alya, "this thing'll be full by the time the night it up. And you'll have the prize."

She smiled weakly and did her best to charge her courage.

"You deserved first," was the first thing Alya said once the designers were sent back to their booths to clean up. She had taken off the embroidered top Marinette had given her and replaced it with her favourite plaid one, but had been determined to keep on the accessories: a bracelet and a pair of look-alike Ladybug earrings.

"I don't know, Alya. Everyone had such amazing designs. It was an honour to make the cut and be up on the podium at all." Marinette twisted the small, bronze medal in her hands thoughtfully.

"Alya's right, Marinette. Your designs are so much more functional and fashionable than the others. They had a few years up on you in experience as well but your designs were much better."

"Thank you," she said, blushing a little bit. Marinette was so modest when it came to her works and Adrien didn't know why. Her designs were stunning and unique, a blend of culture and character that he had yet to see matched by any other designer. So they were a bit crude, so what? She was a beginner. His father's original sketches had seemed just as rough as hers had. It only meant that she had potential.

And so much of it too. Adrien was in awe of her imagination, which whizzed left and right in such a beautiful manner. At first he thought it was a bit odd, how scattered she was. It was only until they spoke a bit more, got on well enough to actually speak to one another, that he realized she just needed some time to sort out her thoughts. When comfortable enough, Marinette was engaging and her thoughts could be clear and animated.

"Ms Dupain-Cheng?" All three of them looked over to see one of the judges from the panel with another young designer at his side. Adrien remembered seeing the younger male at one of his father's fashion shows as an intern to a different designer. "Could I speak with you a moment?"

"Monsieur Chevron?" Marinette hefted the box of red fabrics onto her work table. "You need me?"

"Absolutely. Come, my dear, come. I have something to ask of you."

Marinette spared both Adrien and Alya a nervous glance before walking over. She shook both their hands and asked what they needed to discuss. Chevron gestured for her to come with him off to the side, away from company, and Adrien's eyes followed her dutifully, the curious cat within him itching to know what it was about.

Apparently, he wasn't alone.

"Oh my goodness, Adrien, isn't that guy a famous designer?"

Adrien nodded. "One of the top French designers of the twentieth century."

"Do you think he's going to offer Marinette an internship? I've heard that high-class designers can do stuff like that."

"It's possible. But Marinette would also have to take into consideration that if she were to study under Chevron she might have to move to one of the French Isles, or Italy, since Chevron spends so much time designing there."

"Leave?" The half-worried, half-curious expression Alya had been donning relaxed. "She wouldn't do that, then."

"Why not?" Adrien asked. A part of him was strangely relieved at Alya's confidence. "It's a fantastic opportunity."

Alya shrugged. "I don't know. Just a gut feeling. Marinette would have to say goodbye to way too many people. Half of Paris would miss such a girl, you know? She gets along with almost everybody."

He nodded slowly, glancing down at the pins Marinette had made. They were so simple, with a green paw print emblem that complemented his suit to perfection. He wondered if she would grow further as a designer and leave things like Ladybug and Cat Noir behind. Most people believed that the pair of them were just superheros for little children. The police force still did not take them seriously. Adrien was pretty sure that Mayor Bourgeois only favoured them because of Chloe's unhealthy obsession with Ladybug and the fact that the spotted hero had saved his daughter's life multiple times.

Adrien couldn't be Cat Noir forever. He knew that. Just as he knew that Marinette would not be an aspiring designer forever. Alya would not be an amateur reporter forever. Ladybug would not always be Ladybug.

He was well away of Alya's theories, of Ladybug being a centuries old hero. He had to admit that some of her theories seemed pretty spot on (pun intended). Still, there was a little bit of human left in Ladybug. He didn't know what it was, and maybe it was just his desire manifesting itself, but he believed that Ladybug was human. An extraordinary, beautiful, nearly flawless human, but human nonetheless. He had seen her anxiousness the first day they started working together. She was a newbie just like him, no matter how much courage she was able to summon in the face of danger. And he would miss her terribly when she decided to stop being Ladybug.

"Adrien?" Alya tapped his shoulder with one of those wry grins he had grown accustomed to seeing that almost always led to trouble.

"Yes?"

"We should chase after them."

"Really? I don't think Marinette would want us to leave all her supplies here unattended."

But even with the words out in the open, he found himself wanting to check on Marinette. He didn't want to miss a moment with this girl who knew him and liked him as Adrien. Marinette was a friend to him, one of his first friends, and she accepted him for him, something that he appreciated. Adrien felt like there was more to Marinette than he had seen so far, and had faith that, in time, those things would be revealed.

"We'll bring the supplies with us, then." At Adrien's hesitation, Alya laughed. "Oh come on, Adrien. Don't you want to be adventurous?"

"Of course I do," he said weakly, "but I'm also practical. Marinette will want us to wait. She can tell us the rest when she's ready."

"Fine," Alya brought the supplies to a nearby bench and took a seat. "We'll wait here." Adrien sat next to her, Marinette's sewing supplies safely nestled in the box on his lap. "You know," she began, "I'm really glad that we did this."

"Me too. I think it was a really good opportunity for Marinette to gain more exposure in the fashion industry."

"Yeah. But I think it's a better opportunity for you and Marinette to get to know each other."

"Um..."

"You think I didn't notice you looking for excuses to talk to her? I mean, the cuff link thing is definitely something you know how to do yourself. You're a model for goodness sake!"

Adrien felt like he'd been caught doing something scandalous and looked away with a guilty flush. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Alya laughed to herself. "Man, you're as dense as Nino says you are."

"Wha-"

"Relax, Adrien, it's fine. I meant that you two spending time with each other is a good thing. You both seem to really get along."

"Thank you?" Adrien had noticed that as well and had hoped that it was not his imagination. He and Marinette were able to speak in a manner so unlike any other. "I really like talking to her," he said honestly. "It's kind of refreshing sometimes."

"Yeah, she has that affect. It kind of draws you to her, don't you think?"

He agreed and didn't need to say it out loud for Alya to know what he was thinking. In comfortable silence, they patiently awaited their friend.