Hey all, finally here with day five! Just about still the fifth (at least, it is here in jolly ol' England). Hope you enjoy it. Thanks again to everyone's who's supported this story so far. I really love reading all your kinda reviews :)


Day Five: First Touch

"What do you think, Tikki?" Marinette asked, spinning around on the tips of her toes. The silvery-pink dress fanned out around her legs.

"It's beautiful, Marinette!" Tikki squeaked. "Even Chloé won't be able to say anything bad about it. It's perfect on you!"

Marinette grinned and stroked Tikki's head with her finger, giggling. "Thank you. I just need to finish my make-up and put on my shoes…"

"Isn't it a little early to be putting your shoes on?" Tikki pointed out, settling down on the desk to watch Marinette root around in her drawers for her makeup set. "Luka's not meant to be here for half an hour."

Pulling out a black tube, Marinette sighed. "I don't want to risk leaving him alone with my parents. Don't you remember what happened with Chat Noir?"

"Do you think your dad would get akumatized over a boy?" Tikki said. "Again?"

"I hope not," she replied. "But I don't want to take that risk. I don't want to deal with any akumas tonight. Just for once, I want a night where I don't have to be Ladybug and save Paris. I just want to be me, Marinette."

It was all well and good being Ladybug, but it was at times quite taxing on her emotional strength. After these past few weeks, trying to get all her work finished on top of sewing a shirt for Luka and adding the finishing touches to her dress, the last thing she wanted was to go battling Hawmoth's latest victim.

Not to mention, she sometimes found herself feeling a little jealous of Ladybug, which was ridiculous because she was Ladybug. But it didn't change the fact that no one else knew that, and therefore treated her like a different person. A better person, a hero. Everyone cheered when Ladybug swung onto the scene, clapped when she won, sympathised when she made mistakes. But when Marinette entered a room, she was barely acknowledged now that Lila was in the picture. Every victory was undermined, every failure twisted to feed Lila's narrative. It would be nice to have an evening where she received a positive reaction as Marinette, not just Ladybug.

That's why she liked hanging out with Luka. Because he liked her as Marinette. And it was genuine. But maybe that was just because he hadn't met Lila yet. Because Lila hadn't had the chance to seduce him with her fantastic lies.

Would he succumb? Marinette liked to think he was too genuine, too good at reading people, to be fooled. But she had once thought the same of Alya.

Tikki flew up to nuzzle Marinette's cheek, snapping her back to the present.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You looked sad."

Quickly forcing a smile, Marinette unscrewed the top of her mascara and looked to the mirror. "I'm fine, Tikki. Just thinking."

After applying makeup, only a little because she didn't want to risk spilling any of it on her dress, she turned her attention to her hair. A bun would be best, she decided, but she couldn't decide where on her head to place it, or what sort of bun, or if she should tie it with a ribbon or an invisible hair-grip, or maybe even ask her mother to borrow her ornamental chopsticks to hold in in place.

Before she knew it, half an hour had gone by, and her mother was coming up through the trapdoor. Tikki phased into a closed drawer to hide.

"Your friend's here, sweetie," Sabine said. "Are you nearly ready?"

Marinette moaned and let her hair fall limp down around her neck. "No…"

"Sit down," Sabine instructed, pulling out the desk chair. "Let me do it."

"Thanks, maman."

Marinette watched in the mirror as, with the skill and grace of well-practised hands, Sabine twisted and coiled her hair up into a neat bun. But Marinette's eyes kept slipping to one side where plastered around the frame were several pictures of Adrien. Something like guilt or shame prickled in her stomach, but she didn't care to dwell on it too much. Not today.

When Sabine had finished arranging her hair, she took two ribbons from an open craft box, one pale pink, one dark blue, and tied them around the bun. Their long tails to fluttered down and tickled her upper back.

As Marinette was about to stand up to thank her, she felt something cold being placed around her neck and looked down to see a silver pendant shaped like a flower glinting on her skin. "Maman?"

"I thought you needed a little glitzing up," Sabine said, fastening the necklace. "Your father bought this for me years ago, and when I saw that embroidery on the shirt you made for your friend I thought this would go perfectly."

"Thank you," Marinette breathed, tracing the edges of the pendant with her fingertip. "It's beautiful."

"Just like you, my flower." Sabine kissed the top of her head then stepped away, heading back towards the door. "I'll see how your friend's getting on. Join us when you're ready. He's a handsome boy, isn't he?"

"Maman!"

The door thudded shut, leaving Marinette red-faced and alone.

Sabine had said the same thing about Adrien when she'd noticed the photos. So why did it feel wrong when she said the same thing of Luka? Why did it make her stomach twinge uncomfortably? Because part of her wished it was Adrien she was going to the dance with, not Luka?

Marinette blinked hard and shook her head, ashamed of herself. Luka was a great guy. More than great. And was just as objectively handsome as Adrien. And it wasn't like this was a romantic date. Just two friends going to a dance.

She was shaken into action by a giggly Tikki, and spent a minute charging around, hunting desperately for her shoes so she could save Luka from her parents before they asked too many awkward questions. Finally, after finding the low, white heels where she had left them—in her wardrobe—she grabbed her navy jacket and fled the room.

Marinette burst into the living room to see Sabine holding up a camera and smirking at a somewhat flustered Luka. "Maman!" she cried. "You said you weren't going to take photos!"

Sabine rolled her eyes playfully. "I say a lot of things. Now come over here! Oh, you two look so good together!"

Hoping her embarrassment wasn't obvious, she sloped over to Luka. She had to admit, he looked good in his new shirt. The colour brought out the blues in his eyes, and the fit accentuated his wiry muscles and slim build. The embroidery of his right shoulder matched the pattern she'd sewn onto a dress, inspired by the second pick he'd given her.

"Marinette," he said. His voice was a little raspy, as though he'd just woken up. "You look great."

"Thanks." She smiled; it felt too wide on her mouth. "How does the shirt fit? Is it okay?"

"It's brilliant. Best shirt I've ever worn."

"How many shirts have you worn?"

"Some," he replied cheekily.

"Come on, you two," Tom boomed, holding his arms out. "Stand over here for photos! No, a little closer. Don't be shy…"

After ten minutes of arranging and rearranging her and Luka, taking picture after picture, and making amused comments whenever Marinette blushed, her parents finally let them leave.

"Be sure she's back here by 10.30pm!" Tom called while his wife ushered them down the stairs. "Usually it'd be 10pm, but I like you, Luka."

Marinette shut the door a little louder than she intended and groaned. What would he think? Luka was so cool, and his family so chill. She couldn't see Anarka and Juleka clamouring all over him with a camera whenever he dressed up. "I'm sorry about all that," she apologised, slipping on her jacket. "They're really glad I'm going...I think they were a little worried about me."

But, to her relief, he smiled that sincere smile of his and began walking down the street. "It's cool. I thought it was sweet," he said. "Your parents seem like good people, and they clearly love you a lot."

There was something awkward about the way he spoke that last line, as though he'd eaten something he shouldn't have and was trying to avoid the tasting it in his teeth. Perhaps it was just her imagination, or maybe he had thought it was such an awkward introduction to her parents that he was rethinking his entire friendship with her.

Something wiggled in her jacket. Marinette discreetly opened one flap to peer inside and found Tikki watching her from the extra large inside-pocket she'd sewn in specially. The kwami gave her an encouraging smile before burrowing back into the warmth depths, where she had no doubt secreted a cookie or two.

Marinette returned the smile then took a deep breath. "Thank you," she said. Her voice startled the still night. "For—for coming with me, that is. I told Alya and she was so excited. And when she told Lila…"

Marinette couldn't help but grin sardonically. She remembered it clearly, having replayed the memory several times since. Lila had been lamenting that a lycée boy had been desperate to accompany her to the dance after her quick-thinking and ability to perform surgery had saved his dog after it got hit by a nun on a bicycle, but couldn't because he didn't want to be the only non-collège student in attendance. Alya, still hoping to reconcile her two best friends, pointed out that Marinette was going with a boy in lycée. No one noticed the way Lila crushed her carton of soya milk—she couldn't eat dairy after her near-death-experience in a cheese factory—or how her smile didn't reach her conniving eyes. No one but Marinette.

"That was a good moment," Marinette continued, pulling the sleeves of her jacket past her cold hands. "For, well, a moment. Then…" She faltered. The very next day, Lila had changed her tune. Going with a lycée boy would be attention-seeking, and she wouldn't want to force someone from another school to have to hang around with strangers for an entire evening. It would just be so awkward.

"It doesn't matter," she finished hurriedly. "What matters is that we're going to have fun!"

Because that's what was important. Go out, have fun, never mind how Lila or Chloé would try to ruin things. Never mind whether or not Adrien would turn up. Never mind the guilt at taking Luka as her date when she was still in love with Adrien.

She was still in love with Adrien, right?

Marinette groaned to herself and rubbed the side of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. A strand came loose. Not the time to think about such things. Just get through the evening, then she'd have the winter break for some sorely-needed introspection.

She glanced at Luka. He was staring ahead, eyes like a cloudy sky. His frown didn't suit him; it pulled his face down and made him look older, drained.

"Luka?" she asked gently, startling him. "Are you okay? You zoned out for a while."

"Yeah," he muttered. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Okay. If you're sure…"

He stopped walking suddenly, and Marinette turned to face him, about to ask what was wrong but she found herself mute. There was a strange intensity in his eyes as he leaned forward, raising a hand to her face. The streetlamp behind him bathed his dark hair like the sun igniting the moon.

"Your hair," Luka murmured. He carefully pushed a stray lock of hair away from his face and behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her jaw.

It wasn't the first time he'd touched her. Several times his hands had grazed her arm, or their knees had brushed against each other when sitting together on his bed. Once he had held her body above his head whilst gliding across an ice-rink.

But somehow, this touch felt different, like a first touch. Maybe it was the intimacy of his face near hers, the warmth of his skin. Maybe it was the reddish tinge in his cheeks, or the stars shining bright in his eyes.

It didn't matter that he wasn't Adrien.

He was Luka. Kind, gentle, funny, thoughtful, generous Luka. And that was more than enough.

Marinette smiled. Warmth bubbled in her chest. "Thanks," she whispered as his hand fell from her face. She caught it with her own and squeezed her fingers around his.

They continued walking, but a silence grew between them. Heavy, but not oppressive. Warm, but not hot. Like the bulge of air between two magnets. The sort of silence that crawls under one's skin, seeps into the blood, fills the heart with something a hair's breadth from comprehension.

"It's so dark out," Marnette blurted. The silence scared her. "At least it's not far to school."

"I like the dark," he said quietly. Not distracted, not sad, just quiet. Thoughtful perhaps. "You can see the stars better. It's easier without all these street lamps though."

"Oh. Do you stargaze a lot?"

"Used to. Not so much these days." Luka's smile was a little melancholy, weighed down by memories past, near enough to see but too far to touch. "I keep meaning to get back into it, but…Well, the streets are surprisingly loud at night, especially where we dock. And, you know, it's cold."

Marinette snorted. "You sound like an old man."

"Maybe I am an old man."

She laughed again, gaze shifting from his face to the stars beyond, paled by the amber glow of the street lamps. She knew there was a host of constellations, characters, stories written up there, but the dots and clusters were indecipherable, a foreign language. "Do, um, do you think you could show me?" she asked. "The stars. I mean, the constellations. I don't know any."

"I can teach you some. In fact, I can show you one right now." He stopped; they were near the school, so close Marinette could hear the low thud of music. Luka pointed up. "Do you see those three stars?"

Marinette squinted, raising a hand to block the light of the nearest street lamp. "Yeah."

"That's part of Orion, easiest constellation to find. There's three stars like a triangle above, do you see them? Those are his hands and head. Then two beneath; those are his feet. When it's really dark you can see the cluster that makes his sword. He's a good one to start with because his belt is so recognisable."

Marinette scanned the area around the three stars, eventually locating the hands and head. "Oh yeah. That's so cool." She looked back to Luka, who had a sneaky grin. Marinette desperately pushed down the thought that he looked far too good when he grinned like that.

"You know what Orion's belt is, right?" he asked slyly.

"No?"

"It's to stop Orion's trousers falling down."

"Oh my gosh!" she cried, failing miserably to stop herself from giggling. "You're such a dork."

He was laughing too, the sounds flying free and unrestrained into the night, louder and more melodic than the school's music thumping under her feet. And for a moment, she wanted to skip the dance. She wanted to kick off her shoes and feel the grass beneath her toes, and run hand-in-hand to the beat of his laughter and surround herself with the glimmering stars.

"Shall we go in?" he asked, nodding at the school building.

She pressed her lips together, curled her toes in her shoes, then nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Let's."

He had stopped laughing, and the stars above stayed firmly put. But his hand was in hers, and that was enough for now.