"Woah," breathed Adrien as they stepped through the supermarket door.
As one, his new flatmates turned to look at him, identical flat stares on their faces.
"What?" he demanded, flushing. "It's huge!"
"Adrien," Alya said, "you have been in a supermarket before, right?"
"Uhh…" He could feel sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. For the thousandth time, he cursed his father's insistence on homeschooling him until he was eighteen. "I've been in a tabac, obviously. And in sandwich shops and stuff. Just not… I've never had to buy groceries."
"Oh my God," breathed Alya, "we're taking Adrien's supermarket virginity."
Marinette made a noise that was halfway through a choke and a squeak and went bright red, Nino cracked up, and Adrien laughed sheepishly. "Guess so!"
"Okay, this is going to be fun. We're gonna start with the basics, 'kay?" Alya ticked things off her fingers. "Bread, cheese, eggs, pasta or rice, and fresh fruit and veg. Maybe some potatoes. Then some canned soup and pasta sauce, and you'll be all set."
Adrien had never known that it was possible to have fun doing something like grocery shopping, which had always seemed like a boring, pedestrian thing to have to do, but apparently it was. He didn't think he'd ever enjoyed an outing more as Alya and Nino dragged him round the shop and Marinette interjected with gentle, helpful remarks every now and then. He had to fight for the death for the right to buy what Alya deemed to be 'junk', but he'd never even seen a bag of crisps as big as his whole torso, and the fact that he could just buy a slab of chocolate and not endure Nathalie's icy disapproval was dangerously tempting.
When they'd been down nearly all the aisles, he glanced at his watch and realised to his surprise that they'd been out for nearly two hours. It hadn't felt nearly that long. His trolley was piled high with what looked like enough food to feed an army for a week, and he felt… strange. It took him a while to pinpoint what was different, but it took him aback when he finally realised what it was. He was relaxed.
Ever since his mother had left, over a year ago now, outings had been stressful, even terrifying events. Adrien's room had been his safe haven, a space away from nosy reporters and painful questions. Even his regular fencing lessons had become a source of anxiety, to the point that it had been second nature to tense his shoulders and clench his fists whenever he was uncomfortable. This was the first time in months that he just felt fine. Normal. Happy, even.
This is what it's like to have friends, Adrien marvelled.
He glanced at his flatmates. Alya and Nino were arguing ferociously over the relative merits of apple and pear cider, much to the danger of the bottles of alcohol on the shelf before them – Alya apparently had a habit of using her hands a lot when she was passionate about something. Marinette had disappeared to do some of her own grocery shopping. He was just craning his head down the aisle to look for her when she appeared at his elbow, seemingly out of nowhere, making him jump.
"Um, Adrien?" she said timidly, her cheeks flushing. She seemed like the kind of person who blushed a lot. "Would you mind helping me a minute?"
"Sure! What's up?"
Marinette's cheeks reddened even further. Adrien found himself thinking that it was pretty cute. "Um… I can't reach the top shelf," she confessed.
Oh my God, that's even cuter. Adrien bit back a laugh, not wanting her to think he was mocking her. He hadn't clocked quite how short she was, but when he followed her to the laundry detergent she wanted, he noted with amusement that it was out of her reach by at least half a foot. It didn't help that, since this particular brand was on offer, there were only two bottles left and they'd been pushed right to the back of the top shelf. He felt bad for Marinette, but also strangely gratified that she'd come to him for help.
He was alarmed to find that it was almost out of his reach when he tried, which at his six foot three didn't happen often. By this point, however, he would rather have died than given up, so he made an effort and just about managed to hook the bottle forward.
"Thank you!" Marinette said joyfully, clutching it to her chest and looking up at him with shining eyes. "I was considering climbing the shelves!"
"No problem," he said cheerfully, feeling rather proud of himself.
"Excuse me," someone said to his right, "but I don't suppose you'd be my knight in shining armour, too? I was hoping for that brand as well!"
Adrien turned to see an elderly Asian man who was even shorter than Marinette, though that was partly due to how bent his back was, his weight supported on a cane.
"Of course!" Adrien exclaimed. "I'll be anyone's knight in shining armour, as long as it's only laundry shelves I'm battling." They all laughed, and he managed to get down the last bottle without making a fool of himself, handing it to the man with a flourish.
They found Nino and Alya at the checkout and paid for all the shopping without incident, though there was a slight hiccup when they remembered that they now had to carry all the groceries home. Luckily Marinette had a seemingly endless supply of canvas bags, all printed with the same flower design, which made it easier to divide things up into manageable loads. Still, the walk back felt much longer than it had on the way there, and Adrien's shoulders were aching considerably by the time their building came into view.
"Did you make these bags?" he asked Marinette, who was tottering beside him under the weight of several bottles of Coke.
"Um, yes, actually!" she confessed, looking surprised. "How did you guess?"
"I guess I have an eye for this kind of stuff?" He hadn't realised that was unusual. "The design looks hand-drawn, but in a good way."
"Oh." She was blushing again, but that could have been the heavy shopping. "Yeah, it's kind of like, my signature pattern? I include either it or my actual signature in everything I make."
"So you're a fashion designer?" Adrien asked casually, trying to hide his surprise. She hadn't mentioned it before, which seemed weird. Most people who were aspiring fashion designers or models would make a point of bringing it up the second they met him, presumably hoping that he'd be able to get them a direct meeting with Gabriel Agreste or at least some sort of inside knowledge that would help fast-track their rise in the fashion industry. He never mentioned that he found it hard enough to organise a meeting with his father for himself, let alone anyone else.
"I suppose so," she said shyly. "Or at least I want to be. I love making my own clothes and accessories. Actually, Gabriel is one of my favourite brands. It's… how I recognised you." She peeked up at him, sheepish. "I didn't want to say anything in case you felt uncomfortable or like I was asking you for a favour. Sorry."
Wow. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to thank her for respecting his space and getting to know him as a person, but also reassure her that she was very different from the other girls who tried to flatter him into giving away company secrets or pretend to be his friend. Before he could open his mouth to unlock any of that, Nino ran past them, panting.
"My arms are about to drop off," he exclaimed, diving for the building door. "C'mon, guys – what's the code? I've forgotten again."
"You always forget," complained Alya, coming up behind him and rolling her eyes. "6912. Hurry up!"
Dropping a bag, Nino opened the heavy door and held it in place – it had a tendency to slam shut – while Alya lugged her groceries and the bag he'd set down inside. Adrien was about to follow when he heard a cry from across the road, and without thinking, he shoved his shopping into Nino's unsuspecting arms and ran towards the sound.
The source of the commotion was the same old man Adrien had helped in Carrefour. He'd apparently been crossing the road with his own groceries when his cane had somehow failed him, and he was sprawled on the tarmac, shopping – including the laundry bottle 'Sir Adrien' had saved – scattered around him.
Terrified that a car would come and run the man over, Adrien rushed to help him up, taking one of his arms. Someone else took the other, and he looked up to see that it was Marinette, who had obviously dropped her own bags and dashed over when she'd seen what was happening. He grinned up at her, and together they helped the old man across the road to safety before heading back to pick up his things. Fortunately, no cars did come, and nothing had broken in the fall.
"Thank you!" panted the man, who seemed equally unharmed by the whole incident. "One of these days I'll trip and fall into the Seine – these old feet of mine are so clumsy these days." He gave his rescuers a bright, enthusiastic smile, his eyes surprisingly shrewd. Adrien suddenly had the uncomfortable notion that he could see right into them – but that was silly. "You two work very well as a team!"
"It was nothing, monsieur! I'm just glad we were able to help," Marinette assured him. "Are you okay to get home on your own?"
"Yes, yes," the man said, waving as if to refuse any further assistance. "I'll be just fine. Thanks again, my heroes!"
"Au revoir!" said Adrien politely, before remembering poor Nino, still stuck as a doorstop. He raced back to the door just as Nino's arms gave out and caught the bags before they hit the floor.
"Dude," Nino said with deep emotion, "next time you're going to do that, warn me. I think I pulled like ten muscles in my back."
Outside the block of flats, the elderly man stood alone, looking up at the windows of flat 3B.
"What do you think, Wayzz?" he said quietly.
A small green creature with yellow eyes peeped cautiously out of his jacket. "I think they're quite young," he said.
Wang Fu sighed. "I know," he admitted, "but these days the burdens of the Miraculous must be borne by younger shoulders than mine. And at least neither of them have family responsibilities to prevent them from fulfilling their duties."
"That's true," Wayzz acknowledged. "I can see why you have chosen them, Master."
"A desire to protect the vulnerable and those in need is the most important part of becoming a Miraculous holder," Fu said. "And they worked remarkably well as a pair. That is crucial for the yin and yang of the Black Cat and Ladybug."
"Indeed."
They pondered for a little longer, and then Master Fu seemed to come to a decision. He nodded firmly. "It is done. Bring them the boxes."
"Yes, Master." Wayzz tucked a little black box under each of his tiny arms and whizzed up to the flat, disappearing through the windows as if they were made of smoke.
Master Fu smiled to himself, recalling the flush on the girl's cheeks and the proud stance of the boy when he'd accomplished a task for her.
You're a nosy, meddlesome old man, he accused himself, and you're far too old to be matchmaking.
But maybe… just maybe… the Miraculous would be just as much of a blessing as a curse to these two young people.
He hoped so.