Chapter Eighteen
Note: Hellooooo, San Francisco! And all of my readers from whatever remote corner of the globe or of your bedroom you happen to be hiding-I mean, relaxing, in. A bit of a longer chapter this time. No lemons, sorry. But some nice fluff. Some nice movement. Some nice *ahem* set up. I have a new arc getting ready for this story, but I'm not 100% sure everyone is still into this story, since I have had, like, one review posted in three or four chapters. Seriously, guys, gals, non-binary pals, those review mean a lot. They help me know that people are still reading and I'm not just sitting here banging my head on a wall and talking to empty cyber-space. So, please, enjoy this new chapter, and, if you like this story, or even if you don't like it, just shoot me a review or a message and let me know.
I won't keep you from the story anymore. Here you go, lovelies!
Marinette nervously checked her appearance in the mirror, trying to show a sincere smile—failing. There was a voice in her head—one that sounded suspiciously like Tikki—telling her this was a horrible idea and that no good could come of it.
At that moment, Tikki herself appeared, hovering by her Holder's face. "You look great, Marinette!" She sounded forced.
"But…?" Marinette prompted, hoping the Kwami would share her fears.
Tikki was never one to let her down. "But I have a bad feeling about this. I mean, opening up the house to guests? Really? What if they come up on some secret that you forgot to hide well enough?"
Marinette ran her hands down her abdomen again, smoothing the dress. Her left hand rested just under her breast for a moment, directly over the worst of the scarring Queen Bee had left behind. The dress was beautiful, but it clung to everything. She was worried something would show. Which was ridiculous. She shook her head, and she began speaking more to convince herself than to convince her Kwami. "It's a house-warming party. It's expected, a social obligation. Plus, Adrien and I have been out of the public eye for a while, and we need to reconnect with people. Shield has the other Miraculous, so that's safe. We haven't set up our strategy boards yet in the war room, so no one can spy on those. We did get into Gabriel's safe, and that book is with Shield, everything else of secret we put in the safe." She met Tikki's eyes in the mirror. "No one would be able to find it, let alone get into it. It's secure." Tikki didn't look convince; neither did Marinette.
"Everything will be fine," Adrien said from his place leaning against the door. Marinette jumped slightly, her shoulder almost hitting Tikki. He pushed off the door frame and walked over to her, blocking her view of the mirror. "No one is going to take their eyes off you long enough to go looking for anything." He cupped her face. "You look stunning, love."
Marinette smiled up at him, leaning into his palm. "Me? You're the model here, and you definitely aren't pulling punches tonight." He was wearing a simple black tuxedo, with a strikingly bright green tie, the exact shade of his eyes, something Marinette had made for him in her spare time in hiding. His hair was stylistically mussed, and he wore that cocky smirk like she would a Pandora charm bracelet. Or sexy lingerie…that smirk did something to her insides, making them flutter like a hundred little white butterflies.
"I have an image to maintain. And if people are drooling over me, they won't ask as many deep questions. I hope." He said. There were worry lines around the corners of his eyes. He was just as nervous as she was. "And I'm the one not pulling punches?" He held her at arm's length and raked his eyes over her from head to toe. "I'm honestly considering ripping that dress off you and fucking you right here and now," her breathing hitched as she pulled her body flush against his. "Damn the guests at the gate," he growled. "Give them something other than our superhero lives to gossip about for a while."
Marinette laughed and smacked his chest, trying to hide her arousal before she didn't care if he made her scream so loud the neighbors could hear. "They're already arriving?" She sighed. She pulled away and glanced in the mirror one last time. She wore a daring piece, crimson spaghetti-strap dress that clung to her down to her hips, hugging her curves, then flared out to about an inch below her knees. Her legs were bare, due to the warmth of the spring air, and she wore a pair of black ballroom dance shoes. Around her shoulders she slung a black scarf with tiny red dots on it, reminding her a bit of Anti-bug, but not enough to take the scarf off. The only jewelry she wore was her engagement ring, her earrings, and an ornate comb holding her hair in a controlled side-swept half-up style. She'd kept her makeup light—just a foundation, a bit of mascara, and a sweep of lipstick a shade of red a touch darker than her dress. She hadn't bothered with the blush; she had figured with everyone staring at her and Adrien's inevitable antics, she would have enough natural blushing to carry the look. She looked breath-taking, and she knew it.
"Into the lion's den, I guess, minou." She sighed, taking his hand. She paused, a horrible thought crossing her mind. "Tikki, Plagg," The other Kwami appeared in a corner of the room, peeking out of the Kwami's nest. "I think you two better stay really close to us tonight." She said. "I don't want anyone to…take you away."
Adrien paled. "I hadn't even thought of that. You're right. Plagg?" He held open his suit jacket. Plagg groaned and griped but tucked himself into the inside pocket.
Tikki remained where she was, hovering in the air. "There's not really a place for me to hide." She said pointedly, looking at the tight dress and lack of a handbag. She was quiet a moment. "But I don't really want to hide," She continued almost silently. "I think…it's time I stepped out more." Marinette raised an eyebrow. "I know I have been against it from the beginning, but…now, maybe having the information in the open will be able to protect you better than secrets would, especially with recent events."
"If you're sure," Marinette agreed, nodding her head. "Then let's go greet our intruders—I mean guests." Adrien laughed, placing a hand on the small of her back as they walked downstairs. They were so focused on each other, smiling like the lovebirds they were, that they didn't notice the crowd—yes, an hour before the event was actually supposed to start, there was already a crowd—until they hit the bottom of the staircase. It really was beautiful now, white marble and dark wood, instead of chrome and silver and gold.
There were cheers as they looked up, catching the gazes of at least forty enthusiastic Parisians. "Oh," Marinette said. "Right. Party. Welcome!"
Adrien laughed as he saw the blush reach all the way up to the tips of her ears. "We're so glad you could all come to celebrate the completion of our renovations with us." He said much more eloquently. Marinette blushed deeper, shrinking just a tiny bit.
Alya pushed her way through the people and hugged the pair. "Girl, you said you were renovating. This is crazy! Is this the same house?" She asked as she pulled back.
"For the most part." Marinette smiled, glad her best friend was there, as always, to break the tension. "We've made some…upgrades. You should see the gym." She gushed, eyes unfocusing. She had practically been drooling over their brain-child since they'd first seen it, and they had yet to even have a chance to use it.
Alya shook her head. "No one would ever have believed sweet, innocent little Marinette would have turned out to be a gym rat."
"More like a gym bug." Adrien teased, pulling her close enough she bent backwards, laughing up at him. There was a collective 'awwwww' like there was a person holding up cue cards in front of their audience.
"Ladybug the bodybuilder," Alya laughed.
"Don't tease. I can see what those exercises I put you through are doing for you." Marinette waggled her eyebrows, and Alya's mirth increased. She was right. She had always been curvy, and she still was, but any fat there was melting away, leaving her slimmer and more muscular, but still somehow dainty and feminine. Like…like an ornamental dagger—pretty and unassuming, but so deadly sharp you wouldn't feel it slit your throat until you were on the floor choking on your own blood looking up at the crimson blade. Alya liked that simile.
It was also increasing hers and Nino's stamina, flexibility, and strength, which was definitely improving their sex life in so many wonderful ways.
"And you? All that bed rest and nothing to show for it? You look better than ever." Alya sweeping her hand up and down to indicate Marinette's own physique. "How many hours a week do you train, again?"
"A week?" Adrien huffed. "She's got us sparring two hours every Wednesday and Saturday, plus at least four hours of varied work a day."
Alya's jaw dropped. "Seriously? Four hours? A day?"
Marinette scrunched her nose. "It's not all that bad. Besides, that was for my therapy. It won't be so intense here really soon. I'm right where I want to be." She smiled softly up at Adrien again, standing on her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss on his lips. More 'awwwwww's filled the room, reminding them that they weren't alone, and they turned back to the ever-growing crowd. "Come on in! Take a look around; try some of the food. The pastries are all from my dad's bakery, so you know they'll be great—Thanks, dad! Thanks, maman!" She waved at where she assumed her parents would be, as she couldn't see them through all the other people. "And I also want to thank Angela and her amazing crew, without whom this gorgeous house would never have come together. And thank you, Nino for helping out with music and other party accoutrements. You've been such a great help." Nino held up a hand in acknowledgement, not looking up from his laptop as he was finishing setting up sound. "And," Her tone grew a bit more solemn, "I also want to thank everyone else in this city, for standing by us through every fight, every victory, every loss, and for not giving up on us. I, personally, am glad to have had the chance to see that, should I actually fall, Paris will take care of Chat Noir. I cannot tell you how much that means to me." Marinette felt a tear escape her eye, and she raised a hand to wipe it away, smiling widely again. "Now, there is an open bar, plenty of refreshments, and no end of good company. Let's party!"
As cheers rang out, Adrien pulled her against his chest and whispered in her ears, "Thank you for standing by me, too, Milady."
Marinette kissed his cheek. "Always, kitty."
Adrien had thought he had gotten used to mingling—or rather, the thinly veiled groveling and cleverly hidden insults that constituted the mingling in his father's circles. But he had never really been the center of attention in those parties he had been dragged to, just the eye candy, the trophy. He was able to glide in and out of groups and conversations while they gossiped about his father and the other designers. This time, he and Marinette were on a pedestal. They were being passed around, somehow involved in every conversation, and also not—they were talking both to them and about them—everyone with an opinion on something. There was no end to the questions, most of which they answered as honestly as possible. Tikki caused a bit of a stir, as did Plagg when he finally emerged to lounge on Adrien's shoulder. Alya, Nino, and Chloe got dragged into the light, as did Roger Raincomprix and Mayor Bourgeoise, for being the two to help get the others to safety and protect Paris in their time of need—without the help of magic super-suits. Finally, they managed to sneak a break, ducking behind the partition into their conference area they had deemed the War Room. They both let out breathy, relieved laughs, and started to speak before they noticed they weren't alone. Frozen on the other side of the room was a tall, balding man in a cheap tuxedo, hand half-caught in a desk drawer.
Marinette narrowed her eyes. "What's going on here?" She asked in a deceptively sweet voice. Adrien couldn't help a shiver. His woman had a temper, and she knew how to use it.
"I-I'm sorry. I was jus-just looking for…" He was at a loss, though, as to what he could possibly be looking for there.
"A pen?" Marinette supplied. He nodded dumbly. She walked over to the desk and pulled an ink pen out of the cup sitting on top of the surface. "Here you are." She said.
He took the pen, shut the drawer, and walked away, muttering thanks.
Adrien's eyes followed him until he was out of sight. "Creep." He muttered.
"He's probably a reporter, looking for some juicy scoop. As though we weren't smart enough to have hidden away anything even remotely intriguing before we threw open the doors." Marinette scoffed. "How little faith he has in the heroes of Paris."
Adrien chuckled. "You're cute when you're annoyed."
"Well, good, then, because you're plenty annoying." She answered, refusing to smile. He let her pout. "They're getting antsy." She said after a minute. "The party isn't enough. We're going to catch them rummaging in our closets next if we don't do something to grab their attention."
"I know something that would definitely get their attention," Adrien purred in her ear, her only warning before a hand slid under the back of her dress, cupping her butt as she was pressed back into the desk, Adrien pressed against her between her legs. Marinette giggled as he began placing small kisses and love nips on her neck.
"Adrien, not here." She said half-heartedly. Part of her wanted him to never stop, damn the audience in the other room. But that would be wrong.
"I know, Princess." He said as he pulled away. "I have another idea, one that doesn't involve PDA. I think. But I want it a secret for now." He kissed her cheek. I'll be right back." He slipped away, leaving Marinette to breathe in the calm for a moment before hopping off the desk and returning to find Alya.
"Do you know where our boys have gone to?" Alya asked as she sipped a Martini at the bar.
Marinette looked to where Nino had set up, only to find him and his laptop gone. "We found someone snooping, so Adrien is working on something to keep people occupied. He won't tell me what it is," she answered as she ordered a Shirley Temple, extra cherries.
"No booze?" Alya asked, turning her head conspiratorially before whispering, "Marinette, you're not—"
"No, no I'm not." Marinette answered quickly, shutting her down. "I am simply trying to remain a good host. And a role model. In a room full of people. Who want me to be a leader." She gulped. "Right. Maybe I do need something stronger." Before she could act on that impulse, Adrien reappeared, taking her hand.
"Alright, everyone. The time has come for the grand reveal of Marinette's favorite part of our renovations. I know it doesn't sound overly exciting, but trust me on this, who's ready to see the gym?" A few people shrugged and started following them out the door and down the sidewalk to the gym building.
"Seriously, Adrien?" Marinette hissed. "The gym? I know I got excited about it, but I doubt they'll—" She was cut off as they entered, and she saw all the equipment—which she had perfectly arranged for maximum safety, efficiency, and symmetry—pushed against the walls, the mats stacked up in a corner, leaving it wide open, with the rock wall and sparring rings taking up the far half of the room. There was a fence-like structure, made of softer, semi-flexible material, for protection so they wouldn't fall unnecessarily. "What did you do?" She hissed, unable to hide the hint of anger under her voice.
Adrien, instead of answering, walked to the middle of the floor and held out his hand to her. Marinette was at a loss. "I know it's been a few years since we've done this, Milady," He said in his Model Voice ™. "But would my love care to…" He grinned during a dramatic pause, the lights switching to a single spotlight shining down on him, "Dance?" He purred, oozing pheromones that made every woman there swoon, even Marinette.
Marinette felt a slow, sexy smile overtake her face, feeling her muscles begging to join him. "You're right. It has been a few years. When was the last time we…" During her dramatic pause, she had her back almost fully facing him, looking over her shoulder with a sultry smile, "Danced?" The sound of a Spanish guitar sounded off to the right. Marinette didn't look; she didn't need to.
Nino and Alya had spent a semester in Spain Sophomore year. She had gone for the language and culture; he had gone for the music, and he had learned quickly. Sure enough, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nino sitting on a stool, eyes half-closed as he made the strings sing for him.
Marinette began walking slowly around him, never quite facing him, but drawing a hair's breadth closer with every step. Adrien moved in a similar way, only he was fully facing her, hand outstretched, like trying to entice a bird to alight on his hand. "I believe it was almost exactly two years ago." He answered, keeping his voice a low, husky mix between a growl and a purr, a tone that kept every woman on the edge of her seat. "Atop the Grand Paris, if I remember correctly."
"You may just be right, kitty," She let her own voice match his as she said the nickname, almost feeling his muscles tense as though they were her own. They were still drawing ever nearer. The crowd was transfixed. The closer she got, she began to turn her body more towards him, as though she were warming up to him. "What was it we were dancing?" She said coyly. "Salsa, merengue?" They were within arm's reach of each other now.
Adrien looked stricken—a good act—before reaching out and grabbing her hand, spinning her into his arms. They were pressed so close, straining both towards and against each other. "Darling, you know very well…" the dramatic pause lasted for a heartbeat that felt like a minute. "It was a tango." He growled. The music suddenly picked up, other instruments joining as Nino played harmony for a track off his laptop. Marinette seemed to violently pull herself away, spinning towards the crowd, who stepped a few feet back instinctually. Her scarf came free from her shoulders, one end in her hand, one end in his. It snapped taught, and Adrien tugged, spinning her back to him and pulling her into a low dip. He tucked the scarf into his jacket, the back of his hand slowly running down the side of her torso, from just under her shoulder, down to her hip, a caress so full of promise she almost shuddered. Their audience held their breath as he gently eased her back up, faces brushing so close they almost kissed. Almost. He settled her, and they took up a simple dance position. Nino's guitar was a soft cue as it held a note, then began a beautiful soliloquy all its own. The Spanish guitar was so expressive; it was a language all its own, one Nino had cracked. Adrien and Marinette began sweeping across the floor, keeping that intimacy in every movement, as the others began to cheer, getting into the rhythm. She was glad she had chosen the dress she had. It moved beautifully, like water over rocks, and clung to her low enough that when the skirt flared up as she spun, it didn't reveal everything. And the shoes. She was so thankful for the good dance shoes.
It had been a while since Adrien had begun teaching her ballroom dancing, but she had taken to it like a fish to water. It was perfect, a pure synchronization of mind and body, of individuality and of togetherness, being separate but intimate. She had always thought dance was the way to truly know someone. A dance like the Tango, it required trust, leadership, strength and flexibility. You had to be willing to lead, or to be lead. You had to be willing to fall into that moment and forget everything else. You could see your partner's strengths, and their weaknesses. It allowed them—and you—to become vulnerable, for as long as you remained in that partnership. They pulled each other through intricate moves they'd only ever practiced a couple of times, even using a few combat moves to spice them up. As the guitar wove a tale of rising passion, crescendo-ing towards its climax, Marinette spun away from him once more, the scarf reappearing between their outstretched hands. Their bodies were poised towards each other, curving as if magnetically drawn to their other half. Marinette was leaning back, looking as though the scarf were the only thing keeping her from falling, one foot lifted off the ground. Adrien pulled her towards him, hand over hand on the scarf. Marinette held her position until their legs brushed; then he yanked on the scarf. One of his hands rested on the small of her back, holding her barely dipped backwards, while his left held her right, her left hand resting warm on his bicep. They were so close. Their chests heaved with effort in synch, and they could feel each other's racing heartbeats. Despite the people, despite the cheesy atmosphere, and the smell of gym that somehow existed despite the fact that no one had yet used the facility, despite they eyes of family and friends and neighbors alike watching them, despite the clothing that separated their bodies from each other, they were closer like this, their most intimate, their most naked. The way they had danced was pure sex. And by the cheering of the crowd, they had noticed that as well.
Adrien pulled her back up and held her hand as they bowed. "Thank you, thank you. I wish I could say this was all planned just for your benefit," He said sheepishly, grinning at Marinette. "But, honestly? I just really wanted another dance with my fiancée." There were more cheers. Seriously, it was difficult to turn anyone against his charm, especially the city that worshipped them like local gods. They leaned against each other's side, holding themselves up as well as relishing the closeness of their partner.
Alya leapt forward. "Good grief, girl! I had no idea you were hiding that kind of talent? When did you learn to do that?"
Marinette held Adrien's hand in both of hers. "It was when you two went off to Spain. Chat Noir and Ladybug spent a good bit of time bonding over learning Latin ballroom dancing. I guess we missed you."
"And you waited until now to showcase it?" She pressed.
"I couldn't just show up one day with mad Tango skills, Alya." Marinette couldn't have frowned if she wanted to. She was so elated at that moment. "Where would I have learned them? Tell everyone a leather-suited cat-boy taught me?" She glanced at Adrien. "No offense, minou. You know I love the leather. And the ears. And…well, everything about you." She was still riding high on the endorphins from the dance, her body thrumming and telling her they weren't close enough. "As if that also wouldn't have tipped him off to my secret identity." She turned back to her friend.
"Good points." Alya mused. "Okay, I'll grant you a reprieve. As long as you two teach Nino and me to do that dance routine."
Adrien laughed, fluffing his hair. "It wasn't a routine. It wasn't even all dance. Some of it was fighting stuff. We just kind of…made that one up as we went."
"Adrien lets the music lead him, and I let Adrien lead me. So really, you should thank your own fiancée for that." Marinette said.
Her jaw dropped. "No way. That wasn't all an act? That was like, genuine? Like, you two were really just…doing all that with that very real sexual energy, on the fly?" They nodded, and she shook her head. "How you two remained apart—or clothed—as long as you did will never cease to amaze me." Marinette couldn't even bring herself to blush.
"Come on, the party's still going. Nino!" Marinette called. "Play us some salsa music—something we can all dance to, please!" She requested. Nino shot her a thumbs-up, then cracked his knuckles before kicking his guitar back into gear. Music that fell like laughter and pure ecstasy pealed through the room, and people began pairing off, enjoying the energy. Marinette and Adrien took a break, he leaning back into the support beam for a weight machine, she leaning back onto his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. They watched the swinging dancers enjoy themselves as the room filled with sound and heat.
"This was a good idea." Marinette said at last. Adrien hummed. "We all needed this, after everything. A chance to breathe and be normal human beings again."
"Well, to be fair," Plagg spoke as he settled back onto Adrien's shoulders, Tikki sitting next to him. The two had flown off to hover near Alya while the dance was happening. "You two are a little more than just human, now, since the Miraculous are a part of you from here on out."
"And you haven't really been normal in years." Tikki added cheerfully.
"Gee, thanks for that," Marinette rolled her eyes, but her smile didn't falter. "You know what I meant. And not just for us. They city needed this just as much as we did. We haven't really taken a full moment to celebrate anything yet."
"There was a Gala," Adrien argued.
"The mayor's party didn't feel…it was too close. There hadn't been enough time to process. And people were still dressed to the nines in uncomfortable clothes and shoes and shoved together with everyone else. No one knew quite what to make of it. This is different." She gestured at the swirling mass of colors and eyes and smiles in front of them. "This is about…celebrating life. Living life. That's all. No gimmicks or ass-kissing or trying to be someone you're not."
"Well said," Tikki smiled at her holder.
"How do you see everything so clearly like that?" Adrien asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You can take one look at a situation and see what needs to happen, what can be made from it, the best possible solution to problems people don't realize they have. You can take one look at a person and see what is wrong with them, in their hearts, in their heads, everything they try to hide from the world, and you help them. Even if you don't realize what you're doing, you're fixing broken things, always." Adrien's voice was awed as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "You can see it all, and you make it all better."
"I hate seeing things broken." She answered. "And I hate seeing people lost."
"That's what every Ladybug has in common," Tikki said, a note of pride in her voice. "We see suffering—darkness—and we make it right. We create a better world. That's what we are all about."
"So Ladybug is really the best of us." He said, as though he already knew it.
Plagg patted his cheek. "Not quite, kid. See, they can create light. They can create solutions, and they can build people up. But they cannot snuff out the darkness, and they cannot break the suffering. That's what we're there for. Ladybug helps other people selflessly, without thought for herself. We help Ladybug." He looked lovingly at Tikki, not seeing Adrien sharing the same look with Marinette.
The moment was broken by Marinette's parents walking up to them, a young man in tow—a young man who looked a lot like Marinette. "Rico?!" Marinette exclaimed, pulling away from Adrien and throwing herself into the newcomer's arms. Rico—as she named him—laughed and picked her off her feet, swinging her around. "What are you doing here?" She squealed as he set her back down.
"Rico is going to be attending university here starting next semester, and we offered to let him stay with us while he does some apartment searching and gets to know the city again." Sabine answered Marinette's question. "My dear sister is here somewhere, too, but I'm not too sure where she's gone. I think she's dancing."
"Who's this, darling?" Adrien asked, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Marinette's waist.
"Oh! Sorry! Adrien, this is my cousin, Rico. We grew up together, like brother and sister almost until my aunt and uncle moved them back to the Barcelona. Rico, this is Adrien Agreste."
"The famous Chat Noir," Rico smiled as he shook Adrien's proffered hand. "Good to know you've been taking care of the squirt while I was away." Rico had a faint Spanish accent, but it was obvious he was trying to hide it.
Marinette pouted. "Seriously? I'm not that small anymore. Do you have to call me that?"
Rico made a show of placing his hand on top of her head and measuring her in comparison to him. He was tall—about 6'4"—and even in her heels, she was only 5'10". "Nope. I think it still applies." He joked, making Adrien laugh.
"I like you already," the blond said. "Maybe later, you and I could chat about Mari's early years."
Marinette face-palmed at the stupid pun. "Oh, I think we're bugging her." Rico answered, and Marinette groaned. There were two of them.
Adrien was amused at the turn of events. "Good one," He snickered as he high-fived the other man.
"That was quite a show you put on out there, hermanita." Rico said, looking at Marinette with a cocky smirk that eerily reminded her of Chat Noir. "I don't remember you having any of that Spanish flavor when we were growing up. Or that coordination."
Marinette blushed. "That was all Adrien. Well. The dancing was Adrien. The coordination I got with the new a few years ago."
"Please." Adrien chuckled. "This morning you tripped over your cellphone on the floor where you threw it when the alarm went off, my cellphone which you also threw when that alarm went off," he ticked the instances down on his fingers, Marinette turning a deeper shade of red with each one, "Tikki who was trying to help wake you up, the blanket which you stole last night then promptly threw to the floor, the towel post-shower, and then ran into the door. And that was all before breakfast."
Faster than he could react, Marinette grabbed his wrist, twisted her body, and rolled him over her shoulder, hearing the satisfying thud of his body hitting the floor. There was a screech as the guitar stopped suddenly, Nino seeing the confrontation, but by the time everyone was looking over, Marinette was standing there looking innocent and shocked. "Gosh, Adrien. Be careful. Tripping on air, just like you." She said, reaching a hand down to help him up. There were a few small giggles, overshadowed by Rico's roaring laughter, clutching his stomach and bending over. Nino shook his head and picked the music back up again and the dancing resumed, the incident ignored.
Adrien stood glaring half-heartedly at his fiancée and rubbing a sore spot on his back. "Could you maybe quit doing that?" He asked grumpily. He was still grinning slightly, so she knew he wasn't too serious. "I mean, it's hot as hell, because you're hot as hell, but come on. Every time?"
Rico wiped the tears from his eyes. "How many times a day does she do that?" He asked.
Adrien seemed to ponder that for a moment. "At least three or four times every sparring session. At least twice every training session. And whenever I'm being an ass. So. A lot." He shrugged, winking at Marinette.
She winked back and kissed his cheek. "Just keeping you on your toes, minou. I'll stop doing it when it stops working."
"Well," Rico said, still grinning, "Do you mind if I take our girl for a spin around the floor? I want to see if that was all you leading or if she really has learned a thing or two."
"I resent that!" Marinette huffed, hands on her hips. "And I'm going to make you eat those words!" She placed her hand in his and pulled him over to Nino, whispering in his ear. Her friend grinned and nodded, pausing to adjust the tuning of his guitar. Marinette made their way to the center of the floor, the guests clearing room, eager to see the next show. "Let's see if you've still got it, hermano." She winked at him as they took up positions, her right hand in his left, her left on his shoulder, his right on her waist.
There was a pause, a few off-key notes from the guitar, a short practice riff to make sure he got the sound right. The pair didn't move, staring into each other's eyes with an intensity that would have scared Adrien had Rico not been introduced as her cousin—as they studied each other. Marinette was happy to know that she could still read his face enough to almost read his thoughts. Nino played a few notes forming a slow melody, drawing out the last note as long as he could until it faded out. As it rang, Marinette brought one foot around and back in a slow arching fan sweep, leaving her toes pointed behind her. The silence reigned, one heartbeat, two, three…there was a loud sound, a crash of sounds, with the suddenness of a car horn in traffic. Rico's hand slid to the small of her back, and he jerked her upright again, her leg returning to its former position. He winked as it was quiet another heartbeat. Then another few notes, slightly faster. Marinette turned to her right, stepping out of his arms, facing away. As the last note faded out, she turned her head back to look at Rico, an uncertain expression on her face. Another crash, and Rico pulled her back in. She almost stumbled, bending backwards at how close they were. Another few notes, faster, and this time she did the same thing, but to the left. Another crash, and he pulled her closer. Nino played a fast hook, fingers flying over the strings with his eyes glued to the couple on the dance floor. He knew what they wanted. Marinette had given him the sheet music when he went to Spain, telling him that if he left Spain able to play that song properly, then he had learned everything he could. He didn't disappoint. The key, though, that she hadn't told him, was that it was meant to be played while watching dancers. You had to understand the dancers' chemistry and match the music accordingly or the whole dance looked wrong, and the music sounded off. She was glad he had learned that technique. This time, there was a pause only long enough to notice before he began strumming a rhythm. It was fast and heated, passionate and full of longing, pain, fear, rage, love. Marinette and Rico spun and flew through the air. He pulled her into lifts and dipped her dangerously low. He was even more daring than Adrien had been. He was testing her, and she was passing with flying colors. The dance was about two people trying to come closer, but life ripping them away every time, about stealing moments of intimacy in between the agonies of the day-to-day. Every time Marinette was spun back into his arms there was a fierceness to their grip. This was a different beast entirely from the tango she had danced with Adrien; this one was a story. People were following it as raptly as they would have a soap opera, and she didn't even mind the attention. She couldn't focus on much other than Rico's eyes and remembering the steps they'd practiced years ago and reading his face to figure out the steps they hadn't. He had obviously learned a lot since they'd been parted as well. Their movements became more and more frantic, then Rico's eyes widened and he grinned, spinning her out, his hand leaving hers. She was surprised at the lapse, until she spun right into Adrien's chest, his arms crossing over her middle, grabbing her wrists and spinning her around. She beamed up at him, and he led her in a similar way that Rico had, only Marinette was not the same. She knew this part; every time he spun her out, she detached and flung herself into Rico's arms, not letting go until Adrien pulled her away. He would hold her firmly, almost harshly, eyes narrowing. He knew what was going on; he could read the scene. Marinette continued to duck and weave, but the time in Rico's arms lengthened as the song kept going. Her movements seemed to grow slower the longer she was away from her cousin, and the music took on a…could something sound so melancholy and so frantic all at once? So desperate and also so hopeless? Marinette's eyes watered, and her face crumpled. Finally, with one final swing away, she landed in Rico's embrace, hands pressed to his chest, looked at him, drew close, then seemed to fall limp. The music slowed to a sad, dirge-like crawl as Rico held her dipped almost in a complete backbend. Her eyes were closed. Adrien looked horrified and stepped into the crowd, disappearing. Rico looked devastated. One shaky hand ghosted over her face, before he bowed his head, forehead resting against her stomach, as the guitar's final notes drifted into nothing.
The room was deadly silent, the dancers still as the corpses they were pretending to be, before Alya whistled. "Yeah, girl! That's how it's done!" The crowd cheered and hollered as Rico pulled Marinette back up and hugged her. They both broke into uncontrollable laughter.
"I can't believe you remember that?" She wiped her eyes. "We were…what? Eight?"
"How could I forget? It was my favorite part about visiting uncle Fernand; that man knew how to play a guitar." He pulled them over to Nino and held out a hand. "You're not so bad yourself, friend. I can't wait to see what other skills you're hiding." The way he said it sounded a bit strange, but neither Marinette nor Nino mentioned it.
Adrien reappeared, wrapping his arm around her waist on her left, while Rico had his arm around her shoulder on her right. "I do recall now hearing Ladybug say she wasn't a complete beginner at ballroom dancing because her Spanish cousin taught her some."
"That was more…street performance than ballroom dancing." Rico shoved off the compliment. "You should visit Barcelona sometime, and let me show you around. I'll take you to all the good hotspots."
Nino narrowed his eyes, looking Rico up and down. "You're from Barcelona? Did you…did you hang out at Seis Caballos Blancos?"
Rico raised a brow, nodding in respect. "I've spent many nights there." He inspected Nino in turn. "Hey, you're the kid Old Uncle Fernand was teaching, aren't you?"
Marinette gaped. "You were taught by him? No freaking wonder you're so great!"
"Wait," Nino held up a hand. "Uncle Fernand?"
"My dad's uncle," Rico explained. "He's the one that taught Marinette and me how to dance when we were kids."
"You know Fernand?" Nino looked incredulously at Marinette now.
She nodded. "Of course. Like Ric said, we spent a lot of time with him when we were growing up. Oh," She said, giggling as she realized they hadn't been introduced yet. "Nino, this is my cousin Rico. Rico, this is Nino Lahiffe. He's Adrien's best friend, and one of mine, and also Alya's fiancé. And you haven't met Alya yet either." Marinette ducked out of her boys' grasp and darted into the crowd, honing in on the red-headed devil like a beagle, returning mere seconds later with her in tow.
"You," Alya said, breaking Marinette's grip and marching up to Rico, pointing a finger into his chest. "Now, those were some bold dance moves back there but don't think for a second that I'm just going to stand here and watch you steal Marinette out from under Adrien. I have worked to hard to bring them together and you're not going to—"
"Alyathisismycousin!" Marinette blurted as quickly as she could to cut off what she knew would be a very long-winded threat from Alya.
It was like a complete 360. Alya smiled brightly and threw her arms around him in a warm, welcoming hug. "Well, then, Marinette's cousin. It's nice to meet you."
"Are all your friends this interesting, Mari?" He asked as he laughed, pulling back from the hug.
"You have no idea. Wait 'til you meet the rest of the team." She said.