You couldn't compete with Alice. Anyone who had ever seen Gabriel interact with her knew that. She had been his everything. Even at sixteen, he had been consumed, absolutely besotted , not in that cute and awkward way teenagers fancied each other, but with the breathless, quiet longing of one who felt actual elation when their partner entered the room. It had been surprising enough from a boy that cold, and even more so because it had happened overnight. It had been like if someone had flipped a switch. One day, Gabriel couldn't stand Alice - couldn't tolerate being in the same room, couldn't be escape her advances fast enough - and the next, he had been smitten.

Nathalie, who had been twelve at that time, and a student of the same school, had seen it all unfold. She had wondered who had died and left Alice piles of money. There was no other sensible explanation.

They had been sickening. Sickening.

Before seeing Gabriel suddenly and inexplicably start to fancy her, Alice had chased after him for years. There was a rumor she had confessed to him seventeen times. Her refusal to give up had turned into a joke around school. She had been so bubbly and naive and optimistic that people felt a bit sorry for her.

Her reaction to the boy's sudden professions of love had been beaming, ecstatic joy.

Gabriel had been heavy-handed on the romance: the dates, the gifts, the flowers, the gifts, the gifts, the gifts, oh, and of course the gifts. He had smiled to her grins, had walked hand in hand with her, had listened to her silly nonsense with vivid interest. He had been dashing, warm, and loving, playing the part of thee generic romcom hero. Lie upon lie upon lie. The facade faded as soon as Alice looked the other way.

To everyone else, Gabriel was still cold and sarcastic and - quite frankly - mean. Unpleasantness was in his nature. He was haughty and impatient. He hated people.

There had been rumors about the reasons for his exaggerated, sudden sweetness, but Nathalie had been a bit too young to understand the lingo. She had heard one of Alice's friend tell her that she would "get dumped like a hot potato as soon as she and Richie Rich would do 'it'". Alice's reaction had been to giggle like the dimwit she was.

In retrospect, Nathalie suspected Alice had been slyer than she had given her credit for.

The romance had survived the honeymoon. As the months went by, the rumors had died down. Gabriel was showing no signs of wanting to "dump her like a hot potato". Sure, his Prince Charming facade fell apart at times but, even when he wasn't lying his way into her arms, you could tell he loved her. He had been good at concealing his feelings, but not to the point that you couldn't notice she was the only person whose touch he didn't cringe away from, whose presence ever so slightly made him relax. He would hang around his classmates so he could be around her, when all he had ever tried to do was get away from other people. He was crazy about her.

That had been as a teenager.

Nathalie had lost track of them while busy getting herself an education, and many years had passed before she had joined Gabriel's company as a young and promising intern. She had been the most promising intern of the year, actually, having bribed, threatened or tricked the better applicants away.

By that point, Gabriel and Alice had been married, with a child on the way. He had not shed the facade. It cracked and crumbled at the edges. It entirely vanished at times. It wasn't as exaggerated and theatrical as it had been in his teenage years. However… Four years of marriage, and Gabriel still played the part of another person.

Said marriage was shaking on its foundations. Alice was naive but not entirely blind, and Gabriel slipped more and more as the years had passed. His inability to bond with his son had been an issue even then, and the biggest of all. The boy had been kept away from his parents' screaming matches, but his name had been at the forefront of a great many arguments. Alice didn't mind when Gabriel withdrew into himself and neglected her: she didn't break, she poked him and nudged him until he melted. She found it more difficult to teach him, over and over again, how to interact with his own child. The lessons didn't take.

They had been breaking up, shattering, falling to pieces, and mending the pieces on a daily basis when Alice had gone missing.

Gabriel had dropped the facade. He had dropped emotions altogether, after weeks spent hands clasped behind his back to hide his constant shaking, after being questioned, and suspected of murder, and dragged in the dirt by every tabloid.

He had felt too much at once, showed nothing of it, and kept those new walls up.

He had let no one in.

Nathalie had not thought he'd ever try to recover.

###

Marinette still brought croissants, and macarons, and éclairs, and every delicious kind of pastry she could pilfer from her parents' bakery in the morning.

Adrien still joined her for breakfast, even when he had already eaten and was not hungry at all. He didn't mind. She was always so happy when he liked what she brought. Which was all the time, because not only did Adrien think the pastries were delicious, he really loved to make her that happy.

They had not perfected communication yet, but there was distinct progress. He had figured out that the topic of fashion made her comfortable, so he had stuck to that, until they had realized they both liked Jagged Stone (which they had discovered because Marinette was so, so, so excited about Adrien's father designing a whole set of outfits that would be crafted during her internship, meaning she could maybe, if that wasn't too much too ask, and if she was very lucky, get to watch the process). They had discussed the singer, and his songs, and his tour, and Adrien had wondered how to get his hands on tickets for his next show. He had no doubt his father would get him one, whether he asked for it or not. The question was: "how could he get enough to take at least Marinette with him?". He knew she wouldn't be able to get her own. Every single of Jagged Stone's shows to come was sold out.

In the end, he had asked Jagged Stone for tickets, and received four. It had been simpler than asking Gabriel. The singer had been more than happy to help, especially since he had been convinced he was helping Adrien "get the girl". Adrien had no idea why the man believed that was his plan - he sure had never said that - but… "Tickets".

He handed hers to Marinette over a box of croissants.

She lost the ability to talk.

After a few seconds, he noticed she had actually lost the ability to breathe and needed an intervention.

"Marinette?"

"GOOD BYE. I MEAN THANK YOU. Adrien that's so nice of you you didn't have to do that I'll pay you back thank you so much you have no idea how happy that makes me thank you!"

He smiled, a bit overwhelmed by all of the syllables, but glad that she was so pleased.

"It was nothing. I got some for Alya and Nino too, so we can all go together."

Marinette answered that with frantic head nods, until someone called her name from the entrance of the room.

"Marinette!" the stylist was saying. "We're waiting for you upstairs!"

Adrien's friend gaped in horror, with the face of the chronically late who realized they had managed to miss the beginning of their day when they had arrived thirty minutes early for it.

"Ineedtogo", she squeaked, running off. "Thankyouthankyouseeyoulater."

The boy blinked as the door closed behind her, then picked up the show ticket she had forgotten. He smiled. He pictured her blushing and flustered.

A long overdue penny dropped.

He looked at the box of croissants she had left on the table, the last in a long series of boxes of pastries brought to the office just to be shared with him.

"Waitasecond", he murmured to Plagg, his voice strangled by shock. "W-was that flirting? WAS SHE FLIRTING? OH GOD, WAS SHE?"

His Kwami snorted.

"How would I know? Does she look like cheese?"

"Of course n… Plagg!"

"I. Don't. Know."

"She can't have been flirting. I mean we're just friends. And she's shy with everyooooh. No she isn't. But that's just impossible. I mean if she was interested, someone would have told me. That was just her being nice. She can't possibly like me, 'like me', could she?"

He heard a faint noise at the door, and turned to find himself face to face with his father, who was gaping at his meltdown.

Adrien felt himself blush and pale at the same time.

"F-father."

Gabriel looked at him, then at the abandoned box of pastries. His eyes returned to his son. His consternation was clear on his face. He pursed his lips, clicked his tongue, and pretended nothing unusual had happened.

"I was on my way, I just wanted to say hello, since you were here", he said. "Don't forget about that photoshoot with Aria Rossignol at ten."

Adrien nodded.

"I-I won't. Of course not. Have a nice day, Father."

"Have a nice day", Gabriel replied, as he left the room.

The teenager sank into a chair and hid his face in his hands until the burning receded.

###

"My son is an idiot", Gabriel said when he entered Nathalie's office.

"Yes, sir", she replied.

Then her eyes went wide and she took that back. She had been expecting 'bring me some coffee'.

"I mean no. I mean, what do you mean?"

"I mean", her employer said, joining her at her desk and snatching two bobby pins off her hair without bothering to hide, "that he is having a great internal debate on whether Marinette Dupain-Cheng fancies him or not."

Nathalie clasped both hands on her head to try to keep her hair in place.

She had not been expecting this.

After his confession about his wife, Gabriel had kept away. He had worked, and worked, and worked some more, confining himself to his office to draw until he was happy with his sketches, then traveling back and forth between the workshops and said office. He had stayed at work late and sent her home early. He had not talked to her, let alone discussed his revelations. He most certainly had not touched her.

She spun on her chair and held a hand up so he would give the hairpins back. He frowned.

"I prefer my hair up", she said.

Gabriel breathed in, nodded, and dropped both bobby pins in her palm. She closed her hand.

"Thank you, sir."

The term earned her another frown, a tilt of the eyebrows, but he didn't comment.

They would have to discuss this, Nathalie thought. The hair thing, the name thing, the degree of familiarity she was expected to use, the degree of familiarity she wanted to use.

She fixed her bun.

"How does that make your son an 'idiot'?"

"Have you watched miss Dupain-Cheng interact with him? Adrien is so oblivious I'm embarrassed for him."

"Teenagers are by definition new at this, sir."

Ridiculously so.

"Trust me", Gabriel replied, "at his age, not only would I have noticed, I would have made good use of the opportunity. The girl is perfect for him."

Nathalie tried hard not to blanch, her thoughts cycling between "no no no" and "damn damn damn". It was bad enough that the girl had won an internship, and that she was now talking to Adrien on a daily basis. Gabriel actually encouraging those interactions meant that the "birthday gift issue" was more and more likely to be discovered. At some point, the girl was going to ask about that scarf. There would be questions. Nathalie would be out of a job.

She had prepared an alibi in the form of "oh my, the actual gift must have been stolen by some unruly kid while I was stuck in that flying soap bubble and the one that was left was just so similar to Mister Agreste's gift, I'm afraid I got mixed up", but she guessed she could go for blackmail, now that she had some material for a sexual harassment suit.

"Perfect for him?" she repeated. "I'm surprised to hear that. You don't usually approve of your son's friend."

"Which ones? The rapper who refers to me as 'dude', or the diva plagiarist? Miss Dupain-Cheng is talented and hard-working, not to mention she seems to deeply care for my son. The worst I can say about her is that she needs to acquire a watch. I think she would manage to be late for her own funeral."

"If one isn't 'late' for their own funeral, they are in for a bad day", Nathalie commented without thinking.

Gabriel stared at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. He was unaware she could joke (to be honest, so was she), and it looked like he was not sure her remark had been humorous.

"And, about the girl… You have a point", Nathalie conceded.

"I do. She seem to be like a really promising young talent."

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, the girl isn't going anywhere.

The assistant was trying to find an answer when her boss changed topic.

"Have the materials we ordered arrived?" he asked. "I'd like to start on the dancers' suits for the finale. I'll need cloth samples."

"They were delivered an hour ago. I'll have everything brought to your office. Anything else?"

Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back. He thought about his answer, but didn't utter a syllable. Nathalie knew the look on his face, however.

"Not now", she exclaimed. "Anyone could come in, and if I lock the door, the rumors will run wild. You have no idea how many people I have to deal with in a-"

"Indulge me", he said, his voice quiet and wishful, as he sank to his knees at her feet.

Her heart skipped a beat. She knew it was acting, all of it. It was very convincing.

"Didn't you just say you had work to do?"

"I just spent several days staying up until four in the morning to come up for designs for twenty dancers for fifteen different songs, all of that to hear Jagged Stone ask me if I could make them 'cooler'", he pointed out.

"I have no doubt it was very trying for your sanity, but-"

"Actually, I enjoyed it. It is my calling, after all. I haven't been this relaxed in months", Gabriel replied, his hand brushing her knee and sliding up her thigh.

She grabbed her chair's armrests so her own hands would not find their way to his hair.

"Then you should not need further distraction", she declared.

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her thigh.

###