Don't care that it's well past Christmas. This has been such a hit on AO3 that I thought I'd post it here.

First-class seats. Champagne. Food of much higher quality than what was served to those peasants in coach. Comfortable pillows. Soft blankets.

For all of these luxuries, all of these distractions, Chloé's mind still wandered to the card tucked away in her purse. The card she had received just a week prior. A disgusting black card bordered in white snowflakes and adorned with two names: the first in red and the second in green.

You are cordially invited to a

WEDDING

joining the lives of

Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng

and

M. Adrien Agreste

to take place

Sunday, 1 January 2023

on the Champ de Mars at

one o'clock in the afternoon.

Reception to follow at the Agreste Mansion.

When had it happened? When had that worthless baker's daughter earned the spot in Adrien's heart rightfully reserved for her? When had she started drifting away from Adrien? No, when had Adrien started drifting away from her? She straightened in her seat and yanked her blanket tighter under her chin. Yes, that was it. The Cheng girl stole Adrien away from her. Adrien would never willingly abandon his first and oldest friend.

As for the when, that was easy: their last year in lycée. Late June, was it? Adrien had never shown an interest in Marinette before then, but somehow, one day, they came into class, arm in arm as though they had known each other their whole lives. Grinning, blushing, sideways smiles, knowing glances as though they were privy to some inside joke and relished just how oblivious everyone else was. And the puns. Oh god the puns. Adrien couldn't stop making one joke after another, all to get 'his Lady' to blush. Chloé groaned low in her throat as she kicked the blanket down to her feet. There was no way she was getting any more sleep on this flight. 'My Lady'? Seriously? Not only were they disgustingly obsessed with one another, but they had some kind of perverse superhero roleplay going on?

And if falling for each other out of nowhere, shunning her, and not shedding a single tear when she left Paris to study business in America wasn't enough, then they have the gall, the gall, to invite her to their wedding. A phone call to Adrien confirmed that he wanted to finally smooth things over between them. To mend broken bonds. At the time, Chloé only saw this as an opportunity to rub their relationship in her face. She had absolutely no intention of attending the wedding.

So, why had she deigned to return to Paris, to see her home for the first time in over four years? Well, she was long overdue to spend a Christmas with her father, who had decided to offer her an assistant manager position at his hotel as a gift. She snorted at the idea. Sure, responsibility she didn't want was an amazing Christmas present. At least it was better than her present to him: telling him that, though she had earned her degree in business management, even graduated magna cum laude, she had no interest in taking over the hotel. Ah yes. Nothing quite screams holiday spirit like crushing disappointment.

Chloé also saw this wedding invitation as her last chance to make Adrien see reason. Marinette had won several design competitions through collége and lycée, so her interest in the subject was no mystery. The true mystery was how she had blinded Adrien so. She was obviously using his connections, his influence, and (after the first of the new year) his very name to get a leg up in that cut-throat industry. She was nothing but a leech, a tick, a slimy parasite who didn't truly understand him or appreciate him. Not like Chloé. Chloé would speak with him, make him realize just how toxic Marinette was, then they would be together, just as fate intended.

...but would that be what Adrien wanted? Did Adrien want to be with her? If he did, then why had he chosen Marinette? Why had they not spoken save for a few exchanged pleasantries around this time of year? These thoughts had made her agonize the last week over whether or not she truly wanted to go home, to attend this ridiculous wedding. After several days of internal debate, she finally flicked her thumb across her phone and booked her flight. Marinette had obviously either bribed, blackmailed, or seduced him somehow. A lifetime of free croissants from her family's bakery. Photos of him having an illicit affair with one of Paris' five heroes.

Kinky Ancient Chinese sex techniques.

And that's how Chloé found herself on a thirteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Paris, with a two hour layover in New York before making the hop across the Atlantic. Fifteen hours crammed in a box (as comfortable as first-class was, it still felt stifling and enclosed) that would put her in Paris just before midnight on December 23th. Yes, over a week before the wedding because she would need that time to talk sense into Adrien.

A rough final entry, a minute of stretching limbs and limping on a foot that had fallen asleep somewhere over Bermuda, and a lengthy, lethargic trudge through the terminal brought Chloé to baggage claim and M. Barbiche, her old butler and caretaker, holding a sign with her name on it. The lingering taste of champagne soured in her mouth. Leave it to her father to send someone else to pick her up. Never mind they hadn't seen each other in four years, save for Skyping on holidays and their birthdays.

During the lengthy limo ride from the airport to Le Grand Paris, M. Barbiche informed her that her father wouldn't be able to see her until breakfast the next morning. Just add that to the string of 'shocks' Chloé had received in the last week. Not that she cared. Not that she had the patience for endless questions about her studies, her plans for the future, 'when will you get married?' Chloé slumped sideways in her seat, gazing out at the blurred lines and lights of the city as it passed her by. They drove on and soon, thin lines of white cut through her view. Snow. Perhaps Paris would have a snowy Christmas this year.

M. Barbiche helped her drag her bags to her old room at the highest floor. He flicked the lights on, rolled her luggage inside, and backed out of the room with a bow and little more than, "Good night, Mlle. Bourgeois." Chloé stood in the foyer and ran her eyes over the only bedroom she'd known her entire childhood. Furniture dusted, bed linens changed, pillows fluffed. Despite the warm colors in the room, it had never before felt so cold. Such a large room, so different from the apartment she shared with her friend and fellow Business Major, Melissa. Chloé would never admit it, but she had grown to enjoy the warmth and intimacy of a smaller space.

Chloé unpacked only what she would need to survive the night. It was already past midnight and jet lag was steadily catching up to her. She pulled on her red silk Ladybug pajamas (some things never change), let her hair down, and set an alarm on her phone for nine the next morning. Plenty of time to rest before meeting her father for breakfast. Slumber found her swiftly, setting in just seconds after her head met her familiar down pillows.

On the other side of the city, a pair of amber eyes rimmed by a forest green mask began to glow.