For a day that had began with kisses and miracles, it didn't seem to have any inclination to remain good. He overslept and was late for his lecture. He smashed his finger during a practical lab assignment. Then there was the fall out from the lunch he had stormed away from. That conversation had happened in his father's office which always made it feel a little less like it was his father telling him off and more like it was his boss.
Every time he had a free moment, he sent text messages full of nothing to the number he'd assigned in his phone only as L. Puns and jokes. A picture of a squirrel with the caption, "Do you think it would be undignified to chase it?" Anything and everything except, "I miss you," because there were still things he couldn't say.
Sometimes he got answers right away, sometimes she didn't respond for hours. Whatever her day job was, it left her with less time for sending inane text messages than his did.
"Good day?" Marinette asked when he met her outside the design offices.
"No," he said, "But I'm in one of those good moods that doesn't need a good day. I'm a strong independent young - well, not a woman but that doesn't mean I can't use the quote, strong independent young man and I don't need a good day to have a good day, you know?" he said. She gave him a strange look and he realized he was talking to her the way he'd talk to Nino or Ladybug. That made him grin a little wider. He was so glad to have another friend to add to his terribly small list.
"Are you reconsidering being friends with me yet?" he asked.
"Not yet," she said.
"Give it another week, you'll get sick of me. Until then, let's go shopping," he said putting both hands on her shoulders and turning her in the direction of the elevators.
He was giddy and Marinette kept disappearing into her thoughts. She wasn't as carefully dressed as she usually was. In a building full of the fashion obsessed, he hadn't noticed that she dressed well until her shoes didn't match her bag and her sweater fit wrong.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked as they got off the elevator. He had talked the entire way down but she had looked through him.
"Do you ever wonder how things would be different if one thing was changed?" she said.
"All the time," he said. Ladybug, his mother, the miracle stone. How much he lost or gained from single little moments. Some good, some bad. He watched her as she looked anywhere but at him.
He led her down a long stark hallway. All that was down here was storage rooms. Everything from printer cartridges to extra thread to the show pieces from past runway lines was kept here. It was concrete walls all painted white. Nothing like the well appointed offices and workrooms above. He liked it because it was like seeing the side of the business where it didn't pretend to be more important than the rest of the world. Even fashion designers needed printers and new pencils.
"My mind is full of what-ifs today, but it doesn't matter. You were going to help me pick a dress," she said with a shake of her head. She gave him a big grin. It was a little bit forced but he knew all about putting a good face on so he didn't push her.
"If we really wanted to make a splash, I could go in the dress," Adrien said pushing open a room labeled Spring 2014-Present.
"Whoa," she said but it wasn't at the prospect of him in a dress. He grinned at her as she stepped into the room ahead of him. He'd grown up not just in fashion but at the top of fashion. Gowns that cost more than a car weren't something that even gave him pause but Marinette liked fashion. She cared about this stuff. He knew exactly what dress he wanted to give her but he let her go through the racks. Pulling out plastic covered silks and asking him before she opened anything to look at them.
"This is from the New York show in 2014," she said, "I remember it. The colour's called Banana Cream which sounds stupid but it's still popular. It's made it down to the department store lines too. I think I have a cardigan this colour."
Banana Cream was actually originally used in the 2009 Milan show, it just didn't catch on for a few more years. He had named it. He had been eight. His mother had still been there to convince his father that letting something go to runway with a child's name on it was adorable. She'd also had him a shirt made up in the same colour. It looked terrible on him - almost the exact same colour as his hair - but he had loved it.
"Not the right one for you though," he said instead of telling her the story. Today wasn't about his childhood, it was about her.
"No and you can't wear a dress that old to an event like this but this thing is a piece of fashion history," Marinette told him.
"Come on, I've got other ones for ou to look at," he said.
"I am not going to fit into half of this stuff," she said, "And not just because I'm too short."
"We'll have to make alterations but I know this girl who has access to the design labs and probably even knows how to use the big sewing machines," he said.
"You want me to modify one of these?" she squeaked.
"They're out of style and all for tall scrawny people, you can't just wear it off the rack," he said.
"I can't alter it! It isn't from a thrift shop! That dress is worth thousands of dollars!" she said.
"I got permission," he said.
It took a little more cajoling and debating before she agreed but only if it wasn't a runway gown. That was a little bit disappointing. A piece of him had wanted to see what she would do if she was redoing a dress like that. This was the girl who had once made a pigeon hat for a school design competition. Pigeon hats were not classic. His father's designs were always intended to be classic. As far as Adrien had ever been able to figure out, classic was another word for boring. It would be nice to see what someone genuinely creative would do with one of his father's designs.
He paused behind a rack to pull out his phone and send a message to Ladybug, "What are your thoughts on feathers as a fashion statement?"
"Your mind is a very bizarre place. I don't know if I want you to text whatever you're thinking anymore. I am going to block your number," came the almost immediate reply.
"Or you could meet me at seven and wear something with feathers. Like a boa or a showgirl costume," he sent, typing one handed so he could pretend to still be looking at dresses if Marinette came around the corner.
"Are you asking me to dress up like a cat toy? Maybe I should bring you some mice too?" she sent back.
"I do not eat mice but we can play if you want," he told her and then he had made it to the end of the row and he held out some of the dresses he had found for Marinette to look at while he put his phone away. She was lost in her own little world again. Her bag held between both hands but with a half smile on her face. That was better than she had been in the elevator.
She shut down three of his four selections and after looking at the hem on the fourth, sent it back too. She knew what she was looking for and he hadn't found it yet. He was scrambling to find a replacement for the gown he'd been imagining for her. Finally, while going through the mock-ups for an evening wear line that was only two years old, he found something almost as good. It was exactly the right colour but a very different style.
"You can change anything you want about it, but I'm going to recommend you start with this thing on the neckline," he said holding it out. Dark pink, not red but nearly as rich. Soft, floaty fabric. He couldn't picture Marinette in something clinging and she hadn't picked a single dress like that out for herself as she'd gone through the racks. She would look good in something with a dropped neckline and fabric that hugged close to her body but he wasn't getting the impression she would feel comfortable in it.
She took it from him and held it up to herself. She considered it in a mirror for a long time and then flipped it inside out and started looking at the seams. Adrien dealt in finished clothing. He had no idea what she was looking for.
"It's short," she said.
"But it's all flouncy, short is only bad if it looks trashy, this will look cute. Besides, it isn't that short," he said holding it up to her again. It was inside out but it was her colour and he didn't want to loose this argument. It hung most of the way to her knees and he didn't get why she thought it was too short, "Unless you're secretly a nun. You don't strike me as the nun-type."
"These, model boy, are hips," she said pointing, "And by some magic or maybe surgery, it could be surgery, everyone who works as a model does not seem to have any. In order to make it fit over my hips, I am going to lose length."
He considered that and then realized that in considering that he had been looking a little more closely at her legs than might be polite. He dragged his eyes up and said, "Well, at least they're very nice hips," because he'd just been flirting with Ladybug and apparently hadn't put Chat Noir back into his box.
Marinette turned scarlet and exhaled hard like she was trying to push her embarrassment out. She turned back to the dress, fussing with a hemline. Adrien dropped himself into a nearby folding chair and attempted to apologize.
"I might have been sending suggestive text messages to someone else and forgot who I was talking to," he said, "I didn't mean to be rude. I really did mean it as a compliment but I am very sorry. I will not say anything like that again."
"I wouldn't have thought of you as the suggestive text message type," Marinette said.
"I'm not, not with most people," he said.
"I'll go with this one," she said more to the dress than to him. She cut off the other conversation completely and he was grateful to have it go. "You're sure neither Stefan nor Elijah is going to scream at me if I start cutting it up?"
"The dress is yours. You can do anything you want to it. And if they do complain, blame me and they can come yell at me instead," he said.
"Thank you, Adrien, really, thank you," she said gathering up the dress in its cover and turning to look at him, "And I hope it works out with whoever you're flirting with."
She turned and headed back towards the door. He hurried along to catch up, turning out lights and straightening up as they went.
"I hope so too," he said in the elevator on the way back up and her eyes darted up to his face in the mirror and then away again. She was disappearing back into her own little world again. He leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder. She jumped and gave him a confused look. She wasn't that kind of friend. Not yet, but he really wanted her to be someone he could joke around with.
He asked, "Why weren't we friends back in school?"
"Because you're famous and beautiful and make me nervous," she said and then turned that bright pink colour again as she shook her head like she could shake the words off.
"I'm not beautiful and being famous is overrated and I'm not worth making anyone nervous. Especially someone like you. I'm incapable of having a normal conversation with anyone and my only major talent is my bone structure. You're going to be on the runways by the time your thirty," he said.
The elevator came to a stop and instead of getting out she turned to him. Her face was still pink across her cheekbones but she met his eyes which she hadn't done since he'd made the hips comment. She went from shy and awkward to direct in the blink of an eye.
"You're on your way to being one of the best at what you do and you're not even twenty five yet. And don't tell me it's because you have good cheekbones. Lots of people have good cheekbones. There's skill in what you do and on top of it all, even though you didn't have to, you're in university. Studying something with lots of math according to Pietro. He seems to think this is a reason that you're a boring nerd but it's not, Adrien, it's impressive. Don't let anyone make you think less of yourself. It's impressive. You're impressive," she said and then she turned and ducked out of the elevator.
They had stood there long enough that the doors nearly closed on her. Adrien was left watching the space where she had been as the doors slid back in and showed him nothing but a reflection of his own face.
