AN: Thank you larvesta, qookyquiche, kvebox, and little miss jolie for some amazingly incredible art of this story! Check out AO3 and/or tumblr (username for both is matchaball) for links!


The floor washes up before their feet in a flood of light edged by cerulean shadows. On the far side, shutters unfurl their dark wings, revealing a row of monolithic arched windows standing proudly before them like sentinels. Long gold fingers stretch out from the glass to light upon beds of slumbering flowers, crowning each bud with a fiery halo.

"Whoa," Marinette breathes. She pulls away from Adrien, stepping slowly into a beam of sunlight. Each of her limbs feels weighted and yet each movement weightless, a sensation she's only known from swimming underwater. As she claims a space, dust swirls curiously around her in lazy loops, winking in and out of sight in glowing flickers.

The sun soaks into her skin, sinks through her roots, warms her from her very bones.

"Where are we?" Marinette asks drowsily as she closes her eyes against the bright glare. "Did we walk into Narnia?"

"Trust me, if I had that kind of power I would've used it ages ago," Adrien laughs. His voice sounds much closer than she expects. When she cracks an eye to peek to her side, it takes her a moment to find him in the light, his figure as sun soaked as hers.

"I've been coming here since before I can remember and I've never seen these magical windows," Marinette says, stretching her arms out. The heat twines around her like an affectionate cat. "What else are you hiding?"

"Alright, you caught me," Adrien sighs dramatically. A mischievous grin unfurls across his face. "This is my secret superpower: finding long lost windows to be opened."

She bursts out laughing. "That's pretty lame."

From her outstretched arms, her hands flex open and closed as if to catch the sun; they find nothing but the glittering dust. Warmth pools into her peonies until they seem to glow from her skin.

Marinette inhales. Her nose twitches. An impulse builds, and rises, and dissipates as she fights it down. Calm settles comfortably in her body.

Her nose twitches again before she explodes in a violent sneeze.

"Do your powers summon dust monsters too or- ahchoo!" Another sneeze interrupts her midway, following up with two more as she tries to wave the dust away from her face.

Waves of laughter pour from Adrien as more dust kicks up around them instead in a glittering whirlwind. Smiles look at home on Adrien's face, if a little rehearsed and performed at times, but laughter transforms him into someone a little more spontaneous, a little more real.

The change is stunning.

"You sound like a trumpet," he snorts, succumbing to his laughter again as Marinette sneezes monstrously in response. "You-you're so small- how…?"

"You sound like Alya," Marinette pouts, but even she can't help giggling. His laughter is much too infectious. "I'm just full of surprises."

"I knew that before I even met you."

"What does that mean? I swear, if Nino's still telling that story about me and that all-you-can-eat buffet-"

"He hasn't," Adrien assures her, though she isn't entirely convinced as the corner of his mouth twitches dangerously in amusement. "I just mean, who doesn't know Luck be A Lady? Your work is everywhere, on everyone. I'm amazed that one person single-handedly tattooed the entirety of Paris."

"Three," Marinette corrects, rubbing her wrist self-consciously. "Not just me. Me, maman, Master Fu. But I haven't done as much compared them."

"But the stuff you have done is incredible! I can always tell when it's your work." The rush of enthusiasm in Adrien's voice is unexpected, his excitement surprising considering the absence of his own tattoos. "There's something- magical about them. I can't really explain it, but your tattoos have this sort of magnetic pull to them. It makes it pretty hard to not touch everyone I see."

It's not often that Marinette can't find anything to say. Her gaping doesn't faze Adrien at all; if anything, he seems to brighten at her bewilderment. Marinette's eyes run over his face again and again, but she finds nothing to suggest his admiration to be anything less than genuine.

"I… uh…" is the only eloquent thing she can manage.

Undaunted, Adrien simply says, "It's easy to love your work. Your presence is giant."

Giant. Of all the ways she could've described herself, that had never crossed her mind. Her work is in the details, in the people, problem-solving wants to meet expectations. Her focus tunnel-visions into ink stitched into skin, into images and words unraveling to inform about the person underneath. Most times she only ever feels like a conduit for Tikki to work her magic through; but then again, it isn't Tikki that people thank at the end of the day.

Her throat unsticks. "Says the man with his face featured all around the world," Marinette laughs incredulously, her head spinning.

"I have help," he shrugs. "A lot of it. With makeup, good lighting, and photoshop, anyone can have a pretty face. But not everyone can do what you do."

The sensation of weightlessness magnifies to a surreal nature. The last thing Marinette ever expected Adrien to be was a fan. A very attentive, dedicated, adoring fan. She subtly gives herself a hard pinch, expecting the scenario to pop before her eyes; but nothing changes. The light still bathes them both in gold, illuminating the way Adrien's eyes focus on the glittering anemones blooming on her shoulder.

There's something personal about the way he looks at her. The heat of the sun on her skin is nothing compared to his open gaze.

"Well if the flowers you've given me so far are supposed to sweeten me into revealing my secrets, then no such luck," Marinette jokes weakly.

"You've been getting flowers from here for years. At least I know they all go to a good home," Adrien chuckles.

"Maman loves this place but she can't come by as often so I go for her. She's the one who first brought me here, when I was little," Marinette admits, a smile pulling wide across her face at the memory. "Didn't remember the windows then either."

With a sigh, Adrien sets the basket down onto the floor. Dust aside, Marinette reasons that at the very least the heat of the light would keep the pastries inside warm. She watches him slowly unroll up to his full height. He has the sort of grace earned by someone who often tripped over gangly, growing limbs in their youth. The way he runs his knuckles along the edge of his jaw in thought strikes her as a gesture borrowed. The heavy silver ring on his finger winks at her as it passes through the light.

"Mother used to keep the windows open all the time when she ran the Catmint Print," Adrien says lightly. "It's what brought father to her in the first place."

"He has good taste," Marinette teases gently. "If you want to talk about things that have a magnetic quality, this is like, the place."

"You keep coming back so obviously I'm doing something right," Adrien laughs. "Mother was always busy as a bee in this place. This used to all be an indoor garden, before we had to convert it to a flower shop. I used to play over there-" he gestures to the disused fountain, "-all the time."

Epiphany dawns on Marinette, making her gesture excitedly in understanding. "Is that what you're trying to do now? Turn this back area into a garden?"

"Ideally," Adrien admits, his small smile growing wider at her enthusiasm. "I remember there being so many butterflies here when I was younger. It was like I could touch a bush and it'd burst into a million wings."

"No wonder this place is always closed," Marinette realizes, piecing all the miscellaneous clues together. "No wonder you're always here. The flowers! I should've realized. Sage. Anemones. Catmint. It doesn't get any more obvious than plants specifically grown to attract and feed butterflies."

"Congrats." It could be the trick of the light but Marinette swears that his eyes are sparkling when he grins at her. "You solved me."

"Hardly," Marinette snorts. She squints up at him as a lingering question jumps through the hole that exhaustion has burned through her mind and right out of her mouth before she can think. "One thing I don't get is how you can be here for so long at all. Shouldn't you be jetting off to who knows where doing photoshoots or filming for a new movie?"

Her words echo back at her with startling familiarity; they ring through her head until she belatedly remembers that those had been Alya's words to begin with. Nino's voice follows up, reminding Marinette, "What he told me was kind of personal. Not even for you will I spill my guts."

Alya always said Marinette had a face like an open book, for better or for worse; so when Adrien looks at her, then blinks away, she hopes he finds her sincerity and concern clear to read.

"I want to quit; father doesn't want me to. This is the only compromise we could agree on… until one of us gives in, probably," Adrien admits heavily. There's a bitterness that lingers in the aftertaste of his words. "This is the one place he's never been able to change, even after mother left."

It's the truth, but she suspects that's not the entirety of it. Marinette doesn't push, even as Adrien casually answers the mystery that sparked wild rumours for years.

Alicia Agreste had left. Left her soulmate, who loved her as much as she loved him; left her son, who she had been inseparable from; left her nuclear family, the perfect fairytale, the happy ending. Her disappearance was decades ago, but the stress fracturing the corners of Adrien's eyes are much more recent.

"Your dad's crazy," Marinette says stoutly. Gabriel Agreste may be an iconic designer, but if he is the reason for the unforgiving shadows on Adrien's face, then he was nothing but an iconic ass.

Surprised laughter punches out from Adrien's gut at her blunt response. "For which part?"

"Take your pick," Marinette shrugs, grinning at his unexpected amusement. "You've probably got more reasons than me. Maybe enough to make yourself a million butterflies."

Adrien snorts before he tries to cover it up with unconvincing coughs, though his lack of answer is so much more telling than any other polite response he could've given. Marinette wishes she could make the weight he seems to carry vanish, but she settles for reaching up and squeezing his shoulder. The fabric bunches under her palm, warm from the heat of the sun, from the heat of his body.

It's easier, seeing him from the side. She finds better definition when he's not smiling like there's always the danger of a camera, when he's not acting like there's always someone else he's expected to be.

"I'm hatching them in my apartment," Adrien says. "The butterflies. Nino gets creeped out every time he comes over."

"If you've got a million of them, then I'm with him," Marinette shudders. The mental image looks like something out of a horror movie, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

"Even my place isn't big enough for that," Adrien chuckles lightheartedly. "But it's... a lot. It'd be worse if they were bees; mother loved them even more than she loved butterflies."

"You never got stung? Alya got stung once when we were kids and hasn't forgiven any bee since."

"Bees don't sting anyone who doesn't bother them. Mother gave me this ring too." Silver winks in the air as Adrien gestures with the hand bearing the heavy ring. Sunlight saturates the metal, turning it into a ring of light around Adrien's finger, though when his hand falls back to the shadow of his side, Marinette catches sight of the nicks and scratches across the wide band, marking its old age. The circular face set in the center rests a shade darker than the rest, as if absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. "She said it would be my good luck charm against harm, except I kinda feel like I'm the one who usually ends up causing some sort of damage. But whenever I think I've lost it, it always somehow finds me again."

"Sounds like luck to me."

"Tell that to the bucket I broke earlier," Adrien sighs dramatically as he bends over to pick the basket up from the floor.

"I didn't say what kind of luck. And on the bright side, better the bucket than… say... your windows," Marinette throws out offhandedly as she shifts to follow the sunbeam on the floor, savouring the way heat roots into her veins.

"Oh no," he deadpans as he follows her, and she can just hear the grin in his voice. "That would such a pane."

"I set myself up for that one didn't I," Marinette sighs, squinting up at Adrien. His face is only a blurred glow as he faces the window but when he turns to smile at her, shadows carve his face from the light.

"I couldn't miss a window of opportunity like that," Adrien agrees, chuckling as Marinette groans. "Would you like me to shutter up?"

Marinette's eloquent and mature response is to blow a cloud of dust up in his face. Adrien's ensuing sneeze only sends up more dust to glitter brightly in the sunbeam.

"There is only one kind of pain worth talking about here and it's meant to be eaten," she informs him, tapping at the basket in his arms with the stem of her gladiolus.

He blinks owlishly at her, sunlight lancing through the clear green of his eyes. "Are you- is this really full of food?" he asks incredulously. "I thought that was just to pacify Chloé."

"She's a big girl, she can handle the truth," Marinette snorts. She tucks the gladiolus behind her ear before lifting the basket's lid up, revealing a dozen flaky croissants and numerous little quiche tarts nestled within. The savoury smell of butter and bread waft up, made heady by the heat, eliciting a hungry and appreciative hum from them both. "Besides, I don't joke about food. Like papa says: no pain, no gain."

"A wise man," Adrien laughs. "With excellent taste in both jokes and food."

"I'll pass the compliment along," Marinette assures him with an amused roll of her eyes. "C'mon, you haven't lived until you've tried maman's quiche."

With the heat sinking through her skin and curling around her limbs, she wonders if she imagines the bittersweet longing on his face. He gestures in the next instant with a bright smile, and the moment flashes by too quick for her to catch.

It could be her sleep deprivation making things up. It could be him hiding in plain sight.

"I don't know about you but I've been standing for way too long," Adrien says as he steps out of the sun. Shadows wash over him in a wave of blue, gold cresting upon the edges of his form as he sweeps his hand to the table pushed against the partition. "After you?"

"Don't want to put some colour on that lily-white skin of yours?" Marinette teases, not budging an inch. She'd live in this sunbeam forever if she could, soaking in the warmth and light.

"Don't know if you can talk," Adrien returns, studying her intently. "I'm pretty sure your skin is lighter than mine."

"Wait 'til my freckles attack," Marinette sighs, rubbing fingers along her cheeks. She idly brushes across the bridge of her nose in memory. "They swarm in the summer. I look like I got into papa's cocoa powder again."

"You'd make an adorable pastry." It's hard to tell with the sunlight flooding her vision, but Marinette's fairly sure Adrien's sporting a cheeky smile on his face at the embarrassing and unfortunately accurate imagery.

"You're trying to bait me into moving," she declares.

"I would never," Adrien protests much too innocently, chuckling as she snorts.

Slowly, deliberately, Marinette stretches her arms up high, fingertips reaching to the ceiling, before releasing with an enormous sigh that sinks her entire weight down into the anchors of her feet. Tension releases in a rush, making her ears ring faintly in warning before her head spins.

Rest, her body begs. If she could, she'd grow roots through the soles of her feet and plant herself right at home.

With flowers opened wide upon on her body, the notion feels viscerally real for a moment.

"Ok," Marinette says, and she's not sure if she's responding to Adrien or herself. "Ok."

Motion tugs her body forward before thought, leading her into the shady shallows beside Adrien. Once moving, she doesn't stop as she arrows purposefully for the table.

She selects a chair and plonks herself down at the edge. As Adrien sits beside her and sets the basket on the only available space on the table, she raises an eyebrow in question at the enormous stems of snapdragons that stretch out long and plentiful across the rest of the table in a riot of sunset colours.

"Kicked their bucket," Adrien grins. "Get it? Kicked the bucket, like-"

"I just want you to know," Marinette interrupts with a heavy sigh, "that this sigh isn't because you make puns. It's because you make awful puns."

"I'll just need to keep practicing then!" Adrien concludes cheerfully. He laughs in the face of Marinette's muttered, "Oh boy."

He draws a long stem laden with crimson blooms towards him before presenting it to Marinette. Before she can say or do anything, he selects a bud with his fingers and gently squeezes it, prompting the dragon's maw to drop.

"I could snap you right up," the flower snarls in a comically high voice as Adrien puppeteers its mouth.

Marinette seizes the challenge and whips out the violet gladiolus from behind her ear, brandishing it before her like a sword. Adrien's face lights up as he takes up a similar stance. Even as he wields the three foot long stalk of his snapdragon, Marinette smirks as she grips her foot-long gladiolus confidently.

"En guarde," she challenges.

Adrien strikes first but Marinette is hardly swayed by the light jab he doles out. She bats the snapdragons easily aside and reaches out to slap him on the arm, laughing as he renews his efforts with more vigour. His next return rains crimson petals onto her hair as he sweeps up and taps the top of her head.

She goes for the direct attack and shoves her gladiolus right in his face.

"Touché!" Adrien sputters as he spits violet petals out.

"Though I be but little, I am fierce," Marinette announces, taking entirely too much glee in pinning his long stalk of snapdragons onto the table with her gladiolus. "Hah!"

"This isn't even close to fencing."

"Is that what we're doing?" Marinette hooks up a mischievous smirk at him. "I'm merely defending myself against a great and terrible dragon."

"Why is the dragon always terrible?" Adrien sweeps his snapdragons from under her, trailing loose petals in his wake. It twirls in his hands to stand vertical in the air, the tip swaying before bowing forward. "What if he- or she- just wants to be friends?"

Though asked lightly, Marinette recognizes the double meaning in his words. Or she thinks she does. She stares at Adrien for a long moment, trying to decipher if he's pulling her tail. Exhaustion clouds her judgement and fails to give her an answer.

"You know that's not how the story usually goes?" she finally points out, falling back on logic.

His somewhat sheepish smile softens his face into something younger, something hopeful. "I like happy endings."

She's beginning to sense a theme. "Idealist," Marinette teases.

"If that's the title my lady wishes to bestow on me," Adrien shrugs, setting his snapdragons gently down. Despite his care, petals shake loose to dot the surface of the table.

With his defenses completely lowered, Marinette can't resist sneaking in one more tap against his nose.

"I win," she declares playfully as the tip of her gladiolus sweeps gently across his cheekbone. As his nose twitches at the ticklish sensation, she continues blithely, "Killing a dragon isn't a great tactical move anyway. I'd prefer to ride it and have it be my steed."

"A bold move," Adrien comments, blowing the gladiolus away from his face. She allows it to topple from her fingertips and fall into the nest of snapdragons, scattering violet petals in its wake.

"I like to be on top," Marinette says.

The innuendo catches up to her a split second later and she can't say why her first instinct is to rub her shoulder, her fingertips tracing silver flowers. Ointment slicks her touch, making her fingers glisten in the light as she self-consciously drops her hand. The movement attracts Adrien's attention, drawing his focus unerringly onto her tattoos.

She expects him to reach out, to touch her. His gaze is nearly tangible already, raising goosebumps along her heated skin. Touching is always people's first instinct when seeing a new tattoo, as if contact calcifies belief.

He wants to. She can see it.

A small, dangerous part growing inside her is curious enough to wish he did.

"I can't offer a dragonback ride, but I can at least get plates for our food." Adrien pushes back from the table and stands. Marinette resists the temptation to blurt out a more suggestive response to see if she could incite a more flustered response. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"If you have coffee-" a yawn interrupts her right on cue, "-I'd love you forever. Water's good too though."

He snaps his head around to look back at her, green eyes glittering bright as a cat.

"I have coffee," Adrien promises. His hand rises up, ring glinting as his palm curves to cup around her shoulder, before stuttering to a halt as he refrains from touching the silver anemones. Laughing uncertainly, he awkwardly transitions to rubbing his knuckles along his jaw. His ring winks in laughter as it runs back and forth. "I'll be right back."

A hum of acknowledgment from Marinette follows Adrien as he disappears between the divide in the partitions. It takes her a few moments of listening to puzzle out where he went. She makes a mental note to sneak in an extra bag of coffee grounds by the front desk the next time she comes over.

"Nino hates that I even have all this stuff here," his voice floats back over to her, muffled from the screen. "He says I'd stay in here forever without ever needing to go home."

"The first thing Alya did when we took over the studio was get a decent coffee maker," Marinette recalls. "We're both zombies without it."

"You seem to be doing ok."

Marinette's hum is a partial groan as she rests her elbows up on the table and props her head up with her hands. She'd managed pretty well considering she only got a few scant hours of sleep the night before and a single thermos of coffee to keep her functioning. Chloé even injected a rather strong shot of adrenaline earlier in her usual confrontational manner.

Sitting down was the mistake.

A vaguely horizontal surface goes a long way for someone who has the talent of falling asleep anywhere at anytime, particularly when incredibly sleep-deprived. The snapdragons' heavy fragrance mingling with the heady aroma of baked goods lay a heavy blanket over Marinette's shoulders, as warm and familiar as if she were at home.

"What's a group of dragons called anyway?" Marinette murmurs sleepily, her fingers tangling into crimson maws. Soft tongues brush curiously, soothingly against her skin.

"A dragoon, maybe," Adrien suggests. "Hah, a dragoon of dragons, you should try saying that five times fast. Or…" The rest of his answer trails off as he comes back, two mugs balanced on plates and napkins in his hands.

Cushioned against her arms and crowned by the cloud of snapdragons, Marinette greets him with a soft snore. Her tattoos blend with the bouquet of flowers cradling her, her yellow dress bright as a sun. If not for her snores and the bead of drool threatening to roll down her chin, she's as picturesque as a fairytale princess.

The plates set down silently on top of the basket and the mugs light down onto the table with a quiet knock. The sound freezes Adrien into a pause, but Marinette does nothing more than murmur something nonsensical before nuzzling more comfortably against her arms.

Adrien's movements are slow as he unknots his apron and lifts the marigold fabric away from his body. He drapes it carefully over Marinette's shoulders, tucking in the loose strings so they won't tickle her. As his ring passes over her shoulder, a small shock jumps into his hand, jerking him back in surprise.

Marinette slumbers on, seemingly unaffected and unaware.

Adrien relaxes; it was likely just static electricity, nothing more.

.

.

.

Hunger is a funny thing, hollowing out her stomach and leaving her jaw aching, tender. It's Marinette's single, prevailing focus, which should've been odd, given the expansive field filled with extraordinary flowers she finds herself in but- well.

Logic works differently in dreams, if it works at all, so Marinette doesn't question it.

The flowers make a little more sense; they carpet the ground for as far as she cares to see, glittering in jewel bright sunset colours. They're rich and fragrant enough to appear mouthwateringly delicious, but she merely closes her eyes, inhales deeply, and tilts her head up to soak in the sun.

There's a tentative sort of peace she finds here. The quiet that prevails is both relaxing and anticipatory, as if the air is holding its breath.

"Hey stranger," a soft voice sounds above her.

When Marinette opens her eyes, there is Adrien, leaning down over her, his hair a halo of soft light, of pale gold. There is something about his face that she can't quite make out, that she can't directly look at.

She doesn't question this either; it makes its own sort of sense. One shouldn't look straight on at the sun.

Despite that, she knows his eyes are kind. They are always kind, even as she knows, too, that there is something burning behind them, here. A thought, maybe, or a wish, or a confession.

"Are you hungry?"

It is a question that wins, and despite the quiet of his voice, it ignites the smouldering simmer at the bottom of her belly once more. The hunger presses into the expanse of her stomach, restless and needy.

"Yes," Marinette admits.

She cranes her neck up towards him, to his warmth. There is movement, in her peripherals, but she can already feel what is happening. Just as she grows towards him, so do the flowers all around her. All the brightly jeweled blooms extend their thread-slender necks up, up, up, the petals around their faces unfurling.

"Let me help you," Adrien says. His smile is more a baring of teeth, like the greeting of one wild animal to another. "I only want to be the sun for you."

Panic crawls up from her hunger like a vine, creeping between her ribs and strangling her lungs. It happens in an eyeblink, and even though she can't speak, there is an unshakeable certainty that the fear that steals her voice is for him.

"Is it enough?" another voice sighs, and even though Marinette has never heard it before in her life, it rings a chord within her, echoing like a familiar heartbeat. "Is he strong enough?"

"We shall see," another voice whispers. "I shall see."

As more voices join in, the sunset of flowers shifts; the honeyed yellows and burnt oranges deepen until every bloom is crimson. Petals overlap as they grow, hardening until Marinette can see herself in the scales. Jaws open as dragons blossom up around them, fangs gleaming, eyes glinting. They slowly rise to converge onto Adrien, framing the sun of him until he is surrounded.

Marinette is afraid for him, because they are all her. Variations, of different lives- but all, one soul. Her soul.

Adrien doesn't look away from her, even as each dragon's jaw opens wide. They close in on the gold of his hair, the light of his face, but for how intensely he gazes at her, that burning look in his eyes, the world could be just them. Just her, and him.

"I'm not afraid," Adrien says to her, softly. "Are you?"

His eyes, green as spring and plants and growth, are the last Marinette sees before the tide of dragons overwhelms him in a soundless rushing crash. Light escapes their jaws in fragmented slivers, burning Marinette's throat as she feels it all swallowed down to join the churning feeling in her stomach. Pressure builds within her, but what escapes first are tears, hot with horror at shattering someone who only wanted to help her.

This, the deepest root of all her fears. She's never wanted him or anyone to know how it feels to break with the immensity of her.

The churning swells, growing and coming up through her lungs like fire- no, like burning- no, like-

Lighting erupts out of her, escaping her aching, tender jaw in an earth shattering roar.

There is nothing gold, nothing gentle about this light; it is all searing white silver, explosive, and destructive. It should break her, but the seed lightning within her seeks out the roots of her body instead, sinking into her veins and finding a way to grow. Marinette can feel it, humming dangerously under her skin, leaving her teetering on the dangerous balance between exhilaration and terror. Heat and pain lances straight through her, far deeper and far more intimate than anything she's known. She can feel the threads searching, finding the earth, the ground, the home within her to sink into.

Sweat builds as Marinette fights to maintain control, to find equilibrium. She can't find it, she can't quite feel whole like she knows she is supposed to- for what is a dragon without fire?- so she simply tries harder, with that infamous stubbornness and single-minded focus she's known for.

There is a little voice at the back of her head, soft but insistent. Let go, he says. Just let go.

I can't, Marinette chokes as the burning grows. I- I don't know how.

The realization instantly bottoms out her stomach and suddenly there is no ground, there is no place for the lightning to go but out. The dragons around her scream in all her many voices as the field goes up in flames, turning vibrant green into burning red.

All that tentative peace crumbles to ruin, to ash.

.

.

.

When Marinette jerks awake, her head shoots up from her arms. Her vision spins round and round in a dizzying whirl until she's ready to fall back on her face to escape the disorientation.

She tries to stand but the head rush blinds her vision in nauseating white. For a frightening moment, she has no idea where she is or what day it is.

Claws hook into her lungs and steal her breath away, leaving her dizzy with vertigo. A hammering beat registers itself, pounding fiercely in her ears, reverberating through her body, and her heart roars up against the shell of her ribcage like-

"Thunder," Marinette whispers. "A thunder of dragons."

"Hey." A voice breaks through her haze, warm and striking as light. "Marinette. Hey, are you ok?"

It's a good question, and not one she has an answer to. Her head aches fiercely as her hands come up instinctively to clutch at the fabric slipping down her shoulders. As she draws it close around her, awareness slowly catches up, placing her more firmly in reality.

It's a shaky hold. She turns her gaze to the fabric held in her fingers as if she could find an answer within its folds, and is confused by the marigold colour that she finds instead. She follows a dangling string down to her lap and finds even more yellow there.

Marinette wonders if she became the sun.

Panic balloons in her chest as her mind skips back to her dream and the dragons converging in an overwhelming tide. She remembers burning. But in the midst of that, she remembers something gentle and nurturing. Something green, and kind.

"Hey." Adrien's voice quietly threads through her disjointed thoughts. "Take it easy. I've got you."

His gloved hands wrap around her shoulders comfortingly, his fingers spanning over her back like wings. There are enough layers between his skin and her tattoos that she feels nothing but the slight pressure of his weight, bridging to the warmth of his presence.

Adrien frames her space, cups himself around her in a way that protects and also respects her boundaries. He's always been so careful about that. He takes his cues from her, which is why she doesn't think twice about reaching up in the space between them to his hair, drawn to the beads of water misted along the edges. A blurry halo of light hovers just before her fingertips.

His eyes, green and luminous, watch her movements intently. Marinette half expects him to bolt or to purr.

"Was it raining?" she asks, her tired mind sluggishly missing the dots to connect. There had been lightning after all. Thunder still drums in her chest.

"Accident with the sprinkler system," Adrien admits. "I had to drop what I was holding when I ran to turn it off."

His sigh draws her gaze down the smears of dirt across his shirt. She follows a trail of breadcrumbs down to his pants where it takes her several very long moments to realize that she is, embarrassingly, staring at his crotch once more, and that he's missing-

"Your apron," Marinette realizes.

"Gave it up for a worthy cause." His gloved hands tug the edges of the fabric around her shoulders and the pieces finally fall into place.

Her eyes close in an attempt to refocus herself, but despite the catnap she just took, the action only invites her to succumb to sleep once again. She's tempted. The few hours of sleep in the past two days leave her bone tired, and the alarmingly vivid dreams- nightmares?- she finds when she does sleep is not at all restful.

Exhaustion sharpens her anxiety and amplifies her irritation. Marinette inhales, slowly, deeply, and tries to anchor herself to the fragrance of flowers instead.

It's Adrien, she realizes. The flower shop too, but also him. He doesn't smell like she expects him to: no expensive cologne, no chemical hairspray, nothing that would mark him as the lauded celebrity that she knows him to be.

He smells a little more like earth, a little more like rain. A little more human than she anticipates.

Marinette tugs the apron closer around her shoulder as she unconsciously leans into him. Another inhale brings the scent of dirt and flowers once more. But underneath, faint enough to be nearly indiscernible, faint enough that she wonders if she's imagining it, lies an underlying tang of metal, of heat.

It reminds of her of storms, and lightning, and fire, burning.

"Are you feeling ok?" Adrien asks, leaning into her as well. "You look like you might have a fever."

"I'm fine," Marinette snaps. Her tattoos bristle on her skin at his proximity, as if tasting the air and finding it charged.

Her effect is immediate; Adrien drops away, and the loss of his heat leaves her cold. Before she can apologize or explain herself, he takes a mug from the table and pushes it into her hands.

"You'd be more fine if you rested up in an actual bed somewhere," Adrien counters firmly. "You don't look so good."

"Flatterer," Marinette mutters. Petulance never looks good on her, but it's a knee-jerk reaction whenever she's called out on something. To cover her pout, she glances at the mug, finds water instead of the coffee she hoped for, and resigns herself to taking a sip.

"Only if it'll get you into bed," Adrien says, looking pleased as she downs the mug. As she chokes, he colours at his words and backtracks hurriedly, "Not in- I mean-"

"Pretty bold of you," Marinette teases despite the bright red of her face. She chances a glance at him and finds his cheeks similarly flushed. "But the quickest way to the heart is through the stomach."

She can't help but laugh as Adrien's face reddens further when she looks pointedly at the partially opened basket next to her. Crumbs and leftover quiche crust on a plate implicate him further.

"Bread-er believe it," Adrien jokes, chuckling as Marinette thunks her head down on the table with a groan. "Seems like you're better at buttering me up."

"As the daughter of two bakers, you won't have any jokes that I haven't heard before," Marinette says, her voice muffled by the table beneath her. Her head lolls to the side as she presses her cheek against the cool wood, soothing her headache. "I know them all."

"Ah, but you don't know me," Adrien grins.

Fatigue peels her levity away, leaving behind a lingering thought that she can't shake.

"I don't," Marinette admits. She looks up at him and frowns in quiet thought. "But why does it feel like I've always known you anyway?"

Adrien tilts his head in question at her before slowly sitting down in his chair. The thought in his clear green eyes reassures her that she's not crazy, that at some level, he understands.

"You've been coming here for a long time right?" Adrien reasons. "Maybe we knew each other, before."

Reasonable and logical, but not exactly what she meant. There's a compulsion to Adrien Agreste that's familiar, as if 'before' isn't from knowing each other as children, but knowing each other from a time ago, in another life. There is an easiness with him that suggests they are very, very old friends.

"Right," Marinette murmurs. "From… before."

She knows, that pride and confidence sometimes has her walking through life with her fists up, ready to prove herself, ready to fight for what she thinks is right. Except Adrien never does what she expects, and her first instinct isn't to throw a punch but to uncurl her hands and accept his.

It spooks her.

Marinette's never needed anyone else to help her, never wanted it; she is proud of how capable she is, how she will always find the solution. Except each time they meet catalyzes a change she doesn't expect, a decision she's not sure is entirely hers. There is a lack of control she experiences with his person that is so far removed from the surety of every other body that she's touched.

Her peonies prickle upon her hypersensitive skin. Her hands curl with the intense desire to cradle Tikki, to gain that control back.

"You know," Marinette blurts out, "I actually don't feel too great, you're right. I think maybe I will go back."

"Oh, ok." Adrien rises automatically from his seat and hovers uncertainly. "Want me to call Alya? Or bus with you?"

"No!" Her response is lightning quick and too sharp. Stifling a noise of frustration at herself, she softens, "No, it's- I'm totally fine. I'm ok on my own."

The look on Adrien's face tells her he's not entirely convinced, but this time he doesn't push. "If you're sure…"

"Yup. Absolutely. Definitely," Marinette insists as she stands. She should've known what would happen, but the sudden head rush still takes her by surprise as her vision spins and her ears ring. Her head pounds angrily at her carelessness.

Then as suddenly as it comes, it goes. Her ears still ring and her heart still thunders, but Marinette catches herself by the table and straightens up before Adrien can brace her. His outstretched hands, gloved in soft butter yellow stained brown with dirt, drift out of reach from the peonies on her wrist but she steps further away from his touch.

"Totally got this," Marinette repeats. "Look how how much I've got this."

Determined, she spins around on her heel and strides to the front. Despite her speed, Adrien catches up easily, his long legs eating up the ground in his haste to follow her. In the light, sun-soaked day that greets them both, Marinette sighs as the heat wraps comfortingly around her before it sinks into her head and lances straight through her headache. She winces, her fingers tightening on the edges of the apron around her shoulders until her knuckles glare white.

"I could call a taxi," Adrien suggests, looking over her in concern as his hand rests on the front door. "Don't worry about paying, I can cover it."

"My place isn't far; I'm good walking," Marinette counters stubbornly. Dimly, her mind wails at the missed opportunity but pride muffles it in an instant. "Thanks for the company. Sorry I fell asleep on you."

"Hey." Adrien softens in that instant, his smile understanding. "You work hard. Just remember to take care of yourself… but thanks for taking the time to see me."

His quiet gratitude pulls Marinette out of her head to really look at him, with his kind green eyes riveted on her and his eagerness to help the moment she even thinks of asking something, anything from him.

"Anytime," Marinette replies without hesitation. "I'm always happy to see you."

His face lights up in nuances, from the smile that tucks up all the way to the corners of his cheeks, to the curve of his eyebrows as they lift up. Marinette is momentarily dazzled. If she knew those words would make Adrien glow so warmly, she'd say them all the time to him.

"I'm always happy to see you too," he chuckles. His hand pushes and the door opens. "And just this once, I'm happier to see you leave. You sure you're not going to pass out getting home?"

"I'll be fine," Marinette assures as she breezes by him and through the door. A few steps out prompts her to look back where she spots Adrien leaning against the door and watching her progress.

"Still fine!" she calls as she walks backwards down the sidewalk. A startled yell jolts her attention around, catching her just in time to narrowly dodge a collision with an old man and then a mother pushing a stroller; pure luck and unexpected grace keeps her on her feet, and the pedestrians safe from her inattention.

When she's steady again, she can see Adrien laughing even as he falls back to reopen the door to head back inside. It doesn't surprise her that he instinctively moved forward to help her; if anything, she appreciates having someone to watch her back.

Marinette catches his eye before sending a double thumbs up. Before she can cause any more accidents, she turns back around, refocuses her attention to the direction of home, and resolutely goes forth, even as a feeling in her gut tugs her back to the flower shop, back to Adrien.

Of the hundreds of people that she's met and touched, how is he any different? She only knows that getting close to Adrien brings her peace and pain, and it's a coin's toss as to how which way the balance will tip.

Marinette doesn't have any answers; but she knows a place that just might. It's been awhile since she's visited home, and her parents' advice has never failed her before.

A tickling on her arm draws her attention to the apron string waving in the breeze, prompting two exasperating realizations.

I should return Adrien's apron and get maman's basket back.

Marinette groans tiredly before she trips and almost faceplants down the metro steps.

But first... sleep.


AN2: ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_ We meet again!

I'm so sorry for how long this chapter took me! School started up for me again about a month ago and I've been preparing for a significant animation conference happening in November (if you're also going to CTN, let me know! :D).

This was actually meant to go in an entirely different direction until I realized halfway that it wouldn't work at all; I scrapped, I rewrote, I scrapped again. Then I had to go back to the entire outline of the story and replan everything from this chapter out... so it was a confusing time, to say the least! I wouldn't be surprised if this chapter reflects a lot of that indecision; I wrote this in so many chunks and scraps stitched together that I had a difficult time maintaining clarity and coherency. So please, definitely let me know if you find anything confusing!

Happy reading, and thank you for the amazingly supportive and kind messages from last chapter :')

EDIT 09/23/2017: Rewrote the dream and polished some bits that were really annoying me.