Better late than never? Maybe? Thanks for all of the reviews. Truly. I'm just a very busy human .
Marinette can scarcely recognize the person in the mirror.
Every shoot thus far has been a masquerade of powdered skin and restrained sophistication. Collared shirts, monochromatic color schemes and expertly tamed hair. The young man before her is debonair and casual. A side that she hadn't even known existed.
"You're positive that this is okay?"
Adrien turns to look at her, coif of golden hair tossing back in an oddly mesmirizing motion.
"You chose it. Have faith in your work." He advises her with a rattle of laughter simmering beneath the words.
Determination lights up the intern's face as she agrees wholeheartedly. "Let's get the shoot started then. I'll even bring a brush so I can make it look like you're makeup is being retouched."
"Keep it up and I might have to hire you."
"Just so you never have to wear makeup again?"
She recieves a troublingly sweet smile and wink in answer.
"There's that too, I guess." Adrien chuckles as he makes his way out and onto the set. Marinette isn't positive what falls into the realm of reality (because here she is, assisting longtime model Adrien Agreste) but she could almost swear that he'd turned to gaze at her one last time... then again...
She tarries after him and hushes her own imagination with gently flushed cheeks instead.
"And just what is this?"
The question is rasped so harshly that it drags across Marinette's skin like sandpaper. Suddenly Louis looks less like a harmless fashionista and more like a scornful fashion deity.
"Where is the sophistication? The bronzer? And what have you done to his hair?! Explain!"
There's a tug at her heart that cripples her ability to speak, mouth agape in uncertainty. But Adrien stands at her side with raised brows, reassurance quickly filling her speech.
"Gabriel Agreste expects perfection... a-and perfection knows no equal. Instead of the same look Adrien is known for I chose a direction of clean lines and subtle rebeliousness to represent the whimsy of spring. Not a look that the other male model could have worn, but something completely his own. So... I hope that you'll give it a chance."
"I was struck with disbelief at the sight of him, I'll admit." Loius begins with a soft 'click' of his tongue. His wiry body circles Adrien's, inspecting, a featherless buzzard in a frenzy. "But I see Juliette's influence in the neutral colors. And while choosing your own piece is cheeky, the pop of color harmonizes... Brings out his eyes too. Alright, cheri. I'll make an exception. I suppose the bronzer can always be photoshopped later."
The cheshire cat grin on the designer's face could mean anything; Marinette wants to believe it's indicative of surprise rather than a premonition of being fired for ruining the top model of the Agreste empire. She supposes that only time will tell.
The pair is led to a setup of blank white backdrop, tripods, and an area set aside for the main computer that Marinette assumes will be used for editing. Other than that the room is silent until-
"Mon Dieu, Adrien! It's been so long since our last shoot; just look at this!"
Blue eyes widen at the sight. Marinette recognizes the photographer from some of Adrien's public shoots (includling the one with little Manon) as well as the 'school picture curse' incident with Juleka a few years back. He's aged well, his attire modified to a black tee, vest, and sole scalloped glove on his right hand.
"Er, oui!" Adrien replies with the merest twitch of brow. It reminds her that while the man is genius, his way of working is as close to pulling teeth as one could get short of becoming a tooth fairy.
"Well this is a new look for you." The visual genius regards calmly, turning to face Mari. "Your doing, I suppose?"
A ball forms in Marinette's throat and she swallows around it, nodding vigorously instead.
The photographer smiles. "I love it! It looks suave on him. Well done. Now let's get this started shall we?"
It's the very first shoot that Marinette has worked personally... And coincidentally the most awkward.
"Now show me charisma! Freedom!" Shouts the photographer from behind the click of his camera lens. "You're a bunny rabbit skipping through a field!"
She can't help but cringe. It's even worse than when she'd gone through her first period and her dad had lovingly baked her vanilla macarons full of (very red) strawberry creme filling in its honor. She'd cried and he'd rushed to get her a chocolate filled croissant instead.
"You've been fed a spoonful of cheesecake, ooh, it's good! The strawberries, the whipped cream, the crust; ecstacy! And now it's been taken from you so give me rage!"
Adrien is posing typically but... Hesitantly? The emotion that the camera man is doing his best (and strangest) to coax from him is simply absent. Marinette thinks back to all of her old magazine clippings: a seductive turn of his head, a casual stroll in which he'd stared at his own expensive shoes, the one in which he'd been caught jumping high into the air with a wide smile. Where was all of that magnificent expression?
"Non, non, Adrien! What is the matter?" The designer-in-training wonders the same. And then Adrien's eyes clash with hers: a pleading gleam drawing blue eyes towards expectant green.
"Excuse me!" Marinette interjects aloud. She immediately wishes the ground would open and swallow her up.
"Oui?"
"H-he needs a bit of powder on his forehead!" It's a lie, but one with actual relevance that allows a pause in activity so she can make her way towards Adrien. A makeup brush and little container of finishing powder are gripped tightly in hand as she approches and begins a false makeup routine.
"What's the matter?" Marinette whispers as she touches the brush to his skin in gentle sweeps, tracing his cheekbones as if she were bringing life to a living piece of art.
"This just feels odd." Adrien confesses. "I'm dressed differently but being guided the same way I always have, and it just doesn't seem to mesh with the vibe of the clothes."
"But aren't you used to this?"
"Yeah," he sighs almost dejectedly, "I am... Though not really by choice."
In that instant Ladybug- and and by extension Marinette- remembers their talk at his house. The way they'd lain and whispered secrets in tones of insecurity and hope and awe. The thing that had brought him joy to speak of...
"Is there anyone you like?"
"Huh?"
Marinette repeats the question, accentuating the final words with gentle arches of brush to furrowed temples.
"Um... Yes. There is someone."
"Good." A kindred smile pulls at her lips as Adrien opens his eyes. He looks at her... (stares?)... and searches for answers that are written on her secret heart rather than her face. "I want you to think of whoever that person is. Will you do that?"
"What are you up to?" The question rushes forth as a sweet whisper that tinges the skin of his cheeks as if she'd colored them with blush. This is part of the reason she used to like him, Marinette reflects suddenly. This gentleness that's nearly too endearing.
"I'll be back in a moment."
A series of questions and squabbling later the ambitious Marinette returns with a look of triumph on her face. Her plan just has to work, she thinks nervously as she scrolls through the settings on her cellphone, prompting a bluetooth connection. A duet of piano and electric guitar errupts from the speakers of the photographer's laptop- the song Jagged Stone had written for Ladybug a few years ago. The rhythm thrums energetically, filling Marinette with a sense of pride and a quick pinch of anxiety. Adrien might refuse after all.
"Forget about cheesecake and rabbits Adrien." She sighs nervously at the very bemused model. "Imagine what we talked about. How she makes you feel. If she were here, would you dance with her?"
"I'd want to."
"Then picture that. Show me what you got. Just... Forget that you're modeling and let loose."
His blank face does nothing to help her confidence in the matter, so Marinette does as she says: sets a reasonable distance between herself and the backdrop she starts to dance. It's as far from serious as can be; she moves her hips to the melody but poses and meshes every popular music video routine she can possibly think of. It's a mess, and she's mortified, but the two men far behind them meld into her surroundings. It's just Adrien. And all she wants is for him to laugh.
If Chat Noir were here he would be hysterical, Marinette thinks with a muffled chuckle. He'd capture her in an armful of carbon hued leather and prance with her in what would probably be a very clumsy waltz on her part. He's a much better dancer than she would have guessed; of course, dancing was the last thing that either of them worried about when saving all of Paris.
Still, it would be ridiculous, and fun, and-
Marinette finds herself laughing and giving Adrien the sort of cheesy 'come hither' motion she'd expect from a popstar before jumping around to the tempo of the song's chorus. The model's expression transitions from open mouthed incredulity to fits of laughter that sparkle in the pits of his gaze. He begins to move tentatively and in that moment Marinette knows she's victorious.
"Walk towards me like you're about to make the best entrance a boy band has ever seen!" Marinette directs. Adrien begins a saunter in time to the music, running a hand through his back-combed hair and posing with feet apart, biting his lower lip as he pauses before her.
Wow, he's-
Laughing, head tossed back, the sexy facade quickly dissolving in the sound of it.
Sexy? Marinette tries to shoo the thought away, pick it up and shove it into a chest to lock it shut where it can't be found... But it finds a way into her breath and pulse, tingling brilliantly all the way towards her toes. What else could he be though, as he grins and beams sheer joy at her through every pose?
The soft, rapid clicking of a camera doesn't register as Adrien edges closer and consequently causes her heart to leap into her throat. And Mari would've forced it down and swallowed an oncoming wheeze-
If he wasn't clasping her hand and bowing, coaxing her onto his pristine dancefloor.
"B-but the shoot!"
"It's fine. They can rat on me if they want to. Besides, it was your idea."
"Not to this extent!"
"May I have this dance?"
As soon as their eyes meet Marinette is riddled- shaken and cut to the quick of her soul, really- with a feeling that he could ask her for anything and she would give it to him unquestionably. Nervous steps lead her closer to him, face to face. Suddenly there are raindrops and warmth and compassion cloaking them both; the very same smile he'd given her the day they'd met.
He leads.
She follows.
And they find each other through spills and tumbles and dips in which he somehow always catches her. The minutes float on, nearly eternal, until a shout from Louis causes the moment to ebb away like a moonset into the horizon, taking all of the magic with it.
"Cheri, come look!" The photographer becons Marinette towards his laptop excitedly. When she arrives he scrolls through the pictures beginning with the first few of the day. Adrien is expertly positioned but lacking emotion. As if he were just a puppet with strings being manipulated by the Agreste name...
And then the rest of the snapshots roll by, his expression changing, a flower in bloom opening to the sun. To her. The unsettlingly gorgeous gaze he'd fed her sears through the brightness of the screen and Marinette swears that it tries to inscribe itself onto her heart-
Onto a place where Chat Noir already dwells.
Just what the hell is wrong with her?
"This is perfection! Absolutely sublime! You certainly do know how to draw the best from him. Well done."
Louis claps lazily but smiles wholeheartedly. "He isn't wrong. I've never seen him exude that much energy before. Someone else will be modeling the rest of the line as planned, but I have no doubt that Mr. Agreste will choose this photo to headline it. I knew you could do it."
Marinette grins in the silliest way. Looks back to Adrien, who gives her a farway thumbs up.
It's a victory for the both of them.
"Marinette you were wonderful!" Tikki jumps merrily out of the little pink bag that serves as her portable dwelling, hugging against Mari's cheek.
"Thank you Tikki. I had no idea I'd get pulled into such a mess!" The heroine nuzzles her kwami back with a giggle.
"Well I'm proud of you. Always am. Oh!" In a whorl of crimson Tikki dissapears into hiding once more, signaling Adrien's entrance into the room where they'd prepped earlier.
Marinette turns at breakneck speed. Just in time to watch as he pulls the fruits of her labor up and over his head, the t-shirt fleeing along with it. He smirks shyly and she's convinced that the only way she could ignore the half-naked male is if she were drained of every drop of hormones in her body.
"That was the most fun I've ever had at a photoshoot. Even the ones as a kid were all buisiness."
"R-really?"
Does he not know he's bare chested? Why is he coming closer?
"Yes. Thanks so much Marinette. I know you shouldn't have had any part of this... But I'm really glad you were here."
"Me too." And despite never meaning to say so the answer is sincere.
"I think I'm going to keep the sweater. It's really cozy. Not as stiff as anything I usually model." He approaches her as he declares it. She can feel as her hip bumps against the vanity, instinct driving her to scurry further away.
"I used a really soft blend of fabrics to make it. It cost me a small fortune but it's as good as I could get, short of cashmere."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Me? Of course."
"Did you have anyone in mind when we were dancing?"
She blanches. Of course there was someone. Chat Noir: her Prince whose kisses are swallowed starlight and heart lies curled against her own. But then... She'd thought of him, too. Of soft palms and looks so sweet that they fell upon her skin like swaths of velvet. Of gold and green and glamor.
"Hm?" The young man in question prompts her. Searches her; for what, she couldn't say.
"I-I guess-"
"Marinette?"
"Yes?"
He slides a hand into one of hers-
Paralyzes the world and everything in it with a mere touch-
And confesses.
"That was amazing. You're amazing."
Marinette watches him gaze at the ground. Bite at his lower lip with a frustration she's rarely ever witnessed. Meet her eyes with his own.
"I thought of you." Adrien murmurs quietly. And it's disastrous; he doesn't know that he's unearthed old love and dragged it towards the surface where it bursts and floods and drowns her. Marinette shudders with bated breath; he reeks of sandalwood and dewdrops. Of a springtime that begins to thaw within her bringing newness to what merely lay in slumber.
"Marinette."
The name becomes diamonds scattered onto glass, every syllable a sparkling clash in her ears.
"I've thought about you for a long time." Adrien clarifies. Azure eyes widen as she watches him become something magnetic. A lovely begging thing of blazing cheeks who wants her as much as she once wanted him.
Wants him.
Because she now remembers what it was like to love him; like touching her hand to a reflection. Reaching for an image in water and watching it slip through her fingers. Yet suddenly he's here, and real, and-
Kissing her.
Peach lips meld to hers so tenderly that her heart shatters. She's sure that it has. Small palms reach for the smooth surface behind her and grip at its edge, bracing. Adrien merely presses his mouth to hers sweetly. Once, twice, never asking for anything more. But then Marinette looks up at him as if the universe has been recentered, and something between them shifts irrevocably.
Adrien's eyes lull, a smolder at their core as he barricades her with an arm at either side. Her breath is wild as he whispers against the shell of a blush-lit ear.
"May I?"
And she ought to think it through or slow it down but instead Marinette closes her eyes and tilts her pursed lips in permission. Adrien barely hesitates to accept. This time he sighs against her lips and molds his mouth to hers in a curious way that sparks the slightest buck of her hips. His tongue sweeps across her lower lip gingerly and a gasp is all that's needed to allow Adrien to kiss her in full. It's exactly how it makes her ache-fully, to depths where sunbeams barely reach.
The blonde kisses as if he were drinking of her languidly; tasting the edges of her soul. Marinette begins to follow the rhythm thinking it familiar all the while. She finally braves his tongue with her own and the hum that leaves Adrien's throat echoes in her skull and curls in her fingers, sinful and saccharine. When she presses closer the sound of her own voice is unrecognizable- a sensual whine that slips between them and stokes at something feral.
Adrien drags (she can feel each finger pressing into her) his hands up along her sides. Against hip and ribcage and neckline with a calculated depth that burns where they play. He cups at her cheek and groans, their lips parting with a succulent wetness. Marinette can feel the compression of her lungs- and heart and soul, crushing- as she inhales sharply; her skin registers the whisper of a thumb against the skin peeking at her waist.
Thighs are parted by the curve of Adrien's knee, his hands rising to the very edge of no return that runs just beneath the fullness of her breasts. The cotton presses there, searing, a whimper stolen from Mari's mouth as the heat between her legs presses at just the right place. The bow of her back arches towards him as she keens, and she's delirious, and his lips are so close, and the green eyes devouring her-
Are not Chat Noir's.
"Stop!" She manages to whimper against an oncoming kiss.
"Did I hurt you?" Adrien's golden brows meet at the center of his lovely face. There's worry there, Marinette notes as the gentleness of large palms soothes against her arms. "I'm sorry. I know that was sudden, but Marinette-"
Her head shakes fiercely. "No. I shouldn't be doing this with you. I shouldn't have even been here today." She wiggles away from her perch beneath him and the sudden loss of heat is nearly startling.
"Marinette," Adrien begins again, voice soft and skin gleaming. "I need to explain-"
"It's fine." The flushed young woman promises. "I have to go. Just... Please forget all of that."
Adrien reaches for her hand, missing by less than the breadth of a heartbeat.
Fighting back tears, Marinette wonders why it feels like something precious has been severed.
Why the taste on her tongue is suddenly ashen.
Why she wanted to stay.
"Maybe it's time you.. y'know. Said something?" A small feline shadow glances at Adrien through bright lime colored eyes. He nibbles at the wheel of offensively-scented camembert cheese between his hands before adding, "You love her, dontcha? What are you waiting for? For her to get away like Ladybug did?"
Adrien stares up at the ceiling and wishes that his plush bed would swallow him up. Marinette had been there for him unknowingly. Had brightened the most mundane part of the glamorous lifestyle he'd been born into. The one he could only escape as Chat Noir...
Whom Marinette did not realize was him.
When she'd stood there, radiant from their dance and pleased with her work, Adrien had forgotten. Gotten lost in her. She would think that she'd kissed someone else; that the wholeness of being with him was a part of her imagination. How long could he pretend? No...
How much longer would he lie?
... I'm rustier than a nail left out in the rain lol. TBC.