Chapter Text
Adrien wasn’t what you’d call a drinker.
At least not since the mid-season gala four years back where he’d low-key blacked out on champagne in an attempt to make the night end quickly, that is. Because now even the mere thought of imbuing alcohol sent up a red flag, memories of that hellish morning-after prompting Adrien’s mouth to snap shut in an attempt at pure self-preservation.
That being said, the boy didn’t need liquid courage to fuel his bad decisions.
Nope, he could make those all on his own folks.
Of course Adrien didn’t view the tattoo as a bad decision (he’d soberly sat through the pain of having it applied after all, slipping the artist a 50 euro note as he hopped off the stool), but one Mr. Agreste was another case entirely, having plenty of words to say on the matter.
Well words… and biting remarks… and finally the good old fashioned “You are the face of a brand” talk, but you get the idea.
‘Geez,’ Adrien thought, simmering as he exited his father’s study that Sunday afternoon, ‘you’d think I’d branded my forehead with the way he carried on. Seriously, there’s such a thing as airbrushing, as you well know Mister What-Are-You-Talking-About-Of-Course-I-Don’t-Have-Wrinkles.’
The teen made his way up the front stairs, not at all resenting his “punishment”. Grounding was just another word for vacation in his eyes, and being confined to his room for the rest of the day was nothing if not a well-deserved break for the over-worked model. Adrien grinned as he slid down into his office chair, letting his fingers glide over his left collarbone in recollection.
Last night had been fun.
Scratch that. Last night had been an absolute blast.
Last night had been the Lycee experience he’d been desperately missing out on since joining the public school scene, complete with friends, dancing and more than enough shenanigans to make up for his years of sheltered solitude. Never before had Adrien been given the opportunity to cut loose like he had on his previous night’s excursion… at least not outside of a skintight latex cat suit, that is.
Simply put, he’d had fun. Adrien had yelled and danced and swore and sang, and (unlike many of his classmates) he’d done it all while stone cold sober, meaning he could remember every moment of their outing.
He remembered excitedly boarding the partybus with a spring in his step, immediately falling onto the cushioned bench beside Nino as the DJ hijacked the aux cord.
He remembered Marinette’s utterly shocked expression when their raucous group had rolled up to the bakery, the birthday girl allowing her best friend to pull her aboard with a nod to the driver and a call for more shots.
He remembered Kim nearly getting a concussion in a freak stripper pole accident, he remembered Jeluka smearing icing across his face in their mid-market food fight, and he remembered Alya vaulting a chain link fence as she muttered something about superhero trapping.
(He remembered shaking his head in ironic fascination, joining in on her hunt despite knowing for a fact their group would not be coming across a certain cat-eared casanova that night.)
Geese.
For better or worse he remembered geese.
‘So many goddamn geese…’
Yet, without a doubt, the memory Adrien could most clearly recall happened at the tail end of their evening, when his friends where all either passed out or inked up. The tiny sting that now emanated from under his collar was only a further reminder of his “definitely-not-a-bad-decision”, and the teen couldn’t resist pulling the fabric aside to grin down at his new mark for perhaps the fifth time that day.
‘Father can say what he wants,’ Adrien mused, admiring the bright red ladybug stamped over his heart, ‘but this was most definitely not a mistake.’