Chapter Text
Marinette woke up in the morning with a heavy weight in her chest.
No not in her chest- on her chest. Sleepily, Marinette opened her eyes and glanced down. Laying open on her chest was the magazine she had been reading the night before, the newest copy of Vogue that had arrived a few days ago but she hadn’t had time to delve into until last night, and just below that was Tikki. The kitten hadn’t been disturbed by Marinette waking up and so she continued to sleep peacefully, red fur rumpled along her spine. Marinette let out a sigh and her head flopped back against the pillow.
Next to her, the clock read the time in big, angry numbers- 5:03. Marinette sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, trying to wake herself up fully. If she went back to sleep now, she would never leave her bed and she had to go to work in a few hours. The idea of going to work caused a small whimper to leave her lips and the noise got her cat’s attention. Tikki’s head pulled up quickly, ears pricked and alert. Tikki stood up and stretched, putting all her weight into one paw causing Marinette to groan at the sudden pressure on her kidney.
The kitten walked on the magazine, flattening the spine even more. If it had been any other creature, Marinette would have been furious. Vogue was precious after all but this was Tikki. Next to Alya, Tikki was her best friend and Marinette couldn’t have gotten mad at the kitten’s cute face even if she wanted too. The Somali nuzzled her head against her owner’s and Marinette smiled softly. A hand came up and scratched behind the cat’s ears causing a purr to ripple through Tikki’s chest.
She sat up and Tikki skidded down onto her lap. The Vogue was placed carefully onto the bed next to her so Tikki could curl up into Marinette’s lap. She had to admire the cat’s ability to sleep anytime, anywhere. It was a talent that Marinette wished she possessed, especially during one of her sleepless nights. A deep rumbling came from her bedside table unexpectedly and Marinette jumped. Tikki looked up at her owner with only a hint of annoyance in her gaze before plopping her head back down.
Marinette stretched to unhook her phone from it’s charger cord. On the lock screen was a message from Alya. As always, Marinette grinned at the sight of her friend’s name. At one point in her life, Marinette’s heart would clench and her stomach would flutter whenever she saw that Alya had texted her but now there were no more butterflies. She had moved on a long time ago and now the name only brought a sense of comfort. Alya was home.
‘BIG SCOOP. ARE YOU UP?’
Her brow furrowed as she unlocked the phone. Alya’s big scoops were always monumental as she wasn’t one to exaggerate and so Marinette grew cautious at the text. The scoop could be monumentally bad or monumentally good and the message was so vague she didn’t know what to expect.
‘Yep I’m awake. What’s up?’
The reply came only a few seconds after she hit send.
‘Wait why are you up? You never get up before 7. Did you sleep?’
Marinette could hear her friend’s concerned voice in her head. She sighed as she typed out a response.
‘Yes mom I did. Now what’s the big scoop?’
‘Two words: Gabriel. Agreste.’
Marinette perked up at the sight of her idol’s name. Gabriel Agreste was the top designer in French fashion and Marinette had wanted to meet him ever since she had first discovered his designs. What made Gabriel’s designs so unique was the way he incorporated vintage fashion trends into pieces for a modern individual. One particular line took the full skirt that had been popular in the 50s and transformed it into elegant evening wear and casual skater skirts that weren’t obnoxiously large or heavy but kept that iconic fullness.
‘What about him? Is he okay?’
There had been a few rumors circulating the comments section of the bigger fashion blogs Marinette kept tabs on that Gabriel Agreste’s health was failing. Some thought that he had lung cancer, others thought that it was just time finally catching up to him. For so long, he had been the picture of health with glowing skin and impeccable stamina. Marinette had learned through careful online investigation that Gabriel Agreste never once sat down during his 12 hour fashion shows. Marinette had been shocked to find this out but at the same time not at all surprised. Sitting seemed like such a lowly thing for an icon like Gabriel Agreste.
He was an aging man though and not even Gabriel Agreste could stop transform time and make it work for him like a difficult fabric. Even he had to grow old at some point and growing old came with health problems. The two things went hand in hand.
And while Marinette knew not to believe anything said in the comments section, she couldn’t help the quickening of her heartbeat at Alya’s words. If something had happened to him, Marinette wasn’t sure what she would do.
‘As far as I know he’s fine. More than fine actually. He’s putting on a show.’
‘And? He’s a fashion designer. He puts on shows all the time.’
‘This one’s different. Check your email- I’m sending you a link.’
Marinette glanced next to her to grab her laptop but it wasn’t there. Her heart clenched in fear. All of her past designs were archived onto her laptop and if it was missing her entire being was missing. Marinette put a piece of herself into everything she sketched and there were so many sketches on that hard drive Marinette had essentially uploaded herself along with the scans of her designs.
She took a deep breath and forced herself not to overreact. Then Marinette remembered who she was. She was an overreacter- it was in her blood. Marinette had a talent for turning the smallest events into much larger ones. It was a blessing and a curse because while Marinette could turn Alya scoring an interview she’s been struggling to get into a party, she could also make losing her car keys in the couch cushion the worst thing that’s ever happened to her.
As gently as she could, Marinette shooed Tikki off her lap and threw the comforter off of her. She rushed from the bedroom with quick, anxious steps. Where was it? She scanned the couch and the coffee table but to no avail. Then her gaze feel on the countertop and her tight muscles relaxed as she let out a deep breath. The familiar red lid of her laptop winked at her in the pale morning light and Marinette rushed to it. She cradled it in her arms and sighed in relief. “Oh thank God. I thought you were gone,” she murmured to the machine.
She set it back on the counter and was about to sit on one of the stools by the counter when she saw the jacket lying haphazardly across it. A hand came out to touch it and her fingers curled into the soft fabric. Unintentionally, a smile came to her face as she thought about the night before. Adrien must have taken off his jacket and forgotten it here. She picked it up and placed it beside her, making a mental note to return it to him before she went to work today.
As her laptop was booting up, her eyes wandered to the jacket. It was heather grey with a simple hoodie and a couple of pockets. Upon closer inspection, she saw black cat hairs caught in the fabric. Plagg was Marinette’s favorite cat now- besides Tikki of course. Any animal that broke that awful vase in the hallway instantly became her second favorite.
At Adrien’s insistence, Marinette had called Louis, the maintenance man, last night to tell him about the shattered pottery. She had been sure that one of their other, more attentive neighbors would have reported it soon enough but Adrien had looked so distraught. Over the course of the year she’d been living in the Dupont, Marinette had gotten on a first name basis with Louis and she wasn’t particularly proud of it but it really wasn’t her fault that she had crashed into the ficus in the lobby that one time because somebody had rudely left their package in the middle of the floor.
“Marinette, it was tucked next to the front desk, out of the way so that nobody tripped over it ,” Louis had deadpanned when Marinette had explained the situation to him. She huffed, placing her hands on her hips.
“Well obviously, you and I have very different definitions of tucked out of the way,” she shot back.
Louis dragged her to the lobby and physically showed her where the package was, “this is where all the packages go Marinette,” and crossed his arms while looking particularly triumphant as she stared at the small alcove made between the desk and the wall. Marinette rolled her eyes and crossed her arms right back and refused to make eye contact. He may have been right but Marinette would never tell him that. Louis would have been insufferable and would have held it over her head for the rest of the time that she lived in the Dupont.
Marinette listened to Louis chew her out over the phone while watching Adrien gaze around her living room, Plagg still tight in his arms. Apparently someone else’s cat breaking the vase was her fault. He hadn’t let her defend herself before saying tersely that he would take care of it. She could hear him grumbling about stupid cats and even stupider humans before he hung up the phone. Marinette had had to take a deep breath to control her annoyance before joining Adrien in the living room. It hadn’t even been her fault this time but Louis seemed to think that she was the cause of every accident that happened in the apartment complex.
Glancing back at her computer, Marinette typed in her password and watched as the little wheel spun on her screen. Her background came up, a picture of Alya and Marinette in front of her parent’s old bakery.
Marinette pulled up her browser and opened her email. Waiting to be read was a message from Alya with a subject line that read ‘READ ME.’ Marinette clicked on it and drummed her fingers impatiently as the pictures and text loaded. The email was originally sent by Chloé and had gotten forwarded to her but it still set her nerves on edge. Everything about her boss seemed to set her on edge but emails were especially nerve wracking because she didn’t know what to expect whenever she saw one waiting in her inbox.
Her fingers were still drumming and she stared down at them curiously. She had a lot of weird habits- stuttering and tripping over her own feet for starters- but she had never been one to drum her fingers on things. Maybe she had seen someone do it the day before? Who- oh. Adrien had been tapping on her countertops and coffee table all night.
When Marinette had set the bowl of spaghetti in front of him, he had drummed on the edges of the bowl. “I still can’t believe you make this by hand. That’s crazy. Normal people don’t make their pasta by hand.” Marinette rolled her eyes and took a seat next to him on a stool. She placed her own bowl next to his and twirled her fork around, coating the noodles in sauce.
“First of all, people do it all the time. It really isn’t that weird and it’s a lot better than anything you can buy in the store. Second of all, if pasta making was actually an odd thing to do I’d still do it because being normal is boring and I’d hate to be boring. No one wants to be around a boring person.”
Adrien groaned and nodded his head in agreement. “Trust me, I know.”
She looked at him curiously, her fork going still in her hand. “Do people think you’re boring?” If someone had had the nerve to say that to his face, Marinette may have had to fight someone because that was so rude and also because while she hadn’t known him for very long, Adrien seemed like one of the most interesting people she had ever met. Maybe it was the charisma that radiated off of him in waves or the way he smiled brightly and laughed so genuinely.
“Oh no. At least I don’t think so,” his brow furrowed in thought. “If they do, no one’s ever told me so.” Oh good, she wouldn’t have to go to blows with anyone. “I just used to work with a lot of people that were so bland and unoriginal. It was as if every new person I met on the job was a carbon copy of the last person I met.” Marinette wrinkled her nose at the thought. One bright side of her job was the fact that there were new people constantly filtering in and out of the building and that most of them were there for an interview which meant that they had something interesting or important to say.
“That sounds awful.” Adrien nodded his head in agreement before taking a bite of pasta. “Where did you work?” His eyes widened and his eyes came to meet Marinette’s.
“Oh my God, this is amazing!” Marinette blushed and crossed her arms. She had never been good at taking compliments, especially from people who were practically strangers.
“It isn’t that good. It’s just some noodles and some sauce.”
“The best noodles and sauce in the entire world! Marinette trust me. I’ve had pasta made by some of the best chefs in the world and this is so much better than anything I’ve ever tasted. Your pasta has outshone the supposedly un-outshineable and you made it in the tiny kitchen in your apartment. It’s amazing Marinette.”
Almost 12 hours later, the praise still made an embarrassing blush heat up in Marinette’s cheeks. She had stuttered out some ineloquent response before shooting up from her seat, saying that she needed to go check on Tikki and that she had meant to do so right when she walked in the door. She hadn’t even told him who Tikki was. With a groan, her head flopped into her hands. Why did she have to be so awkward?
She rubbed her eyes and forced herself to lift her head and look at the computer screen. The page had finally loaded and Marinette began to skim it, barely comprehending the words on the screen. She had to look over the email three times before she shot up, suddenly alert. There was no way in hell what she was reading was true. It had to be some sort of clickbait- really convincing clickbait.
Marinette glanced around for her phone but it wasn’t next to her. She had probably flung it on her bed in her search for her laptop. On the way back to her bedroom, her eyes focused on a painting that was hanging up above her couch.
It was a reprint of “Belle Portofino” by Vadik Suljakov. Marinette had found the painting in a small shop hidden amongst larger chains while on a walk one day. Marinette assumed that the painting was set in Venice as small boats rested in the water, just below a row of colorful homes and shops. The array of colors and shapes and patterns had been what attracted Marinette to the image. Suljakov had captured the movement and life of the water so elegantly and in a way Marinette hoped to recreate in a gown one day. Adrien had stopped in front of the painting and asked Marinette about it.
She had been more than happy to talk about it and how she admired the artist’s ability. It was easy for her, talking about this man and the way he showed warmth through his strokes of lighter colors and distorted the reflection of the homes in the water beautifully. It was only when Marinette became hyper-aware of Adrien’s eyes on her that she realized she had been babbling. The familiar blush spread across her cheeks again, lighter this time, but still visible. “Are you an artist?” He asked with true curiosity. It hadn’t been a formality- he really wanted to know.
She shook her head. “No, but I really appreciate artists and all they do. I’m an intern at a fashion magazine but what I really want to do is design fashion so I’m constantly looking at things like artwork for inspiration.” At her words, Adrien seemed to brighten.
“Really?” Marinette nodded, eyes fixed on the painting. “What I used to do went hand in hand with fashion design so I understand. One of my favorite parts of my job was talking to the designers about their clothing and how they came up with their pieces. It was probably the most interesting part of my job. Well I shouldn’t even say job because I never got paid; it was more of a hobby required by my father.” He probably didn’t mean too, but a note of bitterness crept into his words.
“What did you do Adrien?” Marinette asked again, turning to face him. Before, Marinette hadn’t really noticed him purposefully avoiding the topic but now it was staring her straight in the face. Adrien was most definitely ignoring the subject of his previous profession or mandated hobby. He sighed and bit his lip, meeting her eyes briefly before having them flicker away to the painting, the analog clock that was purely for aesthetic purposes, everywhere but her face. The silence stretched on to the point where Marinette was prepared to tell him to forget and say that she was sorry for pressing on the matter. Then Adrien spoke.
“I used to model for my father.” The silence following his words was heavy with an unspoken sentence on his part and an unasked question on hers.
Silently, she debated asking the question resting on the tip of her tongue. He hadn’t readily offered the information so maybe he was uncomfortable talking about it. Then again, maybe he was waiting for her to ask the question. Maybe he felt like saying who his father was would have seemed like sharing too much right off the bat. She raged internal war until her gaze rested on his face.
His green eyes seemed to be in turmoil. Tension ran through his shoulders and arms that were now visible as he had shrugged off his jacket earlier in the evening. Marinette could clearly see him going through his own pros and cons list about something in his mind. If he was debating telling her who his father was or something else Marinette couldn’t tell but she could easily see that it was causing him stress. So in that moment, Marinette pushed aside her burning curiosity and racked her brain for something else to talk about.
“So you say you understand fashion.” His head snapped back to face her and she could see the relief clear as day in his eyes at the change in topic. His body language sent a silent thank you her way and she smiled up at him as a response.
“I’d like to think so yea.”
“Can I get your opinion on something?”
Adrien really did know fashion. Marinette had opened up a part of herself and showed him her most recent designs. She asked for his opinion and her expectations for his answer were low. He didn’t seem like the type to say things just to impress someone but looks can be deceiving.
She was completely dumbfounded then, when Adrien began to critique and compliment her designs with all the right words and an interesting perspective. He asked her about her choice of lines and complimented an asymmetrical skirt she had been playing around with.
It had been one of the most validating experiences she had ever had, having someone who clearly knew what they were talking about, look at her work and assess it with an honest eye.
Alya’s praise was welcomed and so appreciated but even though she worked at a fashion magazine, Alya didn’t really know what to look for when she saw a design. Adrien though, knew the difference between a circle skirt and a bubble skirt and could probably explain the similarities and differences between a bodice and a bustier.
That’s why her laptop had been on the countertop, she remembered. They had migrated from the living room back to the kitchen when Marinette brought it out to show him other things she had created. He admired her evolution through the years and said that he could really see a personal style develop in her work. The jacket that rested on the counter, served as a reminder that last night had actually happened and she hadn’t just dreamt up a neighbor that knew Valentino from Dolce.
Around her apartment, Marinette noticed, were lots of little reminders. The laptop, the jacket, her painting, the abandoned coffee mug she had forgotten to put in the sink the night before. It was startling, how easily Adrien had slipped into her life. She barely knew him and she could sense that there were so many layers to that easy going and charismatic man she had met last night. Even though she knew so little, it felt like she had known him for years.
The only person that had managed to make her feel the same way was Alya and the idea that there was another person in the world that could make her feel the same way Alya had once did left her feeling shaken. Without really meaning to, Marinette had put Alya up on a pedestal that no one else was supposed to occupy. Then Adrien’s destructo-cat crashed into her life and now she was left questioning everything at six in the morning.
As she did with most of her problems or major life realizations, she pushed it to the back corner of her mind to be dealt with at a later time. Marinette focused on the original goal of getting her phone to text Alya back. When she remembered why she was texting Alya back, a stupid grin grew on her face. An impossible opportunity was sitting open on her laptop and Marinette was still having trouble wrapping her brain around it.
With a rush of adrenaline, Marinette raced to her phone and unlocked it.
‘HOLY SHIT.’
Marinette hit send and collapsed onto her bed. The adrenaline faded as quickly as it came and now she was just tired. Major life changes tended to take a lot out of her and she considered the thought of someone encroaching on Alya’s importance to Marinette a major life change as she had never thought that it would be possible until now.
So Marinette made what she considered a smart decision that would totally help her cope with this possible problem: she tucked herself back into her covers, took a nap, and decided that this was something for future Marinette to deal with.
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