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...But the big story of this fashion week is, once again, where is Adrien Agreste? As at the New York show two months ago, the supermodel millionaire playboy and heir of the Gabrielfashion empire hasn’t been seen at any of the pre-show events or with any of his usual ‘partners-in-crime’ at their raucous late-night parties. The abrupt departure from his prodigal lifestyle began months ago, and has generated speculation about his health, though his publicist vehemently denies any illness and his father, Gabriel Agreste, has assured the press that Adrien will be present at the Gabriel event later next week…
Marinette watched the television uneasily from her couch, her brow furrowed in concern. Looking down at the handsome, peaceful face of the man resting his head in her lap, she carded her fingers through his silky blond hair, drawing comfort from the purr-like rumble of contentment the activity drew from his chest.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but worry. The report was now showing older paparazzi shots of Adrien, dressed impeccably and supporting a gorgeous celebrity model or two at some A-list party and then backstage at a big concert. The contrast between the bright lights and high glamour in those photos and the quiet atmosphere of her small apartment, dimly lit in the Parisian evening, was striking.
“Kitty?” she whispered, uncertain if he was asleep and unwilling to wake him if he was.
The smile that bloomed on his face gave her the answer. He really did seem to love when she called him that.
“Mmm, yeah Bug?”
She hesitated.
It had been 8 months since Marinette had looked over the last round of media shots of Adrien at a club in London and resigned herself to the fact that she was never going to fit into his life. He had been good looking as a teenager, obviously, but at 22 the man had grown into a full-on Adonis. Tall and broad shouldered, his hair a little longer and his jaw more chiseled, Adrien AgresteTM was the hottest model in the fashion scene, and his constant presence at the most important events and the most scandalous parties ensured that both the Gabriel brand and his own independent career were only headed for the stratosphere. Despite her own flourishing career and physical “maturity”, Marinette couldn’t keep up, and frankly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
It had taken some time and effort, but she was eventually able to move on from her long-time pining, and had gradually begun to look at her funny, kind, adoring partner in a new light. It was now 6 months since Ladybug and Chat Noir had first started dating, and 4 since they had revealed themselves to each other, both of them laughing at the ridiculousness of their twisted situation. Since then, Adrien had completely dropped out of the fast-lane life he had been living, and now spent every possible minute in Marinette’s small student apartment, sometimes working on his own classwork, but often just sitting quietly nearby while she worked on her projects.
And that concerned her.
“I can hear you worrying, Princess. What’s wrong?”
“Are… are you happy?”
He opened his eyes, their bright green seeming to glow in the dim light as he looked up at her curiously.
“Of course, My Lady, why do you ask?”
Marinette gestured vaguely towards the television with her chin, the low volume of the report continuing to discuss Adrien’s absence from the Milan event, further highlighting the differences in that world of haute couture from their own quiet evening.
“I don’t know, it’s just… my little apartment seems so small compared with all that, and I feel like... like maybe I’m hurting your career.”
Adrien turned towards the screen as she was talking, where the reporter was now interviewing the season’s new hot model, but still had a picture of Adrien at a club in the upper corner. He grunted in understanding, and turned back into her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“I just… I don’t want you to feel like you’ve lost something by being with me,” Marinette continued.
“Oh no, Princess. No no no no no, you’ve got it all wrong.” Adrien sat up and pulled her into his lap, nuzzling his face into her neck as he held her close to him. He breathed in happily against her skin and sighed.
“My Lady, you’ve got to understand. I did the ‘millionaire party boy’ scene for 4 years, because that was what was expected of me and I didn’t have any reason not to. I was supposed to be an ‘influencer’, after all.”
Marinette could hear his eye-roll at the term. He sighed into her neck again, and she wrapped her arms around him to dig her fingers back into his hair.
“I went to every one of those parties for 4 years, and I was miserable and lonely for every minute of it. I was surrounded by people with no one to talk to. All that,” he gestured towards the television with his head.
“All that is shine for the cameras. Not one bit of it is real. This right here,” he squeezed her gently. “Being here with you, this is real. This is all I’ve ever wanted. This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Marinette took a shaky breath to keep from crying. She tugged on his hair to tilt his head up and leaned in to give him a soft, gentle kiss. He continued to hold on to her waist as he moved his lips firmly against hers, but she pulled back before he could deepen it.
“But, won’t it hurt your career? Not being visible at these things?”
“I cannot even begin to tell you how much I don’t care,” he answered, chasing her lips again.
“I don’t even know how much I even want this career,” he continued haltingly in between kisses. “Besides, it’s not like I’m not going, I’m just not going until I absolutely have to.”
She giggled and allowed him to pull her more firmly onto his lap, enjoying the feeling of his strong shoulders under her hands as he continued to kiss her. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe this was real; her trusted partner becoming her lover and turning out to be her long-time crush, now sitting in her apartment and holding her as if he wanted to do nothing else for the rest of his life except kiss her.
“Would you…” he hesitated, and kissed her again. “Would you want to come with me?”
She pulled back to look at him in surprise. “You want me to go with you to Milan?”
“I mean, I want you with me every possible minute I can get,” he said. He sighed resignedly. “But I suppose it’s probably not a good idea. Apart from my dad regulating visitors, we would also be announcing us to the world.”
“You don’t want that?” she asked quietly.
He looked up sharply at her tone of voice. “Oh My Lady, of course I do, I would shout it from the rooftops if you would let me. But then…” he sighed and nuzzled into her neck again.
“But then we would lose this. You’d get dragged into all that nonsense,” he gestured again at the TV. “And I just want you all to myself for a while longer, without worrying about any of that. You have no idea how much I need this, how much I need you, to get through all that craziness.”
Marinette did have some idea, given how long he tended to sleep when he came home from those events.
Home. She was home for him, she realized happily. Just like he was for her.
Two halves of a whole.
She stroked her fingers through his hair as she continued to perch in his lab, smiling serenely in her understanding.
“I have a proposal for you, Chaton,” she said, and he hummed in inquiry. “You go to Milan, do what you have to do, and make sure you give me that sexy smolder through the camera, you know I’ll be watching.”
She felt him chuckle into her shoulder.
“Then you come home to me, and in about a month a certain up-and-coming reporter for the Post can print an article: “Adrien Agreste dating childhood friend and designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng for months,” she displayed the headline with her hands. “We’ll deal with the drama for a while and after it dies down, I can start coming with you to these things.”
She leaned down to peck his lips.
“And then, if you don’t like the supermodel lifestyle full time, maybe you can pick up more classes at the University.”
Another peck.
“Or something.”
Another peck.
“And we can spend more quiet evenings doing nothing.”
He beamed up at her, leaning up to capture her lips again before she could fully retreat.
“You have the best ideas, My Lady.”
This time, when he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, she didn’t pull back.