Chapter Text
“It’s not the craziest thing I’ve proposed.” Adrien wiggled his eyebrows. “Did you get that? Proposed.”
Marinette blinked at her best friend. “Wait, are you actually serious about this?”
“Of course I am! I can’t get my trust fund until I’m married and you need capital to start your business. It’s the perfect partnership.”
“It’s marriage.”
“Well, yeah.” He frowned. “Are you saying you don’t want to marry me?”
She threw her hands in the air with an agitated huff. “I’m saying this is nuts! We can’t just get married so you can get your trust fund!”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” she echoed. “Because…because that’s just not what people do. We’re not even dating.”
“It’s what we could do. And everyone already thinks we’re together anyway.”
Marinette shifted away from him uncomfortably. “That still doesn’t make it right.” She’d been in love with her best friend off and on for a decade or so and marrying him seemed like a very bad idea…or a very good one. Either way, it most definitely wasn’t a smart idea.
“We can divorce in like a year or something. Nothing will change anyway. We already spend most nights together.”
“Not together together.”
Adrien sighed. “Fine, we already spend most nights in the same apartment. Better?”
“I guess.”
“And it isn’t like I’m going to make you share my bed just because you’ll be my wife, although you know you’re welcome to.” Another man may have taken that opportunity to give her a leering look but there was only earnest hopefulness in Adrien’s eyes.
It was true they’d slept in the same bed some nights. Adrien wasn’t partial to storms and Marinette didn’t like sleeping alone when it got too cold so they fell into bed together from time to time. And Marinette often woke up pining and regretful. She couldn’t do that on a daily basis.
“Adrien, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He stuck out his bottom lip. “But you’re the only person in the world who would marry me.”
“You and I both know that isn’t true. You’ve got women, men, and everyone in between lining up everytime you walk outside.”
“You’re the only person in the world I want to marry,” he amended. “Come on, please. We’ll have enough money to do whatever we want.”
“It’ll be your money.”
“As my wife, it’ll be yours too,” he grinned. “I want to spend it on you. You’re the most important person in my life.” He took her hands in his. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, please do me the honor of marrying me so we can get our hands on my awful father’s money and do really fun stuff with it.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“You can! It doesn’t even have to be anything big. We can do a really quiet ceremony and tell Alya and NIno the truth. Or we can throw a big party if we want. We can do anything.”
She could feel her resolve wearing down. “I need to think about it.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “That’s fine. Do that. Think about how much easier it will be to start your business with no debt.”
“You’re killing me here.”
Adrien flashed her a killer smile. “I’d never do that to my future wife.”
___
“Wow.” Alya watched Marinette turn on her heels and pace back across her small living room. “Like wow, wow. I knew he was in love with you but this is just beyond.”
Marinette spun sharply and glared at her. “Adrien is not in love with me. I can’t have this conversation with you again.”
“Okay, don’t shoot the messenger but that man has been in love with you since we were all sporting acne.” Alya shook her head. “I know you never want to believe me, but he definitely is.”
“And I’m saying he’s definitely not. Adrien and I are friends, we’ve always been friends.”
“And now he wants to marry you. That’s how I am with all my friends too.”
Marinette groaned and sank down to the couch, dragging her palms down her face. “What am I gonna do?”
“What do you want to do?”
She blew out a puff of air. “I want to marry him and have his kids and grow old with him and the worst thing he could’ve ever done is ask me to have a fake marriage with him and I’m so angry at him right now.” She felt the prick of tears and gritted her teeth, willing them to go away. “He’s just a big, stupid jerk except he didn’t even mean to be which makes it worse.”
“Oh, Mari,” Alya sighed softly. She moved down the couch and pulled her friend into a hug. “I think you just need to talk to him. Maybe he feels the same way you do.”
“And if he doesn’t, it would make everything really weird,” she muttered, burying her face in Alya’s soft hair. “I can’t, Al. I just can’t.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
___
“So this marriage thing, what if you end up meeting somebody?” Marinette had been rehearsing the question in her head throughout half the movie and she saw Adrien hesitate beside her, his fork dropping back down into his box of Chinese delivery.
“I won’t,” he replied carefully.
“You could.”
“But I won’t,” he repeated, voice firmer this time. “And if you do…well…we can figure it out.”
“We can figure it out? Like you’ll be my husband and I can just date someone else because the whole thing is fake?”
Adrien’s expression became pained and he kept his eyes in the direction of the television. “If that’s what you want.”
“What do you want?”
“To get married so we can have lots of money and fun together.”
“Because we’re best friends,” she pressed.
“Of course.”
“Right.”
An uncomfortable silence slid between them and they finished the rest of the movie without any further conversation on the topic.
___
She’d talked to Alya.
She’d talked to her mom and then her dad, though she’d left out a lot of the finer details.
She’d talked to herself a lot.
She’d talked to Adrien in her head. Hundreds of conversations and they all ended up the same way.
She couldn’t marry him. Not like this. Not when he thought it was something it wasn’t. Not when he didn’t know how she felt about him.
But she also wasn’t ready to tell him how she felt. She doubted she would ever be ready.
She had to tell him no.
He’d find someone else to marry so he could get his trust fund and she would keep saving up to start her business just like she’d planned and they’d still be best friends. They’d both be fine.
Marinette gathered her courage and walked up the familiar steps to Adrien’s apartment. She used the code she knew by heart to get into the building and fished her personal key out of her purse as she rode the elevator up. She gave the quick cursory knock on the door before she slid her key into the lock and pushed it open.
Adrien shuffled into view, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a miserable expression on his face. “I’m sick,” he whined pitifully. His cheeks were dark and his eyes were too bright and Marinette knew even before she made it to him that his skin would be hot to the touch.
“Go lay down. Have you eaten anything yet?”
“Not hungry.”
“Big baby. Go lay on the couch and I’ll make you something.” She watched him until he made it to the couch and then went to busy herself in the kitchen. The open layout let her keep an eye on him as she worked. “Have you taken any medicine?”
“Don’t have any,” he sniffled.
“I brought some over last time you got sick.”
“I used it all.”
“You’re supposed to replace it, you goof. What would you do without me?”
He turned on the couch so he could watch her with half-lidded eyes. “I don’t ever want to know.”
His hair was a mess and he’d rarely looked worse but Marinette couldn’t help but feel fond warmth flow through her entire being. She loved him so much, even when he was a sad lump of a man.
“Are you going to marry me, Mari?” His eyes were sliding shut, the words slurring out from between sleepy lips.
She could’ve said nothing. She could’ve kept her promise to herself and told him no. She could’ve pretended she didn’t hear him.
But instead she whispered, “Yes.”