Chapter Text
“You”
A grin spread over Felix' face as he let the charade drop.
“Me.”
The black haired girl he now knew was Marinette rolled her eyes and turned back to her sketch book, a clear dismissal.
“You’re blocking the light. Go bother someone else.”
He sighed and brushed his hair back, decreasing the similarities to his cousin to the necessary minimum.
“Why would I? Everybody else is so boring.”
No one in this entire city had even realized he was back; not their classmates, not the teachers, not even the brunette fashion disaster that obviously had some experience with deception. Of course his little charade would have to end once Adrien had recovered from the cold that kept him at home, but until then Felix would have his fun. Yesterday he'd spend the entire day in the Bourgeois Spa, fooling the entire staff, the Mayor and his clingy brat. Despite the latter being Adriens “best friend”, not even she had realized who she was really inviting. Getting rid of her had been a little harder, but in the end he'd spent a wonderfully relaxing day in a steam bath and his skin was softer than ever. Courtesy of the ridiculously expensive mud bath he hadn’t had to pay a single penny for.
“Looks like you'd fit right in then.”, Marinette commented and drew an especially vigorous line in her book.
“Ouch. You wound me, darling!”
She shrugged and ignored him. Ignored him! That wouldn’t do.
With a last tug at his no longer messy strands he sat down next to her, leaning into her space as far as he could risk without getting slapped. His last two attempts had thought him that lesson.
“Oh, come on, Marinette, you must to tell me!”, he nagged her, happy when her face turned from concentration to annoyance. “What gave me away? Was it the wink? Or no, it was the greeting, wasn't it? Too much enthusiasm.”
“Why do you even care? You got all the others, didn’t you?”
He clicked his tongue.
“I have standards. If there's one person who can tell the difference, my performance is obviously lacking.”
She huffed and added a little bow to the skirt she was working on. Knee-length, plain colored and folded, decorated with small ribbons. Classic and elegant, yet a touch of playfulness. He would have complimented it if he'd thought she might value it.
“If it wasn’t my words or gestures, what was it?”, he asked on, not willing to give up and admit defeat. It was their little routine by now. He'd come up and try to pass as Adrien, she'd see through him and he would try to annoy her until she either gave him her full attention, or snarked him off. Marinette Dupain-Cheng – despite her cute appearance – could be mean , he'd learned.
“I don’t think I want to tell you.”, she shrugged, but he could see the beginning of a smile tugging at her lips. She'd deny it, but secretly she enjoyed their little battles of wits.
“What?”, he gasped and fake-fainted against her in played shock, conveniently knocking the book out of her hands and onto the steps of the Trocadero. “But why?”
Now unable to draw on, she finally gave him her undivided focus.
“Because you, Monsieur Graham de Vanilly, are a major pain in my butt.”
“Oh? I would have thought you above such pettiness.”, he lamented. “To deny a fellow fashion enthusiast your criticism! To dishonor the sacred solidarity between artists! Truly a shame.”
“You? An artist?” She snickered. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Hey! Deception is as much of an art as these tiny scribbles of yours. And I am a master of my craft, thank you very much.”
She waved her hand and shooed him back a little.
“The questionable status of your craft aside, I'd hardly call you an expert. You were here for a day and already had the entire class plus three akumas after you. Your play didn’t even last an hour before it blew up in your face. Maybe you should ask Lila for a bit of advice! She's been here for months and is still on her unquestioned bullshit.”
He growled at that, drawing out another of these smug little smirks Marinette so rarely wore. After all his visits she knew how to rile him up.
“Do not compare me to that- that klutz! Anybody could spew some fancy tales and name drop, but that doesn’t mean she has skill. There's no finesse, no authenticity beneath that badly styled hair of her.”
“And there is beneath yours?”, Marinette said sweetly. He huffed and crossed his arms.
“Of course there is. I don’t run around as Adrien for the fame, but for the fun of it. And I actually put in some effort. I was only found out because my goal required breaking character, and I still had a score to settle with my dear cousin. You think I only depend on my pretty face, because it looks conveniently close to Adrien? Wrong!”
His chest swoll a little as he spoke. With his accomplishments, he'd earned a little pride in himself.
“True, artful deception requires three things Lila Rossi couldn’t fake if her life depended on it: Discretion, Distraction and the right timing. She only ever barges in headfirst, unable to survive even a second outside of the spotlight.”
She hummed.
“My mistake. How could I ever assume you to be alike, since you obviously care so little about getting attention?”
Snarky little minx. Well, she wasn’t wrong, to be fair.
“Enough of that!”, he decided and eagerly turned back to her. “Now tell me what gave me away.”
“Let me see...”, she mused and pursed her lips. “I guess I could tell you that...”
“Yes?”
“...under certain circumstances...”
“Go on!”
“...it might be...”
“Might be?”
“The scent.”
He blinked. This had been his mistake? What kind of cologne did his cousin even wear?
“The... the scent.”
“Uh-huh.”
She moved to get back to her sketching, but he snatched the book before she could even touch it.
“Nah-ah! First you've got to expand on that. What perfume is he wearing?”
She shrugged and leaned back.
“Oh, isn’t it obvious? Adrien always wears “Manners and Class” N° 5. You on the other hand reek of “Wouldn’t know politeness if it hit me in the face”. A poor choice, really.”
She leaned in.
“You stink.”
It took a moment for her words to register, and he couldn't suppress a gasp when they did. With a satisfied smile she tugged her sketchbook out of his hands and crossed her legs, ready to put the finishing touch on her latest design. Felix fell back on the step next to her.
“That's it.”
“Yup.”
“You've won.”
“Fair and square.”
“I am defeated.”
“Annihilated. But to be fair, that opening was too easy.”
“Perfect set-up. Clean execution. Merciless punchline. You have earned your victory, so claim it properly.”
“I will.”
He fell silent after that, acknowledging his defeat. He lasted all but two minutes before his need for attention beat his shame.
“So? What do you want as your prize?”
“Peace and quiet?”, she proposed, gnawing at the end of her pencil.
He shook his head in disbelief.
“You're more ambitious than that, Dupain-Cheng. Here I am, Felix Graham du Vanilly, offering you everything I can give, and you settle for peace and quiet? Tsk, you can do better than that.”
“Maybe I could ask you to clear the area, while I’m already at it. For the entire week.”
He should leave. He wouldn’t get any real feedback out of her today, and now that he had offered her a prize she might develop some common sense and ask him for his connections, or some favors that could get her publicity. He was stretching his luck every time he decided to pester her again.
But he stayed. Whether it was his wounded pride, or his curiosity ever since she'd sent that little love declaration to his cousin... he couldn’t allow the only borderline interesting person in this city to dismiss him like that. Especially not when he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of her yet.
An idea popped into his mind and he spoke before he could think.
“You could ask me for a date.”
Now Marinette did put her book away.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
She blinked.
“Did you miss the part where I asked you to leave me to my scribbles, as you put it? Because I am sure I mentioned it a few times, now.”
“No, doesn’t ring a bell.”
She groaned and closed her book. He counted that as a victory.
“Well, then maybe you remember the fact that I’m in love with Adrien. Which you already know, since you watched the video clearly addressed to him. And deleted said video. And replied very rudely.”
He hummed and stood up to circle her. An actor had to have a sense of drama, after all.
“Yeah, but the past is the past. And in the present, I look just like Adrien.”
Now he finally seemed to have broken through her cool facade.
“So what?”, she snapped at him, crossing her arms. “Do you think I like him for his looks? Am I that shallow, in your opinion?”
Of course she wasn’t. But he'd finally struck a nerve.
“You're not?”, he provoked slyly.
“No!”
She stomped her pink flats on the ground with more force than should be physically possible.
“I love him because he is kind. And thoughtful. And funny and confident and fair and so classy, and because he loves to make friends, and because he's loyal and caring and-“
“Okay, okay, I get it. He's your little fairy tale prince.”, he interrupted a little harsher than intended. Clearing his throat he continued. “And you'll be relieved to know that I don’t want to date you either. No offense to you, but I am above such mundane things as love.”
She rolled her eyes and sat back down.
“Of course you are.”
“Fact is, my dear Marinette,” he lectured smugly, “that you can’t even say two words to your loverboy without seemingly suffering a particularly unflattering stroke.”
“What a flowery statement, Sherlock.”
“Another fact is that you can talk very fluently to me. Far too fluently, in my opinion.”
Marinette's eyes narrowed with suspicion and he smiled.
“What's your point?”
“My point is,” he finished his circling and came to a stand right in front of her. “that you can use me to practice. Here, I'll even mess up my hair again!”
“Wait, I didn’t even agree to-“
“You're welcome. Aren’t I a dashing little dream prince?”
He posed in true Adrien fashion and Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Please, just don’t.”
“Pah! Ungrateful as always. Anyway, back to business!”
He spun into a dramatic pirouette and kneeled down before her, taking her hand between his.
“Marinette, my fairest!”, he proclaimed with vigor. “Is there something on that bright mind of yours you want to share with me, Adrien Agreste?”
She groaned again, but didn’t pull away.
“If you'll leave me alone after that...”
“I'll do anything my good friend asks of me! I am sunshine personified!”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Only on weekdays.”
He almost regretted looking for Marinette this late. The sun was about to set and most tourists had already left for locations with a better view. If there had been more, one might have captured a snap shot of Adrien Agreste kneeling in front of a random girl about to confess. His cousin would be delighted when he found out about it in the news.
Alas, it was only the two of them who paid attention to each other. But Marinette was about to begin, so he didn’t ponder on the viewers anymore.
“I... uhm, I wanted to tell you that...”
He almost winced at that poor display of rhetorical talent, but she wasn’t done yet. Taking a deep breath, Marinette lifted her eyes off of her shoes and looked directly at him. And for a moment it felt as if she were looking into him. He'd seen these bluebell eyes roll in annoyance, glare in anger and sparkle with mirth, but never had he seen them this piercing, this all-consuming.
“Adrien, there's something I haven’t told you yet.”, she said, and it was as if he'd never heard her speak before. This wasn’t the voice that had teased and bantered with him, or the disinterested lull she mumbled in when she tried to ignore him. This was soft, yet firm and confident. Like tugging the strings of a violin: a clear, pleasant sound that offered a first hint of the potential in this slender instrument.
“I didn’t keep this from you because I don’t value our friendship.”, she said and her fingers tightened around his. Felix was suddenly sure that no expensive mudbath could ever make his skin as soft as hers. “It's the furthest thing from it. I didn’t tell you because I value our friendship so much. And I was scared to risk it.”
She took a step closer and he had to swallow.
“Adrien, you are the first person I think of when I wake up, and the only person I see in my dreams. Every morning, when I walk into class and see you, I feel like there's pure sunshine in my chest and springs under my feet. Like gravity is just a loose suggestion and I could float if I jumped. Like... like I could do anything I ever dreamed of.”
She looked down upon their hands. Disentangling their fingers surprised him, but even more surprising was that this time, she took his hands between hers.
“I know you feel trapped sometimes.”, she whispered and he found himself suddenly very insecure. Was she still acting? Was she this deep in their little charade? Or... or was she truly talking to him?
“I know you put up a smile and try to give everybody what they expect. And that you don’t have a lot of chances to just be you, not the heir of a great legacy. But I... I want to be your escape. Your safe haven. What I am trying to say is...”
She looked back up to him, and her smile was radiant.
“I love you.”
...
There was a tightness in his chest.
Because he wasn’t breathing, he realized.
Odd.
He didn’t have time to overthink this little detail, though. For as soon as he opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn’t know – she blinked and took a step back. The spell faded and his mouth fell shut again.
“So,” Marinette cleared her throat and looked away. “How... How was it?”
“Uh...”, he made, which was admittedly not the smartest reply he’d ever given her. The fact that he still hadn’t remembered to breathe in didn’t make things easier.
Marinette shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable.
“That bad?”
Ha.
Ha ha.
He shook his head and finally sucked in some much needed air.
“Good”, he croaked out, which was still not much of an improvement from his earlier statement of ‘uh’.
“It was... really good.”
Ah.
The simple beauty of a full sentence.
“You think so?”, she asked, voice high with surprise. “It wasn’t... I don’t know, a little too much?”
“No!”, he answered a little too fast. “Uh, no. No, it was really... really good.”
Marinette's eyes went narrow.
“Are you making fun of me? Because I may be small, but if you did this to humiliate me then I swear to god, I will take this pencil and-“
“I was serious. What you said was beautiful.”
They both blinked at his words. He hadn’t meant to say that. This wasn’t how their interactions went. They were snarky. Mean. Teasing from time to time. But not... this. Never this open. Never vulnerable.
“Thank you.”, Marinette gave back, seemingly unsure herself. “I should... you know, it’s late and my parents are waiting.”
He nodded far too eagerly for his earlier efforts to make her stay.
“Yes, of course. I'll walk... No, you know the way better than me, probably.”
She laughed at that. It wasn’t a snicker, or one of her smug little huffs. It sounded... sweet.
“Yeah, no need to walk me home.”
She eyed him for a a moment, then the emptying place.
“I could walk you home, though. If you want to.”
Yes.
“No. Thank you, but it would be quite the detour for you.”
She shrugged.
“Alright. Don’t get lost.”
Shouldering her bag she took her sketch book and moved to leave, but stopped mid movement to turn back around.
“Oh, and if you tell anybody – especially Adrien! – about any of this, you'll find out what I was going to do with that pencil! Got it?”
He rolled his eyes, finally in control of himself.
“Yes, oh great master of pencilmanship. Your weapon is as feared as its wielder.”
Satisfied she nodded and turned around, but stopped yet again. With a groan she dropped the bag, stepped in front of him and grabbed his collar. He'd never admit to anybody that the surprised squeal that followed had come from him. Utterly frozen in shock he could only watch as Marinette's face came closer and closer and...
“There!”, she hummed and combed back his hair with her fingers. “I like you hair better this way.”
A small nod was all he could muster up, but it was enough for her. Waving him goodbye she turned around for good.
“Well then. See you around, Felix!”
He watched her leave, desperately trying to regain his voice.
“Y-Yeah. See you around, Marinette.”
Only when she had completely disappeared in the nearby metro station he allowed himself to sit down, wobbly knees no longer able to support him.
“What...”, he mumbled to himself, “...the entire fuck...”
What did just happen? Nothing made sense, not this stupid idea and certainly not his reaction to it. Sighing he leaned back against the steps and touched his hair. It was still a little messy, but laid back against his head in its usual fashion. If he concentrated he could almost feel the warmth of her fingers trapped between his strands.
He sighed deeply.
...damnit.