Work Text:
She was legitimately freaking out. He didn’t know why; when the elevator had first stopped working, Marinette had been completely fine. It was not until he spoke that she seemed to notice he was with her, and it was as if all of her confidence was sapped instantly. The three other people in the elevator with them had taken to muttering to themselves about the issue, taking turns calling the front desk of the Bourgeois Hotel to get updates on their rescue status which, as it turned out, was not looking very promising.
“And you’re sure that you feel okay?”
Marinette nodded mutely, a hand of hers pressed to her purse. The pair of them, strange as they were, had continued with their friendship. It didn’t feel quite the same as it did before, but that was fine. Marinette had, after all, been one of his first friends. He treasured her company and Adrien was willing to take anything he could get.
“To be honest, you’re not looking great.”
“Thanks. I’m fine, don’t worry. I’m looking great. Not as great as you, obviously, but still great.” Her spare hand slapped over her mouth. “I’ll just stop talking.”
“Thanks, I think,” laughed Adrien, watching her flush. “We’ll get out of here soon. I don’t know what’s taking so long, though. The Bourgeois Hotel normally has quick service.”
“Maybe they’re really busy with other people.” Marinette leaned against the walls and lowered her hand. “I didn’t realize elevators were so small till now.”
“It could be a lot worse,” said Adrien optimistically. “We could be trapped in here with a whole bunch of people.”
“That sounds like a nightmare.”
“It would be, wouldn’t it?” He watched her smile a bit, satisfied that she seemed a little calmer, and glanced over at the number pad. The other people in the elevator were harder to figure out. One of them looked like a designer he’d once seen at his father’s fashion shows. The other two he could not place, but the man looked rumpled and annoyed while the woman seemed more worried than anything.
“We’re going to miss the reservation,” she lamented, and her partner raised a hand and struck the call button again. “Honey, please don’t do that.”
“We booked that reservation months in advance,” he growled. “There is no way we’re missing it.”
“You’ve called the front desk already,” the designer said lightly. “It is not going to change anything.”
“Could it be another akuma attack? It seems pretty suspicious,” Adrien asked himself, feeling Plagg shuffle around in his book bag. “Wouldn’t want to catch a lift with something like that.” He allowed himself a chuckle at his own pun but was unprepared for what he heard next.
“Not likely. It’s too soon after the first one, but even then, I think we can handle it,” came a response. He turned his head sharply, half-expecting to find Ladybug standing next to him. What he saw was small Marinette instead, her gaze fixed on the elevator’s keypad as well. The response had come with such composure, such confidence, that he had not expected in her. Adrien failed to throw something back, and Marinette glanced over, flinching back when their eyes met as if she too had been expecting someone different.
“Oh, I mean,” Marinette scrambled to amend her sentence, “it sounds unlikely, but Ladybug and Cat Noir will be able to handle it.”
“Of course they will. They are superheroes after all,” Adrien agreed dumbly. She nodded. Embarrassment worked on her face as her nerves came back into play.
The elevator lurched to life then, rumbling lower and lower towards the lobby. Adrien tried to sneak as many glances at Marinette as he could. There were moments - brief snapshots, really - when she would say something or do something that reminded him so strongly of Ladybug. They were few and far between, and disappeared almost as soon as they appeared, winking into the back of his mind as if they had never existed in the first place. Adrien wondered how much Marinette knew about the hero. Did she speak to Ladybug constantly? Did she know Ladybug’s civilian name?
Wildly, he contemplated the possibility that perhaps Marinette spent actual time with his Lady. There had been a quite lovely smell for the last ten minutes that he was almost certain came from Marinette. It smelled so similar to Ladybug. All he had to check would be to lean over and-
The elevator dinged and the trio of adults left in a great hurry. They bumped into Marinette in their rush and she stumbled back, her shoulder brushing Adrien’s. Almost instantly, she jumped back and, with pink still clinging to her cheeks, she stuttered out an apology and a farewell. Adrien, stunned, remained in the elevator once the doors had shut completely, and let his back sag against the walls.
The smell that drifted off Marinette’s clothes was unmistakable. He smelled it almost every day fighting crime.
And it was certainly not second hand.