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Nathalie Sancoeur liked her job. Usually. For the most part, it was exactly as expected. Both Gabriel and Emilie Agreste were dedicated workaholics, who were very professional in their roles as public figures. Nathalie simply acted as their buffer between the rest of the world. She filtered through the mundane necessities of running a fashion empire and daily life, leaving the two to deal with the genuinely important work that was required of them. Needless to say, their efficiency increased dramatically.
The only unexpected part was Adrien. When Nathalie had been told she would need to occasionally act as his caretaker, she had assumed it would be a very minor part of her job, and the child of her two professional and stern bosses would be relatively well behaved. She had not expected a child with wild blonde hair and the temperament of an energetic kitten.
When Nathalie had seen the extensive line of assistants who had quit after mere weeks of working for the Agrestes, she had assumed it was because of Gabriel’s widely known short temper and Emilie’s passive-aggressive expectation of perfection. A week of working at the mansion made her realize it was Adrien that had been sending her predecessors out the front door screaming.
When she first met Adrien he was four- almost five years old. The boy had greeted her in a pair of mismatched cotton pajamas, his hair concerningly akin to a fluffy yellow dandelion. Emilie introduced her.
“Adrien darling, this is Nathalie, she’s going to help your father and me, so you’ll be seeing her around the house okay?”
Adrien gave her a gap-toothed grin. “Are you a witch?”
“I- I beg your pardon?” Nathalie stammered.
Emilie smirked.
“You have magic hair!” the boy stated, pointing at her red streak. “You must be a witch!”
Nathalie blinked at him. “Not exactly,” she said slowly, “I use special colors to make it red.”
“Ooh, colors!” Adrien murmured, eyes lighting up. “Igottagobye!” The boy exclaimed before scampering off.
Nathalie chose not to question it. The rest of the morning was spent in silence, Nathalie answering emails, making appointments, and organizing schedules with a quiet efficiency. Gabriel remained in the office with her, designing in unbroken silence. Emilie came and went as she pleased, juggling paperwork, fittings, and checking on Adrien. In the middle of being fitted in a layered organza gown that was practically sending Gabriel into fits, she looked at Nathalie abruptly.
“Nathalie, would you be a dear and go check on Adrien? He should be in his playroom.”
Nathalie nodded dutifully. She didn’t actually know where the playroom was, so she just combed the marble halls until she found it. The playroom was the most (and only) cheerful room in the house, the marble floors replaced with plush carpeting, and the bare white wall painted buttery yellow. Glowing cloud and star shaped lanterns hung from the ceiling, and sturdy expensive toys were scattered across the floor. A child-sized table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by cushioned chairs. Assorted markers and crayons littered the table.
“Adrien?” She called from the doorway.
A small shape giggled from its hiding spot under the table.
It was such an infectious hiccupy giggle Nathalie almost smiled. Instead, she said, “It’s Nathalie, your maman asked me to check on you."
The boy giggled again mischievously. A cold feeling settled in Nathalie’s stomach.
“Adrien,” she said carefully, striding to the table, “Would you please come out?”
“Nope,” the boy told her matter-of-factly.
Nathalie sighed and dropped to her knees, peering at the boy through the chairs. His hands and head oozed red. Nathalie shrieked and grabbed him out of instinct. She pulled him from under the table and picked him up, frantically searched the boy for injuries.
“Are you alright? What happened? Where are you bleeding?” Her voice was shrill.
The boy peered at her, his wide green eyes blinking in confusion. “W- we match.”
“What?” She gasped, senses slowly coming back to her.
Adrien held up a thoroughly ruined red marker. “You said you put colors in your hair. I put some too so we can match!”
Nathalie gave a ragged exhale. “Oh thank god.”
“Do you like it?” the boy asked earnestly.
Nathalie hesitated for a moment, considering how he scared the living daylights out of her, was now a sticky mess, and smeared red marker across her clothes and skin. “Yes, I love it-”
Adrien gave her the brightest, silliest, smile she’d ever seen.
“-But now you need to take a bath.”
Adrien pouted and drooped in her arms. She set the boy down, and they walked to the office together, to tell his parents what transpired. Hopefully one of them would be able to take care of the mess. Nathalie came to two profound realizations on their fateful hike.
“I have no idea how to bathe children,” was the first.
“Holy shit If my bosses see their son like this I am so fired,” was the second.
“Stay there,” she told the pouting child sternly and she cracked open the office door. Gabriel and Emilie were still battling with the hellish dress. They both looked up at her.
“Ah- Adrien is in need of a bath. Immediately. Should I take care of it?”
The two parents made eye contact before surging towards her, ready to gauge whatever damage their son had inflicted under Nathalie’s care. Technically she was only supposed to check on him and was not watching him at the time, but Nathalie doubted it would matter to two protective parents.
“Before you see him,” Nathalie said quickly, keeping Adrien behind her and out of view, “You should know that it’s marker.
Two pairs of blonde eyebrows shot up. Nathalie sheepishly opened the door, her heart hammering.
Both the Agrestes gaped in horror. “It’s marker!” Nathalie repeated in thinly concealed panic.
Adrien smiled at his parents. “Father, will you tell Natty I don’t need a bath?”
Gabriel made a noise that did not sound completely human.
The small boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of his mother, clad in that extravagant gown. He gasped, “Maman you look like a princess!”
Emilie stared at her son open-mouthed. Before she could fully react, the sticky red boy rocketed towards his mother, eagerly leaping up for a hug.
The woman’s eyes widened in horror.
Nathalie shot forward and grabbed him out of the air, her agility enhanced by adrenaline, induced at the thought of the designer gown stained by red ink.
Everyone stared at her. Gabriel practically wilted in relief.
“So,” Nathalie breathed, holding the squirming child tightly, “Bath?”
Both Agrestes nodded quickly.
********
Bathtime wasn’t as difficult as initially anticipated. Nathalie just ran the water a little cooler than was generally considered comfortable, and only used the soaps with plain packaging that smelled like babies. She wasn’t quite sure how she knew what babies smelled like, but Adrien had confirmed her methods to be accurate, so she wasn’t too concerned. She just watched as the boy soaked in the sudsy water, playing with a variety of plastic boats and sea animals. The color washed easily from his skin, turning the water pink.
“Natty?”
“Hm?”
“Will you get my dinosaur towel? It’s in the closet behind you.”
Nathalie eyed the boy, it was unlikely he was going to get into trouble or drown in the time it took to turn around and retrieve a towel, but after that afternoon she couldn’t help but be suspicious.
Finally, she turned around and tore open the linen closet, trying to find the damn towel before the boy could get into any new mischief. There was a wet squelch and the rapid pitter-patter of little toddler feet scampering across the bathroom floor. Nathalie whipped around to find Adrien climbing guiltily back into the tub. What looked like a strangely shaped toy was clutched in his small fist.
“If you had wanted another toy, you could’ve just asked me,” Nathalie told the boy dryly. She eyed the tiled bathroom floor, which had been almost entirely flooded with puddles.
Adrien nodded, wet hair flopping wildly. Drips splattered across the edge of the tub. The boy resumed his playing, his vast quantity of bath toys obscured by the thick layer of bubbles.
Nathalie’s mind wandered back to her actual work, bored at the prospect of babysitting when she had a company to help run. She vastly preferred the cool satisfaction of ruthlessly managing a fashion empire to the company of a child who was slowly deteriorating her work outfit with red ink and soapy water. She would have to start bringing a change of clothes if the boy planned on making a habit of creating unreasonably large messes for a creature so small.
Small splishing noises pulled her from her thoughts. Adrien seemed to be playing submarine with one of his toys. The boy sent the brightly patterned vessel deeper into the soapy water, before pulling it to the surface, revealing it to be, a tampon?
Nathalie snatched the sanitary product from his hand. It was still in its unused (albeit, soaking wet) packaging, which was a relief.
“My submarine!” Adrien protested, baring his teeth at her like some kind of wild cat.
“This isn’t a toy Adrien, where did you get this?” She asked sternly, throwing the tampon in the trash under the sink.
“In the drawer,” Adrien sighed before handing over three others.
Nathalie grimaced. “Those are not to be used as toys, do you understand me? If you want a submarine toy we can ask your parents for one.”
“Fine,” Adrien glowered, bottom lip trembling. He looked at her, curiosity quickly erasing bitterness, “If they’re not toys, what are those things used for?”
Nathalie felt her cheeks heat up. That explanation was definitely not in her job description.
“You’ll learn when you’re older,” she told him curtly, before rinsing off the boy and dressing him in new clothes. Once he was all neat and brushed, Nathalie plunked the boy in his parents’ arms and swore to herself that she would never ever have children. Ever.
********
About a month passed working for the Agrestes, and they had mercifully avoided giving her any duties regarding Adrien. Nathalie couldn’t have been happier working in an organized and strictly scheduled environment, and she almost forgotten why she had ever disliked it in the first place.
“Nathalie dear could you put Adrien to bed for me?” Emilie asked one evening after a day packed with meetings. The blonde woman practically collapsed onto the couch.
Nathalie gave herself a millisecond to lament her reputation as an obedient and hardworking assistant who was willing to do almost anything her boss(es) required without complaint. Then she gave a professional nod, straightened her blazer, and went off to put the boy to bed.
She found Adrien in his playroom, feeding a little baby doll with a plastic baby bottle. He smiled sweetly at her as she entered.
“Adrien, it’s time for bed.”
“What’s it like to be a grown-up?”
“What?” Nathalie blinked at him.
The young boy repeated himself.
“Well,” Nathalie started awkwardly, “You usually get a job and move into your own home-”
“No, the baby part,” Adrien clarified.
She blinked at him.
“What’s it like to raise your baby?”
“Wh- Adrien I don’t have a baby.”
Adrien’s jaw dropped. The baby doll fell out his arms with a clatter.
“Then why do you look like a grown-up?” the boy asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Because I am a grown-up,” she explained dryly, “Now it’s time for you to go bed- Adrien!”
The boy bolted out the door, his shouts echoing through the halls. “Maman, Father, Natty’s not a real grown-up! She’s a faker! A fake grown-up!”
Nathalie scowled to herself before chasing after the wild boy. She caught up to him in the living room, where he sat on his mother’s lap, tearfully describing whatever issue had apparently transpired. Emilie was trying (and failing) to suppress her giggles.
When Adrien saw Nathalie he inhaled dramatically and pressed himself to his mother. “Faker,” the little boy hissed at her.
Nathalie rolled her eyes.
Gabriel entered the room, a bewildered expression twisting his features. “What was the commotion about?” He placed a hand on his son’s head, “And what are you still doing up?”
“Adrien is upset because Nathalie is a fake grown-up,” Emilie told her husband, voice strained with suppressed laughter.
“What?” Gabriel asked, equally as confused as Nathalie.
“‘Cause she doesn’t have a baby!” Adrien explained as if it was obvious, “All grown-ups have babies!”
“Why do you think that Adrien?” Gabriel questioned his son, confusion melting into amusement.
Nathalie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Those two were no help.
“Cause you’re a grown-up, and you have a baby,” Adrien responded, jabbing a tiny thumb towards his own chest, as is to remind the man that he was in fact his son. Just in case anyone had forgotten.
“And Maman’s a grown-up, and she has a baby,” the child added, gesturing to himself again.
“Makes sense to me,” Gabriel shrugged.
“You’re very smart Adrien,” Emilie praised her son, “Nathalie must be a fake grown-up.”
Adrien gave a pleased nod. He climbed out of his mother’s arms and returned to Nathalie’s side. “Okay bedtime now please,” he said simply.
Nathalie looked at the boy. “You don’t mind that I’m a fake grown-up?”
He shook his head. “I have a toy baby doll,” he told her very seriously, “You can borrow it, that way we’ll be the only ones who know you’re a fake grown-up with no baby.”
“Thank you, Adrien,” she told the boy blandly.
Emilie and Gabriel practically howled with laughter.
********
After about a year of working for the Agrestes, Nathalie was reasonably well acclimated. She was used to being the assistant to designers and models who traveled often and were practically blind-sighted by their own wealth and inflated sense of self-importance. Sure the Agrestes were unreasonable wealthy and a little weird sometimes, but Nathalie found she enjoyed working with the family.
She had worked for Jagged Stone in the past, which was a dramatically different lifestyle. He was always traveling and touring and partying, Nathalie questioned how she had survived it. Jagged had even told her she looked “too professional” and needed to “vibe with his style” among other ridiculous things. That was why she had gotten her red streak in the first place. She had bleached her hair and streaked it red with kool-aid as a teenager (without her parents’ permission obviously) (ah back when she was interesting), so she had decided on a more professional throwback to that look when working for the eccentric rock star.
Nathalie touched the fading streak and peered at herself in the large modern Agreste bathroom mirror. It wasn’t exactly harmonious with her new lifestyle, she realized, and booked an appointment at the hair salon for after work.
Nathalie went into work the next day, her red streak dyed over with her natural shade of jet black. Emilie had given an approving nod. Gabriel was indifferent, as usual. The bodyguard looked a little disappointed.
Adrien screamed.
And also cried.
Nathalie just stood there in confusion as the boy shrieked. Emilie ran over to comfort him. They had to reassure him that, yes she really was Nathalie, and no she did not have her “magic powers” brutally ripped away from her, leaving her hair plain black. Even after all their reassurances, Adrien pouted and didn’t look at her for the rest of the day.
Nathalie came to work the next day with her classic red streak as if it had never left. Adrien had flashed his brightest smile and hugged her legs happily, clinging to her even as she tried to walk around. Everyone gave her relieved sighs, grateful Adrien’s tantrum had been swiftly replaced with his usual sweetness. Nathalie never dared to change her hair again.
********
Emilie Agreste was a widely praised model and actress and was well known for being one of the loveliest looking women in Paris. And while that fact made working for her was an almost interesting thing to say about oneself when on a dull and obviously incompatible date, it mostly meant that nothing unhealthy was even allowed in the Agreste kitchens. Not even coffee. Just fussy tea blends claiming to “detox your organs” as if having a functioning liver wasn’t enough.
It also meant Emilie would go on all sorts of dieting regimens that had the cooks grimacing and Nathalie as an unwilling taste tester.
It was an unfortunate day in the Agreste house when Emilie discovered a recipe for low carb low calorie (low flavor and anything else that makes food remotely worth eating) bran muffins.
When she had entered the building the bodyguard had given her a dire expression and glanced in fear towards the kitchen. Nathalie raised an eyebrow but made no comment. She went into the office and found Gabriel pacing the lengths of it wearily.
“Something wrong sir?” She asked politely as she sat down at her desk.
“Do you remember that favor I asked of you a few months ago?” He inquired.
“That favor,” was in fact a matter of grave importance that they had sworn they’d take to their graves. Nathalie had smuggled several containers of instant coffee and other caffeinated products into the kitchen under Emilie’s nose, to ensure they would have enough caffeine supply to make it through a, particularly troublesome fashion show.
Nathalie paled. “Yes sir.”
“Emilie has been rummaging around in the kitchen, making something.”
Her eyes widened, “Has the coffee been compromised?” she whispered.
The man grimaced. “I believe its location might be, but she hasn’t realized what it is yet.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We relocate the caffeine stores to the downstairs bathroom no one uses over the course of multiple trips.”
Nathalie groaned, “If we have to go into the kitchen to smuggle them out we may be subjected to a taste test of whatever concoction she’s made this time.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“That’s not fair she’s your wife!”
“Believe me, she likes you better, if she’s going to give either of us mercy, it’s you, Nathalie.”
Nathalie relented, “Fine.”
When the two made their way into the kitchen, Emilie and Adrien were covered in a variety of substances and scooping a grainy brown batter into lined muffin tins. Multiple pans were already in the oven, and a few held lumpy baked muffins. They smelled like burnt cardboard.
“How’s everything going dear,” Gabriel gritted, standing directly in front of his wife and son (the distraction), as Nathalie frantically shoved as many containers as she could of instant coffee under her blazer.
“Wonderful,” Emilie informed him sweetly, handing him a finished muffin, “Try one?”
“No thank you, I had a hearty breakfast.”
“Come on Gabriel, just one bite,” Emilie coaxed “We need a taste tester, and Adrien thinks they’re made of mud, you know how imaginative children are!”
“Yes that’s quite a stretch of the imagination,” Gabriel grumbled, eyeing the thick brown concoction. Nathalie snorted.
As Gabriel suffered his inevitable doom by muffin, Nathalie snuck out of the kitchen and deposited the coffee under the sink in the remote downstairs bathroom no one could find because the mansion was unnecessarily gigantic and complicated. Unfortunately, there was more to retrieve, so the excursion continued.
The entirety of the household rotated through the kitchen, and Nathalie just barely avoided getting caught with a box of highly caffeinated black tea that would send Emilie gasping like a fair maiden.
But to Nathalie’s surprise, each time she reentered the kitchen there were more and more muffins missing. Who in the world had managed to enjoy those terrible looking over-glorified rocks she wondered.
The answer came when she entered the kitchen to see Gabriel desperately trying to keep Emilie’s attention on some conversation topic. Behind the two adults, Adrien clutched a muffin in each hand and gleefully chucked them into the open garbage can. He grabbed another couple and discarded them with equal enthusiasm.
Nathalie looked at the chaos unfolding in front of her and fell against the doorframe cackling.
********
It had taken the Agrestes months to select the most adequate teacher to be Adrien’s from-home kindergarten teacher. It took Adrien three days to make her quit. There had been crying and screaming and tantrums like Nathalie had never seen.
All of Emilie’s saccharine coaxing and Gabriel’s stern reprimanding could not quiet the child.
They blew through three potential teachers like that.
“Adrien?” Nathalie asked one night when she was tucking the boy into bed.
“Hmm,” he murmured sleepily, exhausted from spending a busy day giving a teacher a nervous breakdown.
“Why do you act so fussy around the teachers? You’re normally such a sweet boy.”
Green eyes stared at her, “No one listens to me when I say I don’t like the teachers. They only make them leave when I yell.”
Nathalie ran her hand through the boy’s wild blonde hair, “Why don’t you like the teachers?”
“They don’t like me. They just like my parents.”
She gaped at the boy, startled by his acute perception of the adults who had circulated so briefly through his home.
“Is that why there were so many people like me, people who helped your parents, who left before me?”
Adrien bobbed his head. His eyes were slipping shut.
“Why did you let me stay then?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“You like helping us. You like my parents, and you like me. The others didn’t.”
Nathalie hummed thoughtfully. “What if I was your teacher? Would you cooperate and try to learn then.”
Adrien smiled sleepily, “Yep.”
The boy kept his word for ten years, but by fifteen he had forgotten the incident and was quickly charmed by the prospect of public school. Nathalie, who had long been witness to how adamant that boy was about his education, was quick to convince Gabriel that public school was a good idea. Of course, teenaged Adrien was much better behaved than five-year-old Adrien, but that was a risk she had long since realized wasn’t worth taking.
********
“Nathalie? Nathalie?”
Nathalie snapped back to the present, eyes finding Adrien where he sat at the dining table, eyes searching hers questioningly.
“Apologies, Adrien,” She responded slowly, “I must have zoned out for a moment. What did you say?”
“Oh! I just asked what I was like as a child.” He told her brightly.
Nathalie paused for a moment. “You were a very well behaved child,” she told him noncommittally, “You didn’t really get into much trouble.”
“Are you sure?” Adrien asked, confused, “Because Father told me-”
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Adrien,” Nathalie told him quickly, before stalking from the room and shutting the door behind her as fast as humanly possible.