Chapter Text
It is official. Marinette Dupain Cheng, or maybe better, Ladybug has completely lost her mind.
The red material of the suit makes for a barrier between her fingers and the fabric of her skirt as she smooths it down for what has to be the millionth time this evening. Over her years of being a superheroine, Marinette and the suit have been involved in a fair share of crazy and reckless stuff. Perhaps even a little more than a fair share. This however … this is an entire new level. Insane, really. How can she possibly be this reckless?
The reason, of course, glances down at her with sparkling green eyes and an award winning smile. “Don’t worry, you look great,” Adrien Agreste whispers. She can feel the muscles of upper arm shift under her grasp when he leans towards her ever so slightly. “The Lady of the ball one could say.”
Her fourteen year old self probably would have combusted on the spot, but after years of dealing with his charms, Marinette manages to stay in one piece.
Scarcely.
She can only hope the mask and low lighting hide her blush.
“Thanks again for the invite,” she mumbles.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one thanking you?”
Right. This isn’t one of her teenage fantasies. She isn’t Cinderella, and he for sure isn’t the prince stealing her away for a romantic evening. Although he does look the part, the light grey of his suit perfectly complimenting his –
Marinette shakes her head.
Not helping.
“Saving the city is my job you know,” she tries to pick up the conversation again, hoping the pause from her ogling him was shorter than it felt “there’s no need for thankful gestures.”
“Well, I happen to life in this city, and I find myself to be very grateful for being saved.”
Marinette feels his gaze linger a little too long and her pulse picks up again. Quickly, she looks away, shielding her face with her bangs.
What ever could make her think this was a good idea?
Adrien and her have known each other for years. They see each other on at least a weekly basis. He knows Marinette. There is no way Ladybug can make it through an entire date with him without him drawing the connection.
Woah hold up, she reign s herself in, still not a date.
“Honestly, you’re the one doing me a favour.” Adrien continues “Even if I must come and Chat can’t make it, at least I have the pleasure of your company.”
There’s something odd in the way he emphasises Chat’s name but she can’t put her finger on it, not with her heart and mind doing sommersaults.
“You’re my pleasure – I mean mine – I mean the pleasure’s mine.”
“Still, it’s nice having a friendly face around.”
Exactly.
A friendly face.
Marinette feels her heart sink, as the last bubble of hope attached to it pops like a balloon.
It’s stupid of course.
He’d specifically said that he didn’t mean this to be a date.
She’s lucky enough to have run into him just when Chat had told her he wouldn’t be coming. Not that Adrien could have known that.
He just wanted to say thank you.
“Are you alright?” Adrien asks, his voice low with concern, “Anything you need?”
Friendly.
The way his eyes gently search hers, the way they shimmer in the colour of sunlit summer-meadows, conjuring up the corresponding butterfly population in her stomach, that’s Adrien Agreste being friendly. Nothing more. She really can’t afford being distracted by him, if anything she should be – Hold on, why can see see his eyes shimmer in the colour of sunlit summer-meadows? That means she’s facing him. With her face. Adrien’s looking at her face. The flimsy insect community in her stomach suffers an untimely demise as her body temperature drops to freezing point. Marinette anything but whips her gaze away, suddenly very interested in the many waiters swarming the room.
“Let’s just find our table.”
He clears his throat.
“Of course.”
They walk in silence, swerving to avoid the designer-clad gala-guests as well as the midnight blue vests off the staff.
“You would think,” Adrien finally sighs “that an event fancy enough to make my father force me to come would be an event fancy enough to have someone show you your seats.” He shoots her a crooked smile and Marinette can’t help the snort coming out of her. Very ladylike.
She glances up at him and is almost blinded by the brightness of his widening smile.
This can’t be natural. What did they do to him at those photoshoots?
In an effort to safe her eyesight, Marinette tears her gaze away and scans the surrounding tables
“Still no forty-two.”
“Here neither,” Adrien replies. “Wait sixty-eight? Do these numbers have any kind of system at all?”
“Not one I can figure out at least,” she says only a little breathlessly, “don’t tell anyone, but I have no idea how to navigate these events.”
Usually she just tags along and does whatever Chat is doing. Not that she would ever tell him that.
Adrien’s smile somehow manages to light up even more. If he’s gonna keep that up she might have to lucky-charm herself some sunglasses. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” He gives a conspirational wink and her legs wobble.
She better find that table and fast if she wants to make it there in a solid, unmolten piece.
“I just hope we don’t spent the entire gala trying to figure it out.”
“It’s gonna be alright.” Adrien says optimistically. Seriously, it should be illegal to be this cute. “After all we have the power of good luck on our side.” He slightly raises their joined arms. Marinette straightens. He’s right. She’s Ladybug for crying out loud.
She can do this.
She just has to keep a cool head and not be distracted by his literal model looks or his pure sunray of a personality.
Piece of cake.
“Well let’s hope I’m getting lucky tonight.”
This whole night is going to be a disaster.
She slaps a hand over her mouth, wondering if her good luck could arrange for a meteor strike to take her out of her misery. “Wait that came out wrong, I wasn’t – I’m not -” her words are muffled by her gloved fingers as she peers up at him. His face is the same colour as her suit.
“No! Of course! I know you’d never –”
“Exactly! I mean you’re my friend! We’re friends –”
“You said it!”
That’s it, she’s not talking for the rest of the night. Maybe she can find a menu to bury herself behind for about five years, just until the shame starts wearing off. Or even better, she could bolt to the bathroom and through the window into the night and take the next plane to Timbuktu where she will grow a beard and start a new life as a hamster breeder, a mute hamster breeder, far away from any –
“Adrien?”
Wait. That voice sounds familiar.
Too familiar.
“Nino? What are you guys doing here?” The cheerful ring in Adrien’s voice is clashing quite terribly with the sirens suddenly going off in her mind. This can’t be real. This can’t really be happening. Marinette squeezes her eyes shut in a silent plea, but when she opens them again, there he is. Nino Lahiffe, as if placed by the goddess of disaster herself, wearing a fancy suit and leaning to peer past the elevated 42 on the table in front of him. And as usual with parties, where there’s Nino there’s Alya.
Her best friend Alya
The Ladyblogger Alya.
Alya, who’s staring at the two of them like at some sort of apparition.
Disaster!
“I thought the press was supposed to have their own area.” Marinette says weakly as she stumbles after Adrien, who’s heading straight for their seats.
“So good to see you dude!” Nino has jumped from his chair and rounded the table faster than Marinette would have thought possible without super powers. She barely has time to blink before he rushes past her, pulling Adrien into an enthusiastically reciprocated hug. A long one.
Marinette just stands there, her left arm awkwardly stuck between Adrien’s biceps and Nino’s back. “Is this your table too? Man, what are the odds!”
Yeah, what are the odds. Ladybug’s Luck my –
“Seatmates for life, bro.”
“It’s fate.” Adrien beams back and Marinette watches with a growing sense of surreality as the two engage in what is to a handshake that a New York skyscraper is to a sandcastle.
“And Ladybug!” Nino nothing but cheers when they finally finish their ritual dance. “How’s it going? Busy week? Man it’s really been too long, we haven’t seen each other since – “
“Lycee,” Marinette interrupts him, blocking his hug by offering her palm. “You were one of the victims of Anansi if I recall correctly. Monsieur Lahiffe, wans’t it?”
They shake hands. Nino frowns at her, the ever growing number of wristbands on his arm shifting to reveal a particularly familiar jade bracelet. Marinette does her best to avoid looking down at the small turtle shell glistening in the light of the candlesticks behind them. She presses Nino’s hand a little firmer. Finally the questioning look in his eyes lights up with a spark of understanding.
“Lycee, of course. It’s been ages.” He says a little too loudly, still shaking her hand. “But please, call me Nino.” He holds onto her gaze and Marinette can see him contemplate whether a wink would be too much.
She resists the urge to face palm.
Either her expression is not as controlled as she thinks or it’s just that his arm is finally getting tired, but at last Nino lets go of her hand.
“Babe, look it’s Adrien and Ladybug.” He rounds the table, gently nudging his girlfriend. “Isn’t that nice.”
Alya doesn’t respond. She just gapes at them, completely frozen in her seat. Her eyes are locked on Marinette’s hand on Adrien’s arm.
Well, this is gonna be just great.
“How long has that been going on?” Alya suddenly bursts out, shrill enough to make the other three jump. “Since when are you guys a thing ?”
Marinette feels Adrien stiffen next to her. “Uh - “
“Oh this – this is not going thing – on – we’re not – he just asked me as a thank you –” Marinette hurries to sputter, her voice rising in sync with Alya’s eyebrows “how would that even work, a superhero and a civilian – it’s not like we just – I mean not that I care – I never thought about that – Why would I – I barely even – Adrien’s just a friend!” she closes somewhat lamely.
His elbow trembles under her grasp as he lets out a shaky exhale. Is the idea of dating her that horrible?
“Oh that’s -” now it’s Alya’s turn to look awkward “that’s alright th – I mean that’s nice.” She sounds almost relieved. Nino just snorts and plops down on his chair. He is mumbling something Marinette’s super-hearing identifies as “heard that one before”
Alya shoots him a sharp look.
“Right,” Adrien says.
“Let’s sit.” Marinette says.
They walk up to the table, both reaching for the same chair. Realising their mistake they stop to smile at each other awkwardly before they swerving off in opposite directions. Each of them grabs one of the two remaining chairs, freezing again to look down at the now unclaimed seat between them.
“Please, Ladies first,” Adrien pulls out the chair for her, his head lowering in indication of a bow. The gesture is strangely comforting, a familiarity in the way he cocks his head and smiles up at her with sparkling eyes. He’s like a toned down version of Chat Noir, who never fails to put on the most over the top manners on occasions like this. Marinette places her bag on the table and sits, unable to suppress a smile at the thought of her partner’s silly antics. Adrien’s face lights up like a candle.
“So…” Nino interrupts the emerging silence, “friends.” His eyes dart to Adrien, who’s just sitting down, still beaming at Marinette like she’d hung the sun. “That’s … that’s great.”
Marinette nods faintly, Nino’s voice barely making it through to her. Her entire consciousness is occupied by Adrien’s smile, the twitch of his lips, the small dimple on his left cheek and she feels herself falling, falling …
Get it together!
She jumps in her seat, shaking her head in a violent motion.
Adrien clears his throat.
“It is.”
Her heart clenches like a fist. When she peeks up again, his eyes have left hers, looking at Nino instead.
No, that’s supposed to be a good thing!
“Totally,” she manages, “excuse me can I see that menu?”
Alya hands it to her with a questioning look and Marinette hurries to take cover.
Alright this is about as bad as it gets.
She thought spending an evening with Adrien was risky? Nino and Alya are pretty much her oldest friends. There is no way they won’t recognise her.
That’s why she wishes they hadn’t been at the table.
It’s not like she wants to be alone with Adrien.
Right?
No of course not.
To him, Marinette is just a friend. A good friend. The kind of friend you’d ask to house-sit when you and your future girlfriend jet off to a romantic holiday in Rome, where you plan to get down on one knee in a small, picturesque alley, right in front of one of those shops that only seem to sell ham, and ask her if she wants to go buy a hamster with you–
Get over yourself.
It’s none of her business who he buys hamsters with.
She’s here as Ladybug anyway.
Whom he also friend-zoned.
Right.
Not that it stops her heart from pounding every time he looks at her.
“I like your dress,” Alya’s voice breaks the silence, fluttering over her barricade like a white flag. “The butterflies are a nice touch.”
“Thanks,” Marinette rasps. “I like yours too.” How long can you hide behind a menu before it gets rude?
“Red's just your colour, babe.” Nino presses a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. “You could say I’m in the company of a real fox tonight.”
He grins, dodging just in time to avoid her swatting hands. His eyes find Marinette’s; peeking past her paper-shield Nino holds onto her gaze.
And winks.
“Nice one!” Adrien says, while Marinette refrains from slamming her head on the table with heroic effort. “I mean, I didn’t- y- you look lovely Alya, I wasn’t –”
“Sure, hot stuff” Alya snorts, not even making the effort to look up as she rummages through her purse. Adrien’s blush deepens.
It’s that moment a loud chime fills the air. Marinette drops the menu, staring at her bag as it vibrates against the table with another ring.
Her heart stops.
She’s fretted a long time over whether to bring her phone or not. It’s risky of course, but she can’t really afford not to bring it either. Completely dropping off the grid for several hours has gotten her into quite some situations over the years, especially if it happens at night. And of course even more so when people aren’t being distracted by an Akuma turning parkometers into Star Wars Characters.
“Not mine!” Nino pats down his pockets. “I think it’s yours, LB.”
Marinette swallows.
She’s gotten rid of the case and changed the ring tone beforehand. That must be enough right? Adrien would never recognise her phone without those.
Alya however…
Marinette glances up at her friend, who is watching her curiously. Alya is still holding her own bag, her right hand slid under the flap in in a gesture that’s become more than familiar over the years of being her seat mate.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh no
Marinette lets out a shrill laugh and lunges for her bag, almost flinging its contents over the table as she digs for her phone.
“I’m so sorry!” she exclaims, silently thanking past her for having the wits to pull a new lock screen from the Ladyblog as well. Not that you would be able to see it. There’s far too many messages “I really thought this thing was on silent-”
She interrupts herself as her eyes fly over the countless texts.
They’re all from the same sender.
O
M
G
Marinette!
GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL
YOU WONT BELIEVE IT!!!!!!!!
ADRIEN’S AT OUR TABLE AND HE’S WITH -
She can barely read as quickly as the messages flood her rapidly chiming phone.
Make it stop!
She fumbles to silence the device, her movements so erratic that her fingertips slip off the volume buttons. The screen goes dark.
“it’s just -” Yeah, Marinette, who is it? Your best friend who is literally watching right now?
Another chime.
Marinette feels herself come close to screaming. Frantically, she presses the power button. “It’s just -” The substitute lock-screen, a picture from when they met Alya on patrol, greets her “uh- Chat Noir.”
Adrien shoots her a curious glance.
Alya’s jaw drops open for the second time tonight.
Uh oh.
“Chat Noir?” Alya echoes, putting down her bag. Her eyes reflect the flames of the candlesticks between them.
Marinette swallows a whimper.
What on earth is wrong with her? She could have said it was her mum, or her boss maybe, or her hamster-sitter. Heck she could have said nothing at all and gotten away with it. But noo, one look at a dumb photo and her brain decides it just has to be –
“Chat Noir is texting you?”
“Uh-”
“Should I be concerned that my date’s being cat-called?”
If Marinette had a drink, she’d surely spit it out at his words. Adrien is grinning, no smirking at her. Wait does he –
“It’s not – he’s just checking in on me!” Her hands fly up in a panicked motion “We usually function to – I mean we usually go to functions together. Chat’s amazing at all this posh stuff,” she hears herself blabber, apparently determined to keep digging this hole until she meets a penguin, “he’s got a surprisingly good set of manners, not to mention when we’re on the red carpet – well he’s good. Like, scary good. Shouldn’t be that much of a surprise I suppose,” she lets out a hysterical laugh, finding herself unable to just shut up. Her eyes flicker to avoid Alya’s searing gaze only to meet Adrien’s, which is just as intense, “considering he’s actually a m-”
Adrien coughs and Marinette feels like he has broken a spell. She stiffens in her seat, the words mega show-off dying on her lips unspoken.
W hy on earth is she taking about chat noir, what is wrong with her? Here she is, all dressed up, in a low lit room with her dreamboat of a crush and all they seem to talk about is Paris’ most famous furry.
They look at each other, and Marinette can’t quite read Adrien’s expression.
Doesn’t matter, they just have to move past this and –
“And he’s texting you!”
“Alya,” Nino starts, but now that she senses Marinette is finished, his girlfriend is about as stoppable as Hawkmoth on his way to akumatise Msr Ramier.
“Does that mean he’s got your number? Do you know each other’s identities then?”
Yeah, she really, really didn’t think this through.
“I – We -”
If Adrien’s cough could give an encore just about now that would be great. She looks at him hopefully, but he only returns her glance with almost the same expression.
Why is everyone so invested in her relationship with Chat Noir?
“Hold on!” Alya almost falls off her chair “Are you and Chat – are you two – ow!”
She jumps in her seat and glares at her boyfriend “What the heck, Nino?”
“Let’s go to the bar.” he says, way too loudly.
“What?”
“I wanna go to the bar, come on.”
“Now? Babe, there’s waiting staff here we don’t-”
“You and me, bar.”
He gets up and grabs Alya by the arm.
“Now.”
He turns to Marinette and Adrien, who watch in bewilderment as Alya allows him to help her out of her chair. “Please excuse us for a second.”
Nino anything but drags her off into the crowd, Alya’s protests increasingly hard to differentiate from the overall noise.
“I have to go back!”
“Not until we’ve had a talk. You can’t cross-examine people like that!”
“But Nino It’s Ladynoir! It’s my OTP, I have to know if they’re finally-”
“Listen, Alya, Adrien’s been looking forward to this evening for weeks do not ruin this for – “
Even with super-hearing, Marinette can hardly make out the last few words. Nino and Alya round a group of party goers, their voices swallowed by a heated discussion about the new Agreste Spring line.
And just like that Adrien and Marinette are alone.
Silence settles between them, Adrien’s eyes wandering around the room while hers stay glued to the white table cloth.
Neither looks at the other.
Why is everything so awkward with Adrien?
Chat and her usually have the best time at this kind of event. For obvious reasons they steer clear of getting as much as tipsy, but that doesn’t stop them from having a blast. Not only does her partner know exactly which fork too stuff themselves with, he’s also surprisingly well informed on all the ongoings of Paris’ upper class. They often spent a big part of their time just sitting and gossiping about other attendees, all the while eating way too tiny dishes neither can pronounce or getting ready to clear the dance floor with their crazy moves.
And now she’s sitting here, biting her tongue and catching herself hoping that whatever Nino and Alya bring from the bar is very alcoholic and enough to share.
“That guy surely has an interesting taste in ties,” Adrien says suddenly, nodding to their left.
“What?” Marinette almost falls off her chair. It’s probably just the lingering thought of her partner, but for a moment she could have sworn Adrien sounded just like –
“Honestly, look at it.”
With her stomach twisting in all kinds of funny ways, Marinette lets out a nervous giggle and leans over, her eyes following the guiding line of his finger.
“Wow, you’re right. That is an interesting tie.” She chuckles, an honest one this time. “But polka dots and checks?”
“Too interesting?”
“I hope he can live up to the expectations he’s setting for himself.”
“Yeah, I doubt that. That’s Msr. Gravallie, sat next to him on a gala once.” Adrien stretches lazily and Marinette very much struggles to keep her eyes on the old man. “Did you know that you can fill four full hours just by talking about stock developments in the paper industry alone?”
“Oof, that bad?”
“Worse.”
They both snort loudly and Marinette feels the tension in her body beginning to melt away. Adrien’s her friend too after all. This doesn’t have to be awkward.
“Well, what do you think of that lady over there?”
“In the green dress?”
“Uh huh.”
“I don’t know, I can’t look at her directly.”
“Very sequins, much sparkle.”
Adrien laughs.
“It’s a nice colour on her though.”
“Absolutely, and that cut is amazing,” Marinette sighs, “Sequins are a pain to work with, especially if you use that many darts.”
“Oh, someone knows their sewing.”
She freezes. “I, uh … I like fashion that’s all. Lots of people do.”
Adrien nods.
“So do they apparently. You see that yellow suit?”
“Dotter,” she corrects automatically, rolling her eyes like she would do at one of her partner’s lame puns. “Seriously, aren’t you supposed to be working in fashion?”
Her sarcastic tone is met with a brief silence, just long enough for Marinette to mentally scream herself hoarse. What even? What’s gotten into her? This isn’t Chat Noir that she can just banter with. This is Adrien, sweet, shy, well mannered Adrien.
Plus, as far as he’s concerned they barely know each other.
It’s just as she finishes that thought that Adrien starts giggling. Marinette stills, her eyes snapping to his face in a blur. Her own cheeks burst into flames as she watches his nose wrinkle, the silver ring he’s always wearing glistening as he reaches to cover his smile.
“In my defence,” he says, his voice still bubbling as he lowers his hand “it’s only part time. I’ve got my studies to focus on, not to mention … other obligations.”
He winks at her and Marinette’s heart speeds up like the wings of a honey bee, her entire brain turning into golden, sugary goo. Right, she remembers sluggishly, he mentioned being a tutor once. Pretty and smart.
Wait, what?
“Oh, look over there,” she says, pointing blindly.
His eyes leave hers and suddenly she remembers how to breathe again.
“Black smoking, red heels?”
Adrien squints slightly as he searches the crowd, an intensity in his green gaze that is very much not helping to return her mind to a solid state.
“Sure.” She squeaks.
“Iconic.” Adrien says, oblivious to her struggle, “that look slays.” He pauses, “Woah, look!” and just like that he slings his arm around her shoulder to turn her. It’s a casual, completely innocent motion, Chat Noir has done it a million times on similar occasions. However, Chat’s touch never made her fear dying by electric shock. “What is that?”
Swallowing heavily, Marinette somehow manages to avoid dissolving into sparks. She looks up to where he’s gesturing.
“Ew!” They say in unison.
“Giiirl,” Adrien starts and Marinette can’t help but laugh at his expression. This is fun.
This is actually fun.
“Ooh, check out that bow-tie!” she says when they finally catch their breath.
“The one with the splats?” Adrien asks, voice seemingly getting louder when he leans over.
“No, a little to the left. The one with the feathers. You see it?”
He whistles.
“Now that’s what I call avant-garde fashion. Msr. Ramier would be cooing over that for sure. Should I go ask where he got it?”
“No way, do you want your allergies to act up?”
The moment the words leave her lips Marinette feels her stomach plummeting. Of course Marinette knows Adrien’s allergies. He’s personally told her. They’ve been subject of a lot of private jokes over the years.
Problem is, he never told Ladybug.
She resists the urge to slap her hand over her mouth as Adrien too instantly stiffens at her words. His arm, that’s still wrapped around her shoulders, clamps down and his chest trembles from his breath hitching. Marinette can feel it against her entire side. When did they end up leaning against each other so casually?
“You -” green eyes latch onto hers, wide and sparkling. His lips part in a way that could almost look like a smile. “You really–“
No. He can’t connect the dots. She can’t let him.
“Phew, it’s hot in here isn’t it?” she bursts out, jerking up in her seat as she shakes of his arm as well as his questioning gaze. “I wonder what’s taking your friends so long, I could really use something to drink right now.”
Adrien is still staring at her. “M- “
“It’s making me thirsti – thirsty. Aren’t you thirsty too?” she anything but yells, cutting him off in a voice that’s several octaves too high, “let’s order something to drinkstract – drink. Hey you! Waiter!” Her eyes, shooting around in panic, catch a midnight blue vest that’s blinking from the crowd like a beacon. Its wearer, a gangly young man with red hair, turns to face her. “You’re a godsend. Please, could you bring us some more champagne?”
He blinks. “Ladybug! I – I don’t –“
Next to her, Adrien shuffles in his seat, “La –“
“Is there none left?” she squeals, eyes pinned on the waiter, “Do you have Merlot – You know what, doesn’t matter, just – anything with alcohol, please, I’m begging you.”
She sure is, the desperation in her voice is evident. The man just stares at her for a second, eyes widening as she flails. Then he swallows, disappearing into the crowd without another word.
Marinette collapses into her chair, her blood still rushing in her ears. Relieved she notes that at least Adrien’s attention has shifted from her, his gaze lingering on where the other young man vanished.
“I wouldn’t count on that Merlot,” he says unmoving.
“Oh I’m – I’m so sorry I should have asked what you wanted first. Do you want me to call him back?” Anything to keep his mind off her slip up.
“I don’t think that will work. He -” Adrien shifts in his seat again, “he doesn’t work here?”
Against her better judgement, her eyes jump to his. “What?”
“That was Thomas Simon. He’s the heir of Chocolate Simon?”
“The candy mogul?”
“The very same.”
Marinette buries her face in her hands. “Oh god.”
“My dad and his parents used to go golfing together you know?”
“I will never be able to even look at truffles again.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind”
“Anything with alcohol, I said”
“He did kind of look like a waiter.”
“Please shoot me.”
“I could never shoot you. Who’s gonna protect Paris with –“
“Who’s shooting who?”
Adrien and Marinette both turn at the voice, the latter hesitantly peeking through her fingers. “Well?” Alya says, crossing her arms as she towers over them. Apparently, their friends have finally made their way back to the table.
“Hi guys, we’re back,” Nino says tiredly as he walks up behind her. He looks like he has aged ten years since Marinette last saw him.
“Did you find the bar?” Adrien asks.
“What? Oh – yeah, sure. Sorry, dude, I didn’t even ask if we should bring you something.” He looks at Marinette. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“I still want to know who’s getting shot!” Alya catches Nino’s glare. “On a completely platonic, friendly, non-romantic level of course.” They stare at each other. “You know what, let’s just sit.”
“Actually,” Adrien says quietly, eyes flickering to Marinette’s, “I was just about to ask Ladybug to dance.”
“D-dance?”
“That is a great idea, dude!” Nino beams, patting Adrien on the back “You go dance with Ladybug!”
Adrien looks at her shyly “If you want too, of course!” he quickly adds.
“N-no. I mean yes! I mean -” Marinette stammers, very much at loss of what to want.
On one hand, dancing with him means his undivided attention and close physical proximity for an indefinite amount of time. She’s still just wearing a flimsy mask, this sounds like the exact situation she ought to avoid.
On the other hand. Undivided attention and close physical proximity for an indefinite of time.
Stop it, you’re not fourteen anymore.
Only an idiot would agree to dance with him now, when he was this close to figuring her out a minute ago. Only an idiot.
“Is everything alright?” Adrien asks, his hand slacking around hers as she stumbles out of another twirl. The dance floor is mostly empty, which is lucky. Marinette is so preoccupied by kicking herself mentally that she would probably end up stepping on some important toes. It doesn’t help that Adrien seems to have picked tonight of all nights to switch up his usually very reserved dancing style. Marinette feels her head swim from all his spinning and swooping and grinning at her with an outright outrageous glee. “You seem … distracted.”
His hand finds the small of her back again and their movement somewhat calms, Adrien falling back into basic step to watch her face carefully.
“I’m fine!” she yelps, quick to avoid his gaze by turning to watch Alya and Nino, who of course have somehow managed to end up at the opposite end of the floor.
“Are you sure? This isn’t like you.” Right. Adrien only knows the larger than life media Ladybug. He slows even more, promptly causing her to step on his left foot.
“Sorry! O my goodness I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
“I’ve taken worse and lived” he chuckles. “Seriously though, you seem kind of out of it. Is it-”
“Oh here you are, I finally found you!”
The voice is breathless and very close. Marinette turns to find herself face to face with a blue vest.
“You!”
“Here you go Mademoiselle Ladybug, they didn’t have any more Champagne, but I managed to get my hands on some Merlot, I hope that’s okay.” She can only gape up at the lanky young man as he presses a glass of ruby red liquid into her hand.
“You’re Thomas Simon!”
“It might be a little warm now, I couldn’t find you for a while, you’re lucky your date’s tall.”
“He’s not my – Why are you doing this?”
He blinks at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Why are you getting me wine?”
“I – I thought you wanted me to?”
“You don’t work here! Why would you –”
He looks at her, his expression utterly confused.
“You’re Ladybug.” He says.
Marinette stares at the man and he stares back. Behind her, Adrien steps from one foot to the other.
“I …” he finally says “er… Thank you, Thomas?”
“You’re welcome.” Thomas takes a few hesitant steps backwards, looking somewhat lost now that his mission has been fullfilled. “Well uh … See you around then.”
“Thank you, Msr. Simon,” Marinette squeaks, taking a sip of luke-warm wine in lack of anything else to do.
“Say hi to your parents!” Adrien calls after him, stepping forward just as Marinette lowers her glass to turn back at his voice, suddenly very very close and that is all she can think before they collide. With her heightened reflexes, Marinette is the first one to jump back, yelping. Her eyes widen in horror as the wine in her hand sloshes and spills, dark stains blooming on the grey of Adrien’s Jacket like poppies.
Everybody freezes. Marinette slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle the high pitched whining noise originating somewhere in her throat.
Oh gosh.
None of them says a word, the only voices the low muttering of an elderly couple that has to change their route to dance around them.
“I’m going to get some more wine.” Thomas says over the music.
“It’s fine.”
“Some napkins?”
“Goodybe, Thomas.” Marinette and Adrien say in unison.
He takes off.
“I’m so so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight!” Marinette whimpers through wine stained fingers. “I’m really madly clumsy.”
“Madly Clumsy huh, I thought you went by Ladybug now.”
She gapes at him, the funny glint in his eyes nudging something at the very back of her mind, something like an ancient itch, only that her head is already buzzing with the sight of the stain and the smell of wine and the curve of his smile and –
“What are you doing?”
Adrien stops mid motion. “Taking my jacket of?” It sounds more like a question. “This is linen and I don’t want it to bleed through onto the shirt.”
“Oh I – uh – sure.” She stammers, her mask blending into her rapidly heating cheeks. “Yeah that’s – that’s reasonable.”
Adrien slips out of the sleeves and fold his jacket over his arm. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“F – for what?” Marinette does her best not to stare as he readjusts his sleeves, slightly overhelmed by being confronted with this new Adrien in a crisp white button down.
“I never – I didn’t think it would make that much of a difference. The last thing I wanted was to make you uncomfortable.”
“H- You’re not making -”
“You can talk to me, you know that right?” He’s still fiddling with the hems at his wrists and between his sincere tone and the movement of his slender fingers Marinette finds it very hard to concentrate.
If only Alya could see her now. She’d never hear the end of it. At least he didn’t roll up his sleeves or she would –
Adrien opens his cuffs, pushing them back to his elbows.
There goes her last braincell. Dang models and their darn model training.
“I – uh”
Marinette says intelligently. Her eyes stay glued to his bare lower arms as he raises a hand to scratch the back of his head, ruffling his hair.
“I’m just – if I’d known that the idea of me not wearing the suit made you –”
The wine glass almost slips through her fingers.
“What? It’s not – you’re not,” like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar Marinette jolts up. Is she that obvious? How pathetic can you be? She forces her eyes away from his newly exposed skin to his eyes. No wonder he must be taking her for some kind of perv, oh g- “I – I’d never – I don’t think about – that doesn’t matter to me!” Can you die from embarrassment? Marinette feels like she’s about to find out. “It’s the you that counts?”
That’s it.
She’s done.
Rest in pieces, Ladybug.
“So you don’t – you really don’t mind?” His green eyes hold onto hers, looking almost – relieved?
“What?” What is he even – Why would she – Doesn’t matter. He’s offering her a lifeline, who cares if it makes sense. “No, of course I don’t mind.”
“Wow, fourteen year old me really thought this entire thing would be much more of a deal.” He chuckles. “Honestly I’m still a little surprised you didn’t murder me instantly.”
“Uh -”
What?
Does he – Does he think she’s a serial killer or something?
“I’m just … I’m very relieved we finally got this out of the way,” he grins at her, readjusting his jacket over his arm “Or the bag purrhaps?”
Yes, something is definitely, definitely very strange.
“Anyway, care to dance, my Lady?”
With her mind still going at 200 kilometres an hour, his request barely registers. Marinette nods numbly, hardly noticing his fingers finding her waist and right hand again. Her left, still holding the now pretty much empty wineglass, comes to rest against his biceps as he leads them into a gentle sway. The music is soft and sweet in her ears, a slow melody trying to calm her churning mind.
Adrien raises their joined hands over their heads. Just so, Marinette manages to stumble through under them, almost dropping her glass.
Focus.
She bites her lip and tries to listen to the rhythm. Confused or not, there’s no way she’s stepping on his toes again.
“So if you don’t mind me asking,” Adrien hums next to her ear, “how long have you known?”
“Huh?” Brows creased in concentration, she doesn’t risk taking her eyes off her feet to look at him.
“Well when I asked you out, how long had you – when did you find out that I’m Chat Noir?”
The world screeches to a halt.
“What?”
Eyes wide, Adrien returns her stare.
“What?”