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“I said, it’s not fair!” Chloé’s screech echoed across the patio and reverberated against the windows quite impressively. Still, M Agreste was not swayed in the slightest.
“Mademoiselle Bourgeouis, Madamoiselle Dupain-Cheng has presented evidence of the hat being her creation. Can you sustain your argument?” His voice was flat and emotionless and Marinette was thrilled that it was speaking on her behalf.
How many times in her life was Marinette going to live a situation so absolutely scrumptious?
With a final, feral growl, Chloé took off, leaving the rest of the classroom to look after her and Sabrina on her tail (Marinette was still unsure as to why Sabrina was a pet, but she had enough on her plate to deal with that).
An elbow to her ribs and Marinette yowled softly at the owner of the jab, who arched her perfect (seriously, Alya, how) eyebrow and nodded in the direction of the beautiful woman holding the screen with her absolute idol encased virtually. Marinette yelped and stood to attention, grinning (probably a little crazily).
“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, I commend you. Both for your design and for your handling of the plagiarist situation. Your chapeau-melon will do wonderfully with my new collection,” he said, and then, as an afterthought. ”Ah, M Sancoeur, have Adrien pick it up himself, if you please.”
“Certainly,” was the only word this robot of a woman seemed to utter. She pulled out a phone from her pocket and pressed a button.
It would be hard to say why the entire class looked to the street at that very moment. A door opening was, by no means, anything spectacular. In fact, they had no reason to believe the button punching was related to the door opening at all, and yet—
—Marinette’s smile was frozen in what would better be called a grimace as she looked at Monsieur Agreste and his moderately pleased face. He looked to the side of the screen, and suddenly, she watched as his expression changed into something more than (let’s be honest, a little superiority) arrogance.
Pure, unadulterated pride.
Marinette almost dropped her jaw. What could make Monsieur Agreste make such a face?
Another jab at her ribage.
“Alya, stop.”
“Mari, you want to look at this.”
Marinette turned her head to tell Alya that no, she was much more interested in what had caused that expression on her idol’s face, but her words died in her throat as someone came through the staircase of the college.
“It’s Adrien,” the whispers surrounded them. Their words were leaves in autumn tangling themselves around their feet and Marinette felt almost too dizzy to understand, but she finally zeroed in on the recipient of the whispers.
A young, blond boy stood in front of her with a small smile and kind eyes.
“Hi,” he said. He wasn’t chipper, but he wasn’t formal, either. There was an edge to his tone, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was.
The boy was handsome, to be sure, but there was something that didn’t quite finish clicking to Marinette.
“Uh, hi,” she replied dumbly. From the side, Alya covered her face with her hand in pure frustration while Alix snickered. Nino raised an eyebrow as he studied the boy and for some reason, he vaguely thought he’d make an interesting friend, but the thought was disregarded almost as soon as it formed.
“I’m Adrien,” the boy said, and Marinette finally snapped to attention and tensed.
“Adrien!” She sqwaked. “You’ve been modeling Gabriel’s designs for years! I follow that magazine so closely!”
Adrien laughed, self consciously. “Yeah, my father has me model his designs some times.”
“But they’re amazing! I just—“
The suited woman cleared her throat.
“Sorry, Nathalie,” Adrien said apologetically and turned to Marinette once again. “So, you won the contest? You must be very talented.”
Marinette flushed a deep red.
“I don’t—I mean, it’s an honor—“
“Mademoiselle Dupain Cheng, this is my son, Adrien. He will be modeling your hat in our next fashion show. I try to make it a point for designers and models to meet. Now, it’s getting late. Adrien, you have Chinese lessons, do you not?”
Adrien turned his face towards his father and Marinette saw how his shoulders slumped a little—too little for anyone else to notice. Her brows knit in concern, but before she could say anything, Nathalie led Adrien away and into the car that was waiting for them.
For a moment, Marinette lost control of herself. One minute she was standing next to Alya, and the next she was rushing down the staircase, calling for Monsieur Agreste. Nathalie and Adrien turned, astounded, and Marinette felt immediately foolish.
“Sorry,” she said dumbly. Nathalie’s expression was perfectly schooled, but Marinette was sure she was annoyed. Adrien, on the other hand, looked open and confused. Marinette held out the pigeon feather she had spent all morning picking up.
“Sorry,” she half smiled. “This fell off.” She offered the plume to Adrien, and when she spoke, it was solely to him. “I really hope you like the hat.”
Emelie Agreste had many things to be proud of, in this world.
She had an acting career, she was continuously in the spotlight, an impecable home, and she was a more than apt singer to entertain their guests during the parties her husband’s job inevitably dragged them to.
However none of these things—not even one—compared to the pride she felt at her wonderful son, Adrien.
He was kind. Sweet. Courageous. Altruistic.
How could it be that Emelie herself had a hand in creating the person she admired most in this world? She was sure that the only reason her hair was yellow was because she was beaming with pride.
Emelie took a swig of water as she looked out the window of the main room where Gabriel was used to working and grimaced. She only wished he didn’t insist on using that strange painting of hers draped across the wall—after all, they had so many lovely family photos.
The main door opened, and Emelie’s heart leapt. She all but rushed out of the room—oh, she couldn’t tell why, but every time she saw Adrien it felt as if years had passed. As she stepped to the foyer, she watched Adrien step fully inside the house, and she went down to greet him.
“My darling!” She chimed—that was the thing about Emelie: she didn’t speak, she chimed—and closed the space between her and her son. Wrapping him in her arms, she pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead. He laughed a little, but she knew he was blushing. Perhaps he was getting too old for these minstrations…
“How was it? Who won? Is the chapeau wonderful? I’m sure you’ll look absolutely dashing in it, darling!”
Adrien laughed shyly, but looked away. Emelie’s smile vanished quickly as she grabbed him by the jaw and gently made him face her.
“What’s the matter?” She asked. Her eyebrows were knit in concern, and she knew it churned Adrien’s stomach to see her like that, but she couldn’t help it.
“It’s nothing, Mother, it was wonderful. The winner was this girl—“
“—Girl?” Emelie echoed, blinking. “A girl won the contest?”
This seemed to bring a little smile to Adrien’s face.
“Yeah! She was pretty nice. I think her name is Marinette. She’s definitely very talented, and she follows Father’s designs very closely.”
Emelie waited. “Aaaaand?”
Adrien blinked, confused. “And what?”
Emelie groaned. “I told Gabriel we needed to have you interact with more people your age.” She sighed, and then turned to a very confused Adrien. “Tell me about the people you saw! You’ve always wanted to go to Collége, right?”
That stung them both. The one thing Emelie couldn’t give her son: freedom.
But Adrien took the question as it was meant, and smiled.
“Yeah. There were a lot of kids my age.” He laughed. “They made the most amazing hats! I can’t believe the things they would come up with! The only one I didn’t see was Chloé.”
Emelie slumped on the sofa in the middle of the living room and patted the seat next to her. “I know all about Chloé. Tell me about the people.” A sly smile played on her lips for a second. “Anyone cute?”
Adrien blushed. “Mother!”
“Come oooooon!” She bumped his shoulder, friendly. Adrien took a deep breath.
“Fine. There was one.”
“Yes!” She cheered. “Tell me all about her.”
Adrien laughed. “We spoke about thirty seconds, there isn’t much to tell,” Adrien scratched the back of his head. “It’s the girl who won the contest. I… don’t think she recognized me, at first.”
Emelie blinked. “Yay or nay?”
“I don’t know,” Adrien looked at his shoes, thinking about Marinette. “It was nice. She looked so excited to have won the contest, but I think it was more about the fashion than the glory. She just… she looked really proud of her work—excited. It’s like everyone was seeing the model but she was only interested in the clothes.”
Adrien deflated.
“That’s a dumb analogy.”
Emelie smiled and ruffled his hair before planting a kiss on his temple.
“Any idea of this mystery girl’s name?”
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Madame.” Nathalie’s voice rang clear across the room. Emelie nodded thankfully (although frankly, Nathalie put her on edge). She clapped her hands and stood.
“Alright then! Time for Chinese lessons!”
A week had passed since the fateful meeting, and Marinette couldn’t stop seeing Adrien’s face everywhere she went. This may have had to do with the fact that his face was literally everywhere.
Her mind had drifted to him while working the croissants into the display, when she heard the voice that had haunted her for the past seven days.
“Hello,” Adrien called from the other side of the counter. Caught by surprise, Marinette yelped and shot upwards, bumping her head against the windowpane of the display. She cried out (more out of embarrassment than pain, mind you) and fell on the ground.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Adrien hopped over the counter gracefully and landed on his feet, offering Marinette a hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you like that.”
“Y-you didn’t!” She spluttered before clearing her throat. “My head was just… somewhere else.” She took his hand and rose to her feet. They both laughed awkwardly, exactly in the fashion of two dorks, and Marinette realized she was still holding his hand. With a yelp, she let go.
“Sorry!”
“Sorry!” They cried at the same time. It was painful to watch.
“I—what can I offer you?” Marinette asked, finally.
“Oh! Uhm,” Adrien scratched the back of his neck in a fashion that could only be deemed adorable by the nations of the world united. “Anything with chocolate,” he said sheepishly. “My mother is waiting in the car and she had a craving and asked me to get her ‘anything with chocolate…’ do you have any recommendations?”
Marinette smiled and nodded. “Well, the pain au chocolat here is always a hit, so you could try with that.”
Adrien brightened. The room brightened with him.
“That sounds amazing!”
Marinette pulled out a bag and put two pastries in it. Adrien hesitated, and Marinette—sweet, pure, innocent Marinette—winked. “The second one is on the house.”
Adrien smiled and paid as he left the bakery while Marinette soon began spiraling over that wink.
Emelie Agreste sat in the back of the car, waiting for her son. He climbed on the car and offered the pastries.
“I didn’t know you liked chocolate, Mother.”
She smiled. She hated chocolate.
The fashion show was a week away, and Marinette had already begun freaking out, which was exactly what Alya had expected.
“What if he hates it?” Marinette asked despairingly.
“He didn’t hate it before, why would he hate it now?” Alya asked, lounging on the chaise, reading a magazine.
“No, not Gabriel, Adrien. What if he was just being polite? What if he actually hates the design but is too nice to say anything about it? You’ve met him, he totally looks the ‘too-nice-to-say-anything’ type. What if—“
“Mari, girl. I’m going to throw this magazine at you,” Alya said, and sighed. “Yes, he did seem nice, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t like the hat. It was a great hat. It’s gonna do great in the fashion show.”
Marinette groaned. “Why do I have to wait until the fashion show?”
There was a knock on the door. Marinette and Alya exchanged a glance.
“Uh, come in.”
Sabine Cheng popped her head into Marinette’s room with a confused smile.
“Mari, darling, there’s someone here to see you.”
Another glance between the girls. “Who?” She asked.
“It’s… better if you see for yourself.”
Marinette nearly collapsed in a puddle of embarrassment and excitement as she watched the most beautiful woman she had ever seen fill the pastry shop.
What was stranger, the woman brightened upon seeing her.
“Oh!” She cried, delighted. “You must be Marinette! I’ve heard so much about you!”
“I—“
“Oops, forgot my manners. Hello, darling, I’m Emelie Agreste. I’m Gabriel’s wife…” she smiled. “And Adrien’s mother.”
Marinette nearly spluttered at the mention of his name. No wonder that woman was so beautiful.
“Y-yes, hello. Madame Agreste. Hi. Good afternoon. Hello.”
Emelie’s smile widened. “I was just here to invite you to the preparations of the fashion show… if you’re interested, of course.”
Marinette’s eyes widened. “Y-es, Yes!” She all but yelled. “I-I mean, uhm, yes, I’d be happy to attend.”
“Perfect!” Emelie smiled. “I’m sure Adrien will be happy to see you,” she said, turning around, precisely to save Marinette the embarrassment of being seen blushing. “I will send a car for you tomorrow afternoon. Goodbye!”
On the car, Emelie smiled, self satisfied.
All according to keikaku.
As promised, the next day found a silver sedan waiting for Marinette outside the bakery. She;d had Alya help her pick out a dress, and it had taken them a good whole of three hours to settle on her signature jacket and pigtails.
Oh the things Alya did for her.
She arrived at the venue, twisting and untwisting the hem of her shirt until she spotted Adrien, and he spotted her. He smiled and lifted a hand to call out to her—
“Marinette!” Emelie’s voice came first, and she was quickly by the girl’s side. “I’m so happy you could make it!”
Marinette smiled fully. “On the contrary, thank you, Madame Agreste, this is an honor.”
Emelie beamed. “I’m sure Adrien will be excited to have someone his age around, too.” She led Marinette, hand on her back, towards where Adrien was getting measured.
“Adrien, honey, why don’t you show Marinette around.”
Adrien blinked.
“Sure but—“
Emelie’s smile left no room for discussion. There was nothing in this world Adrien wouldn’t do for that smile. He laughed half-heartedly to himself.
“Of course, Mother.” He turned to Marinette. “Would you like to see where the magic happens?”
Marinette flushed. “Very much, thank you.”
“But, Adrien—“ called the tailor. He was promptly silenced by a look from Emelie.
“Go on, you two!” Emelie cheered. “Adrien, be a good host!”
They walked in an awkward silence.
It is important to note that Marinette was entirely too dumbstruck watching Adrien, so she could only half appreciate that she was in her very own Disneyland. Meanwhile, Adrien was, for the first time in a long time, alone with someone his age who wasn’t Chloé, and who wasn’t groomed to kiss his boots.
They were both ecstatic and it made no sense.
Adrien made small talk, showing her around, telling her about the various jobs to be done. Marinette finally focused enough to appreciate and understand what was being said, keeping the swooning to a minimum.
“So, on this side, you see the other desi—“ Adrien’s voice was interrupted by a louder, more boisterous one.
“What? You’re telling me that my headpiece was pushed aside for… this?” The ambiguous voice cried.
Marinette and Adrien emerged through the door to watch an overly dressed woman looking disgruntled and angry.
And she was holding Marinette’s hat. Her heart sank.
“The order comes from Monsieur Agreste himself, Madam,” the tailor said quietly, keeping his eyes cast down.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I ask you? You’re just a tailor. Bring me Gabriel immediately!”
Adrien opened his mouth, but Marinette beat him to the punch.
“Excuse me,” Marinette’s voice was not loud, but it was definitely commanding. “I understand your distress, but you can’t talk to people like that!”
The woman, a big, unruly chunk of red hair falling to her face over large shades, sneered at Marinette.
“Excuse me? Who do you think you are? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”
“Someone who didn’t learn her manners, obviously,” Marinette crossed her arms over her chest. The woman showed her teeth, almost feral.
“I am Letitia Black,” Adrien saw the color drain from Marinette’s face, but her posture did not falter. “Who, in the name of Grace, are you?”
Marinette’s lips were frozen for a moment. She bit her lower lip, but her resolve steeled.
“I’m—“
“The absolutely wonderful designer of that hat you’re dissing right now, which Gabriel chose personally, Letitia.”
Adrien and Marinette looked over their shoulders to watch Emelie enter the room, looking as displeased as Marinette had ever seen her (which, to be fair, had only been three times).
“If you have a problem with my husband’s choices of garments, I strongly suggest you take them up with him. Until then, that hat is part of Adrien’s ensemble, and you will respect it.”
Letitia’s face grew as red as her hair, and it reminded Marinette a bit of Chloé, but she said nothing, and only barely managed to contain a chuckle. Letitia sniffed and dropped the hat on the ground before leaving the room with Emelie in tow.
Adrien scratched the back of his neck as Marinette leaned over to pick up the hat.
“That was pretty brave,” he said, flushing slightly. “You know, standing up to Letitia. Not many people do that.”
Marinette laughed nervously. “To be fair, when I heard her name I nearly passed out.” Adrien smiled fully.
“But still, it was pretty amazing to watch,” he said gently, and Marinette flushed and looked away, offering him the hat.
“S-sorry, it was on the ground, I’m going to clean it—“ But Adrien’s hands caught hers, lingering there. He met her eyes with a pure kindness that Marinette had never beheld upon anyone.
“No need. It can’t make my allergies worse,” he joked. Marinette’s eyes widened.
“You have allergies?” She cried. “I’m so sorry! To what? The material? I can find something else—“
Adrien laughed. It was pure and delighted. “It’s alright. I’m just allergic to feathers. I’m sure we can find a good, hypoallergenic substitute.”
Marinette smiled and her shoulders relaxed. “Y-yeah.”
Adrien looked to the ground, embarrassed. “Uhm, hey, uh…”
Marinette blinked. Adrien stuttered a few more times.
“S-sorry, I’m new at this,” he confessed, and she could see the flush reach all the way to his ears. What could possibly be making him so nervous? “I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Listen, the only non-work contact on my phone is Chloé…. I was wondering if, you know, you’d like to help me change that?” He peered at her, hopeful.
Marinette only heard a loud beep, and she was sure it was inside her head.
“I’d love to,” someone that wasn’t her replied. This same someone took Adrien’s phone and typed exactly her same digits (what a coincidence) and offered his phone back. Adrien smiled and pocketed his phone, still flushing slightly.
“Th-thanks.”
“N-no problem.”
“W-would you like to see the rest of the scene?”
Wordlessly, Marinette nodded.
From the distance, a cheering ‘whoop!’ Was heard in the form of Emelie Agreste’s voice.