Chapter Text
“Chloé,” Marinette groaned. “What am I gonna doooooo?”
She was sprawled out on Chloé’s bed, as the blonde sat down beside her, patting her head.
“You bring this upon yourself by being utterly useless.”
“Hey!” Marinette say straight up. “What happened to being the most competent person you know?”
“I take it back.” Chloé shoved her back onto the bed. “I take it back because you told Jagged you were dating someone so he wouldn’t try to set you up with Penny’s nephew, but you’re not, and now you’re asking me to set you up with someone to prove to Jagged that you are dating someone, but you’re not, and it’s the exact situation you were trying to avoid.”
Marinette glared up at her. “Do you know someone or not?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Maybe it could just be, you know, being a good person?”
Chloé stayed silent.
“Fine. The dress I was working on last week.”
“Deal.” Chloé snatched her phone. “He’s an American who’s going to be in Paris for three weeks, and he owes me a favor.” Her fingers clenched the phone briefly; Marinette wondered what exactly the favor was to make Chloé look so… pissed.
“He won’t mind?” Marinette suddenly felt like this might be a terrible idea. It was such an imposition- and he didn’t even know her! And Chloé would lose out on a chance to actually use the favor he owed her-
“It’ll be fine, Nette,” Chloé soothed, tapping out a smooth rhythm on her keyboard. “Will you just trust me?”
*****
“Why do you look like that?”
Damian scowled at the mirror, where Drake’s reflection was smirking at him.
“We didn’t have plans for anything tonight, so it’s something you’ve planned yourself,” the Annoyance continued, “and if how you’re dressed is any indication, you’re trying to impress someone.”
Damian straightened his sleeves with a huff. “I owed a favor to the Bourgeois brat. She has an… event, she’d like me to tag along to.”
“Chloé Bourgeois?” Drake asked, suddenly curious. “Oh damn, that’s three of us she’s managed to sucker. I gotta make sure she never meets Dick. Jason and I have money on this.”
“I don’t care about your derailed questioning. I’m leaving.” Damian brushed past him, ignoring his continuing questions as he walked out the door.
“Tell her hi and that I still don’t forgive her!” Drake yelled, and Damian suppressed a groan.
Damn Bourgeois. Besides the fact that she’d apparently dealt with Drake and Todd in similar situations, did it really have to be this that she called in for the favor? He hated dealing with people, and given that he had A) never met this girl, B) they were going to some concert of all places, and C) she couldn’t even acquire her own date, he had very low expectations for the night, and every reason to suspect that Bourgeois was just torturing him.
He met her at her room; she was admittedly stunning as always, befitting a girl with such a fashion icon as a mother. Her bored expression inspired no confidence.
“Good,” she drawled as he walked up. “Marinette was getting antsy.”
“I was not!” A voice screeched out, and Damian couldn’t help but wince. He just hoped Bourgeois hadn’t told her who he actually was.
“You’ve been going over the jackets for the next six concerts for two hours, nitpicking every choice you were so happy with yesterday, Nette, you’re impatient and freaking out as always.”
She motioned him in, and he went, a little confused. He was expecting- well, he wasn’t sure what. But seeing the small, dark-haired girl tucked in a corner with a desk covered in fabrics was not it. She wasn’t even looking at him as he stepped in, which was- a bit insulting, to be honest.
“Impatient? Freaking out? No, everything’s absolutely fine, Chloé, it’s just that Uncle Jagged’s going on in two hours, I have to be there in thirty minutes, and this is his first concert after announcing MDC as his personally chosen designer. It has to be perfect, Chloé!”
Damian realized a few things in very short order. The concert in question was Jagged Stone’s concert, where he was entirely certain Tim would also be tonight. The girl in front of him was MDC, the fashion designer that his siblings would occasionally talk about in awe. And she was, without exaggeration, possibly the cutest person he had ever seen.
And he had to pretend to date her.
Shit.