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Published:
2021-07-14
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Need a Lift?

Summary:

While lifting weights at the gym, Adrien gets some helpful pointers from his not-so-secret admirer.

Work Text:

The students of Francoise Dupont High School were pleasantly surprised when the faculty announced that they received funding for a new weight room for the school's athletic teams. Months prior, Chloé shrilly demanded her father to provide the funding for one - not because she intended on using it, mind you, but because Zoe mentioned offhand that her old high school back in New York had a weight room of its own. It was a rare instance of Chloé using her power and sway to make the school a better place - albeit for the wrong reasons.

Kim and Alix, unsurprisingly, were the two students who took to the room as soon as it opened. Ivan also used it fairly regularly, and with some coaxing, he persuaded his girlfriend Mylene to join him.

And then there was Adrien. He showed little interest in using the weight room, until one fencing class when Mr. D'Argencourt remarked that his blocks and parries were getting rather weak. From that point on, he made a point of reporting to the weight room every Tuesday and Thursday after school - assuming he didn't have a modeling gig or another club meeting to go to that day.

Today was one such day. Surrounded by the sounds of grunting and clanging weights and the odor of perspiration, Adrien stood alone, gripping two 5kg dumbbells and struggling his way through a set of bicep curls. Kim had given him some brusque but helpful advice weeks earlier, when he caught Adrien sneaking self-conscious glances at him in the middle of a set; "Don't focus on what I'm doing. Focus on what you're doing." From that point on, he would do his best to tune everyone out as he lifted, which helped immensely.

Just concentrate, he said to himself as he strained to complete another rep. They're doing their thing and you're doing yours. It's okay if you have trouble. Nobody cares. Nobody's looking at you. Nobody -

"Hi, Adrien!"

Adrien yelped, almost losing his grip on the weights. Once he caught his breath, he spun himself around to see Marinette Dupain-Cheng, of all people, standing before him.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" she asked, twiddling her fingers.

"It's fine, Marinette. You just startled me, is all. What's up?"

She let out a low "Um..." as her eyes darted across the room. He sighed internally, sensing that her response was going to be long, erratic and clumsy.

"...well, you see, I came down here just to see what all the fuss was about. And I was looking at you, and - I mean, I saw you. I was looking around the room at all the machines and stuff, and, well, I just happened to see you. And I got this crazy, dumb idea in my head that maybe, you know, just for kicks... I could help you out with that thing you're doing?"

Adrien stared at her for a second before breaking into laughter. "That's nice of you to offer, Marinette, but the whole point of the exercise is that I lift them by myself."

She let out a hoot of a laugh, loud and sharp enough to turn a few heads. "You're funny. Anyone ever tell you that? 'Cause you are. But no, I meant I could help you with your form. You're lifting them all wrong. Well, not all wrong, but your posture is a little off. Just a little."

My posture? His heart sank with the realization that he might have been doing those exercises wrong for weeks without even knowing it. No wonder I haven't been seeing any real progress. He stepped back and took a moment to look down at his stance.

"Here, I'll show you," she said. She grabbed a dumbbell off the rack and held it at her side, letting her arm hang loose. "Start out like this, keeping your elbow at your side. Feet shoulder width apart. And then... you slowly bring it up."

She curled her arm up at a steady rate until her forearm was almost parallel with her torso. She then held the weight in place for a second before bringing her arm back down.

"Just like that. Don't swing the weight; curl it. Now you try."

Adrien looked down at himself to find that his feet, for whatever reason, were clamped together, and his elbows were off to the side. He quickly corrected his stance, mimicking Marinette's, and then curled the weight upward. This time, the burning sensation in his bicep felt much more pronounced - particularly when he held the weight in place before bringing it back down.

"Much better!" she chirped. "But remember to keep your palms facing outward. Now do another."

Emboldened, he did a second curl, and then a third, and then decided that he might as well finish the set. His form slipped a little by the time he got to the tenth and final rep; thankfully, she noticed that his elbow was drifting, and helped nudge it back into place. On the whole, he felt that he got more of a pump from that set than any set he'd done since he started lifting. His arm was throbbing with pain, but the good sort of pain - the pain that assured him that he was putting his muscles through their paces. He then proceeded to crank out a set of ten reps with his other arm, while doing his best to adhere to the guidelines he had just learned.

Afterwards, she taught him a few other dumbbell exercises, coaxing him through a set of shoulder presses, lunges and lateral raises. Each time, she would perform a set herself, and then ask him to mimic her movements. He noticed that she was expending considerably less effort than he was, though he suspected it was because she had experience doing the exercises. By the end, he was damp with sweat, while she had only developed a light mist.

"Thanks, Marinette!" he said, huffing with effort as he re-racked the weights. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"Eh, mostly from my dad," she said, twirling one of her pigtails around her finger.

Yeah, that sounds about right, Adrien thought. Tom Dupain was a mammoth of a man, so large that he seemed to take up the entire room whenever Adrien visited the bakery. He'd be downright intimidating if he didn't have such a cuddly personality. Adrien had no doubt in his mind that Tom was a man who knew how to lift.

"Let me know if you need any more help," Marinette said as she went to put her weight back. Before she did, however, he noticed that the dumbbell she grabbed was 8 kg. She had just curled nearly twice as much weight as he did, with perfect form to boot.

Is she really that strong?

Thinking about it, he supposed it wasn't out of the question. As a baker in training, she probably spent a lot of time kneading dough and hefting bags of flour; plus, there was no telling what sort of genes she inherited from her father.

What could she be hiding under that blazer?, he thought. He had to know, or else he wouldn't be able to think about anything else for the rest of the day.

"Hey, Marinette?"

She looked back at him. "Hmm? What is it?"

"Uh, listen..."

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting off to the side. "This may sound a little forward, but..."

Before he could even finish that sentence, a light blush started to graze her cheeks.

"...could you flex?"

The blush deepened. "F...flex?"

"You know, flex. Make a muscle." His cheeks looked rather flushed themselves, though that may have just been because he'd been exercising.

Marinette let out a nervous chuckle that made her entire body quiver from the impact. "I-uh-I mean, sure, if you insist."

She shrugged off her black blazer, letting it fall to the floor, and then rolled up the sleeve of her white tee and flexed. To his surprise, a firm-looking, lemon-sized mound sprouted from the top of her arm, while her tricep bulged noticeably from the bottom. Entranced, he hovered his hand towards it, cupping his fingers.

"May I?"

Marinette, seemingly in a trance herself, jerked her head up and down. He coiled his fingers around her arm and gave it a light squeeze. It was smooth to the touch, yet solid and unyielding. A grin broke out across Marinette's face, and by now her blush had engulfed both of her cheeks. Of course, Adrien, being Adrien, didn't notice.

"Wow, it's like a rock!" he said. "I didn't know you worked out. That's, uh..."

He took his hand off her arm and started fiddling with his straw-blonde locks. "...that's pretty cool."

"T-thanks," she muttered. "I think you're cool, too. I mean, it's cool. It's cool that you're lifting, too."

"Well, it'll take me a while to catch up with you, but I'll try my best!" he said with a laugh. "By the way, I'm gonna be hitting the weights again this Thursday after school. Want to join me? We could get some orange juice afterwards to reward ourselves."

Marinette, still beet-red, took nervous steps away from him, wringing her hands. "Um, sure! That sounds... that sounds great. It's a great way to spend an afternoon, so that's what I'm gonna do. With you. This Thursday."

Adrien gave her a puzzled smile. "Well, okay, then. I guess it's a date!"

As soon as he said the "D" word, she grabbed her blazer off the floor and bolted out of the weight room as fast as her legs could carry her, taking refuge in the adjacent locker room. As soon as she confirmed that she was alone, she let out a squeal that was at least an octave higher than her usual range. Tikki popped out of her purse and promptly shushed her.

"Marinette, someone will hear you!" she whispered. "At least try to hold it in until you get home."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Marinette whispered back. "I just... did you see what just happened?! Adrien Agreste asked me out! ME!"

"Well, now you know that he likes strong girls, at least," Tikki said with a giggle. "Could you imagine what would happen if he found out you were Ladybug?"

She sighed wistfully. "Maybe someday, Tikki, but now's not the time. Besides, I think I've impressed him enough already. Maybe I should ditch the blazer and start coming to school in just a tee."

With that, she rolled up her sleeve and flexed for her kwami. Tickled, Tikki hovered up to her arm and planted a kiss right on the peak.