Work Text:
Adrien pulled his scarf tighter over his face, shoving his hands into his pocket. Wind whipped through the bare trees. It was early November, but it felt like midwinter, the wind cold and biting.
A muffled voice poked from beneath his scarf, “I hate winter.”
Adrien patted his scarf where he felt Plagg crouched. “Me too, bud.”
”But you like the cold?” Plagg peeked out from his scarf.
Adrien shoved him back in, shaking his head. “Doesn’t mean I like winter.”
He felt Plagg hum against his chest, but he didn’t question further. He paused at the corner, looking for cars before shuffling across the street. He didn’t rush, though. Natalie kept a neat schedule, but left plenty of free time at his request. Long gone were the days of every minute of his day being planned out, and he never wasted a moment of freedom, savoring every moment. He kept up modeling, but many days it felt like a ritual he couldn’t quote give up. Not a passion, and he could certainly find other sources of income, not to mention the fortune waiting for the day he turned 18. But he thought that if he gave up too much that was familiar he might lose anything left of the past.
Once he crossed the street, he began to speed up. Sure, he enjoyed his freedom, but the shaking of the trees was beginning to turn disconcerting. Suddenly, a flyer flapping in the wind caught his eye. It was held on by a measly piece of scotch tape, and it was a wonder it was still hanging on at all. Luckily, his outing had been to the post office to mail a package to his cousin, so he whipped tape out of his back and hurried to wrap it around the pole.
Plagg flew from his scarf. “What are you doing?” He said, voice brimming with curiosity.
“Get down, Plagg!” He pulled the kwami closer to his body, eyes darting around to confirm no one had spotted him. “I’m just fixing this flyer. He turned to his work, finally getting a chance to read the flyer he was desperately trying to save.
KEYBOARDIST NEEDED, ANY EXPERIENCE LEVEL
COME HAVE A FUN TIME IN OUR BAND: OMBRE D’AUTOMNE
AGE 16-19 PROBABLY IS BEST
\
The poster featured a sketch of a band, all engrossed in the music, rocking out. At the bottom there were tabs to rip off with a name and a number. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Adrien grinned and pulled off a tab, pocketing it.
“What are you doing? You haven’t played piano in like, three years,” said Plagg.
“Any experience level,” he pointed to the poster. “Besides, I’ve never gotten to play with a band before, it’d be… cool. I’m just gonna put the number in my phone, they probably have someone anyway.”
He heard Plagg mumble something, but he couldn’t make it out. He started again to drive his way through the fall wind, eyeing the gray sky with a suspicious gaze, hurrying his way back to the mansion.
***
“It’s been two weeks and no ones taken a number, I think it’s time to give up.” Alya leaned back in her chair, lazily tapping her drumsticks against her thigh. The band practice of Ombre d’Automne had barely started, and already they were discussing the flyer again. The band was composed of Alya on drums, Luka on guitar, Nino did bass and just about everything tech related. And finally, Marinette as the singer. The last position was contentious, as Marinette, being somewhat shy, had been nervous to step up the plate. And yet, Rose had long since abandoned them for another band with Ivan and Juleka. Only Marinette had the voice and was not already claimed by an instrument.
“One person did,” defended Marinette.
“And they didn’t even call. Face it, we just have to survive without a keyboardist.” Alya said.
“I know how to play, don’t forget,” Luka said.
“Yeah but you can’t play guitar and keyboard.” Alya said.
“Can’t we just play the keyboard track? It doesn’t have to be all live.” Nino said, “Luka can record the keyboard track, and I’ll just play it back.”
“But it won’t be the same,” grumbled Marinette. “Besides, it’d be fun, don’t you think?”
“Or we could end up with an asshole,” retorted Alya.
Nino nodded enthusiastically.
Marinette raised an eyebrow at Nino.
”We just have a good group dynamic already, man.” Nino explained. Marinette hummed in response.
“Well, no use in taking it down now,” said Luka.
***
Adrien stared at the contact in his phone. He’d opened up the messages, but hadn’t dared type something out. “It’s probably an old flyer, they probably already have someone.”
Plagg laid on his stomach, nibbling on a piece of cheese. “You’re the one who took the number, either text or don’t text. It’s been like, a week.”
Adrien pursed his lips, setting down his phone. Since finding the flyer he’d practice piano every day, but not classical music or standards like his father taught him. He’d dabbled in rock, pop, RnB, everything he could get his hands on. He used to love piano, a long long time ago, but playing again sparked something. Maybe piano wasn’t all bad, after all.
Plagg rolled his eyes, “Dude, your only friend is a the magical godlike creature who gave you powers, and a stuck up brat who you barely like.”
”Chloe’s not so bad,” Adrien reasoned. It was true, it seems high school had softened her stingy edges. “Besides, I have way more than two friends. Ladybug, for one. Carapace, Rena Rouge, everyone really.”
“You just named superheroes,” Plagg started.
Adrien shrugged. “So what?”
”So! You need an actual life outside of being Chat Noir. You spend most of your free time just patrolling because you don’t have anything better to do. Besides, you can’t just, hang out with the superheroes. They’re not the kind of friends you need.”
”How are you supposed to know anything about the kinds of friends I need,” spat Adrien, though he immediately felt guilty. He’d pretty much accepted that if he could make any close friends by this point, it was a lost cause.
The kwami just made an annoyed hiss and flew back to his plate of cheese. Adrien cast his gaze down at his phone, and relented, picking it up and drafting a message.
Hello, my name is Adrien. I am writing because I saw your flyer on a pole, and I would be very flattered if you would give me the opportunity to audition for your band. I have about a decade of piano experience, as well as an advanced understanding of music theory and composition. I am also trained vocally, and have some experience in violin, cello, flute, and clarinet. My schedule is very flexible, as I am homeschooled and make my own schedule. I am within the age range listed on your flyer. Thank you for your time.
He worked over the message, looking for spelling, grammar, wording errors. Years of training in being a polite member of society reverberated in his head. When he finally sent it, he immediately put his phone on Do Not Disturb and placed it on his nightstand, squeezing his eyes shut and falling fitfully into sleep.
***
As soon as Adrien awoke, he opened his phone to his messages, his heart beating out of his chest when he saw a message from Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
hey adrien, sounds awesome. honestly we aren’t even that good lol. ur the first person to respond to our flyer, the band will be psyched. you should totally come to practice, if you want to
Adrien stared at his phone, tapping his leg excitedly.
I would love to! Just let me know the date and time and I will clear my schedule for it.
***
“What do you think he’ll be like?” Said Alya.
“Who, Adrien?” Marinette responded, leaning onto her friend on the couch. The ship rocked gently with the waves of the Seine.
“Yeah.”
“He seemed nice over text. He did type really formally though.”
“Do you think he’s some old guy?” Alya grinned, chuckling.
“He said he was in the age range, but not his age.” She said, shrugging.
“I wonder what he’ll think of us.” Alya said, closing her eyes and leaning against the back of the couch.
“Me too.” Marinette glanced at her phone. “He’s supposed to be here soon. I get the sense he’s the kind of guy that will be punctual.”
***
Adrien looked at the boat, his eyebrow raised. “This seems like a weird place for a band practice.” He muttered under his breath.
Marinette had said to just walk on deck, so he walked up to the ramp. He heard voices coming from the deck. He steeled himself, clutching his bag strap as he began the ascent.
“So, you’re Adrien.” A breathless voice came from above. Adrien’s face whipped up to meet the gaze of a girl with dark black hair tied into a ponytail. She seemed to be in his age range, he noticed with a certain amount of relief.
Adrien gulped. For a moment, he had been living in a world where it didn’t matter who he was, that he could be a stranger to these people. Let them get to know him, the real him, with no preconceived notions. But she was staring at him, stock still, like a deer in the headlights, shattering his hopes.
“Sorry!” She clambered down to shake his hand enthusiastically. “I just wasn’t expecting, you know, well, you never mentioned your last name so—“
”Apologies, it may have, er, slipped my mind to mention.” He said lamely as she beckoned him up to the deck.
”No, it’s not a problem.” She laughed boisterously, “I should disclose, I am a fan. Fashion design, that’s my thing.” Adrien nodded in understanding, smiling shyly as she led him to a crowd lounging on the deck. All eyes came to rest on Adrien, who gave his brightest smile.
”Everyone! Meet our potential keyboardist,” she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Adrien.”
***
Adrien was gifted when it came to entertaining company of the highest pedigree. Adrien had attended parties from the time he was a kid where the guest list included movie stars, politicians, artists, musicians, and all like members of high society. It was second nature, the song and dance of layered politeness and manners.
This was a beast of an entirely different nature.
”So, I’m Marinette. I’m the singer, and costume designer, and just general artist.”
She gestured to a boy with green hair, who nodded at Adrien. “I’m Luka, I do the guitar.” He had an easy, relaxed smile.
”I’m Alya! I do drums.” She gestured to the drumset, grinning. “I’m also a journalist, so if you’d ever like to share some secrets—“ She was cut off by Marinette elbowing her in the side. Adrien smiled politely at Marinette, immediately taking a liking to her. He avoided interviews like the plague. Already traumatized enough by the invasive, inane, or downright bizarre questions posed to him.
“Nino?” Marinette looked to a boy in the back, who seemed to be fiddling with an amp. He jumped slightly, spinning around.
”What’s up, dude.” He tipped his hat, smiling nervously. “I do bass, but my real passion is DJing.”
“Marinette’s the singer, but Luka’s kinda the big hat around here.” Alya said.
Luka blushed at that, looking at the ground. “I just started the band, is all.”
“He writes most of the music too, he’s the only one who really knows music.” Marinette added.
”That’s true.” He turned to grab a sheet of paper, which Adrien then spotted was sheet music. “We don’t have sheet music for all of our songs, mostly because I’m the only one who actually reads it.” He said with a note of bitterness, “We usually just remember stuff, write down chords and all. But anyway, I play keyboard and actually wrote some stuff for it, if you wanna give it a shot.” He gestured to the keyboard and held out the music for Adrien.
Adrien took it, muttering a thank you under his breath as he slipped into the keyboard seat, starting to feel out the notes from the sheet music. Before he got into it, Luka put his phone on the keyboard, and pressed play on a recording. It was the whole band, but a keyboard track seemed to be louder than everything else, maybe recorded later. It was indie rock, which Marinette had mentioned over text. It had a good energy, and soon Adrien was clumsily feeling out the notes along to the recording.
When the recording ended, he looked up, all his self consciousness returning when he remembered he was being watched.
”Damn, for how that was your first time hearing the song, you did hella good.” Alya said, fidgeting with her drumsticks. He noticed everyone had taken up their places. Marinette at the mic, Luka on guitar, Nino on bass, and Alya already tapping absentmindedly at the drums.
”Let’s do one with the whole band,” offered Luka, giving an encouraging smile to Adrien.
“See if you can keep up, pretty boy.” Alya jabbed.
”Alya,” Marinette prompted.
”You got it girl.“
“1
2
1
2
3
4”
***
“He picked that up quick. And he told me he never really played anything but classical music before,” Luka said once they confirmed Adrien had left.
“I can’t believe he just walked off like that. Actually, I can’t believe he didn’t have a bodyguard the whole time. Are famous people even allowed to go outside without a bodyguard?” Alya bemused.
Marinette rolled her eyes. “He seems nice.”
”He seemed nervous,” said Luka.
“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll really get a feel for his personality until he actually shows up a few times. He wasn’t a total diva, we should give him a shot.” Said Alya, leaning forward.
Marinette nodded. “I mean, if I don’t die before I get used to him. I mean, he is Adrien Agreste. I have a freaking cork board dedicated to his greatest photoshoots.”
”Nino, you’ve been quiet, what do you think?” Luka asked.
“Hm? He seems cool. We shouldn’t make any assumptions about him, you know. Give him the same show we’d give anyone else.”
The band hummed in agreement.
***
welcome to the band, adrien agreste. unless you’re an asshole lmao
Adrien got the text on the drive home, and yet he still had a smile on his face by the time he fell into bed that night.