Chapter Text
It was Saturday. One of the few Saturdays that Adrien did not have a photoshoot in the morning. It felt like it should have been illegal how good he felt waking up in his bed that morning after nine o’clock, the sun slowly lighting his room in a golden hue. His limbs were heavy, as they were any time he had gotten any amount of decent sleep, and his bed was so comfortable. Why were beds so much more comfortable in the morning, anyway?
The soft sounds of Plagg snoring next to him helped to wake up, but he stayed in bed for a few more minutes, doing nothing more than alternating between staring at the ceiling and examining the inside of his eyelids. It was a time to be treasured, Adrien thought, because it would most likely never happen again in the foreseeable future.
All good things must come to an end though.
Adrien groaned as he rolled out of bed, lazily making his way to the bathroom to shower. Once done in there, he wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way over to his closet. At the front of his closet were seven identical shirts. He grabbed one and threw it on, not caring to maintain the hairstyle that he just spent who knows how long working on. It was a Saturday. No one would care.
Leaving out some cheese for Plagg to gorge himself on once he awoke, Adrien left his room to find some sustenance for himself. Even though he already knew there would at the very least be cereal waiting for him at the dining table once he got down there. He had to wonder though, how much were the cooks paid to give him cereal in the morning? He hoped he wasn’t doing them a disservice for thinking like that, for all he knew they made the actual cereal from scratch.
It took Adrien longer than it should have to get to the dining room, if only because he took his time to take in his surroundings. The place was immaculately kept, just the way his mother had it before she disappeared. Nothing was out of place. Not now, and seemingly never. When Adrien made it into the dining room, a covered dish sat in front of the seat he sat in for most meals. So there would probably be something other than gourmet cereal for him to eat that morning. Which meant…
Natalie appeared in the doorway as Adrien sat down. Her expression was stoic as ever.
“Good morning, Adrien.” Natalie said.
“Good morning Natalie.” Adrien replied.
“Your father had to leave this morning to oversee an issue with his new storefront in Milan, so he will be gone for the next few days.”
Not any different than most of the time, Adrien thought as he uncovered his meal. A bowl of oatmeal with blueberries sat before him, along with a banana and a slice of toast. So many carbs rested before him, he could only guess what he was being buttered up for.
Adrien took a bite of his oatmeal while Natalie continued. “There is an event tonight that your father was supposed to attend. As he is not in the country, he asks that you attend in his place.”
He nodded. He had figured as much. When he would have a moment to have a meal with his father, the man was suddenly too busy. It happened more often than not.
“However, it seems as if your stylist is unavailable to help, and all of your father’s approved ones are booked solid. You will have to choose your own outfit. The dress code for the night is business casual. And, Adrien?”
Natalie glanced at him. “Yes, Natalie?”
“Your father specifically requests that you are, under no circumstances, to wear the striped shirt with the white over shirt. Both of those garments are to stay at home. All 14 of them.”
Adrien nearly choked on his oatmeal. “But why?”
“Because,” Natalie sighed. “It is imperative that you look and dress like a fashion mogul’s son, not like a character from a children’s cartoon. Plus, some of his peers are starting to wonder if you have more than one shirt.”
○○○○
“You humans are so strange about your hygiene. I bathe once a millennium and never change my clothes, but do you see anyone complaining about that? Nooooo.”
Plagg, who had woken up whilst Adrien was at breakfast, was lounging on one of Adrien’s textbooks, marvelling at a piece of Camembert. Adrien had recounted his dilemma to Plagg as soon as he re-entered his room, but not before falling onto his bed face first and laying still for a moment.
Adrien’s voice was muffled by his duvet. “It’s not weird, Plagg. And yes, you smell like cheese most of the time. It’s gross.”
Plagg gasped dramatically. “How dare you say that about one of the most beautiful, best smelling things of all time. One could only wish to smell as delectable as this.”
The sound of Plagg swallowing the chunk of cheese whole filled the room. Adrien thought it was gross, but was too far in his own head to make that known.
Plagg continued. “But, why don’t you just wear one of the outfits from one of your photoshoots?”
In all honesty, Adrien had already thought of that. However…
“I would, except all of the attendees have seen the photos from my shoots, and apparently outfit repeating is a no go in the fashion industry.”
Plagg had one more piece of advice to give. “Well, you could always go naked.”
Plagg laughed as Adrien, who was yelling that Plagg was gross, threw a pillow in the general direction of the stinky kwami. The banter, though not helpful, did help to lift Adrien’s spirits some. The blond had been wanting to see his father this morning, as Saturdays were normally the only time the man ate in the dining room. He hadn’t spoken directly to his father in weeks, to the point where it almost felt as if Gabriel were avoiding him.
The crash of the pillow into who knows what and the indignant yell of Plagg had Adrien quickly shoving those thoughts away. It did no use to him to dwell on that now. For the meantime, there was a fashion emergency, and there was only one person to call.
He rolled over and pulled out his phone, holding the device away from himself so he could be seen in the screen. The view of himself in the small preview window showed just how little he had cared about his appearance that day. His mused hair looked more like Chat than it did Adrien. He quickly attempted to fix his hair when his call was answered.
“What is up my dude?” Nino’s smiling face shown at Adrien from his screen.
“Hey! So my dad is out of town-” Nino cut Adrien off.
“So it’s time to partay and you want your best bud Nino here to help you out on the music end.” Nino playfully said. Then, in his most dramatic voice, he said “It would be my honor. I will not let you down.”
Adrien laughed. “No, not quite.”
As Adrien relayed his predicament, Alya, who was there with Nino, also appeared on screen.
“And worst of all, Natalie said I couldn’t wear my everyday look.”
There was a look from Nino that read dude are you for real? But it was Alya who spoke up. “Did she tell you why?”
Adrien tore his eyes away from the screen, unable to look at them as he spoke. “Apparently, people were asking if I owned other clothes.”
Alya burst out laughing on the other end. Adrien looked back up in time to see the biggest shit eating grin on Nino’s face.
“Well do you?”
Adrien scrunched his eyebrows together. “Do I what?”
“Have other clothes?”
“Nino! How could you?” Adrien flailed on his end of the line.
Alya pulled herself together. “He’s right sunshine. You kinda do wear the same clothes every day.”
Adrien replied. “I do not. I have-”
“Fourteen of the same shirt. We know bro.” Nino chimed in. “But maybe your old man is right. Maybe you do need to step out of your comfort zone.”
Adrien perked up. “So does that mean you will help me?”
Adrien looked at his friend with pleading eyes. He needed help. Someone to at least talk to as he looked at clothes that he was meant to style himself for the first time in years.
Nino laughed.
“Adrien, my man. My dude. My bro. What makes you think that me, the person who wears shirts with stretched out collars more often than not, knows anything about fashion?”
“Oh.”
That made a lot of sense, in retrospect.
Alya spoke. “Don’t you think there is someone more suited for the job? Someone who has a great interest in fashion?”
Adrien blinked.
Double oh.
“Marinette.”
Nino nodded his head while Alya clapped her hands in applause. “He does have a brain.” Alya said.
○○○○
A few hours had passed since Adrien called Marinette to help him. When he asked, she had stared at him blankly for a full twenty seconds before agreeing. While it would be unsettling to most, Adrien was fond of the very Marientte-like response. It was something normal during the strange day that he was having.
Adrien, in the hours leading up to Marientte showing up, made sure to do several things including
- Fixing his hair so he didn’t look like Chat
- Cleaning all of the cheese that happened to be everywhere because of Plagg
- Hide hoards of cheese in other places because he would normally hide most of it where his clothes were
- Question if he smelled like cheese
- Shower again so that he had the best chance of not smelling like cheese
- Do homework
- Chastise Plagg for leaving more cheese everywhere
- Cleaning up the cheese Plagg had misplaced since the last time he cleaned up his cheese
- Play some piano
- Find cheese in the piano
- Scream
Once Adrien was done having his slight, but completely justified, cheese-induced meltdown, Natalie knocked on his door and entered his room. She did not question why he was sitting on the floor in a disheveled state.
“Miss Dupain-Cheng is here to help you with your outfit for tonight. Be sure to be ready to leave at six o’clock.”
Marinette came into his room from behind Natalie. Her backpack was slung across her back, which was odd considering it was Saturday, but Adrien did not question it. He was only grateful that she had agreed to help him in the first place.
Natalie left as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Adrien and Marinette alone in his room. It was strange to see her there alone, without Alya and Nino accompanying her. She looked so small compared to the walls of his room it took Adrien aback for a moment. This was the girl who he had called their everyday Ladybug, and now he was there lamenting on how she looked small, and dare he say, almost helpless.
But he knew those things were not true. Marinette was brave, strong, and creative. She was their class president, but also the one to stand up to Chloe when no one else would. She was considerate of others and always wanted to do the right thing, even when she was spreading herself too thin. And she was there to help him when no one else would.
“Uh, Adrien?” Marinette’s voice hesitantly called out.
That was when Adrien realized he was staring at her. Her cheeks were pink and her hands gripped the straps of her backpack
“Oh, sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to stare at you, I was just thinking.” Adrien said. He scratched the back of his neck as he tore his eyes away from her. He then realized something else.
He was still on the floor.
Adrien scrambled to get up to his feet, knocking the piano bench over in the process. As he was righting the bench, Marinette chuckled. Then seeming to rethink herself, abruptly stopped and called out.
“Are you okay?”
Adrien, making sure he wasn’t about to do something stupid, faced the dark haired girl again.
“Yes, sorry about that. I don’t know what just happened.” Heat began to rush towards his cheeks, embarrassment pooling in the pit of his stomach.
Marinette stumbled over her words. “It’s okay, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Thank you for worrying,” Adrien paused. “And thank you for coming to help today! It is extremely needed.”
Marinette looked towards his closet. “I-it’s no problem at all. I think you would be fine dressing yourself t-though.”
Marinette walked over to the closet and stopped. She reached out a hand to open it, but retracted it soon enough. Adrien, noticing her hesitation, opened the door for it.
“It’s okay. That’s what you’re here for, right?” He spoke in what he hoped was a calming matter and flashed a smile at her.
She nodded. “R-right.”
Soon enough, her hands were sifting between all of the shirts that he had hung up. His closet was freakishly large for the average person, or so he had been told by Nino one time when he had been looking for the bathroom and got lost in the closet. Various fabrics and details flashed by as Marinette quickly and quietly looked through his shirts. Adrien watched her with fascination as she examined each garment.
“Adrien?” The shuffling of fabrics had stopped.
“Yes?” Adrien looked at her and bit the inside of his cheek. Had he done something wrong?
“Two things. One, you never did tell me the dress code.” Adrien winced as he remembered that he did not, in fact, tell Marinette the dress code. “And two, why on Earth do you have six of the same shirt?”
Adrien blinked at her. “I mean, I actually have fourteen of the same shirt.”
When Adrien woke up that morning, he never considered that he may witness Marinette finally go off the deep end. The dark haired girl, normally decently composed when around people who were not named Adrien Agreste, seemed to have her eyes grow comically large when Adrien spoke about his same shirt collection. Her face, which had previously been tinged pink, grew paler than the walls that surrounded them. Her eyes began twitching as she began to sputter non-sense. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was malfunctioning.
The girl in question continued to look at Adrien in horror and, Adrien squinted a bit to make sure he was judging this correctly, amazement. She slowly sunk to the ground, eyes no longer locked with Adrien’s. She brought up her hands as if to examine them, but soon clenched them into fists and weakly punched the ground. At long last, she bowed her head, slumping the rest of the way until she was laying down in Adrien’s closet.
Adrien was at a loss for what to do. On a nearly daily basis he found himself in extremely bizarre situations that felt they could only happen in fiction, but that did not prepare him to deal with a girl having a meltdown over him owning fourteen of the same shirt. He pursed his lips, racking his brain for anything that could help, but he fell short of anything usable. He couldn’t even whip out his Chat persona because no way would Chat be caught dead wearing fourteen of the same shirt. It was unbelievable, and he knew it.
Marinette’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “But…why?”
She turned her head up to look at him, and Adrien could safely say he had never seen anyone with such pure disbelief and agony written on their face. Adrien bit his tongue and stepped back when they made eye contact, feeling his pulse begin to race. Was this really that weird?
He mentally shook his head, not doing so physically as to not scare the puddle of a human any further than he already had. It really did seem to be an issue, as the only other people he truly knew to wear the same clothes day in and day out were Ladybug and Chat Noir, whose costumes did change on occasion, and Natalie.
“There are a couple reasons,” Adrien began, sinking onto the floor to sit across from Mariette. “The first one is probably the most simple. They are comfortable, and I don’t have to think about what to wear on a daily basis.”
Decision fatigue. The idea that making too many decisions in one day can make the decisions made later in the day worse. It was not something that Adrien himself thought he struggled with, per say, but he was unwilling to max himself out of good decisions before a potential akuma occurred. He was not willing to risk losing Ladybug over something that could be avoided if he still had more cognitive function to be able to make the best decision possible in a given moment. Even though Ladybug came up with the plans, there was always a lot of blanks to fill how he saw fit, and those needed to be done right for things to work out okay. His worry over Ladybug’s safety triumphed over all of his other concerns for the day, any day really, because without her Paris would have no hope.
Adrien continued. “The next one is that I end up wearing so many different outfits while modeling that sometimes I just want to look normal, and this is what normal looks like to me. It’s recognizable and comforting. It’s not as if I have never worn other clothes, I am a model for Gabriel after all. There’s just less interest to stare at me, I guess.”
Adrien spent more than his fair share of time being looked at. Whether that would be in the form of people looking at his pictures or people staring at him as he walked down the street, it was still ongoing. While he was modeling, the argument could be made that people were only looking at the clothes he was wearing, but they were still looking at him. Wearing the same shirt every day made it just slightly more uninteresting to look at him. He felt more invisible wearing the same clothes day in and day out.
The last reason why surfaced in his mind. He broke eye contact with Marinette to look down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. This reason was probably the biggest reason he continued to wear and buy the same shirt, although thinking about it made him feel childish.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, you owe me nothing.” Marinette’s voice rang clear in the spacious room. It made Adrien realize how silent he had been, sitting there with his hands in his lap doing nothing but remembering. Oh, how the feeling of waves filled his lungs for a moment and breath escaped him as he remembered. Eyes burned while existing felt to be just too much on his poor, fragile body. But, the feelings, the overarching aching feelings existed only for a moment, because he had people there and now who cared for him. One in particular who looked at him with clear blue eyes, soft with concern. The same eyes that looked at him and saw who he really was for a moment on the day they became friends. Eyes that resembled the ones that he trusted more than anything else in the world.
“I know I don’t owe you anything,” Adrien breathed out. “But I want you to know. It’s a bit dumb, so please don’t think lesser of me for this. This shirt, well, not this one exactly, it’s not actually hanging up anymore, but anyway. This shirt was the last thing my mother gave me before she disappeared.”
Emilie had sat before him, kind eyes and a soft smile talking with him as she had just gotten back from a day out with a close friend. They had sat together, in what they had used as a living room but now sat untouched since that day. She had a bag with her, pristine white glowing against the black leather of the couch. Adrien couldn’t remember the exact details of the conversation anymore, too much time had passed, but he did remember that she had passed him the bag and told him to go try it on. Their hands touched as he took the bag from her, the warmth of her just a ghost on his skin now.
He had hurried to his room to try it on. He quickly shrugged off whatever shirt he had been wearing at the time in favour of the new one. His hands smoothed out the black fabric across his torso, marveling at how soft the fabric was. Once satisfied that the shirt fit as it should he made his way back into the living room where his mother sat waiting for him. The smile she had when she saw him was a treasure, something Adrien would carry with him throughout all of his life. It lit up her face the way photographs could never seem to capture.
Emilie stood up and walked towards him. “There’s just one thing missing.”
From another bag Adrien had not originally seen, she pulled out a white button down. Wordlessly, Adrien put it on over his new shirt, leaving the front unbuttoned. The sleeves were a bit long, and Adrien flapped his arms a bit to make the fabric swing. Emilie chuckled and took his arm, carefully folding up the fabric of the sleeves above his elbows with practiced ease.
“Now look at you,” she said, kneeling down to his height and grabbing both of his hands into hers. “You look so great. You are growing up too fast, mon Cheri . One day, you will be out living your life, and all I will be left with is memories just like this.”
She was the one who left him behind, though, with memories just like that.
Adrien didn’t realize that Marinette had moved until he felt her hands on his shoulders. The weight of her hands served as an anchor, grounding him back in reality. Their eyes met, and she gave him a small smile.
“I could never think less of you for cherishing something that was given to you by a person you love.”
Marinette’s voice, though soft, was full of conviction. Adrien’s heart squeezed a bit in his chest at her words. Though various people, mostly household staff, had guessed as to why he wore that shirt in particular, he had never told anyone before. It was an odd feeling, almost like being naked where he shouldn’t be, but there was a weight lifted off his chest. One that he hadn’t known had been there all along, since that day so long ago.
Without thinking, Adrien reached up and rested a hand on top of one of Marinette’s own and squeezed. He hoped that all he wanted to say came through, because there was too much floating through his brain to sort out what would be intelligible in a moment like this. Instead, all he could say was “Thank you.”
The pair sat there, together for a minute, before Marinette suddenly pulled away, scrambling to stand up.
“It’s uh, problem no, I mean no problem!” Marinette hurriedly choked out.
A laugh bubbled out of Adrien’s chest while watching Marinette’s actions. Somehow Marinette being oh so Marinette eased whatever it was that he was feeling. His face grew a bit warmer than normal, but chalked it up to the strangeness that was that Saturday.
Adrien, as soon as he regained control of himself, answered Marinette’s original question. “Circling back, Natalie mentioned that the dress code would be business casual.”
Marinette had stopped wildly flailing her limbs, but her face was beet red as she listened to him. His stomach flipped a bit at the sight of an embarrassed Marinette, who but for a moment was actually pouting. Before he could ponder on his reaction, Marinette looked more dumbfounded than anything.
“Business casual.” was all that she said.
“Is there something the matter?” Adrien was increasingly unsure of himself.
Marinette paused, clapped her hands together, and pointed them at him. “Wouldn’t your father’s, uh, assistant, Natalie was it? Be able to help you with that? It, um, looks kinda like her thing?”
“You see,” Adrien said. “I did ask her. But she told me ‘I have worn the same outfit, or similar variations of it, for the past fourteen years. Does it look like I can dress a teenage boy who happens to be the son of a famous fashion mogul?’”
She blinked at him, and he could barely hear her murmur under her breath “What is with all these people wearing the same clothes all the time?”
“What was that?” Adrien asked, a teasing smile dancing at the edges of his lips.
Startled, Marinette replied. “Oh! Uh, nothing?”
Adrien hummed. “Nothing you say?”
“Definitely nothing.” Marinette shook her head.
Adrien nodded along, slowly walking up to the clearly distressed girl. He could have some fun, couldn’t he? Bring out a bit of the infamous Chat Noir? Marinette rarely if ever acted like this with anyone else, and Adrien felt the incredible urge to just tease her.
“Oh really,” He said, walking around her. “Because I could have sworn you said something along the lines of” he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “‘What is with all these people wearing the same clothes all the time.’”
Adrien took a step back in time to see Marinette somehow turn redder than even Ladybug’s suit. Her mouth hung open for a second, words and syllables trying to contain themselves and stay where they were, but it was what spilled from Marinette’s mouth that caught him by surprise.
“Me? Why, I would never say such a thing.”
It took only a moment for Marinette to crack at what she had said. She began to apologise profusely, but Adrien couldn’t hear it over his own laughter. Soon enough, she began to laugh with him, and Adrien’s heart swelled hearing the sweet sound coming from the girl beside him.
“It’s okay, really.” Adrien said while still laughing.
“I just don’t know what came over me.” Marinette explained. Her laughter had subsided, but the smile on her face was full and genuine.
Adrien took a deep breath, face hurting from smiling so much. “Come on, I still need an outfit for the night.
“Right.” Marinette nodded, and got to work.
○○○○
Adrien’s room had probably never been in such a state of chaos before. Piles of clothes were everywhere as Mariette went through all of his clothing. Adrien hadn’t realized he owned that many clothes, and it surprised him because he honestly did wear the same shirt every day.
Watching Marinette work was something else entirely, Adrien thought. She moved through the garments, eyes analyzing every detail of a piece of clothing before moving on. Some pieces she moved on from quickly, like his sequined suit jacket or his Ladybug shirt (though she did seem startled as she looked at it). Other pieces she looked at for a long time, considering it heavily, like the blue button down and vest combo he had. She didn’t settle on any of those however.
Adrien was unsure how long she went through his clothing, but it was almost cathartic. He had time to detach and just watch someone who knew what they were doing work, listening to her mumble under her breath about various things. On more than one occasion, however, she found clothing that was obviously too small for him, so they created a pile of clothing to be donated. Many of the clothes had never actually been worn, and if they were, it was only once or twice, so it made Adrien glad to see these pieces leave to go to places where they would be better loved.
Eventually, Marinette had thrust clothing into his hands and told him to go into the bathroom and change so she could see how it all fit him. When he closed the door behind himself, Plagg flew out of his pocket to laze on the bathroom countertop.
“You sure have been getting cozy with Baker girl.” Plagg said.
Adrien slipped on the shirt Marinette handed to him. “Plagg, keep your voice down. What if she hears you?”
“You’re not denying it.” Plagg said in what could be considered a sing-song voice.
“I haven’t been getting cozy with her,” Adrien began to put on the pants he was given. “We’re just friends, and she’s helping me out.”
“Ah yes, the ‘just friends’ line I keep hearing about.” Plagg muttered.
“What?” Adrien asked.
“Nothing, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Sure.” Adrien drawled. He fastened the belt he was given into the belt loops of his pants and left the bathroom, leaving Plagg behind to hide himself away. Adrien knew the drill when it came to checking over outfits, and if Marinette was anything like his normal stylist, her hands would be all over him. He didn’t need Marinette accidentally finding out his biggest secret.
He returned to the closet to see Marinette neatening part of the various piles she had made in her pursuit to find the perfect outfit for his event tonight. She didn’t notice him walking up and jumped when the floor creaked under his feet.
“Oh! Adrien, I uh, hmmm.” Whatever Marinette was going to say was halted as she pursed her lips together and looked at him. He stood still so as to not disturb her train of thought, and he found that he didn’t mind that she was looking at him with such scrutiny. Marinette was nothing but kind and compassionate, and she had made it abundantly clear that she did not want to make him uncomfortable.
“And the verdict is?” Adrien said, trying not to move as much as possible.
Marinette’s eyes snapped up to his, and though her eyes were wide, she didn’t stutter or turn varying shades of red. She held up a finger to him, as if to tell him just wait a moment, and disappeared into the depths of his closet. Once she returned, she motioned for Adrien to turn around, and slid a jacket onto his shoulders. He turned back to face her, and she smiled at him and nodded.
A clump of cheese fell out of the pocket of the jacket and plopped onto the floor near their feet. Adrien, watching the offending piece of cheese stare back at him like it payed rent, forced a laugh. His motions felt almost robotic as he bent to pick it up.
"Oh wow," he said. "I wonder how this got here? It's not like any magical beings that eat cheese live here or anything."
Marinette laughed as well, but her voice cracked as she spoke. "Oh yeah, no, definitely no magical beings here."
Adrien felt ease at her reply, but he could almost hear Plagg laughing in the background. The kwami must have done it on purpose, Adrien thought. And now Marinette would think that he was some kind of weird cheese hoarder!
Marinette, however, seemed oddly on edge again, her fingers rapidly tapping the bag that hung at her side. She must definitely think I'm weird and now wants to leave, Adrien thought.
Marinette cleared her throat. “There’s, uh, one last thing I thought might bring the whole look together? You can say no, but I think if we slicked your hair back and gave you some matte brown eyeshadow to help accentuate the shape and color of your eyes, it would really tie the look together. Only if you didn't mind that is!"
The idea had Adrien smiling. If he were to break the monotony of wearing the same outfit everyday, shouldn't he, as they say, go big or go home? He still didn't know what he looked like, as he had avoided looking at his reflection so as to not ruin the surprise of his look tonight until it was ready, and he now wanted to see the entire transformation.
There was one small problem. "That's a great idea. But I don't have any eye shadow, just concealer."
Marinette waved her hands frantically for a moment before heading over to wear she had set her bookbag down when she arrived. "I didn't really know what kind of look you needed, so I came a, uh, bit over prepared."
She opened her bag to reveal a makeup case, a few eye shadow pallets, and various hair accessories.
Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, I really didn't give you any direction, huh."
He could feel the embarrassment on his face, warming his cheeks and probably warming every house in a ten kilometer radius. He was surprised she even wanted to help him with how little he told her. But, he reminded himself, before him was Marinette, the girl who would go out of her way to help whoever she could.
"That okay, it just means that we had more options to work with."
Throughout her time at Adrien's house, Adrien noticed that Marinette was slowly having an easier time talking to him. It warmed his heart, seeing how she was becoming more comfortable with him.
As Marinette rummaged through her bag looking for the supplies that she needed, Adrien let his mind wander. Why was Marinette so uncomfortable with him to begin with? His first thought would go to the gum incident, but they had made up afterwards and agreed to become friends. So what was it then?
A thought struck him, one that he felt probably should have hit him long ago. He was reminded of when his perfume ad came out, and there were hoards of people following his every move. In his day to day life, it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, a celebrity, but there were instances like that which reminded him. So, if he was a celebrity, a model of all things, he might seem pretty hard to talk to. He was also not only a celebrity, but the son of a celebrity. A celebrity that also happened to be Marinette's favorite designer. Of course it would be hard to talk to him.
Maybe it was his realization, or maybe it was the oddity of the day, but when Adrien looked back at Marinette the breath was stolen from his lungs. Her hair, normally done in twin-tails like his Lady's, had been braided back, loose strands falling into her face. The nearly blue hue of her hair glowed in the light streaming in from his windows, replicating something almost ethereal. The pink jeans that he had begun to associate her with were no where to be seen, Marinette having opted to wear a floor length pink skirt instead, held up by a thin brown belt. To top it off, she wore a cream colored loose sweater tucked into her skirt. Her face was calm as she sorted through her bag, and was focused if her tongue poking its way out of her mouth showed any indication to that.
Her eyes though, Adrien thought when Marinette turned to show him what she found. The striking azure of her eyes captured him, begging him to stay and admire them for as long as he could. They spoke of love and sorrow, two sides of the same coin dancing in the depths of her eyes. He wondered, briefly, how someone such as Marinette could ever be sad, but he shook the thought from his head. If she had wanted him to know, she would tell him. He trusted her to do so.
“I was thinking this shade for your crease and bottom lash line,” Marinette pointed to a dark brown color on the pallet she held out to show him. “And this one for your inner eye and to add to the roundness of your eyes.”
“I think that will work great, Marinette. Here, let’s go to the bathroom and grab my concealer and get started.” Adrien said.
Her cheeks were ever so slightly flushed. Adrien paid little mind to that as he showed her to the bathroom. This room was also comically large, and Adrien had to pay extra attention to not look in the mirrors that were seemingly everywhere. Marinette fidgeted behind him as he opened a drawer below the counter to retrieve his concealer that he was currently using. The drawer, in stark contrast to everything else, was empty, save for the one tube of concealer. He pulled out a stool from under the counter and settled himself on it, presenting his face to Marinette.
“Do you want my eyes opened, or closed?” Adrien inquired. He was no stranger to getting his makeup done, seeing as he spent maybe a good third of his life getting it done. Or maybe it just felt like a third. Adrien was not the best at estimating time, especially when he was bored.
Marinette opened her mouth, hesitated, then spoke. “C-closed.”
Adrien nodded and slid his eyes shut. Marinette got to work on applying various creams and powders to his face, spending the most time on his eyelids. She was slightly humming under her breath as she worked, and Adrien found that for the first time in his life he was okay with sitting still and letting someone cover his face with what will be seen as his face.
She worked quickly, too. Although he couldn’t see what she was doing, he could feel the way her brushes moved across his face, precise in their movements. He figured that he shouldn’t be surprised. Marinette was good at everything she did, except maybe physics. Adrien thought to all the time where she had done projects for people or created things like Jagged Stone’s album cover. She was a creator, and it seemed to Adrien she had a vision.
Adrien found himself having to keep himself from opening his eyes to see what he looked like. His fingers tapped on his thighs as he heard the plastic clink on the counter as Marinette swapped her brush for something else. He was going to be one of her creations.
Suddenly Marinette’s hands were in his hair, sweeping his bangs out of his face. Adrien swore he was about to start purring. The reaction, while catching him off guard, was not entirely unwelcome. People he knew playing with his hair was a secret joy of his, so he relished in the minute that Marinette was fixing his hair. She took a step back, and Adrien realized only then how close she had been. She took his hands and he stood up, letting her guide him to where she wanted him. She let go, and he immediately missed her warmth.
Marinette coughed. “You can, um, open your eyes now.”
Adrien opened his eyes to be met with his reflection. They were back in his closet, facing one of the floor length mirrors. He was wearing a dark green sweater with a white button down peeking out from the collar, tucked into a pair of charcoal gray dress pants that came in at the ankles. The jacket she had put him in was a black duster, silver details running down the backs of the sleeves. Brown belt and shoes to top off the look, but Adrien took a moment to look at his face.
His cheekbones were more defined than normal. The green of his eyes seemed to glow, surrounded by the brown eyeshadow that made his eyes look intense. It wasn’t like Chat’s eyes, cat like and mischievous, but there was something there, combined with the intentionally messily swept back look of his hair, that screamed ‘don’t mess with me.’
He stood there, staring at his reflection. No longer was a child who had lost his mother standing there, desperately searching for answers. Instead, the person who he saw in the reflection reminded him of someone with passion, someone who knew what they were doing. Someone who he had desperately hoped he was.
Without thinking, he spun towards Marinette and hugged her, squeezing her lithe frame against his own. She wrapped her arms around him almost immediately, and Adrien noticed how much taller than her he was. Her head only came up to his chest. He squeezed her once more, before leaning in and whispering.
“Thank you.”
He let her go. She looked flustered, looking up at him with confusion brimming in her eyes. But then she smiled at him, a big, full face smile that made her eyes squint and her dimples show, and Adrien felt warmth blossom through his chest.
A knock on the door cut through the air, and Natalie walked in. She didn’t comment on the mess in his room, stepping over piles of clothes with grace he didn’t know the woman possessed. When she got to the pair, she looked Adrien up and down before turning to Marinette, giving her a short nod of approval.
“The makeup is a little more than what was entirely necessary, but he is a model, so he is expected to look different than the rest of them. Come now, Adrien, it is time to go.”
Adrien turned to Marinette who was gathering that last of her things before heading out.
“I owe you one.” He said to her.
She slung her bag on her shoulders before waving her hands in front of her. “No, please, don’t think anything of it, the pleasure was all mine.”
○○○○
A while later, when Adrien found himself alone in the restroom, a thought occurred to him.
“Plagg,” He said. “What do you mean you only bathe once a millennium?”