Chapter Text
It was March 20th at 8am on Marinette’s 22nd year when she came to the completely rational conclusion that she was unlucky and cursed to forever be so.
There wasn’t just one reason that led to that conclusion, but rather a thousand gratingly small ones, such as her alarm waking her up late that day, the next bus not showing up on time, the torrential rain that had decided to begin to downpour the moment that she stepped out of the bus shelter, and of course Adrien Agreste working the front counter that day.
Her Adrien Agreste looking at her with that pitying smile, and hurriedly making her a cup of coffee as she picked leaves out of her hair, the tree just outside having decided that particular day to shed its leaves and not selling the idea that she could have possibly been fine—a farce that she wanted nothing more than to keep up, considering the events of the day prior.
“He’ll come around,” Adrien said, sitting a steaming cup of coffee in front of her.
Right .
The only problem was that he definitely wouldn’t, not in a million years. The only problem was that he had seen straight through her and had called out the one thing that she had tried to deny, even to herself. She’d spent the past week trying to convince Louis, and for what? Nothing.
Because Louis knew as well as all of her boyfriends before had that loving Marinette was a pointless game.
The actual problem was that Marinette Dupain Cheng was now 22, and still completely and utterly hopelessly in love with one person; one man who sat at the coffee counter, slaving away to pick up her slack while she got ready for her shift. The young man who she had once fought crime beside, and who she had unfortunately dared to dream would have grown to love her over time once the mask came off…
Yeah.
Marinette was unlucky. And was getting unluckier by the moment—
“I heard about what happened last week,” a voice said, sliding into the chair across from her before she could even so much as protest, his eyebrow raising at the cup of untouched coffee between them—one which she was unsurprised to see held a cartoonish kitty poking over the rim, another victim of Adrien’s recent obsession with latte foam art.
Adrien.
Fuck .
She almost let her head fall against the table at the way that she smiled at that stupid frothy kitten, an internal groan very nearly becoming external as she remembered how passionately she had denied being in love with him the week before. What a big lie that was.
“Excuse me,” the man across from her cleared his throat and Marinette finally steeled herself to look up and see Emil, her least favored amongst her regulars.
Not an unattractive man by far, maybe a little skinny with features a bit pointy, but still nice to look at, just…
“I heard you got dumped last week.”
Blunt .
Ugh. There it was, actual proof that the universe hated her, because why else would Emil have known that so soon? Why else would Emil be sitting at the table across from her and staring her down, an expectant look on his face that almost demanded, now you should ask me out ? He’d been stalking her social media; his excessive Instagram likes had confirmed that.
And now?
“I know that you’re probably feeling a bit sad and all, but I’m glad that I have this chance, you told me that I didn’t ask soon enough last time,” Emil said in a matter-of-fact voice, somehow completely ignoring the emotional turmoil that she felt, like the fact that her boyfriend of five months had just dumped her.
She hadn’t even told her parents yet, and there Emil was, making his demands.
Marinette sighed, letting her head lull against the table, listening on in disinterest as Emil listed his reasons for why she should say yes while she prodded at the latte art before her with a spoon, watching the cat’s grin almost seeming to point at her as it wiggled back and forth.
She’d been expecting Emil’s pursuit, but this soon?
Worse yet, she had an excuse last time, but now she didn’t. His pursuit of her had been relentless enough that she knew that no wasn’t exactly an answer that he was going to accept; his number written on numerous napkins and coffee cozies for her to find was proof enough.
Every time she’d tried to bring up a point against it in the past, he’d argued back at her—and Marinette was awful at arguing, save for with Lila and Chloe. She’d always felt just a little bit guilty when arguing against someone, especially if emotions were playing a part in it. It was a stupid side effect of her wanting heart, a desire to make sure no one else felt the same as her, and an ability to convince herself after a while that maybe that could be the guy—maybe she was capable of falling in love with someone other than Adrien, her Chat Noir.
She just secretly hoped that it wouldn’t be Emil, of all people, that she fell in love with.
Just when he reached his fourth paragraph of explaining their compatibility, a paper to go cup slid in between the two of them, Emil’s name written on the side and his order marked beside it.
“I actually planned to dine in today,” Emil replied, pushing the cup back at the blond-haired man who had placed it in front of him, somehow ignoring the fake smile painted across Adrien’s face that seemed so pointedly exaggerated to Marinette.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you usually grab your coffee and go,” Adrien clicked his tongue, replacing the coffee in front of the man with an insistent stare, the subtle clenching of his jaw cluing Marinette into the fact that he was already annoyed with the man.
Not that it was unwarranted, Marinette had already spent many a long night complaining on the phone to Adrien about the customer after he had started to leave samples of his little poetry pamphlet around the restaurant for her to find.
Emil was… not a good poet. She didn’t even know you could rhyme anything with the name Marinette, but he managed to cobble together some words; namely bluette, screw it, and she likes me I always knew it. He never actually mentioned her by name, but it was pretty obvious who he wrote about.
And pretty obvious what exactly he was trying to do that day, which was order a coffee and leave with a girlfriend in tow, somehow conning Marinette into agreeing to a date. And for the most part, he was on the road to success, up until Adrien came up.
“Why are you dining in today?” Adrien asked pointedly, somehow managing to ignore the line of customers that was slowly beginning to form.
“Adrien, it’s fine—” Marinette began with a sigh, sinking into her seat as she gave in to the inevitable, unrealizing how determined Adrien really was.
“Marinette, you haven’t touched your coffee,” he pushed her cup of coffee towards Marinette as he engaged with the other man, using the motion to settle in the space between the two. His pointed glance in her direction told her that he had it, which was almost a relief. Almost. Up until he squinted in Emil’s direction, “I’m pretty sure that you said you were a very busy man last week, unlike some people.”
Adrien always took shots like that lightly, but that didn’t mean that he forgot them. Marinette knew that Adrien was the type to hold onto things and, more than that, he probably thought the line was funny, considering the fact that he was working in the coffee shop while studying archaeology and still making the occasional guest appearance in issues of Gabriel fashion.
But, just like always, Emil brushed it off.
“I’m actually in the middle of something with Marinette here, so, you know,” Emil stated, waving Adrien off with a flourish of his hand as he leaned further across the table, inching closer and closer to her. She’d have to be blind to ignore the way that his hand reached for hers.
Adrien most certainly wasn’t. “And what’s that?” Adrien asked, cocking his head at the man in mock curiosity, caring very little about Emil and all the entitlement that his law firm gave him. Adrien had already voiced his opinion on the man a million times over.
“I’m actually in the process of asking Marinette here out on a date,” Emil said tensely, “so if you will,” he added with another wave of his hand, shooing Adrien away almost like he was an unpleasant bug.
“You were asking Marinette out?” Adrien asked, raising an eyebrow at the man as he tried and failed to sound more surprised. Adrien was always an open book; his skepticism was written across his face, and it only doubled when the man continued.
“Yes, and she was just about to say yes.”
He could not have said anything worse in front of Adrien at that moment.
“She was about to say yes?” Adrien repeated, a loud breath of air escaping him as he fought back what seemed to be a laugh when he looked over to her, searching for confirmation. All he got in response was her awkward expression.
Marinette opened her mouth to at least hint at the word no, hoping that it would liberate her from the situation. But before she could, Emil spoke.
“Of course she was,” he said without an ounce of uncertainty, and if Adrien’s responding smirk was any indication, Emil had opened Pandora’s box with that very statement.
Because, being raised as a model with Gabriel Agreste of all fathers, Adrien knew far too well how to paint a smile across his face when he found something so utterly detestable.
And spending most of his childhood parading around Paris as a leather-clad superhero, Adrien wasn’t inclined to let awful people get off easily.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Adrien began, the confidence in his voice borderline astonishing as his grin only spread wider.
Emil only scoffed, “why’s that?”
And without any hesitation, without any wavering in his voice or twitch of his lips, Adrien spoke in the most frighteningly convincing voice, speaking with so much authority that his statement was almost unquestionable; “Because Marinette and I actually just started dating.”
And if Marinette’s very soul could have left her body at that moment, it would have. If she could have disappeared and never been found again at that moment, she would have. If she could have willed a single word out of her lips, a simple question of how, she would have.
Because if there was one thing Marinette knew, it was Adrien Agreste. Every interest, every thought, every stored one-liner written in a stupid little notebook that he stowed away in his desk—
And above all else, Marinette knew that she was not dating Adrien Agreste.
She’d missed that ride long ago, seconds after they had revealed themselves when she didn’t immediately pull him down and kiss him. She’d lost that opportunity the moment that she stepped back and smiled hesitantly, the moment that she let out a little laugh and said far too softly, it’s you.
But one look at his hand wrapping around her waist and his head resting on her shoulder, that cattish grin spread across his face, and she would have been as hopelessly convinced as the rest of them.
Adrien had spoken loudly enough for the whole coffee shop to hear, and within hours, all of Paris would know as well. The very thought of it had her looking at his face, the grin sliding off of it as the pride of having one upped the man faded away, and the realization of what he’d done settled in.
Oh.
Oh no.