Chapter Text
Marinette accounted for everything that could go wrong on this trip. She packed extra needles and extra thread and she had to be dissuaded from making copies of Jagged’s entire performance outfits. She begrudgingly agreed with Penny that she didn’t have the time or the materials to make copies of entire outfits on top of everything else she is already responsible for. Doesn’t mean she has to like it.
Her first overseas trip happens to be to Gotham, New Jersey. Home of the bats and the birds and crime central station. She promised many people that she wouldn’t leave Jagged or Penny’s or the bodyguard’s sight --- and yet, here she was. In a grocery store, at ten pm all because Fang decided to tear a rip in the newest jacket she had spent the last twelve hours finishing. Hand-sewing at that, she couldn’t feel her fingertips. And Jagged had taken her coffee beans out of her room so she’d ‘get some sleep’ or something. So she most certainly snuck out to get the stuff so she could fix the mess before the show tomorrow.
Marinette scoffs.
She’s checking out – having checked the price for her beans online, and then grabbed the exact amount of change and made her way into the closest grocer for them. In and out and Jagged and Penny won’t even know. Or well that WAS the plan.
The plan before this --- this leçon, decided to tell her that she did not have enough money. Marinette saw with her very own eyes, tired yes but not unable to read, the price tag on the coffee beans. She blinks, stares at the leçon, her brows furrowing.
“what.”
“ma’am,” the cashier seems tired too – and Marinette’s brain clicks into place as she remembers the word ‘cashier’. Julie, says her name tag. “ma’am you’re missing the tax.”
“. . . the tax?”
Julie nods.
“Is your tax not included in your prices?”
There’s a sigh behind her and Marinette whirls around to stare at the stranger to glare. She’s opening her mouth – but he looks as exactly tired – if not more – than she feels and she closes her mouth with a snap before turning back to the cashier. “What kind of backwards country is this place for tax to not be included in the price?” Julie blinks and shrugs and she’s ready to go back to Paris where most of the things make at the very least some common sense.
The person behind her clears his throat and she wants to cry. And also she wants her coffee.
“I’ll pay for her.” The stranger says and Julie straightens, eyes widening at the stranger.
Marinette’s narrow. “Why?”
“Why what?” he says placing his own coffee and energy drinks down so Julie can scan the items quickly. Marinette doesn't say anything and he shrugs, “Honestly, I have the means to do so and you seem to need it.” He pointedly looks down at her hand where her cash is, before he nods. “Tim.”
Marinette stares for a moment, hesitant on giving her name to this stranger – even if he’s being extremely nice currently and giving her Gods juice. “Marinette,” she says after a moment of debate.
“Not from America?” he questions, amusement barely dancing on his face and she shakes her head.
“Non. Paris, France is home, but my Uncle stole me away for the holidays.” It’s not an exact lie – more truth than anything, but it doesn’t give away anything either. Aside from where she’s from. The stranger – Tim, she remembers, hums in amusement. Julie is both trying to hurry to scan everything and also go at an slow pace to get the details. “Yeah, for future reference, perhaps keeping extra money on the side is good when you go out. Maybe not in Gotham but in other places.” Marinette nods, cheeks slightly red in embarrassment as Julie finishes and Tim hands over his card. Marinette tries to give him her cash and he shakes his head. “You keep it. I have plenty, don’t worry.”
Marinette narrows her gaze on him as Tim ignores her and grabs his own stuff and receipt before he’s taking off. Marinette is quick to grab her own bag and trail after him.
“No I insist. It wouldn’t be right.”
He waves her concern off. “Like I said, it’s no problem. My family would probably think that it’s strange – me buying the beans for someone else and not for myself, so I’ll get my own amusement out of this situation anyways when they undoubtedly find out.”
Marinette huffs a little before she’s shaking her head. “Well then, do you like Jagged Stone?”
Tim nods, confused, but Marinette cuts him off before he can question her. She claps her hands. As well as she could with a bag in one of them anyways. “Excellent! He has a concert tomorrow evening,” Tim’s looking at her strange and guarded now and Marinette carries on as if she doesn’t notice it but does dart her gaze around for anyone else standing about and lowers her tone, “If you don’t have anything to do, then you should come. Tell them that ‘MDC’ sent you as a thank you and if they have any questions, send them to me.” She turns on her ankles and waves, “Thanks again!” before walking off.
Tim stands there, staring in the direction she walks, “….MDC?” he whispers softly, knowing no one else is around. “holy fuck, that was MDC. Holy fuck I bought coffee FOR MDC.” Oh, he was DEFINITELY going to that concert tomorrow, any prior arrangements can be rearranged. He’s GOT to get an autograph. AND he was going to rub this into everyone’s faces when he gets the chance. He stares down at his drinks – before deciding that no, he was definitely going to try to sleep tonight. He needs to be in PRISTINE condition to see MDC tomorrow, after all.