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Chapter Text

Adrien was fourteen when he realised he had bargaining power. 

For whatever reason, his dad never wanted him to leave the house and would be more than willing to just lock him up like Rapunzel and throw away the key. 

But, he thought, as he watched the Disney princess on the screen, if all a parent really wants is to stop you going outside, maybe they're willing to give you other things to distract you and shut you up, like Gothel. 

His father had already shown that he was willing to buy his affection and silence– his big, lonely room full of game consoles and a climbing frame proved that. 

I wonder how far I can push it...

The first thing he asked for was a fully furnished workshop.

Go big or go home, right?

(Or rather, go big or stay home bored and being driven slowly insane.) 

In the end, it was easier than he thought it would be. He tried to arrange a meeting with his father through Nathalie, but got impatient and ended up sending an email instead of waiting for his schedule to open up. He worded it carefully, double checking every sentence to make sure there was nothing there Gabriel could find fault with or use against him. 

He wrote the pros and cons, the logistics of how it could be done, subtly tried to hint that he would be happier staying at home more (away from "bad influences") if he had this to entertain him...this email, he thought wryly, was more well researched than any school paper he had ever turned in. 

And when he was as confident as he was going to be, he hit send. 

His father never did reply with words; his response came in the form of Natalie showing up at his door and brusquely informing him that this was probationary, that he had to be on his best behaviour, that his grades both at school and at his extracurriculars had to remain impeccable, that as far as his public persona was concerned any new hobbies were to be kept under wraps until approved by his publicist...

All Adrien heard, with a dawning sense of wonder, was that for once he'd won. 

By the time Adrien was able to finally set foot in his new workshop, he was practically vibrating with excitement. 

He'd watched so many videos, researched so many techniques...he didn't know where to start! 

He looked around the room, from the sound-proofed walls to the shelves of wood lining them to all the machinery begging to be tested. 

He didn't know where to start.

It was overwhelming.

He was so used to toeing the line and swallowing his thoughts that when he finally got something he wanted he didn't know what to do with it.

I didn't think I'd get this far.

(Plagg told him to just put his goggles and mask on and dig into it like it was a pile of cheese.)

It dawned on him, as he started trying out the bandsaw, that this was a room of no consequences. 

He got to let loose as Chat, but he also had to save Paris. He got to see his friends and go to school as Adrien, but he always had to hold part of himself back.

Here, as long as he cleaned off and didn't track sawdust through the house, no one would bother him. His father wouldn't care so long as he was safe and out of the way.

He grinned and kicked a pile of sawdust and sent it flying, just because he could.

(Then he swept it up, because having maids didn't mean you should be a dick to them.)

Chat Noir had arrived for their patrol.

Ladybug could tell this not only from the light thump of his boots touching down behind her, but also from the faint, sweet smell of sawdust that accompanied him.

Outwardly she groaned, scowling and turning to face him with her hands on her hips, ready to mock-scold him. Inside, she felt like an impatient kid on Christmas, shaking the gifts and guessing the contents until given the go-ahead to finally rip the wrapping paper off. 

"And what, Chat Noir, were you making that was so important to that you had to leave me waiting? Thousands could have died! Paris needs constant vigilance from its favourite furry, you know." 

He grinned, unrepentant, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the gift wrapped box tucked under his arm. 

The first time he had shown up with a gift, she had initially panicked thinking she'd missed an anniversary or important date, and then worried that this was to be yet another unwanted romantic gesture. What she wasn't expecting was her usually cocky cat to hesitantly hold out a black and green drawstring bag, his smile just a tad more unsure than usual, tail held in his free hand. 

The contents had touched her heart more than any bunch of roses ever could have. Marinette, who was constantly working on commissions and crafting things for friends, rarely received hand-made gifts in return. The wooden key ring was far from perfect, its finish patchy and uneven, but even before he shyly explained that it was the first thing he had turned on his brand new lathe, she could tell how much love and effort had gone into it. 

The conversation afterwards had been even better. It wasn't safe for them to discuss their civilian identities in any detail, but general hobbies were okay, and the way her kitty's face lit up, animatedly gesturing and miming as he told her about all the things he was learning would have been worth any risk. 

Every time he showed up with that look on his face, she knew he was about to give her something beautiful he had made with his own two hands, and he was becoming more skilled with each passing week. 

The box he held in his hands now was very enticing, but no matter how much she wanted to grab it, she had to play the game. It was routine now. 

"Paris is purrfectly safe under your protection, my lady." He kissed her hand. "And besides, I was so close to being done with your present I just couldn't wait until next patrol to give it to you." 

"You think I need yet another gift from a mangy cat?" she playfully demanded, not bothering to hide her smile. 

He smirked back. "No, bugaboo, but I think you want it anyway." 

She laughed, giving up the pretense. "You got me. Gimmee!" She made grabby hands and he laughed too as he handed it over. 

She snatched it and tore off the paper, before lifting the lid to reveal a wooden vase. 

As always, his gift was made from a reddish-brown wood with darker, almost black accents; a nod to her identity that was hopefully subtle enough not to be obvious.

(She kept most of his presents hidden anyway, just in case. The storage in her room was starting to get cramped, but she could never turn down a gift from her kitty.)

"It's beautiful, minou," she breathed.

He turned pink. "You like it?"

"I love it." Refusing to overthink it, she raised herself up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek before dropping back down and admiring the vase again, studiously avoiding his gaze.

I will not blush, she thought fiercely. I've had la bise that were more intimate than that was. It's only weird if you make it weird.

She cast about for a subject change.

"J-just the vase, then, kitty?" she teased. "No flowers?"

His already big eyes widened further, and she could have kicked herself.

Like that. Congratulations, you just made it weird.

"Because I'm a ladybug!" she blurted out. "And you know, we all like flowers, to look at and uh, eat aphids off of–"

She wasn't sure how he managed to pull off looking amused and concerned at the same time. "You're eating aphids now? That's a new one, Bug. Is that healthy for you?"

Nice going, Marinette. Guess I have to double down now.

She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, like she claimed to eat insects every day. "I'm sure Tikki would have mentioned if it was a problem. She looks out for me like that."

He frowned. "I think Plagg would just laugh at me. Guess I should prepare myself for wanting to eat mice or something."

She laughed at the expression on his face. "Don't worry, Minou, they sell feeder mice at the pet store. I'll get you a gift card for Christmas!"

He smiled uncertainly, clearly unsure whether she was joking or not. "Always looking out for me, my lady. You wouldn't be weirded out?"

Her smile softened. "Come on, give me some credit. If you can handle me eating–" fictional "–bugs, I can buy you mice. What are partners for?"

She held out her hand for a fistbump, which he returned with a grateful look.

"I'll have to start buying you flowers more often then."

"What?" she faltered. Why are you surprised, idiot? You brought it on yourself, you suggested it! He probably thinks you need them to live now or something. "You don't have to do that! Flowers are expensive."

His smile was...strange. "Trust me, I can afford it. Plus, now I have an excuse to bring a beautiful girl flowers!" He kissed the knuckles of the hand not holding the vase.

"Flirt."

"Only with you, my lady."

They continued to banter and joke until it was time to go home, but despite trying to stop her thoughts going that way, Marinette couldn't help but wonder: what kind of teenager has the pocket money to spend on flowers and woodworking?

"Come in."

Adrien squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and entered his father's study. 

As always, everything was sparklingly clean and undecorated to the point of austerity, with everything in its place and arranged just so. Even the man behind the desk may as well have been made of marble, if it weren't for the eyebrow that was raised coldly as his son crossed the threshold.

"Well?"

Adrien swallowed. "It's Christmas, Father."

Already dismissing him, his father's gaze lowered back to his paperwork. "Yes, I am aware. I trust you received your–" the barest hesitation "–gift."

He hadn't needed proof that his father had no idea what "he" had bought him, not really. It didn't make the confirmation hurt any less.

He eyed the pens on his father's desk that matched the one he'd unwrapped that morning. Natalie probably just added an extra at the last minute when shopping for Father's stationary...

"Yes, Father, I received it. Thank you." He gathered his courage. "I was hoping to see you at dinner today."

Gabriel sighed, his frustration clear. "I am a very busy man, Adrien, as you well know. I can't always be there for every little thing."

I'm well aware of that by now, he thought bitterly. Would be nice if today had been an exception though.

Gabriel's gaze flicked to the doorway. "If that was all–"

Adrien couldn't help a little of his own frustration and hurt creeping into his voice. "I wanted to give you your gift. Since I haven’t seen you all day, I came to find you."

Gabriel took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really don't have time for this. What is it?"

Adrien looked down at the box in his hands, thinking of the hours he'd spent in his workshop, the search to find the perfect paper and the meticulous wrapping and re-wrapping until he thought it stood a chance of meeting his father's exacting standards.

He briefly considered throwing it out of the window. Instead, he silently handed it over.

Gabriel opened his gift, somehow managing to simultaneously seem uninterested and rushed.

Then–

"Why would you think I would want this?"

The rest of his words washed over Adrien as he numbly tried to take them in.

"I can find my own pens, I don't need anything so shoddily homemade"..."Pay attention to the brand, boy, we are above garish holidays colours and themes"..."I have no use for something that is only relevant once a year"...

Then, imperiously–

"Take it. The thought is...appreciated, but I'm sure this is more to one of your little friends' tastes than mine."

Adrien opened his mouth.

You don't even know you always buy me pens, do you?

Would it kill you to be nice, just once?

Those aren't Christmas colours, I do pay attention, I was trying to match–

His shoulders sagged as the futility of voicing any of this hit him. His mouth snapped shut and he retrieved the red and white striped pen he had been so proud of. He turned to leave.

"Merry Christmas, Father."

The last thing he saw before the door swung shut was his father getting back to work as though Adrien had never existed, head bent over his red and white, candy cane striped cravat.

Adrien had rarely wanted to see his friends more, but he had a particular reason for dreading this meet up.

(He couldn't handle that kind of rejection twice in two days, he just couldn't–)

Breathe. 

"Hey, Marinette?" he said, summoning his courage. He resisted the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans. "Do you– I mean, I was wondering if you'd want–"

"Woah dude, are you okay? I didn't want to say anything but you looked like crap when you arrived and it's only getting worse. Do you need to go home?"

He smiled at his friend– a small smile, but a real one. "I'm fine Nino, thanks. I'd much rather be hanging out with you guys– home is the problem!" He laughed. It sounded forced even to his ears, and no one else seemed to find it funny.

Alya frowned, leaning forward, and he could almost physically see her entering reporter mode. "Adrien–"

"Anyway!" He hastily cut her off. "I know we already exchanged gifts, but I made something and the person I made it for– Well, it didn't work out, and I was thinking who else might want it, and I thought of you, Marinette?"

Her eyes widened, but before she could speak he continued babbling. He couldn't seem to stop himself.

"I mean if you don't want it that's totally fine, I can just keep it, but I just thought–"

"For me?" 

He looked across at her, surprised to see that she didn't look at all disappointed to be receiving a secondhand gift made by someone whose skills she knew nothing of. On the contrary, she looked...excited? Flattered?

Alya elbowed him. He fumbled the pen he was holding, and clumsy Marinette was somehow the one who caught it.

He'd rewrapped it since his father had rejected it, but it wasn't as good as his first attempt. He felt bad that it wasn't perfect, Marinette deserved perfect, but she...didn't seem to mind.

She undid the red ribbon and gently, carefully picked the sellotape from the golden wrapping paper until the pen he had so carefully crafted for his father was cradled in her hands.

Silence for a moment, then the room exploded into sound.

He had managed to push out of his mind until that point the fact that none of them knew about the hobbies his father hadn't approved for his public persona. If he'd thought about it, he wouldn't have been able to get up the courage to try regifting the pen at all. 

He'd been staring at it after leaving his father's office, trying to see it how he had– a tacky piece of Christmas memorabilia instead of a handcrafted gift. The more he looked, the more he thought that whatever he did with it, it shouldn't stay with him. Take away the concept of his father's cravat, and it looked seasonal and joyful, completely out of place in this sad, empty bedroom with this sad, empty boy.

It belonged with someone who personified generosity and holiday cheer. 

Someone who was still staring at the pen he'd made in her hands, silent while their other friends praised his talents and demanded to know how long he'd been keeping this from them.

"Marinette?"

Her eyes snapped up and she blushed. "It's beautiful. Thank you so much." A pause. "Who did you make it for?"

He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Father. I–it was meant to match his cravat...but he thought it looked too much like a candy cane."

"I mean, it does look Christmas-y," she turned, if possible, even more pink, "b-but I think that's cute. Perfect for a Christmas present, right?"

Relief swept through him so palpably he was amazed his friends didn't feel the breeze. "See, I thought that! It's a fun coincidence, right?" His voice quietened. "Plus, you know, given he wears the same outfit every day like a goddamn cartoon character, I figured there was a good chance he actually liked those colours..."

He mis-interpreted the sudden silence and self-consciously rushed to fill it. "Yeah, haha, I know I do the same thing, but that's father's decision, not–"

"Did he tell you he didn't like the colours?"

Her quiet voice cut through his babbling once again, but there was an edge to it now.

"Ah, no? He said gifting Christmas themed things for Christmas was tacky–"

"You're kidding me, right?!"

He flinched. Luckily she didn't notice, since her anger wasn't directed at him.

"He's a fucking world famous fashion designer walking around looking like a barbershop pole fucked Slenderman's corpse, and he thinks you're the one with no taste?"

There was a hurricane in human form in front of him where his tiny friend had been, and he had no idea how he was expected to proceed.

"I mean, it's fine? He's right, I could have done much better if I'd applied myself."

Her eyes blazed and her nostrils flared, and he realised whatever the right thing to say had been, that wasn't it.

"You listen here, Adrien Agreste." She stalked towards him, brandishing the pen like a weapon, and he had to fight the ridiculous urge to hide.

"I–" she gestured with the pen, and he was suddenly glad that he was too tall for his eyes to be in danger of injury, "am going to fucking cherish this pen. And not–" she put her hand up, and he closed his mouth, swallowing his words, "because it is gorgeous, although it is."

"Here here!" he heard from somewhere behind his left shoulder, where Nino was cowering and using him as a shield. Traitor.

She jabbed him in the chest with her finger, and his attention jumped back to her.

"I love this pen because you made it. Because you spent time picking out the wood, and glueing it, and turning it, and finishing it, and however many other steps I'm forgetting. I would love this pen if it were wonky and full of tear-out!"

Since when did Marinette know wood-working?

She was so close to him now.

He could see every individual eyelash.

Her eyes were the same shade of blue as Ladybug's.

"The important thing about a gift is the care that the person put into it, not whether it's something you would exactly have picked out for yourself! You love the person–"

Love? Marinette? Him?

"So you appreciate the gesture! And if your father can't see that he's a fucking idiot."

They continued to lock eyes for a second– he was the one who was blushing now, and she was breathing hard from her outburst– and then the spell was broken by a slow clap behind him. 

"Not that I wasn't already on board the Gabriel sucks train, but now I'm jealous. How come only Marinette gets a lovingly crafted pen?" Alya teased. "I use pens too, in case you hadn't noticed!" She gestured to her reporting notebook in her pocket.

Still dazed, gaze not leaving hers, Adrien responded absently, "She has pretty eyes."

Marinette's squeak was almost drowned out by Alya's indignant squawk.

Later that night, when Marinette was trying to stop replaying the events of the day over and over in her head and finally get some sleep, her phone buzzed with a text.

Adrien: Hey, I wanted to say thank you for everything you said today, it was really nice of you. 

A pause, and then:

Adrien: I'm sorry I gave you a second-hand gift. I don't know if you'd want anything else, but if you ever had requests I'd be happy to make something for you. 

Marinette was full of too many whirling emotions. She was elated– Adrien was talking to her! He hadn't thought her outburst was weird! He hadn't taken back the comment on her eyes (that she'd probably misunderstood or read too much into, right?) and he wanted to make her something!– but mixed in with her excitement and giddiness, the analytical part of her brain was laughing. Since Chat had learned how much his lady valued the gifts he brought, he had showered her in them, and she was struggling to figure out where another wooden gift would even fit in her overflowing bedroom. As for requests, she didn't know how many things she could think of that she didn't already own!

Not that she couldn't find a place for duplicates, if they were from Adrien...

Marinette: I meant it! I would love anything you made me. 

Marinette: You're really talented, you should show more people what you can do!

She hesitated before sending the next text, but he didn't have to answer if he didn't want to, so she plunged ahead:

Marinette: I can tell a lot of thought went into that pen. I know why you chose red and white, but why gold? 

She thought it was a good choice, but given how much he overthought everything when it came to his father, there could be more to it than just the colours being complementary. And if he was anything like Chat and herself, he'd love having the opportunity to talk about his creative process.

She turned out to be right. Adrien explained that the gold was meant to represent his mother ("her hair, you know? And that huge portrait Father has of her") and then with very little prompting, explained in detail exactly how he'd made the pen. She knew most of it from Chat, but she could listen to Adrien talk about paint drying for hours without complaint.

When his explanation turned wistful as he reached the part where Gabriel had rejected the gift, she tried to change the subject to something happier.

Marinette: You said earlier that your father picks out your clothes. What would you wear if you had a choice?

The answer was immediate and followed by way too many cat emojis.

Adrien: A fursuit of course!

Adrien: Don't you think I could pull off some cat ears? ;3 

Marinette had trouble not waking her parents with her laughter at the mental image.

Marinette: Nope. You can pull off just about anything but cat ears. Tragic!

Adrien: You wound me! 😿

They talked until they both fell asleep, Adrien marveling as he closed his eyes that he had never noticed how like Ladybug she was until she had defended him that day, while Marinette dreamed of Adrien woodworking in cat ears. 

And in a child's bedroom in Paris, two tiny gods met and got to work.

Again. 

"Natalie, could you pass a request on to father for me?"

She paused in informing him of his week's schedule, eyes leaving the tablet for the first time since she had entered his room. Her eyebrow raised.

"You have your father's email address, Adrien. Do you need a tutor on how to use it?"

Don't rise to it.

"Father listens to you more than he does to me."

The smallest change in expression that on her was almost a smile. "I wouldn't count on that."

He smiled back. I shouldn't, but I absolutely am.

A pause, then:

"What is it?"

Here goes nothing.

"I'd like to invite Chloe round to see my workshop."

Chloe had been pleased when Adrien finally showed her his new hobby. 

Not because she had any interest in woodworking, but because Gabriel letting up about people knowing meant she could finally spend more time with her friend. 

("Ms. Bourgeois is permitted, yes," Adrien had said in an uncanny impersonation of his father that had had Chloe in stitches. "She may not care about discretion, but she does understand image.") 

Discretion was overrated. Discretion was Adrien fading into the persona his father had crafted for him.

Being a bitch was SO much more fun, she thought as she watched him work on his latest project. She had borrowed some old clothes of his (some last season Gabriel apparel–there was nothing off the rack in Adrien's wardrobe or her own) to save hers getting dirty, and was perched on a chair nearby his lathe. He was explaining what he was doing as he went, chattering excitedly while still keeping all his concentration on being safe. 

Chloe thought she hadn't seen him so passionate or animated since they were kids, before Gabriel had beaten it out of him.

(She wasn't sure whether that was literal or not, and she knew if she asked he wouldn't tell her. If there was one thing Adrien excelled at, it was masks.)

The thought reminded her of Adrien's other passion, and she realised, amused, that the workshop might as well have been themed around their shared favourite superhero.

Not that there were decorations, but there were huge stacks of red and black wood everywhere, and she even caught sight of some pieces of spotted acrylic in the same colours on a shelf on the left wall. 

That explains the look on his face , she thought wryly. Adrien's found his muse, and now he has something to channel his feelings about her into. 

She wasn't ever going to give up her title as Ladybug's number one fan, but she had to admit he gave her some stiff competition.

She wondered what he had done with everything else he had made. It was obvious from his practiced passes that he had made plenty of things in this room, yet there were no traces of them here or in his bedroom.

Maybe Gabriel was holding out for perfection and had made him destroy them.

She asked, and was surprised to see him turn as red as Ladybug's suit.

He explained, blushing and refusing to meet her eyes, and her mood quickly shifted from concern to utter delight.

This is more embarrassing than anything I've ever done! I'm holding this over him forever.

"Leave me alone!" he groaned after five full minutes of merciless teasing. "Ladybug has a place to send fanmail for a reason! It's not like you've never sent her anything!"

Her cheeks hurt from how widely she was grinning. This boy is going to give me wrinkles before my time. “I haven’t, actually.”

He whirled away from the lathe and pointed at her accusingly. “That’s a lie, and you know it. You told me all about it! You were going to pick out the best, most expensive thing that 'any teenage girl would absolutely die for–'"

“I do not sound like that–"

“And then Ladybug was going to love it and be your best friend and you would braid each others hair and have sleepovers–“

“–and then she released a statement about what people were allowed to send her and specifically said nothing expensive,” Chloe finished sourly. That still stung. “Which I maintain is a ridiculous rule, by the way.”

At least Adrikins had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part."

Chloe decided to graciously let him off the hook.

"Whatever. One day she'll realise I'm the perfect woman and come woo me like I deserve. Until then I'll have to make do with being your beard."

"I thought I was your beard?"

"What ever, " she repeated, flipping her hair and smirking.

They'd come to their arrangement when Adrien had hit puberty and his father had started pressuring him to date "for the brand."

"I know it's dumb," he'd said, flopping back on Chloe's bed, "but I don't want to pretend to date someone. Some random model holding my hand? Taking my first kiss?"

"Oh no," she had deadpanned, not taking her eyes off the nails she was painstakingly painting yellow. "You'll have pretty girls kissing you. Tragic. However will you cope?"

He'd grinned despite himself. "Wish we could swap places. You'd actually enjoy this."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Actually, that gives me an idea."

The plan was simple: Chloe would pretend to have a huge crush on Adrien. This solved two problems; his father would get off his back ("I can't date anyone, Father, it would crush Chloe and the mayor would be so upset!") and it would keep some of the more easily deterred fangirls from cornering him in public and expressing their love. No one wanted to approach him with the self-appointed princess of Paris scowling from his arm.

In return, if he met any female models their age he thought liked girls, he would discretely introduce them to Chloe.

So far, it had worked out well for both of them.

"How come you haven't made me anything before?" she asked now, pouting. "I know I'm not Ladybug, but I'm your oldest friend!"

He laughed, but it sounded forced. "Believe me Chlo, I wanted to, but you know what he's like. I figured I'd gotten good enough that he'd let me show you now, but he would have absolutely forbidden it a month ago."

"Why not just make stuff anyway? It's not like he'd notice."

Adrien winced, and she regretted being so blunt. It was true though.

"I couldn't risk your father noticing and mentioning it to him. Letting a politician see something not publicist approved? Best case scenario I'd be banned from here for weeks."

"Fair. Didn't you say you were going to try making something for Nino though?" 

"I think I can get away with making things for my other friends, yeah. Father doesn't care enough to recognise my work if he sees it." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and Chloe made a mental note to fix it before she left. If her saving characteristic was "image," she wasn't going to jeopardise that by having Gabriel or Nathalie see Adrien leave their hang out with a headfull of sawdust.

"What is it?"

 "It's just– I wish I could have more friends round than just you, much as I love you." He shot her a grin and she smiled back, only to watch his fall. "I wish I could just be me sometimes, you know? Not Adrien Agreste, perfect model and son, just Adrien, kid who's trying his best and fucks up sometimes."

His agitation amped up and he started pacing, gesturing wildly.

"It's like, I put all this effort into Chinese, and piano, and I'm good at them, but I didn't choose them! And now I have a hobby I'm proud of, that I'm actually getting good at, and Father just cares that my social media never shows a pimple."

"Ew."

"That's the point though Chloe. I don't get to be "ew", but I also don't get to be human! I'm just an airbrushed face. I follow all these people and I love watching them grow as crafters, but what kills me is no matter how much I grow, no one will ever know, and I can never show off something genuine, because it will never be good enough." 

Which was what led Chloe to now, back in her room and narrowing down the sneaky pictures she had snapped of Adrien working on her project. 

No one had ever seen Adrien like this, she thought, swiping, and it was a damn shame. He looked happy for once. 

Which besides her own personal stake, would be good for his image, which right now was a bit...blah. He looked good, but there was no substance. Just a pretty face with nothing below the surface. 

Fangirls would latch onto anything, given the chance. Adrien's fame would skyrocket if he was allowed to have just a bit of humanity. 

At least, she thought as she added filters, that's what she would be telling Gabriel to justify this. 

She would be proved right though. She always was. 

The photo she chose in the end had Adrien bent over the project oiling it, capturing perfectly the satisfying change from cloudy to shiny and beautiful. The colours were vibrant, and though he was concentrating, so was his smile. His hair was a mess, his sleeves were rolled up, and he looked, for once, human. Not a plastic doll, but a real boy.

She liked it. She knew his fans would too.

Gabriel wouldn't, but that was the point. The man was ridiculously uptight and the sooner he realised Adrien was a person with feelings and not a puppet, the better.

Plus, if he saw the fans' reactions he might start giving Adrien more freedom.

(She doubted it.)

Her eyes caught Adrien’s gift to her he had made for her that day. Sitting in pride of place on her dressing table was a semi-opaque, golden yellow, honeycomb patterned trinket box, just big enough to fit a few small pieces of jewellery in. She smiled. Her daddy would buy her anything expensive she wanted, but the few possessions she owned that were thoughtful and heartfelt were rare and precious.

Seeing the box strengthened her resolve. Adrien was always so giving, he deserved something nice in return.

I know I’m not good at talking about feelings and stuff, but actions? Those, I can do.

Chloe hovered her perfectly manicured finger above the screen, double-checked for errors, and hit post. 

When it turned out to be her most liked and shared picture ever, she tried not to take it personally. 

Chapter Text

When Marinette heard boots thumping on her balcony, she didn't know whether to feel relieved, annoyed, or concerned.

She had spent the last 3 hours trying to get the hang of this pattern, and it was evading her at every turn. (She may have jumped in at the deep end and started on something too complicated.) On the one hand, she was grateful for the excuse to take a break (or maybe just hide it under the bed and pretend it never existed). On the other, there was a treacherous, stubborn part of her brain that insisted she could have figured it out if she'd had just five more uninterrupted minutes.

Both of these were overridden by the concern she felt at her partner's loud arrival. Like his namesake, Chat Noir was capable of great grace and sneakiness when he stopped punning for a second, and on an ordinary day he would have tried to employ those skills to not alert her parents to his visit.

The fact that he was being loud meant one of two things. He was either too upset to care or notice, or he was letting her hear him and come out to find him because he couldn't bring himself to actually ask for comfort. Maybe both.

(She didn't know much about his home life, as their secret identities necessitated, well, secrecy, but she did know she wanted to murder whoever told her best friend he wasn't worthy of help. Until she knew who it was, she'd have to settle for supporting him herself.)

Setting down her tangled yarn and hook, she ascended the ladder to her bed and opened the skylight to her balcony.

As expected, there was a sad kitty there waiting. She could practically hear the sad music. "For just €4 a month, you can help lonely cats like Chat Noir..."

She wished she could do something substantial to help, but until then–

"Cookies?"

He didn't say why he was there until he had already demolished three of them with gusto and was onto his fourth, and Marinette didn't push. She didn't think he ate enough, and besides, he would talk when he was ready.

In between bites, his eyes caught the ball of yarn at her desk, and she caught his wrist before he could reach out and touch it.

"Nuh uh kitty, that's enough of a mess without you playing with it."

His guilty and confused look made her want to laugh until she realised she probably wasn't supposed to know that much about how the Miraculous passed on traits to its holders. As Marinette she had “picked up on” some things, but keeping distractions away from her kitty? Especially when he should be focused on an akuma? That was all Ladybug. Crap .

"Wh-what do you mean?"

She played it off as a joke. "You are a cat, aren't you? I've seen what you guys do to yarn." Acting like she was continuing teasing, but actually protecting her project, she pushed the yarn out of his reach. Though at this point it might be beyond saving.

Chat Noir grinned, showing off his pointed incisors.

"I am, princess, which means I need toys! All the toys! Or I'll die of boredom."

He did his best kitten eyes as he attempted to bat at the yarn that she was still determinedly keeping out of reach.

"Nooooo," she laughed. "Kitty, I've been trying to figure this out for hours, if you mess it up I'm going to have to get out the water spritzer."

He immediately froze, ears back. He knew from past experiences with too many puns that this wasn't an idle threat. "I'll be good."

She rewarded him with scritches behind his pointed ears, and soon loud purrs rang out through the room. "Good kitty."

He collapsed next to her, still purring. If anyone asked, she would deny how long they sat there, or the fond look on her face as she stared at his relaxed face, eyes closed in bliss.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"'Bout wha'?" He mumbled, slightly slurred.

She rolled her eyes, smiling fondly. "Whatever upset you so much that you came here."

He opened his eyes languidly and smiled up at her. "Who said something's wrong? Maybe I just wanted to see your pretty face."

He's deflecting, do not get flustered or let him see you blush. This isn't a competition but he's still not allowed to win.

She stopped scratching and he whined, opening his eyes fully and looking up at her in anguished betrayal. "You don't have to talk about it, but I know you. You can't hide when something's wrong."

She hoped that they had spent enough time together like this to justify her knowing him so well without him questioning her identity, but giving him a space to talk was more important right now.

He sighed. "It's stupid."

She immediately dismissed that. "If it matters to you, it isn't stupid."

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, not looking at her. "I guess."

She nudged him and smiled, and he smiled back, though she could tell his heart wasn't in it. "So?"

"Hang on, I'm trying to think of a way to talk about this safely. Secret identities and all that."

She nodded, and waited patiently for him to take a deep breath and begin speaking again, tone much quieter and more subdued.

"So, I have this...hobby."

She nodded. Marinette was allowed to know that much.

"And to start with, it was really fun! But I wasn't..." he frowned, trying to think his way around the restrictions. "I didn't have many people I could share it with."

She nodded sympathetically, gesturing for him to go on.

"And my friend tried to fix that." His smile was small, but genuine. "She did..." he glanced at Marinette, who raised her eyebrows in silent question. "...a thing."

She smiled in amusement, and he groaned. "Hey, I'm trying, okay! This whole secret identity thing is difficult, you have no idea."

I might have some idea, she thought wryly. "Okay, okay, sorry! Go on."

His brow furrowed again. "So my friend...was trying to help. And she did, in a way! Lots of people see what I do now, and like it, and that's..." he hesitated, and finished lamely, "...nice."

"But?" she prompted.

"It's hard to explain, but it's a lot of pressure. And I have to make what they expect, to a certain standard, on a schedule. It's...a lot."

Marinette could relate, and told him so. "I get it. There's a big difference between making things for yourself and making them for other people. I know your friend thought she was doing you a favour, but she probably should have asked you first."

He smiled ruefully at that. "She's like that. We've known eachother since we were kids, and when she decides you're her person that's kind of it for her. She'll do anything for you," he laughed, "regardless of whether you want it!"

Marinette frowned. "She sounds difficult."

"No, no!" He waved her off, placating. "I'm not explaining right. I'm–" 

He broke off, once again trying to find the right words.

"In my civilian life, I'm," he rubbed the back of his neck, "kind of reserved. I don't always ask for what I want. And she helps with that. She stands up for me when I can't advocate for myself."

Marinette found herself, in a sudden burst of irrational jealousy, wondering if this friend was pretty.

Nope! Not going to unpack that.

"Alright," she said with forced levity. "I'll let her off then! So, you don't want to make things any more?"

He laughed ruefully. "Kind of the opposite, actually. I have to make things for this...thing now, but I don't get to make what I want, or take risks, or be creative. It's sort of stagnant."

"Maybe you need a new hobby?"

A shadow passed over his face, then smoothed over so quickly she might have imagined it. "If you can think of a hobby that's quiet and easy to hide, sure!"

"Chat," she said bluntly. "What the fuck."

"What?"

"What kind of dystopia do you live in where you have to hide your hobbies?!"

"Oh!" He laughed sheepishly. "Uh...the kind where I got in trouble for the thing my friend did. It's not as bad as it sounds!"

He couldn't decipher the look on her face. "You're getting punished for something you didn't even do?"

"No!" He withered under her glare. "Well, sort of? It's complicated."

She leaned back and folded her arms, her eyes not leaving his. "Try me."

"It's not just a punishment. Me starting another hobby would let C–my friend do the thing again. And my father really didn't like that. He's come around to it now, but there's no way he'd let it happen again."

"...because?"

"He's trying to protect–“ he hesitated "–me."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Try again."

He wilted under her gaze. "It has negative repercussions for him. How people see him. And...his job."

"Fuck him and his job," she said vehemently. "His kid's happiness is more important."

He stared at her for a moment and then hid his face in his hands. "...you're just like this all the time," she thought she heard him say.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he replied, but when he raised his head he was smiling broadly at her despite his suspiciously shiny eyes. I must have said something right, then.

She leaned back in her chair and considered him for a moment. Then–

"So, you need a hobby that's creative, quiet and easily hidden."

His smile dimmed a little. "Yeah."

"And I, " she continued, "need it to be something forgiving and fun that you can mess up, because fuck your dad and his high standards of perfectionism."

He laughed, a single loud bark of amusement, and then covered his mouth and glanced guiltily towards her parents' bedroom. When they had ascertained he hadn't woken them up, Marinette grabbed her failed project and held it out to him. "Grab the ball of yarn," she told him. "And pull."

He reached out and pulled, and then dropped it in horror when he saw her work unraveling. "Oh no! I did it wrong, Mari I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"You did exactly right," she interrupted gently. "Keep going."

Glancing at her as he did so, he carried on, slowly at first and then picking up speed. Eventually she took the ball from him and rewound it as he went, enjoying the look of tentative joy on his face.

It was disheartening to watch her hours of work be undone so easily, but this was worth it.

When they reached the end and the ball was fully rewound, she took the crochet hook from her desk and set it in a drawer underneath, picking up a pair of knitting needles to replace it.

"Time to learn to knit, cat boy."

The look of panic on his face would have made her laugh if it hadn't been so painfully genuine. "Oh. Uh. Right now? Could we start with the thing you just put away? One stick seems easier than two sticks."

She shrugged, smiling. "Depends on the person, really. But knitting comes with an advantage over crochet."

She saw his tail lash in curiosity. Hook.

"What's that?"

"No matter how far back you made a mistake, in a beginner project you can almost always fix it without undoing anything. It's basically impossible to properly mess up if you have someone to help who knows what they're doing." Line.

He eyed the yarn with renewed interest. "How do you do that?"

Sinker.

I knew his people-pleasing little ass wouldn't be able to resist something he couldn't fuck up.

Hehe. His ass is definitely pleasing to me.

Stop thinking about his ass.

She brandished the knitting needles with a flourish to cover up her flustered thoughts. "First, let's get you started on something easy, and we'll fix any mistakes as you make them."

After that, Marinette redoubled her efforts to help Adrien.

She had been trying, to the best of her ability, to make his life better where she could since she had realised just how much shit he had going on beneath that model smile. The day Adrien had first quietly confessed to them a story about how his dad had treated him was the day that Marinette tore Gabriel down off that pedestal she'd placed him on. (She also tore down all the pictures of his designs from her walls; he didn't deserve a place in her bedroom.) The next day she had given herself a stern talking to, and managed to be in Adrien's presence without melting long enough to give him some baked goods from home. His smile was like sunshine.

Now though, his home situation seemed to be getting worse, and on top of that Chat Noir's did too. She had channeled her resentment into not being able to help her partner into helping her crush, and it even seemed to be working. Adrien seemed more exhausted than ever, now that he had to do woodwork for his professional social media on top of his already hectic schedule, but she could still get a genuine smile out of him most days. Even Chat Noir seemed to be doing better, though she doubted their knitting sessions were a big part of that.

All in all, she'd been happy with her progress on operation Save the Sunshine Boy...until Chloe showed up at her door.

"Marinette!" she heard her mum call up the stairs. "There's...someone here to see you!"

When she got downstairs, the odd tone in Sabine's voice was explained by the visitor. Clad head to toe in the latest fashions in bright yellow and black, it would have been difficult for her to stand out more in their cosy home.

Of course, Sabine only knew Chloe as Marinette's tormentor, so the rather cold welcome was expected.

Marinette stiffly but quickly ushered Chloe up to her room, reassuring her mother that yes, she was fine, and would let them know if she needed anything. She had no idea what Chloe wanted to talk about, but she was sure whatever it was wouldn’t be improved by her parents hovering. 

Plus, Marinette tried not to use strong language in front of her parents, and she was fairly certain it would be warranted.

Once the hatch shut, she turned to Chloe and without preamble said, “So?”

Luckily, Chloe didn’t seem to want to drag this out either. She crossed her arms and said, “I’ve seen how you’ve been acting around Adrien lately.”

Ah. I thought it might be this.

Marinette felt a sudden wave of fury. She crossed her arms in return and glared right back.

She hadn’t done anything wrong and she was sick of cowering. 

“It’s not illegal to be nice to the boy the mayor’s daughter has a crush on,” she spat. “Not even you could get daddy dearest to enforce that. Is that all you came here for?”

Chloe stared for a moment, nonplussed. Then she smirked.

“That’s what you think I’m doing?”

Marinette threw her hands up. “I have no idea what you’re doing! Or what Adrien has to do with anything.”

Chloe’s expression dropped into something more unreadable. Then–

“I’m here to propose a truce.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “One, I was never the instigator here. Two-“

Chloe waved her off absently. “You gave as good as you got.”

“ Two , you wouldn’t say that unless you wanted something.”

Chloe’s smirk returned. “You catch on quick.”

“Why would I do anything for you?”

Both of them seemed surprised at the venom in her words. There was a beat.

Chloe broke the silence by flopping down dramatically into the chair, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you don’t catch on as quickly as I thought. It’s not me you’d be helping, Dupain-Cheng, it’s Adrikins.”

Marinette scowled. “If Adrien wants my help with something, he just has to ask–“ Her words caught up with her. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You want in on Operation Save the Sunshine Boy?” she blurted out before she could think better of it.

Chloe raised her eyebrows, and Marinette coloured.

“Not if you’re calling it that, no.”

I’m getting fed up with this shit.

She clenched her fists. “Why don’t you just go, Chloe. We don’t actually need to work together to make Adrien happy. Get Sabrina to come up with a separate plan that you can take all the credit for and gloat about.”

Chloe’s gaze dropped and she mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“I need you, okay?”

Marinette blanched. “What?” She repeated.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

A smile slowly crept onto Marinette’s face. “Might have to. What’s your pitch?”

Chloe groaned. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

As much as she was enjoying Chloe’s groveling, she was genuinely baffled. “Yes?”

Chloe sighed. “If I’m going to pull this off, I need more than just me and Sabrina. And the people in our class are weirdos who won’t listen when I try to talk to them. Believe me, I’ve tried, and they all have sudden “emergencies” when I try to get someone alone. I know I’m fabulous, but I’m not that intimidating.”

Not addressing that particular remark was the most heroic thing Marinette had ever done. “Pull what off?”

“Getting Adrien some creative outlets.” She said the phrase as though speaking a foreign language.

Marinette laughed despite herself. “Finally found something money can’t buy?”

Chloe scowled. “Obviously, Gabriel could get Adrien the best tutors available in whatever he wanted, if he wanted to. The problem is we don’t live in that fantasy world where Gabriel is a halfway decent father, so we’re going to need to get…creative. Which is also where you come in.”

“What do you actually bring to the table here?”

Chloe, for the first time, gave what seemed to be a genuine smile. “I can get him away from his father without raising suspicion, since politics is a bullshit game and he’ll want to stay on Daddy’s good side.” She pulled a face. “For some reason, Daddy actually thinks of Gabriel as a friend and not the disaster he really is.”

Marinette smiled. “You hate him too? I knew we’d find common ground eventually.”

“Of course I hate him,” Chloe replied, tossing her hair. “Unlike him, I actually have taste.”

Marinette laughed again. Turns out Chloe’s kind of fun when it’s not me she’s being a bitch about. Didn’t see that coming.

She boosted herself up onto her desk, legs dangling, and reached for her notebook and pen. “What have you got so far?”

Chloe didn’t answer. 

“What, did you expect me to do all the work? I’m not Sabrina.” Having grabbed what she needed, she turned to see Chloe’s eyes fixed on her pen.

“Did Adrikins make that?”

She was about to reply in the affirmative, but her words froze when she realised which pen she had in her hand.

Not the red and white gift from Adrien, but the red and black pen Chat had given her a few months before.

Crap.

“Nope,” she said, trying to appear casual. “Adrien’s pen is here.” She gestured at it.

Though they actually do look kinda similar…

Chloe was still staring. “Where did you get that from?”

She flushed. “Why do you care?”

“Humour me.”

She blew upwards, her fringe fluttering in the updraft. “A friend gave it to me, okay? Now, did you want my help or not.”

Chloe frowned. “And you’re sure this friend isn’t Adrien?”

“Yes!” said Marinette, exasperated. “He’s a different friend. I can have more than one. Can we get on with it?”

They got on with it, but Chloe was suspiciously quiet for the rest of the visit. Maybe she’s just humbled by having to ask me for help.

“What do you want, anyway?” Chloe asked as she stood to leave.

“What?” Marinette looked up from her notebook, startled.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “What. Do. You. Want. You couldn’t pay me enough to be in your debt, Dupain-Cheng, so name it now and I’ll get Daddy to buy it so we can get on with this thing.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and then she just smirked.

Chloe threw up her hands. “What?!”

“I’m not taking any payment.”

Chloe crossed her arms. “Why? I know you want to marry him and have his babies or whatever–“

Marinette’s smile turned strained.

“–but he’s just a classmate! One who’s way out of your league, may I add,” she scoffed. “You can’t even tell me you’re friends! You can barely talk to him.”

“Shut up.”

“Ex- cuse me?”

“I said shut up.”

Chloe opened her mouth to retort, saw something in Marinette’s face, and closed it again.

A smile crept back onto Marinette’s face, but it wasn’t a nice one. Chloe took an involuntary step back. “What–“

“I know my price.”

Chloe tried to recover her composure. “Like I said, whatever it is, Daddy–“

“I don’t want anything from your ‘Daddy’,” she spat. “I want something from you.”

Chloe blanched, then rallied. “Well of course, I’m also ridiculously wealthy–“

“If you want my help,” Marinette said, slowly and deliberately, savouring every word and looking Chloe dead in the eye, “then there’s only one thing I want.”

For once, Chloe was silent as she awaited her verdict.

“You have to be nice. Or I’m out.”

“But–“

“No insults, digs, or deliberately trying to hurt people’s feelings,” Marinette ticked off her fingers. “And if you do break that rule, accidentally or otherwise, you have to apologise. Not with gifts or money, but properly. With words. Like you mean it.” Briefly, Marinette was aware that she was channeling Sabine.

“But why?!” Chloe burst out, almost wailing.

“It just just makes sense,” Marinette replied reasonably, trying not to let her smugness show (and not doing a very good job.) “People have to want to help you, Chloe, and they won’t if you don’t at least make an effort.”

Chloe gaped at her, mouth working like a fish, but could seemingly find no rebuttal. Apparently this hadn’t occurred to her.

Marinette beamed. “Shake on it?”

And with reluctance and mutters of “utterly ridiculous,” she did.

Marinette had arrived at the park before everyone else. There was a lot of surprise and teasing (along with curious questions of what the meeting was about), and she took it all good-naturedly. She could brainstorm and write notes and run through scenarios in her head as much as she liked, but she’d be starting on a serious back foot if she let Chloe talk before she did. For once, punctuality absolutely had to be a priority, and luckily Hawkmoth hadn’t thrown a spanner in the works today.

“So!” She started anxiously. Her classmates all turned to face her and she swallowed.

Do it for Adrien.

“You’re probably wondering, uh…”

“Why you’ve gathered us all here today,” Alya intoned in a comically ominous voice, and the group dissolved into giggles.

Marinette laughed too, although hers had an edge of nervousness to it. “Yeah, that! Um…”

Say something! You know they’ll help, you just have to get them on side before–

“Dupain-Cheng, are you starting without me?”

–Chloe shows up.

“I’m the VIP! You can’t tell them about my idea without me! ”

“I was already planning before you–“ Marinette started, then stopped and took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Chloe and I have an idea.” She tried to smile encouragingly at the group. She was pretty sure it looked more forced than anything. “And we really would appreciate it if anyone wanted to help.”

There was a silence, in which everyone looked between the two girl’s suspiciously. Marinette’s phone buzzed, and Alya caught her eye, looking exaggeratedly between her and her phone, eyebrows raised.

Alya: Blink twice if you’re being blackmailed girl, you know everyone here has your back. I’m not the only one who would love an excuse to punch her.

Marinette couldn’t help it. Her attempted calm, neutral façade broke and she burst out laughing.

Her classmates’ stares had now turned from confused to concerned.

“Seriously Dupain-Cheng?” Chloe seemed to be working her way up to a tantrum. “I know you’re flakey as hell, but this is a new low, even for you. You’re being utterly ridiculous!” She stamped her foot, and the high heel of one of her shoes stuck in the soil. “If you’re not going to help me–“ she struggled to free her foot “–then I am more than capable of doing this on my own!” With that pronouncement, she turned to stalk away, and promptly fell on her butt.

“Are you sure?” Alya called. “Because it looks like you can’t even walk on your own.”

Some of the group were polite enough to try to smother their laughter, but there were definitely more than a few who didn’t try at all to hide their mirth. Alya smiled triumphantly at Marinette, but she only had eyes for the girl at her feet.

Chloe had wrenched her shoe free but was still crumpled on the ground, holding her ankle as though in pain. Marinette was sure that later, if she tried to bring it up, Chloe would claim that as the only reason for the tears in her eyes.

Suddenly, for a moment, Marinette stopped seeing the mayor’s daughter who had bullied her for years. She saw instead just a girl who was trying, however badly, to do the right thing. Who was being laughed at by her peers.

I’ve been there. Marinette thought. Then: I wonder how many friends she actually has, other than Adrien and Sabrina?

Without thinking, she bent down and offered her hand.

Chloe eyed it, but didn’t move to take it.

“I know you’re worried about Adrien,” Marinette said, voice low, too quietly to be heard by anyone but them. “I am too. But lashing out at people you want help from isn’t the way to do it.”

Chloe scoffed. “What, so I’m just supposed to sit there and take it when you laugh at me?”

“Alya sent me a text, it hit me how weird this situation is, and I laughed,” she said simply, trying not to roll her eyes. “Everyone was staring and the tension got to me.” I’m not used to this much attention when not in the suit.

Chloe changed tack, eyes narrowing. “ They laughed at me.”

“And you deserved it for every time you’ve laughed at them,” she shot back, and a faint blush appeared on Chloe’s cheeks.

Marinette took pity on her. “Look, I can get them on board. They love Adrien, and they’re not the kind to refuse someone who needs help regardless. But I’m going to need you to take it down a notch or twenty, okay?”

She wiggled the fingers of the hand that was still outstretched, and hesitantly, Chloe took it. 

She was just about able to stand, but she was wobbly, and Marinette thought she saw her turn a shade more pink as she helped her to her feet.

Time to channel Ladybug.

“Okay guys,” she called, her arm still wrapped around Chloe’s waist to support her. “Listen up.”

She outlined her plan with minimal interruptions (Chloe was unusually quiet, even as she pulled away from Marinette to lean against a nearby tree, which helped). Once she thought she had summed everything up, she trailed off (“so, um…yeah.”) and  prepared to field questions and doubts.

But when she looked at her friends, she only saw determination, understanding, and a united front.

“Tell us what you need, and we’ll do it,” Alya said firmly, and the others all nodded.

Marinette smiled in relief at Chloe, who rolled her eyes.

Hardly the dream team, but I think we might just about pull this off.

Adrien retrieved his knitting from under the desk where he’d stashed it. He’d given up on it the night before, but after the day he’d had he needed some serious distraction, and trying to somehow conjure a hat from sticks and yarn seemed like it would fit the bill.

Another photo of his lady appeared on his screen, her gaze sharp and focused as she swung towards her quarry, and he winced. Normally his screensaver slideshow brought him strength, but the last thing he needed reminded of right now was yet another thing he couldn’t have.

Not that he wanted to "have" her in a gross way– he didn’t resent her for not returning his feelings like some kind of "incel", just…

…she was his best friend, and when they weren’t fighting for their lives, he hardly ever saw her.

Much like how outside of class, he never saw any of his friends other than Chloe.

His mind drifted back to that day in the classroom. It could be just paranoia, but it seemed like everyone was having a conversation he wasn’t privy to, and every additional time one of his friends started furiously typing only for another to grab their phone and start typing a seeming reply, his suspicions grew.

And on top of that, people kept looking at him.

Unless he was looking at them of course, in which case they were studiously avoiding his gaze.

He groaned.

Get a grip, he told himself firmly. The whole class isn’t in some kind of conspiracy against you.

…but what if they are?

It’s hard enough when my friends want to see me but can’t because Father’s keeping me locked up, but what if they don’t want to anymore? What if they’re getting tired of me, and of how unavailable I am, and decided it’s just easier to leave me out all together?

He shook his head as if to dispel the thought, and tried to focus again on the project in his hands. He didn’t honestly know what he was going to do with it– his father would never let him wear it– but when Marinette had shown him the pattern he hadn’t been able to resist trying.

It was relatively simple: a long rectangle that at the end would be folded in half and sewn together, leaving one side open for the head to go in. The result just looked like a weird square pocket…until you put it on and the corners turned, almost magically, into cat ears.

It was a great choice for a beginner, he thought as he knitted, but he was a fast learner. It had taken a while to get the hang of, but now just doing the same hand movements repeatedly was no longer enough to occupy his brain.

His eyes turned to his screen again. This time Ladybug was stationary in the photo, hands on hips, staring boldly into the camera as if she was ready to take on the world. Confident. Like she didn’t need anyone.

You would never know looking at it that she had a partner at all.

Sighing, he reached out and turned his monitor off, and the image faded to black.

Chapter Text

“Whatever your kid is working on, it had better be good,” Plagg greeted Tikki as she phased through the window.

He had expected her to be coy about whatever surprise pigtails was planning, but instead she sighed. “She’s worried about him. Both of him.” She flew over to join him upstairs next to the shelves, where they were hopefully out of sight and earshot of his Chosen. “Their friends are working together to get him out of the house more, but it’s a work in progress.”

“Their work needs to progress faster!” snarked Plagg. “My boy’s got himself all worked up thinking his friends are talking about him behind his back. Which they are, but–“

“You couldn’t help him feel better?” Tikki’s wings buzzed anxiously.

“You know I’m not good with all that feelings stuff. Plus, what am I supposed to say? ‘Your friends love you. I know this because one of them is Ladybug and her Kwami told me’?” The frustration was evident in his voice.

Tikki nuzzled her body into his and sighed. “I really hate that we have to keep this from them. They would be so good for eachother–“

“But we can’t disobey the Guardian,” Plagg finished grimly. “Of course, I could try to persuade him to reconsider…”

Tikki pulled back and looked at him flatly. “No torturing the Guardian. I remember what happened last time you tried to use your powers without channeling them through a wielder. Reducing Paris to charred rubble wouldn’t be helpful to any of Paris’s citizens, including our kids.”

“Spoilsport,” he grumbled, but he knew she was right. Being chained to the whims of a human was grating, but never more so than when his kit needed help he should have been able to provide.

“It won’t be long, Plagg”, she comforted him. “Remember, we have our orders to keep the magic up while we can, but even our power isn’t limitless, especially when Fu chose two people who live in such close proximity. They’re friends on both sides of the mask. It’s only a matter of time before the evidence is undeniable and the illusion falls. And then,” she smiled at him, “the children will be happy, and most likely inseparable. We can see each other every day without having to sneak around.”

“I know, I know. But I want that now!” He drew out the last word into a pouting whine, knowing it would make his other half laugh. He joined in, and they took a moment to just hold each other.

Destruction and Creation were never meant to be kept apart.

But they couldn’t stay together too long either. Not while their orders still held.

Eventually, they drew back until they were just clasping hands, and rested their foreheads against each other. At first nothing happened, but then–

Waves of golden light emanated out from the pair, undulating as they made their way towards their destinations. The power reached Adrien, and he murmured in his sleep as the power ran through his mind like fingers through tall grass, gently but firmly removing suspicion and building up barriers.

They weren’t removing memories. Memories made a being who they were, and the Kwamis had seen enough Guardians renounce their duties to know how that changed you. They were just…altering the perception of those memories when viewed from the present. 

Any time Marinette had been just a little too familiar with Chat, acted a bit too similarly to Ladybug? The connections Adrien had made were still there, he just couldn’t see them any more. They were suppressed. Cocooned. 

Waiting for the day they could all hatch.

And finally, the four of them could be free.

Hours later, down the hall, a very different conversation about Adrien took place.

"I see that Adrien is spending time with Chloe later today, sir," Nathalie remarked, still looking at her tablet.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, surprised by the non-sequitur. They had been discussing his schedule, not his son's. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

Nathalie paused, clearly choosing her words carefully. "I don't know if she is trustworthy. Making that post behind your back–"

Gabriel waved his hand, already dismissing it. "The silly girl just wanted to capitalise on Adrien's fame, but she wouldn't do anything to damage his reputation. For a Bourgeois to publicly associate with someone, they must have an impeccable public image, that's just how the family is."

Nathalie thought of Audrey, who was infamous in any social circle she deigned to enter, and wisely said nothing.

"It wasn’t exactly the image we wanted to project, but it was salvageable, and overall I must admit it has increased his popularity with the youth, who are a valuable market."

Ah yes, thought Nathalie. Average teenage girls are known for their vast income to spend on designer clothes.

"And she's in love with him, of course," Gabriel said off‐handedly. "She can only have his best interests at heart. Not a suitable match for my son, but certainly not a bad family to have connections with in the future. The friendship will be good for the business." Clearly considering the matter closed, he picked up his tablet. "Now, about that order of silk for–"

He heard the smallest intake of breath, as if Nathalie was considering another protest, and he fixed his gaze on his assistant.

"Is there a problem, Nathalie?"

"Well–"

"Let me make something very clear to you, as you apparently need the reminder,"

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.

"Your job is to assist. You may bring issues to my attention, and I will consider them. But my word is the final one, and you will not contradict me."

Nathalie, knowing a lost cause when she saw one, bit back her response and waited for him to finish.

"I am Adrien's father. I am the CEO of Gabriel. And I–" he paused for dramatic effect, and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes "–am your employer. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir," she replied calmly, making a mental note to request overtime pay. If he saw her as a mere employee– or rather, a minion – then she damn well wasn’t going to help him terrorise Paris for free.

And as for his son? He couldn't say she didn't warn him.

(If he tried, she had recordings of their every meeting since he had first started constructing that ridiculous butterfly room. For…insurance purposes. Nathalie was nothing if not practical.)

"Good." Satisfied he had cowed her into submission, Gabriel moved on. She could almost see him mentally going down his to do list. Review schedule, check. Deal with disobedience, check. Now to order fabric…

She saw him turn back to his computer, as though she wasn't even there, and turned to leave before she said something she regretted. 

Not that any potential outburst would be untrue or undeserved, but there was something much more satisfying about channeling her feelings into something productive. And she knew just the plan.

Megalomania doesn't suit you, Gabriel. And you will regret antagonising me.

Adrien panted as he took off his helmet and grinned at his opponent. Most days they were pretty evenly matched, but Kagami's last slash to his arm with her sabre had earned her a decisive victory.

"Good game!" He said. "I'm going to go get changed, then I'll meet you outside?"

Kagami smiled back. "I should have a few minutes to catch up before the driver arrives, if we hurry."

"Great!"

Soon after, they reconvened outside the fencing school.

"That was fast," she remarked. "You managed to style your hair and everything."

He laughed. "With a dad like mine, you learn the art of getting presentable in record time from a very young age."

She laughed in understanding, gesturing to her equally immaculate shiny bob. If anyone understood the pressures Gabriel put on him, it was Kagami.

"So, was there a particular reason you wanted to talk?"

For a guy like him who spent his whole life walking on eggshells trying to please his father, a friend as blunt as Kagami was a breath of fresh air. "I can't just want to see you?" he asked.

She tilted her head. "You can, but you're hiding something."

His smile widened, and he drew out the box he'd been trying to conceal in his jacket pocket. "I swear you can read me better than my own family sometimes."

She shrugged. "Call it 'fellow child-of-controlling-parent intuition', we both get the same look on our face when we're trying to act innocent. Also, your pocket was bulging." She took the box from him as she continued. "As for your father, I see you more often and pay attention to how you're feeling rather than how I want you to feel."

Although maybe sometimes she can be a little too blunt. "Ouch!" he said, trying to play it off. 

Kagami looked up from unwrapping the present, her eyebrows furrowing. "Are you hurt?”

"Oh, no, I'm fine," he reassured her quickly. He didn't want to bother explaining– there was no point in making her feel guilty for such a small thing– and luckily he had the perfect distraction. He gestured down. "Open it!"

He was trying to distract her, but he was also genuinely excited to see what she thought. Now that his woodworking was public knowledge, he was finally free to start openly making things for his friends, and he planned to take full advantage of it.

He had wanted to make her something that was uniquely Kagami, and to that end had crafted a fencing-themed pen and stand set.

The stand was curved and red, and resembled the bell guard of her sabre, with a flat part to rest on. The part of the pen that inserted into the stand to form the handle was black, but the rest (the "blade") was a bright silver. He had already had the wood and red stain in his workshop from his gifts for Ladybug, but it had been his first time working with the gilt cream that coloured the blade and made it shine, and he was quite proud of how it had turned out. The overall effect, when you placed the pen in its stand, was of a slightly short version of Kagami's sabre, sticking out from the desk at an angle, ready to be used.

"I love it," she pronounced, looking up at him. "You are very skilled."

He found himself awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, uh–"

"Own your accomplishments," she demanded. "There is always room for improvement, but nothing is gained by denying your own talent."

"Well said," spoke a voice from behind them.

They turned to find Chloe leaning on the wall behind them, examining her fingernails.

"How did you manage to sneak up on us so quietly?" Asked Adrien, impressed.

"On you," Kagami corrected. "I just wanted to hear what kind of noise you made when she surprised you. I was disappointed by the lack of squealing."

Chloe smirked. "My type of girl!"

Kagami gave her a slow, appraising look, up and down. "You are attractive, but I believe I would need to spend more time with you to determine if you were my ‘type of girl’. Do you have a preferred date venue?"

Adrien watched with amusement as his friend turned an interesting shade of pink.

"I…I didn't, uh–"

"My apologies to you both," Kagami frowned. "I appear to have blundered. Regardless, the car is here." She turned to Chloe. "It was good to finally meet you properly. Adrien speaks very highly of you." And with that, she was gone.

I don't want to make her uncomfortable but I desperately want to talk about whatever that was. Eventually he settled on: "So…I've never seen you blush like that before."

"You've clearly never seen me around an assertive woman before," Chloe muttered.

He stifled a laugh and changed the subject to help her salvage her dignity. "What are you doing here, anyway? It's great to see you but you don't normally meet me after fencing."

Chloe seized the new topic with relief, though she tried to hide it. "I see as usual Nathalie didn't think you'd need to know your own schedule."

"To be fair, she knows I'll show up on time whether she tells me or not, so long as Gorilla knows. What am I missing?"

Chloe grinned mischievously. "Well, if you ask Nathalie, we're about to hang out together somewhere private, with no cameras or bad influences."

"And if I ask you?" Adrien couldn’t help feeling a little apprehensive. He trusted Chloe, but their idea of a good time didn't always match up.

Chloe laughed, but didn't answer as she stalked off towards the car. Given no other real options, Adrien followed.

"Hi," she said to Gorilla through the window. "This is where we're going," a piece of paper changed hands, "and this is for you."

She passed Gorilla a handful of bank notes through the window as she walked to the door. Adrien blanched.

"Chloe, you don't have to do that."

"Hm?" She looked at him questioningly as she got in the car.

"Bribe him," he hissed, glancing at the man in question. "He's a good guy, Chlo. He's always helped me out and turned a blind eye when he could. Just, you know, ask him to drive us wherever we're going."

Chloe blinked. "Yeah, Adrien, I know."

"...what?"

"He's an ally to the cause of freeing you from captivity," she said airily, as if this were a normal thing to say. "I just think he deserves some extra spending money for the good job he does.”

Adrien glanced back to the driver, going slightly red. "Oh."

"If I know Gabriel," she continued, as the vehicle started to move, "there's no way he's paying his employees as much as he should. Which is stupid. Apart from anything else, it inspires loyalty, and a loyal employee is much less corruptible." Adrien thought he saw Gorilla smile in the rear view mirror. "If Gabriel wasn't so stingy, the people who work for him would be much less likely to help kidnap the boss's son."

"I'm going willingly!" Adrien protested. He was sure the driver was laughing at them now. "I…that's really smart, Chloe. I never would have thought of that."

She gave him a look that was almost pity. "That's because you don't have a manipulative bone in your body, Agreste. That's why you need cynical bitches like me to make sure you don't get taken advantage of."

Adrien laughed. "Bitches plural? I'm so naive I need an army of women to protect me?"

"Bitch isn't a gender, Adrikins, it's a state of mind", she replied primly. "And right now there are too many people in your life who might not be on your side for my liking, so yes." Gabriel was definitely not on his son's side. She wasn't sure about Nathalie, though. The woman was a certified cynical bitch, no doubt about that, and it wasn't clear whose side she was really on. Chloe could respect a person who kept their cards close to their chest, but it made her liberation plans rather difficult.

"Like my father?" Adrien sounded genuinely curious, but he was clearly amused. "Is he a cynical bitch for the dark side, according to you?"

Chloe scoffed. "Gabe wishes he was smart enough to join our ranks."

They were still laughing as the car pulled up to the Seine.

It had been Juleka's idea. Chloe had been surprised to see her speak up, given how quiet she normally was, but it appeared there was a half-decent brain hidden behind all that hair.

"Adrien plays piano, right?" she’d said uncertainly. "Music is like, my family's whole thing."

"Would your mum be okay with you having a guy round though?" Marinette had asked. "I know mine would ask weird questions."

At that, Juleka had actually giggled. "My mum knows I'm gay, Marinette, we're not subtle." She intertwined her fingers with Rose's as she spoke, and Rose beamed at her. "Besides, I think it would work better if there were a few of us there, not just Adrien."

"And you bringing a ton of people home would just be fine with your mum?" Chloe had interjected sarcastically.

Juleka was clearly surprised, but she, along with everyone else, had been getting a little braver around Chloe since the truce. She didn't quite manage to look her in the eye, but she did mutter: "My mum's really easygoing. The difficulty is going to be stopping her from adopting everyone and co-opting them into one big band." Something glinted in her one visible eye. "Even you, Chloe."

"As if ," Chloe had replied while everyone else laughed.

She’d thought Juleka was exaggerating.

Stepping onto the deck of Liberty, feeling the pulse of the bass and hearing the music that sounded like it was being created by at least twenty people, she realised it may have been an understatement.

"Chloe." Adrien stopped, looking in the direction of the sound with trepidation. "What is this?"

"Do you not understand surprises?" she asked haughtily, and started towards the stairs. 

He reached out for her arm. "Chlo, please. What are we doing here?"

She huffed and turned, presumably ready to make some kind of sarcastic comment, but seemed to see something in his face. "I'm not letting you be locked up like a criminal any more. Your friends are here, so we're here, and you're going to have a good time even if I break a nail ensuring it."

He took an involuntary step back.

"We can't just barge in. I– I appreciate what you're trying to do, but they didn't invite me." It sounds like our whole class is down there, and either they made a unanimous group decision that I shouldn't come, or they all individually decided I wasn't wanted. 

I don't know which is worse.

"The whole fun of this is the surpise, but trust me, they're going to be happy you're here. Anyone would be lucky to have Adrien Agreste hang out with them."

Adrien's stomach sank. 

"I can't just use my fame, or– or my father's name to make people like me, Chloe. Either I'm welcome or I'm not."

"As if you need those things." She rolled her eyes. "Everyone always loves you. Just trust me and go down there. You act like I'd ever do anything to hurt you."

"Not on purpose," he said before he could stop himself, and she recoiled as though he'd struck her.

Why did I say that? She already feels guilty enough about how Father's been treating me since her post. No wonder she's my only friend.

Partly to apologise and partly to get away from that look on her face, he did what she wanted and went inside.

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

If Chloe’s expression had been bad, the way the loud room quieted when he entered was unbearable.

“Adrien!” said Marinette. She was always a little awkward, but something about her particular nervous tone right now sounded…tense. “It’s good to see you!” She looked over his shoulder. “Chloe brought you?”

“Obviously,” he heard from behind his back. 

Marinette hadn’t sounded nearly as surprised as she should have, given his and Chloe’s gate-crashing. Her question had been less accusatory and more like she was confirming something she already knew.

If this was some kind of plan, why wouldn’t Chloe tell me? And why is everyone acting so weird? If I was expected–

“Great!” Marinette said a little too loudly, clapping her hands. “So we’ve all been talking–“

“You make it sound like a group idea, but you started it,” said Alya. Adrien couldn’t read her tone. She sounded encouraging, but there was something else…

“I mean, yes, but this was a group decision,” Marinette continued. “We voted to do this today and everything!”

“Fair,” Alya nodded. Everyone else was still strangely silent. Nino was looking in his direction, but wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Expected doesn’t mean wanted, said a familiar voice in his head, and all of a sudden the reason for the strange behaviour became crystal clear.

How many times has Father asked you to join him in his office, only to berate you? Adrien flinched involuntarily, but Marinette was so caught up in what she was saying that she didn't react. Or maybe she just didn't care. He should be used to that. 

You really should, sneered the voice. You get your hopes up every time anyone so much as smiles at you, and for what? Because you're stupid enough to think that this time someone will want you around for more than what you can do for them? It's pathetic, honestly.

Adrien tried to block it out, to focus on what Marinette was saying, but the thoughts were just so…logical. 

They made too much sense to ignore.

He tried to catch Nino’s eye, unsuccessfully. 

This did not help.

Marinette was still talking, and he fought to bring his focus back to her.

“So, we talked, and Chloe said she could get you here, since none of us would be able to, and–“

Adrien felt his heart rate quicken, and his insecurities took that moment to pounce.

You forgot about Chloe, didn’t you? It sounded calm, almost reasonable, a counterpoint to his shaky breaths. But then, you’re in the habit of doing that. So little free time, and yet you chose to make new friends so there’s even less room in your life for your oldest one. You left her behind. It’s no wonder she’s sick of you. 

That’s not true, he tried to argue. He could feel himself becoming lightheaded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Isn’t it? The voice sounded sympathetic. Pitying. Let’s look at the facts, shall we?

Adrien wanted to argue, but it continued, insistent.

Everyone went quiet when you came in, so they were obviously talking about you. 

Am I being akumatised ? Adrien wondered distantly. But no, everyone would be freaking out if a butterfly had appeared. This was just his brain being a dick to him as usual. 

He wished it wasn't so persuasive.

Given what little Marinette said that you’ve actually listened to– and what a poor friend that makes you, by the way– this wasn’t exactly an impromptu “Adrien sucks” discussion. This is a planned intervention about how much they hate you, and every single one of them is onboard. Even Nino. Even Chloe.

That’s something Father would do, Adrien thought weakly . They all hate Father because he does things like this. Marinette keeps telling me how I don’t deserve it. His thoughts were becoming hazy, but he was sure of this.

He felt the mental equivalent of a shrug . Clearly she’s realised that you do. You’re a good actor, good at fooling people, but she’s seen through you. Your father is just doing his best to put up with you, despite you not deserving his tolerance, despite the way you keep throwing it back in his face and not measuring up. And now all your so-calling friends know who you are too.

By now his vision was marred by both the tears welling up and the speed of his breathing, so he was taken by surprise when he heard “Why don’t I show him?” And felt a hand at his back guiding him away.

Whose voice is that?

Where are we going? Did they get someone to physically kick me out? I can take a hint, I would have just left myself…

Are they going to make me actually walk the plank? He thought, and had to bite down on hysterical laughter.

“Here.” 

A glass of water was in his hands, and he looked at it, uncomprehending. 

“That might help. You’re safe here. No one else is going to come in, we’ll be alone as long as you need.”

It would have made him uncomfortable normally, to be alone with a stranger like this, but…something about this person was soothing. For whatever reason, he trusted them. 

“Take some deep breaths, if you can?”

The voice seemed nice, so he tried to do what it asked. It was hard.

The hand suddenly reappeared on his back, and he jolted, spilling the water everywhere. The hand withdrew.

“S–sorry–“

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s just water. We’re surrounded by water.”

The amusement in the voice was somewhat grounding. That was right, wasn’t it? They were on a boat.

“Whose boat is this?”

“Your friend didn’t explain anything, did she?” The voice sounded sympathetic, and Adrien found himself grateful that of all the people on the boat, this was the one who had come after him.

Adrien huffed a laugh. “No. She doesn’t usually– I mean, she likes surprises.”

“Surprises can be fun, but panic attacks usually aren’t.”

The world was starting to come back a little. He was…in a room. There was a floor. The hand holding the glass was his.

“Can you read this?” A piece of paper was gently pressed in his free hand.

At first he was going to say no, but his vision was getting clearer with every deep breath.

“Music. Sheet music.”

“What music is it? What’s the melody? The notes?”

He wasn’t sure why this was so important, but– “It’s Jagged Stone. The notes are– it’s an A, and then a C…”

He continued listing them, with encouragement from whoever was next to him, until the world started to seem a bit more normal.

“Feel better?”

And he did. Still shaky, but the room wasn’t out of focus and scary any more. “Yeah. Thank you. How did you know what would help– what did you call it?”

“A panic attack. My sister has them all the time, and that usually works to ground her. Have you had them before?”

Adrien nodded. “I normally just kind of…try to be alone until they go away.” He looked up to finally see who he was talking to.

The first thing he saw was a concerned, kind face not far from his, framed by turquoise hair. Then he registered the long limbs. How handsome the face was. The fact that they were both sitting on what was presumably his bed.

He hoped his blush was taken for leftover flush from earlier.

“That’s not a bad strategy,” said the boy thoughtfully. “Being alone might not do much if you just end up spiralling more though.”

Adrien winced. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll…print off some sheet music or something.”

“Can I borrow your phone a second?”

He was surprised by the seeming subject change, but unlocked it and handed it over.

The boy typed something, then handed it back. “If you ever feel like that again, tell me. I should be able to help."

Adrien blanched automatically, even as he looked down at the new contact in his phone. Luka. "You don't have to do that, I'll manage fine–"

"I'm sure you would," Luka said gently. "But if it's easier with a friend, why suffer alone when you don't have to?"

Adrien didn't know what to say to that.

"What set you off this time, anyway?"

Adrien was hesitant, but Luka started playing a soothing melody on his guitar as he spoke, and somehow, it helped. It all came pouring out, and Luka listened without judgement until he was done.

Then: “You know, that makes sense that you thought that. Would you like to know what they’re actually trying to do?”

“I– what?”

“They’re trying to help you. They were talking about you behind your back, yes, but it was to organise this–“ he gestured back to the room they’d come from– “among other things. This was step one though.”

“Step one to what?” Adrien was still suspicious, but he could feel something inside him starting to unclench. “And what is ‘this’?”

“A jam session,” Luka said simply, and smiled. “Your friends want you to be happy, and they don’t think staying in your room is helping. I just met you, but I agree. Your song seems…” He studied him for a second, and settled on: “stifled.”

I’m not even going to ask what my “song” is. “If they wanted to hang out, why not just tell me?”

“A mix of things, I think,” said Luka thoughtfully. “Your father, for one.”

Adrien stiffened, and Luka nodded. “They didn’t think he would approve. About half of them want to kill your dad, by the way.”

He laughed. “Only half?”

“Someone has to provide an alibi,” Luka joked. “Plus the other half were the ones pointing out that they were trying to help you, and you probably wouldn’t want your father tarred and feathered, or any of the other punishments they came up with.”

It probably shouldn’t have warmed his heart that his friends were willing to hold back from murder for his sake, but it did. He knew how ruthless some of them could be.

“As to why they didn’t want to tell you, that was the main one, but I think they also just didn’t want to disappoint you if they couldn’t pull it off. They would rather you not know so you didn’t get your hopes up.”

Adrien frowned. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask this earlier, but who are you? How do you know all this?”

“Oh!” He laughed. “Did I not say? I’m Juleka’s brother, this is our mum’s boat.”

Adrien tried not to look surprised. “I’ve never heard her talk about a brother,” he said tactfully. 

Luka grinned. “Have you ever heard her say much at all?”

Adrien shook his head, smiling despite himself. “She seems really nice though. We’re not close, but she’s a friend.”

“She may not say much, but she’ll do anything for her friends. This was her idea.”

“The…” he didn’t know what to call it. “Whole thing?” he finished lamely.

Luka laughed. “No, just step one.”

Adrien was still nervous, but was becoming excited despite himself. “What are the rest of the steps?”

“You’d have to ask them. Speaking of, are you ready to go back out? They should be set up now.”

He looked at Luka, and remembered what he had said they were there for. "Who would I be playing with?"

"Anyone who wants to join in can," he replied easily, "but usually it's me, Juleka, Rose and Ivan."

Luka and Juleka, of course, already looked like rock stars. Ivan and Rose were bound to have stage presence, with his imposing stature and her bubbly personality.

Adrien couldn't see where he would fit in.

"That sounds like a great line up," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want to mess with your thing. I'm happy just getting to be here, really."

Luka looked at him for a moment, and Adrien couldn't shake the feeling that he was seeing everything he wasn’t saying. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Here," Luka said finally, picking up a folder from his desk. "You pick out some music for us to play, and I'll be right back."

And before Adrien could protest, he was gone.

Adrien tried not to think about it, and busied himself looking through the sheet music Luka had given him. There were quite a few he’d never heard of, and he took his phone out to write them down so he could check them out at home. Luka seemed like he had good taste.

Unfortunately, since his attention was on the screen, he was completely defenseless when the missile entered the room. 

“Adrien I’m so sorry!”

Surprisingly strong arms wrapped him in a tight hug as the babbling continued. Based on the dark hair in his face and the voice, he was pretty sure it was Marinette.

“I should never have organised something about you without talking to you about it! Luka and Chloe explained, from now on we don’t do anything without your say so, okay? I don’t care how risky it is if your dad sees your phone, it’s not worth putting you through that! Panic attacks are hell.”

“Marinette, it’s okay,” he tried to say through the mouthful of hair, and was surprised to find that it was true. He would have preferred to know, but having friends who would go to all this trouble for him…well, it was worth it.

“It is not okay,” she said fiercely. “I wanted to see the look on your face so much I forgot that the whole point of this was to make you happy. No more selfishness. From now on, every plan gets run by you.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “I wouldn’t call organising whatever this is selfish, Marinette. Thank you.”

He reached up tentatively to hug her back. She stiffened and then seemed to melt into the embrace, pulling him closer. It was a little painful, honestly, how tightly she was holding him, but he didn't mind. He had mostly recovered, but there was still something soothing about her arms around him, anchoring him. Reminding him that someone cared. He let his breath out in a whoosh, and let himself relax fully for the first time since Chloe had shown up at fencing. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Marinette,” he reiterated softly. For a moment they just stayed there, Marinette bent at an absurd angle to stay standing while still crushing him.

“He needs to breathe, Dupain-Cheng.”

He pulled back to see Chloe leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Marinette let out a little squeak, as if Chloe’s presence had made her realise what she was doing, and sprang to her feet, releasing a disappointed Adrien, who tried to subtly massage his ribs.

“Besides, quit taking all the credit,” Chloe continued. “I wanted to surprise him as much as you did, and keeping a secret from him is much harder for me, since I’m his best friend.” She tossed her hair and walked closer. “And if Marinette’s not selfish, then neither am I, since this was all my idea anyway.”

“I was working on this before you ever showed up,” Marinette shot back. “We combined our plans, this was a collaboration .”

Something about the disagreement seemed practised, like this had started off as a genuine grievance and morphed into something of an inside joke. Adrien looked back and forth between them and ventured: “Are you guys…friends now?”

“No,” they replied instantly, in unison.

“You’re just lucky Adrikins, you’re the only one I like enough to tolerate her,” Chloe continued, rolling her eyes.

Adrien was sceptical, but decided to wait to tease Chloe later.

"Anyway," Marinette said, ignoring Chloe, "we thought it might be fun to mess around with hair and makeup and stuff before you guys play, to help you get into the mood."

"Is Luka psychic?" he burst out.

The girls both laughed, though Chloe stopped once she realised who she was laughing with. "He's just really good at reading people," Marinette smiled. “So, are you ready?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“What, don’t you trust us?” Chloe scoffed, examining her fingernails. She didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes.

“I trust you,” he said softly, in a voice a little too sincere to be casual. Marinette looked between them, seeming to pick up on something. 

“I’ll be right back!” she said, springing to her feet. “I have to go get, uh, stuff!” And she ran out the door, banging into the doorframe on her way out.

“That girl is about as subtle as my mother,” commented Chloe in the sudden silence.

Adrien smiled. He could detect fondness in her voice, even if she wouldn’t admit it. “She’s growing on you.”

“Puh- lease,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She still wasn't really looking at him.

“Chlo, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. “I never should have said that.”

“It's fine,” she said dispassionately. “It's not like you said anything that wasn't true.”

“ Chloe,” he said, desperate to make her understand. He got up and stood in front of her, so close that her avoidance of his gaze would have to be intentional, rather than the coincidence she was trying to pretend it was. “It doesn't matter what's true. What matters is that I hurt you.”

The veneer cracked, and she finally looked at him. “It's not like I wasn’t hurting you first.”

He wanted to argue, but couldn't. “Doesn’t make it right.”

“You're so sappy.” She rolled her eyes again, but this time she was smiling. “How about if you're cool with me doing shit without asking you again, I forgive you for the grievous sin of telling the truth.”

“Deal,” he smiled with relief. He knew everything wasn't quite okay yet, but this was as close as Chloe got to talking about feelings. He would probably receive some extravagant gift from her soon “just because”, to soothe her conscience.

Speaking of her generosity…

“Thank you for setting this up, Chloe,” he said earnestly. “I bet it took a lot of work.”

She snorted. “You can't seriously think I did all this, right? I'm the brains, Dupain-Cheng's the workhorse. I'm not built for schmoozing and talking to people and shit.”

Privately, Adrien noticed that Chloe had once again said something nice about Marinette, albeit disguised as an insult. He was dying to know how this teamup had started, but he didn't think now was the time to press it, with Marinette about to show up soon. He would grill her about it later, but he would keep the teasing to a minimum as much as he was able. It was the least he could do. “Still, you might not have been the one who got everyone involved, but you initiated it and talked to at least one person you don't like for me. I say that deserves a thank you.”

She scoffed, but Adrien could tell she was pleased with the praise. “Whatever. You being stuck in that house wasn't going to do either of us any good. I’m far too busy to be your entire social life.”

“I'm surprised you came at all,” he teased.

“I didn’t come up with this plan just to sit back and watch those idiots fuck it up,” she retorted. “None of them are exactly subtle, and no one else can get you away from your dad. Besides, my presence can remind you of what class is, in case they start rubbing off on you.”

Adrien thought about letting it slide, but figured if there was any time she would let him be mushy, it was now. “I don't need reminding of you, Chlo. You'll always be my best friend. I'm not going to forget about you just because I can see other people now.”

“Of course you aren't,” she sniffed. “Honestly, you're so sentimental.”

“You love me really.”

“Don't bet on it,” she said, but she was smirking.

“And yet, you're still here.”

“Of course, I couldn't give up the chance to hang out with certified teen heartthrob Adrien Agreste! No one can think straight around a handsome model.”

“You can't ever think straight, I have nothing to do with it. Speaking of, do you want Kagami's number?”

She beamed and pointed at him. “See, that is why I'm actually your friend. Not for Adrien Agreste, supermodel, but for Adrien Agreste, wingman and beard supreme.”

“And here I am, just being your friend for your good qualities rather than what you do for me, like some kind of idiot.”

“I don't know if it's idiocy or just rare.”

“We could try to fix that, you know,” he pointed out. “If you hung out with these guys more they would see how awesome you are.”

“I see them every day at school,” she dismissed. “Besides, I never said I wanted to be friends with any of them.”

“None of them actually know you, though,” he persisted. “I'm sure you and Kim would be besties.”

“Ew, why would you curse me to that?” She mimed retching.

“Or there's always Marinette! You two seem to be getting close.”

“I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“Why not?” he teased. “You scared? Don't think you can handle being friends with a pretty girl without catching feelings?”

She was about to protest, then stopped, and a slow grin spread over her face. “So, you think she's pretty, huh?”

“Come on, Chloe, no!” he protested, a little too quickly. “I–” 

He cut himself off as he saw a crestfallen Marinette in the doorway.

“Wow,” Chloe deadpanned, “cold. Tell us how you really feel.”

“No, I–” he repeated. “I meant– Marinette, I'm really sorry, you missed all the context, I was saying no to– to what she was implying.”

She still looked upset, and he rushed to reassure her more. “I mean, not that you would care what I think, but you're obviously beautiful. Objectively speaking.”

Marinette blushed, and the silence was broken only by Chloe’s cackling.

“So!” he continued, desperately trying to change the subject from how far he could insert his foot into his mouth. “Uh…what you got there?”

Marinette seemingly shook herself out of whatever she was thinking, and smiled shyly, holding up clothes in one hand and a bag of what looked like makeup and hair products in the other. “A rockstar makeover.”

Between the two girls, the transformation was almost as fast as Plagg's. Chloe attacked his face while Marinette stood behind him, doing his hair. There was a tense moment when Chloe demanded to know what she was doing to him, but Marinette simply held up her phone to show a reference image that Adrien couldn't see.

“Really?” Chloe sneered. “That's your plan?”

But Marinette stood her ground. “The band has a theme,” she said firmly. “He'll fit in better if he matches.”

Unspoken was what everyone in the room knew– that he desperately wanted to fit in. He felt a rush of warmth for Marinette.

“I trust her,” he told Chloe. “Whatever it is, just let her do it. It's not like it's permanent anyway.”

“You would trust Hawkmoth if he was nice to you,” she grumbled, but she acquiesced.

Adrien was used to being poked at and prodded, turned into whatever was needed that day, but something about this was soothing. For once, this was about him, not the brand or his father. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to his friends.

Of course, being a model had its…complications. It meant he didn't flinch when he felt Chloe put makeup around his eyes, which was good, but it also meant when he went to put on the outfit Marinette had brought he didn't realise anything was wrong until she squeaked and ran out of the room.

“I'd better go too,” Chloe smirked. “If word gets out that I was in here with you naked, my reputation would be ruined.”

“It would be improved!” he called after her retreating back. She shot him the bird without looking.

Grinning, he got changed. Marinette had told him that that wasn’t his official band costume– “not that you want that necessarily, but I'll make you one if you ever want to do a show!”– but the clothes were still very much outside his normal, pre-approved wardrobe. The leather jacket was comfy, but worn, and the t-shirt underneath proclaimed him to be a fan of a band he had never heard of. (He made a mental note to look them up when he got home.) The jeans were normal enough, though lacking the designer label he was used to, and he liked the combat boots, but he still wasn't sure he could pull the outfit off.

“Do you think I look stupid in leather?” he asked quietly.

Plagg, not bothering to modulate his volume, snorted loudly and replied, “Kid, I dress you in skintight leather all the time and you've never worried about it before.”

“That's different!” he said hotly, but just as he was about to argue, he heard a knock at the door. 

“Um,” he heard Marinette say. “Are you– can I–”

“Come on in,” he called. As the door opened, he added “Ah– sorry for nearly flashing you earlier. I swear I'm not a creep, I just didn't think.”

She mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” she said quickly, blushing. “I was just– I know you weren't being a creep. If you were trying to put the moves on me, I think you would be smoother than doing it by stripping in front of your friend who's in love with you.”

He stared at her. Did she just say–

“Chloe, I mean!” she blurted. “I don't know what's going on with you two– not that it's any of my business– but you're not the type of person who would mess with someone's feelings like that. You're too kind. It's one of the things I like best about you.”

He found his face turning red to match hers, and just stared at her for a second, his mind racing.

For a moment there, he'd really thought she was saying–

But no. Marinette was just his good friend. His friend who thought he was kind. Who had figured out he wasn't happy without him saying anything, and brought him food every day to cheer him up. Who had worked with someone she didn't like in order to make him happy. His caring, beautiful friend who he was alone in a bedroom with.

None of that matters in a romantic sense, he chided himself. You love Ladybug.

So why did he find himself feeling disappointed?

Let's unpack that later. Or never.

“Is it time to head out?” he said aloud, breaking the awkward silence.

“Oh! Yeah, in a second. But first–”

She stepped from the doorway back outside the room, returning with a full length mirror she must have leaned against the wall in order to knock. It looked heavy, but she carried it with ease, as if it weighed nothing. She must be strong, he thought, and fought the urge to blush. I guess my type is buff girls.

No! Stop! Your type is Ladybug and no one else. Don't be a perve.

He saw that she had set it down and was looking at him quizzically. “You okay?”

“Yep!” he said in a voice that was a little too high-pitched. “Why the mirror?”

Her expression softened. “I promised no more surprises. You didn’t ask what look we were going for– you must be used to people styling you– but I figured you should see yourself beforehand so I can change anything you don't like.”

At this point in the day, he really shouldn’t be surprised when Marinette did something so insightful and considerate.

Nodding to hide that he was a little choked up, he stepped in front of the mirror.

The boy he saw was recognisable, but far removed from the airbrushed model that graced the front pages of magazines. Rather than correcting any perceived flaws, this makeup make him look like exactly what he was: a kid playing around at his friends’ house. His eyeliner was thicker than his father would ever have allowed, with one wing slightly longer than the other, and pink eyeshadow was smeared on the lids. He was pretty sure the black lipstick he was wearing was Juleka’s, and to top it off Chloe had even deigned to draw whiskers on his cheeks.

His hair was spiked up into two tufts, cat ears thick with gel and mousse, and the clothes, while not being what he would normally wear, somehow worked.

He had been styled as so many things, even a rockstar on occasion, but this was one thing he’d never been allowed to look like: just a kid having fun.

“Adrien?”

“I love it,” he said honestly. “Thank you so much.”

“It's nothing,” she said, but she was beaming at his reaction. “Oh, hang on–”

She reached up to fix a strand of hair that must have detached from one of the “ears” when he'd gotten changed. She'd touched his hair before, obviously, but it was strangely more intimate when they were alone.

“Thanks,” he said, cursing how breathless he sounded.

“No problem,” she replied quietly. Then, seemingly steeling herself: “About what you said earlier–”

“I'm sorry!” I don't know what she's referring to– today's been kind of a blur– but it's making her so nervous I must have done something wrong. Maybe it's the conversation she overheard with Chloe. Or some offhand comment I made hurt her feelings. Or–

“No sorry!” she said fiercely, then smacked her palm against her forehead. “I mean, you don't need to apologise. I mean–” A deep breath. “I wanted to say I think you're beautiful too.”

Oh.

He didn't know how to respond, but he did know he suddenly couldn't keep his eyes off her.

“I–”

“Wow,” said Chloe from the doorway. “Didn't know you were into cat boys, Dupain-Cheng. I should ask Ladybug to set you up with her mangy partner.”

Marinette, blushing furiously, said, “Chat Noir doesn't have mange! He's wonderful, and anyone in Paris would be lucky to–” She bit off her sentence so quickly her teeth clacked together.

“Hmm.” Chloe raised an eyebrow so high it nearly disappeared into her hair. Then, to Adrien's surprise, she appeared to let it go. “Better get going, everyone's waiting.”

Marinette hurried out of the room without another word. Adrien made to follow her.

“So,” he heard Chloe say behind him. “Marinette, huh? Whatever would Ladybug say?”

She's just teasing. She doesn't know you know Ladybug personally. Just laugh and move on.

He let out an extremely fake sounding bark of laughter– “Ha!”– and ran out of the room.

Nailed it. He thought sarcastically to himself. Smooth. Subtle.

Overall, Marinette was pretty pleased with how the day was going.

Yes, she had sent the love of her life into a panic attack. But he seemed happy now, up on stage, and she knew she had been a part of making that happen.

And she thought (hoped?) they might be growing closer. She had hugged him, and he had hugged her back. He’d said he trusted her, and let her style his hair (which was even softer than she’d imagined.) He’d worn the clothes she brought him, and loved them!

He’d tried to strip in front of her. And called her beautiful.

The group applauded as the latest song finished, and the object of her thoughts caught her eye and beamed at her, panting, his hair a mess. She’d never seen him so…not put together.

She’d never seen him look so good.

She smiled back and waved. As soon as he looked away, though, her head dropped into her hands and she groaned loudly. 

“What’s up with you?” Alya asked with a sympathetic touch on her shoulder. “You pulled this off without a hitch! Look how happy he is.” She gestured at Adrien, who was taking a drink of water while animatedly talking to Luka.

Marinette deliberated for a moment, then grabbed Alya’s hand and pulled her into a more quiet area.

Alya let out exclamations and winces (and some poorly restrained laughter) through Marinette’s retelling of the events but didn’t actually stop her until she reached the part where–

“He said you were beautiful?!” Alya gasped, and then added loyally, “Not that he exactly gets brownie points for that, it’s an objective fact.”

Marinette giggled. “That’s what he said, too.”

Alya’s eyebrows went up. “ Really.” When Marinette nodded in confirmation, she simply said “hmm” thoughtfully, and then, “so what were they saying about you before you walked in?”

“I really don’t know,” Marinette confessed. 

The look on Alya’s face was the same one she got when she went into reporter mode, but she simply urged Marinette to keep going, eagerly listening to descriptions of the makeover—only to halt her again when Adrien started taking his clothes off.

“You ran away? You didn’t stay to watch?” She waggled her eyebrows and Marinette smacked at her.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t– I’m not–“

Alya burst out giggling, presumably both at Marinette’s reaction and the situation. “I know, I’m just messing with you. Have you talked to him since? Or can you not look him in the eyes?” She laughed again.

Marinette blushed but chose not to comment. “I brought him a mirror so he could see himself. He apologised, and I–“ She hesitated.

“You what? Don’t start holding out on me now!”

“…I-told-him-I-didn’t-mind,” Marinette said in a rush.

“You told him you didn’t mind him nearly flashing you? To his face?”

“Well, kind of,” Marinette mumbled.

“What did he say?!” She was practically vibrating with excitement.

“He didn’t hear me.”

Alya deflated.

“But,” Marinette continued, smiling shyly, “I did tell him later that he was beautiful too. And he heard that.”

Luckily, Alya’s scream was drowned out by the band starting up again. “And?! What did he say?”

“Nothing.” Her smile dimmed. “He just stared at me and then Chloe interrupted.”

Alya let out a sound that was scarily akin to a growl. “I’ll be having words with that girl.”

Marinette laughed nervously. “Be careful. She may be acting nicer, but she’s still Chloe.”

Alya’s grin was slightly disconcerting. “I’m counting on it.”

With that, she dragged Marinette back in to watch the band and, no matter how much she was questioned, refused to say anything more.

Seeing how much fun Adrien was having on stage brought a dopey, lovesick smile to Marinette's face, and she soon forgot that there had ever been anything else on her mind. And beside her, Alya started to plot.