Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun reflects off the gently lapping waves of la Seine, the soothing sound of rushing water audible just underneath the overlapping voices of passing pedestrians. Adrien is one of those pedestrians, his hands tucked in his pockets as he strolls along, taking in the world around him on his way to the cemetery. A pair of large, oversized sunglasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, keeping those around him from connecting the strange man in a comfortable hoodie and jeans to the sharply-dressed figure on the billboards above.

Then, all of a sudden, he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and lets out a curse. “I forgot flowers!”

A few passersby cast him odd looks, but Adrien pays them no mind, internally berating himself as he turns and scans the nearby shops. Surely there must be a florist somewhere around, right?

He’s preparing to backtrack, resigning himself to a longer walk, when he finally spots an adorable, flora-filled shop façade tucked between an Italian restaurant and a small grocery store. He lets out an audible sigh of relief, then heads over.

The shopfront is even cuter up close, just chaotic enough to be charming— there are potted plants in full bloom hanging from the awning, shrubs clustered on wooden shelves, even a few succulents resting just to the left of the door, unable to fit in the display simply because there’s no room left. Bright splashes of color and heady, sweet floral scents clamor for his attention, just strong enough that he knows they’re there but not overwhelming in the slightest. Honestly, he feels like he could stand here forever, just breathing the sweet, blossom-tinged air. But Adrien has places to be, and so he goes in.

A bell tinkles deeper in the store as he gently pushes the door open. The inside of the shop is just as densely packed as the outside, but someone has taken the time to organize the blossoms by color— and the effect is breathtaking, showing off just how many different varieties of flowers there are, ranging from deep indigo blues so dark they’re nearly black, to palest pink so delicate it seems like spun sugar.

There’s a sudden crash and a curse in the back of the shop, and Adrien nearly jumps out of his skin as a woman hurries out from behind a particularly crowded stack of shelves. “Hello, welcome to Petals and Blooms! How may I help you?” she asks. But Adrien’s too distracted by her warm blue eyes, by the constellations of freckles across the bridge of her nose, by her raven hair pinned in a loose bun with a few strands framing her face, to reply. She’s lovelier than every one of the flowers in the room with them, and he opens his mouth to tell her so before slamming it shut and blushing beet red. What was he doing? He can’t just compliment someone he’s never met before like that!

It takes a moment after for him to realize that he’s just been standing there staring like an idiot, and the moment he does, he winces. She must think he’s such a weirdo, and she’ll never talk to him again, and he’s going to spend the rest of his life wondering about this angel lovelier than the flowers she sells—

“Need another minute to think about it?” she asks with a gentle smile. “No worries. Just let me know when you’ve got it. Until then, I’ll be in the back.”

Somehow, her patient words snap Adrien out of his stupor. “Wait!” She pauses, turns to look at him. “I need– uh, I need a bouquet.”

“Of course! Do you know what flowers you want in it?”

He shakes his head, not wanting to tell her that he’d never chosen flowers for a bouquet before, only ever plucked blossoms from his mother’s garden or purchased a pre-made bouquet. But a single glance around the shop proves that those aren’t for sale.

“Hmm… What’s the bouquet for?” she asks. When he casts her a confused glance, she continues, “It helps me pick what flowers to put. The perfect bouquet not only looks good but means something, too!”

“Like, in flower language?”

“Yes, exactly!”

“Oh, okay.” He scratches the back of his head. Bringing up the reason he needed flowers would inevitably cause her to look at him with pity, but… it’s not like he has a better idea. “The flowers are for my mother’s grave,” he says quietly. “It’s been seven years since she passed.”

“I see,” she says, her eyes narrowed in thought and not a hint of pity. Only empathy— and yet she thankfully doesn’t say anything. “What was she like?” she asks instead as she goes to browse the shelves of flowers. 

“Mère loved gardening,” Adrien answers. “She was an actress, too, and she was so, so, kind. She always stood up for what she felt was right.”

“Your mother sounds amazing,” she says, deftly cutting a white blossom the size of her fist and adding it to the cluster of blooms she already held.

Finally, she walks over to a cash register in the corner and pulls out a wrapping for the bouquet, smoothly slipping the flowers in and tying it shut. “Lilies, dark pink roses, red carnations, and forget-me-nots to symbolize love, affection, and gratitude for those no longer with us.”

Adrien carefully takes the bouquet and admires it. Her handiwork is amazing, the flowers she picked are so fresh he can still see the sap dripping from the stems, and the colors themselves match so perfectly, it’s like they were always meant to be put together, just waiting for guidance through her gentle, practiced hand. “Thank you,” he says, digging around in his pocket for his wallet.

“That’ll be forty euros, Monsieur…”

“Adrien,” he says, cash already in hand. “And thank you for the flowers, Mademoiselle…”

“Marinette,” she offers.

Marinette. He mouths the name, the word tasting sweet on his tongue because it’s hers. “Thank you, Mlle Marinette.”

“And thank you for shopping with us! Have a wonderful day!”

Adrien’s mind is constantly distracted by thoughts of her for the rest of the day. 

Marinette crouches underneath a shelf, carefully trimming diseased leaves from one of her beloved plants. The peony bush hadn’t been doing too well for a bit, so Marinette had taken to trimming it every morning and afternoon, trying to cut out the diseased portions and make it easier for the plant to fight against the infection.

When she’s nearly done, her poor peony bush looks too bare to be healthy as the pile of dead leaves beside her grows larger and larger; then, the doorbell rings.

She sets her gardening shears down and makes to stand up, only to gasp as the back of her head— or, more specifically, the bun her hair is tied in— slams into the shelf above, knocking one of the more unsteady pots on its side and sending a shower of soil into Marinette’s hair.

Marinette curses, then stands up and pokes her head into the back room, brushing her head off as best she can without ruining her hairdo. “Rose, there’s a customer, and one of the pots fell over! Can you please deal with it?”

“On it!” her friend and employee’s voice comes from further in. “Gimme a sec!”

“Thanks!” Marinette says, righting the plant. She brushes her hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ears— the collision with the underside of the shelf and her subsequent attempts to pick the soil out of it have knocked her bun loose, sending strands slipping out— but she doesn’t have time to redo it. 

She spots the customer almost immediately. His spun-gold hair stands out in the leafy green around them, and he’s wearing a pair of dorky, oversized sunglasses that don’t quite disguise his handsome features. He’s exactly Marinette’s type— but he’s still a customer, so she puts on her customer face and smiles. “Hello, welcome to Petals and Blooms! How may I help you?”

He stands there for a moment, looking like he’s going to say something, then blushes bright red. She smiles gently— she knows exactly how it feels to be tongue-tied. “Need another minute to think about it?” she offers. “No worries. Just let me know when you’ve got it. Until then, I’ll be in the back.” 

She turns to leave, then— “Wait!” Marinette glances back at him as he stammers out that he needs a bouquet. 

“Of course! Do you know what flowers you want in it?” When he shakes his head, she adds, “What’s the bouquet for? It helps me pick what flowers to put. The perfect bouquet not only looks good, but means something, too!” She’s said that line so many times that it sounds rehearsed.

He blinks. “Like, in flower language?”

“Yes, exactly!”

“Oh, okay.” He hesitates, and then— “The flowers are for my mother’s grave. It’s been seven years since she passed.”

Marinette’s heart aches for him— losing his mother must have been so hard. But it’s been seven years since, and he seems at peace— so instead of offering her condolences, she says, “I see,” her mind already filling with possible flower arrangements that would fit what he needs. “What was she like?” she asks, hoping a description would help her narrow it down.

She moves to gather flowers for his bouquet, her choices solidifying in her mind as he starts to tell her about his mother. Once she’s done, she wraps the bouquet in biodegradable plastic and gives it to him, telling him what each of the flowers she picked were and what the bouquet symbolizes all together. 

“Thank you,” he says.

“That’ll be forty euros, Monsieur…”

“Adrien,” he says, and the name fits him so well that she has no idea how she hadn’t seen it before.

Adrien already has cash in hand, and she takes it, slipping it into the cash register.

“And thank you for the flowers, Mademoiselle…”

“Marinette,” she offers.

“Thank you, Mlle Marinette.”

“And thank you for shopping with us! Have a wonderful day!”

Adrien leaves, waving goodbye. The door swings shut, the bell tinkling softly to mark his departure.

“Oh, is that a new crush I hear?” Rose calls teasingly from the back.

Marinette instantly flushes red. “Rose!”

“What?” Rose says innocently. “It’s obvious you fancy him.”

“I barely know him!” Marinette protests.

Rose shrugs. “You know just as well as I that you don’t need to know someone to have a crush on them.”

Marinette hates that she can’t argue.

“Anyway, my shift is up, so I’m going to head home. Is it okay if I take something home for Juleka?” Rose asks.

“You know I’m never gonna say no,” Marinette replies with a grin.

Rose laughs. “You’re still my boss, Mari. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye,” Marinette calls. And then, as she works on drying flowers in the back room, she thinks of oversized sunglasses and spun-gold hair.

Chapter Text

Marinette is doodling in her sketchbook, waiting for customers at the cash register, when Adrien comes back.

Her only warning is the tinkling of the bell. She glances up and the switch to her customer service face is automatic, erasing her look of concentration— then she recognizes the customer with spun-gold hair and oversized sunglasses, and her mouth goes dry.

Adrien spots her and walks over to the cash register, a warm grin on his face. “Hello,” he says pleasantly. He seems much more composed than before, all traces of shyness gone. He’s wearing a casual denim jacket and despite it being partially buttoned, it doesn’t quite hide the starched and pressed suit underneath— Marinette has to consciously keep her eyes from drifting across the contours of his body, the way his jacket highlights all the right features, as though he were a model and the world was his catwalk. Her fingers itch to draw, to capture this vision in front of her, so she curls them up in a fist and presses them to the counter instead— she’s on the clock, and she has a customer to help.

She clears her throat. “Hello again! Adrien, was it? How can I help you?”

“A custom bouquet, just like last time.” Adrien smiles cordially. “This time it’s for dinner with my mother-figure, though. We’re just catching up.”

“That sounds fun!” Marinette exclaims. “Does she have a favorite color?”

Adrien thinks for a moment. “Um… red. She likes red.”

Marinette nods and begins to gather flowers together.

The store is quiet for a moment before Adrien speaks. “You design?” he asks in surprise.

Marinette whirls around, her grip tightening on the flowers she holds as she prepares to lecture him on looking through her belongings— then deflates when she realizes that she’d left her sketchbook open on the counter. It can hardly be considered a violation of privacy if she was the one that hadn’t kept her work private, right? “Yeah, I design,” she confesses. “When I was younger, maybe collège or lycée, all I wanted was to be a designer. I got into ESMOD, got my degree… and then couldn’t find a job as a designer or even as an intern. So I started this flower shop instead. Gardening was my other passion, and I’d always had a green thumb— so what better way to put it to good use?”

“It's a shame, though, your designs are really good,” Adrien says sadly. “Do you take commissions or anything?”

Marinette nods. “I have a small online business where people can commission custom-made clothes.”

Adrien visibly brightens. “Can I have the link to your website?”

“Sure.” Marinette wraps his finished bouquet and hands it over before fishing one of her business cards for MDC Designs out of her pocket. After handing the card over, she does her customary explanation of the bouquet’s meaning, telling Adrien the price.

As Adrien pays and leaves with a promise to “be back soon,” she doesn’t tell him that she’s given the bouquet to him for twenty percent off.

“Well, you look happy today,” Nathalie says wryly as she takes Adrien’s offered bouquet. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way. You didn’t have to get them for me.”

“Of course I did!” Adrien retorts as he slides into his seat and slips his sunglasses off, folding them and placing them neatly beside his plate. “Besides, they’re more than just pretty. They have meaning, too!” 

As he recites nearly word for word what Marinette had told him about the flowers and their meanings, Nathalie’s brows climb higher and higher. “I hadn’t taken you to know flower language, Adrien,” she comments.

Adrien blushes. “I don’t really— this is just what the florist I bought these from told me.”

Something clears in Nathalie’s expression. “Tell me more,” she says.

“Well… her name is Marinette,” Adrien says. “She’s kind, and patient, and she has an eye for detail, and she’s so good at designing that she got accepted into ESMOD and graduated— she even runs her own commission business in addition to owning the florist shop she works at!” Adrien’s brow furrows as he tries to think of more to tell Nathalie— it doesn’t take very long. “She has the most gorgeous bluebell-colored eyes, and her hair is as dark as midnight, and she has these adorable freckles on her nose–”

“I think I’ve heard enough, thank you,” Nathalie says with a teasing grin.

A fiery blush crawls up Adrien’s neck as he realizes he’d been rambling about a girl he’d only actually met twice.

“It’s clear you really like this girl,” Nathalie laughs. “I hope things go well between you and her. Maybe I could even meet her someday?”

“Maybe,” Adrien agrees, half wanting to crawl into a hole and half wanting to squeal because Nathalie approves!

Nathalie raises her hand to flag down a passing waiter. “It also seems like she knows her way around a business… and with the addition of a degree in fashion design, she’d make quite the addition to Gabriel, if she’s as good as you say she is. Maybe even CEO material… goodness knows you’ve never had any interest in it.”

“We both know that the moment my contract expires, I’m quitting,” Adrien affirms. “I only ever started modeling as a kid because Père wanted me to, anyway. I just wanted to get closer to him,” he adds bitterly, “and we all know how that turned out.”

“You have my full support in whatever you pursue after your career at Gabriel,” Nathalie promises.

Adrien grins. “Thanks, Nathalie. And it’s probably going to be something physics related. I’ve got an unused degree sitting at home, and the only reason I stayed on with modeling after I turned eighteen was so Père would pay for me being able to get that degree. I can’t wait for this ten-year contract to be over.”

“Only two years left,” Nathalie encourages him.

“At least he can’t stop me from moving out. I’ve got just two weeks before I can move into my new place.”

Nathalie smiles briefly right as the waiter comes to take their order.

Once the waiter is gone, Nathalie’s expression turns somber. “Adrien… there’s something you need to know,” she says. “Tomorrow, your father is going to summon you to his office to tell you that he wants you to go on a date next week.”

Adrien honestly isn't all that surprised. “I’m more shocked it took him eight years to make me go on a date for PR purposes,” he says flippantly. “Who is it with?” While he waits for Nathalie’s response, he takes a sip from his glass of lemon-flavored water, swirling the ice inside.

Nathalie bites her lip. “Mlle Rossi.”

Adrien abruptly chokes on his water. 

When he’s recovered enough to talk normally, Adrien wipes the tears from his face and gasps out, “Father wants me to go on a date with Lila Rossi?”

Nathalie nods. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a surprise to you. Are you okay?”

He flashes her a thumbs up, wishing he could just melt into the ground and not reform until after the scheduled date. “Just peachy.”

“I tried to talk him out of it, but she’s his… favorite employee, favorite spy, something along those lines, and he refuses to listen to reason. She wanted a date with you, so she got a date with you. At least I managed to convince him to not schedule another one unless both of you agree to it.”

“Trust me, I’m never agreeing to a second date with Lila Rossi. Even if she were the last person in the world. I’d rather die.”

“I don’t know for sure if your father will uphold his end of the bargain, though,” Nathalie confides.

“You mean he’ll schedule another date even if I say no? And I’ll be forced to go through with it because of this stupid contract?”

“He seems to think he knows what’s best for you, even if he truly has no idea what he’s doing. But don’t worry, I have a plan.”

Adrien nods at her to continue.

“All you have to do is somehow convince Mlle Rossi to never want to go on a date with you again.”

He takes that in slowly. Then an evil smirk slowly spreads across his face. “Oh, this’ll be fun.”

Chapter Text

“Excuse me, is Marinette in today?” Adrien’s voice filters through Marinette’s headphones from where he’s talking to Rose at the cash register.

“She’s sorting inventory in the back,” Rose replies, bewildered. “Is there something you need her for?”

Marinette pulls off her headphones to better hear what Adrien’s saying. “Well… do you know flower language?” he finally asks, almost sounding disappointed.

“Not as well as Marinette does,” Rose says, and Marinette’s jaw drops. “I’ll go see if she’s available.”

When her coworker rounds the corner, Marinette points at her incredulously. “Rose!” she whisper-shrieks. “You lied!”

Rose giggles. “Did I?” she says innocently.

“You know flower language better than I do,” Marinette accuses. “Why’d you lie to Adrien?”

“Well, he seemed so disappointed,” Rose explains, sounding giddy. “And you’ve had the biggest crush on him since you first met him. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”

Marinette enfolds her friend into a hug. “You’re the best, Rose!” Then she dashes toward the front of the store. “Hi, Adrien! What can I do for you today?”

“Well…” Adrien hesitates. “I’m going on a date today…”

Marinette hears a quiet gasp from the back of the store. She can practically feel her heart shattering, her enthusiasm deflating like a balloon losing air as her smile turns brittle and rough at the edges. She will not cry. Boys aren’t worth crying over, she reminds herself.

“I’m supposed to buy flowers for her, because that’s what dates do,” Adrien continues.

She nods numbly.

“So. Um… I guess what I’m trying to say is… how do you say, ‘I hate you, stay far away from me’ in flower language?”

Rose erupts into a coughing fit from where she’s eavesdropping on their conversation. Marinette can only stare at Adrien in complete and utter confusion.

Adrien’s gaze turns on the shelves Rose is hiding behind. “Is that your coworker?” he asks. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Marinette dismisses. “Why the heck do you want to tell your date that you hate her?”

“Because I do hate her! She’s the actual worst. She’s rude to everyone, she acts entitled, she’s incredibly unprofessional, she’s a huge liar, and she only wants to date me for my money or something.” He shakes his head. “I loathe her with every fiber of my being.”

“She sounds awful. Why would you date her, then?” Marinette asks, tilting her head. “I’m genuinely curious.”

“My father made me,” Adrien admits. “It’s some kind of publicity stunt. For his company.”

“What kind of company makes you date someone like that?”

Adrien gapes. “Wait. You don’t recognize me?”

Marinette’s brow furrows. “You’re Adrien, the person who pops in to buy flowers sometimes.”

“No, I mean— I don’t mean to sound pretentious, but…” He pulls off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of beautiful green eyes. “Anything?”

“You have very pretty eyes,” Marinette says matter-of-factly. Then she blushes— hard.

Adrien’s blushing, too, as he puts his sunglasses back on again. “You know what, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “Point is, if I make myself seem as undateable as possible to the coworker my dad’s making me go on a date with, I’ll never have to go out with her again. Therefore, the bouquet that tells her to leave me the heck alone. In the most underhanded way possible.”

“Hmm…” Marinette turns to the shelves of flowers. “Yellow carnations to show disappointment, which could be a good choice.” She pulls the yellow blossoms out of their spot on the rack of shelves. “Orange lilies for hatred. Geraniums for stupidity. Foxgloves for insincerity. Umm… maybe some meadowsweet, for uselessness.” She gathers the flowers she’d mentioned in a bouquet of reds and yellows and oranges and whites, with the pinkish-purple of the foxgloves standing out against the others she’d chosen.

Finally, she wraps the bouquet and gives it to Adrien. “One bouquet full of loathing, wrapped in a pretty, flowery package,” she says cheerfully. 

The door jingles behind Adrien, but Marinette pays it no mind as her fingers brush against Adrien’s, who’s gently taking the bouquet from her. 

Then an idea strikes her. “If you need someone to rant to once your date’s over,” she says, printing his receipt and scrawling her number on the back in shiny black ink, “please text me.”

Adrien takes the paper almost reverently. “Thank you,” he says, smiling. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Good luck on your date! Hopefully you don’t get a second one!” she adds, giggling. 

He grins. “Here’s hoping.” And with a salute, he’s gone..

Marinette practically melts in her seat as she stares after him for a moment, absolutely positive she’s giving him the dopiest heart-eyes possible. Then she’s interrupted by giggles.

Not just Rose’s giggles, but someone else’s as well. Someone who Marinette knows better than she knows herself.

She sits straight up in her seat as she turns to face her best friend of all time. “Alya, hi! How, uh, how long have you been here?”

Alya lets out another round of giggles. “Long enough to see you give that guy your number. Dang, girl, that was smooth.”

Marinette’s ears burn in embarrassment. Then she pales. “Oh my god. I just gave him my number. What was I thinking?”

“What were you thinking? Mari, I can tell you exactly what you were thinking. You were thinking you couldn’t let this chance slip away like you usually do!”

“Seriously, Marinette, that was amazing!” Rose says enthusiastically. 

“Yeah! Anyway, as interesting as it is to see a guy that you somehow haven’t mentioned to me at all, there are more pressing matters at hand. Like finalizing the flower arrangements for my wedding. The one in two weeks?”

Marinette pales. “That was today?”

Alya narrows her eyes at Marinette. “I thought you wrote it in your planner!”

“I did… and then I lost my planner,” Marinette admits. 

Alya rolls her eyes. “Girl, you’d lose your own head if it wasn’t attached to your neck. You know this is what online calendars are for, right?”

Marinette only shrugs.

Adrien’s the first one to arrive at the restaurant.

A waiter comes to Adrien’s table a few minutes after he sits down, but Adrien politely refuses to order, explaining that he’s waiting for someone.

The minutes tick on, and Adrien soon pulls out his phone out of sheer boredom. The last window he’d opened was his contacts page, where he’d saved Marinette’s number the first moment he could— he wasn’t about to risk losing something so precious.

He considers opening a text conversation with Marinette, but closes the window before he could. It wouldn’t be a good idea to start a conversation and then have to leave right in the middle, when Lila arrives.

It only takes a minute more before he’s giving in and opening a new text conversation to Marinette.

me (17:03)

Hi!

It’s Adrien.

The one with the pretty green eyes?

Adrien resists the urge to unsend that last message and tucks his phone away.

It buzzes in his pocket a moment later. Adrien glances around for any sign of Lila, then checks it to see that Marinette had responded.

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:04)

omg hi

your date is already over? you were only at my shop an hour ago

me (17:04)

The date was supposed to be at 17h. She’s late. I’m bored out of my mind.

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:05)

that does sound boring ngl

me (17:05)

What are your pet peeves on dates?

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:05)

that’s kinda random

I honestly havent been on a lot of dates

umm… i guess, when the date keeps talking about themself, and doesn’t let me talk at all

or when they order food before i get there

i lowkey am late to pretty much everything, theyre usually there before me

but im not late enough to warrant ordering food! 

and i also really hate when they make me eat a food they know i dont like

or if they diss my hobbies, or— im rambling

why do you wanna know?

me (17:07)

Wow, that’s a lot.

Maybe I should pull the food one on Lila. She’s still not here, so…

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:07)

lilas the one that youre on a date with, right? 

i say go for it

me (17:07)

What else do you suggest for me to use to make this date a nightmare for her?

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:07)

you could, uh, spill something on her? pretend to trip or smthn 

you said shes a liar right? use her lies to make her miserable

me (17:08)

Wdym?

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:08)

like, idk, trap her so that she has to admit her lies or go with something she doesn’t want

she also wants u for your money right? pretend youre gonna donate it all

me (17:08)

Oh, that’s brilliant!

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:09)

talk about someone else on the date. like, pretend youre in love with someone else and talk about them a whole lot

ramble about your interests

btw, by lila do you mean lila rossi?

Adrien is taken aback at Marinette’s question. How in the world has she heard of Lila, who is also a model for Gabriel, but not him?

me (17:10)

Yeah, that’s her. How do you know her?

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:10)

we were in collège and lycée together 

she was just as much of a liar then as she seems to be now

she kept talking abt how she was dating this one model guy 

and about her twenty billion charities

and whatever else ider

i mostly ignored her

she hated me tho

me (17:10)

Yeah, that checks out.

What should I order for her to make her mad, though?

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:11)

i remeber she said she was allergic to gluten in collège, but ive also seen her practically devour croissants from my familys bakery 

so shes not allergic, but if you make her eat gluten free food or something she wont like anyway…

me (17:11)

This is perfect, thank you!

Adrien waves his hand in the air to call over a waiter. “Excuse me, may I please order?”

“Of course, sir. What would you like?”

Adrien scans the menu. “Uh, soup, please. And do you have anything gluten-free?”

“Yes, we do. Here, let me show you.” The waiter points to several different menu items.

“Thanks. Which one of these is your least popular?”

The waiter startles at this, obviously not having expected that kind of question— but after a moment of contemplation, he points to a gluten-free pasta. 

“I’ll take one of that, please.”

“Noted. Anything else?”

Adrien shakes his head.

“Very good, sir. I’ll be back with your food in a little bit.”

me (17:15)

Food has been ordered. Now I’m just waiting for Lila to show up.

Marinette ⊱✿⊰ (17:16)

good lucj 

luck*

He’s formulating a quick ‘thank you’ in response when a throat clears above him. He glances up to see his date waiting there, wearing some kind of leopard-print dress that would fit right in on a runway but looks far too strange in a regular setting. A far cry from the designs he’d glimpsed in Marinette’s sketchbook.

“Hello, Lila,” he says in greeting. 

She smiles at him, a grin which is obviously meant to be charming but only makes him think of a shark encircling its prey. “Hello, Adrien! I’m so glad we get to go on this date together!”

“I’m sure you are,” he whispers under his breath as she sits down opposite him.

Lila blinks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, um, I bought a bouquet for you.” He picks the flowers up from where they’d been lying next to his glass of water, passing them over to Lila. 

“Oh, Adrien, you didn’t have to!” she simpers.

“I believe the florist said they had some meaning, but I unfortunately can’t recall what she said,” he lies. “Also, I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered food for us.”

Her lips thin, her grip tightening on the stem of the bouquet. “No worries,” she forces out, a clearly fake smile spreading across her face. He has to hide a grin of his own, glad to see that he’s already getting on her nerves.

They sit in silence for a moment. Lila’s still seething, but Adrien had to admit that she masks it well. Finally, he breaks the silence. “So. What do you like to do in your free time?”

“Oh, many things,” she says vaguely. “For example, I participate in a few charities and the like. What about you?”

“Well, I enjoy watching anime,” he says slowly, watching her eyes carefully. There— a hint of disapproval. Perfect. “One of the more recent shows I watched was Square Eijo! Ore Love Comedy Fantasy! Exclamation points required, of course.” He begins to ramble the way he always does whenever Nino asks him what he’s watched recently, and relishes in cutting her off every time she opens her mouth.

When the waiter finally returns with their food, Lila is staring hard at the wood grain of the table, visibly annoyed but trying hard not to show it. Adrien cuts off in the middle of drawing a diagram on a napkin to fully explain the love square that the two main characters of SEOLCF, Takashi and Eijo, had somehow gotten themselves into with their alter egos, the two undercover spies Red Black and Blanc Scratch. 

“Your food, sir and madame,” the waiter says, setting two bowls on the table and uncovering them. One is an aromatic lentil soup, and Adrien can feel his mouth watering, ready to eat. 

The other is a plate of pasta just a touch too brown, topped with a healthy helping of marinara sauce to poorly hide the fact that it looks slightly undercooked.

“The soup’s for me, and the pasta is for you,” Adrien tells Lila once the waiter leaves. “I remember you saying that you were allergic to gluten, so I ordered you a gluten-free pasta. I hope that’s okay, and that I didn’t overstep!”

Lila grits her teeth, then gives him a strained smile. “Oh, it’s so sweet of you to be worried for me, Adrien!”

“It’s no problem at all,” Adrien replies. “Bon appétit!”

“Bon appétit,” she says, grimacing as she spears a piece of the penne pasta with her fork.

“So,” Adrien says a few minutes into their meal. “You run a whole bunch of charities, right?”

Lila nods.

“Well, your work inspired me,” he says almost conspiratorially. “The moment my contract at Gabriel expires, I’m going to quit my modeling career and donate all of my money to nonprofits. It would be amazing to be able to help the planet! Then again, you know exactly how it feels to give everything you have to help those in need, don’t you, Lila?”

She’s turned pale. “Excuse me,” she says, pushing her chair back and standing up. “I need to go to the restroom.” She doesn’t wait for an answer before she turns on her heel and runs— in the opposite direction of the restrooms, he’s pleased to note. He hadn’t expected his plan to work so well that she’d abandon the date midway. He hadn’t even gotten to use Marinette’s plan of talking about another woman!

Sighing, Adrien finishes the rest of his soup, then flags down the waiter and asks for the check. At least he’s reasonably certain Lila never wants to go on another date with him.

As he walks out of the restaurant, he pulls out his phone and texts Marinette.

me (17:43)

She left early. Mission success.

Chapter Text

adrien (10:11)

Ultimate Mecha Strike III is the best. You can’t convince me otherwise.

me (10:11)

you heathen

u have no idea what your talking abt

ums4 is obviously the best

it has so many new features and improved gameplay

and the ROBOTS! so many new robots to choose from!

i literally cant even play ums3 anymore because it doesnt have my favorite robot 

adrien (10:12)

While I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree, I’m at least glad you didn’t say UMS5. 

me (10:12)

the day i like that sorry excuse for a ums game is the day the apocalypse arrives

adrien (10:12)

Right??? The user interface is way too complicated! The game is so slow it’s not even funny! And what’s with the extra subscription they added for the game’s bonus features? 

me (10:13)

at least SOMEONE gets it

who makes their user base pay for a second subscription when subscriptions from previous games used to roll over? *and* are nonrefundable?

adrien (10:13)

UMS3 is still better, though.

me (10:13)

agree to disagree, remember?

adrien (10:14)

I know.

Anyway, I have to go. Talk to you later!

Marinette sighs at her phone again, tapping out a goodbye message to Adrien. He’s so easy to talk to — she made friends with him almost as quickly as she made friends with Alya all the way back in collège. He also shares so many of her interests, like the video games they play. And he’s also extremely knowledgeable about the fashion industry. 

Honestly, she’s already dreaming of becoming such close friends with Adrien that they take the natural next step and date, then fall in love (deeper in love, in her case) and get married and have three kids and adopt a hamster named —

“Still texting your boyfriend instead of paying attention to the cash register?” Rose’s teasing voice calls from the other side of the shop.

A deep blush spreads across Marinette’s face as she tries to come up with a retort. Finally, she manages a weak “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Not yet he’s not,” Rose corrects. “But you two are so in love with each other, that’ll surely change soon!”

“I just met him!” Marinette protests for the umpteenth time. At this point it’s more a matter of pride than anything — Rose is so obviously right that she doesn’t know why she even bothers anymore.

Her friend laughs. “You only got his number five days ago, if I remember correctly. And since then, every time I’ve come into the shop, I’ve seen you glued to your phone. Texting him.”

“But that doesn’t prove that my feelings are reciprocated,” Marinette retorts.

“It takes two to hold a conversation. You’re not just throwing messages at an empty wall, he’s there receiving them and sending his own back. Which means he’s talking to you as much as you talk to him.”

She can’t argue.

The soft tinkling of the bell interrupts their conversation, and Marinette glances up to see one of their regular customers walking into the shop. She welcomes the distraction as she helps him put together a bouquet, soon ringing up his purchase.

“Have a nice day!” she calls to his retreating form once he’s made his purchase. Then she slumps, closing her eyes. She’s bored out of her mind. She almost wants to ask Rose to switch places with her so she has something to do—

“Hi, Marinette!”

“Gah!” She stumbles back and her foot hits a chair leg, leaving her windmilling her arms as she tries to keep her balance. She looks up to see Adrien smiling at her. “Where did you come from?” she gasps out.

His oversized sunglasses glint in the light streaming between the window displays. “I walked in when that other guy walked out. Thought I’d surprise you.” He’s dressed casually, as though he’d been running some errands around the city before deciding to stop by, and the pastry box he’s holding only attests to that. 

She giggles. “Is this why you had to go? Because you were coming to talk to me in person?”

“Yeah,” he admits. He sets the box of pastries on the counter between them. “I had originally wanted to bring you a flower,” he continues, “but I realized how stupid that was. So I stopped by a bakery and bought you some pastries instead.” He pushes the box forward, looking a little embarrassed.

She takes it, more than a little bewildered. “Thank you, but why?”

“Um—” He blinks. His cheeks flush pink. “You’ve just been a really awesome friend, that’s all.”

Marinette opens the box to reveal a dozen brightly-colored macarons, obviously freshly baked. “These look delicious!” she says. “Again, thank you so much, Adrien! Here, take some.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

She pushed the box closer to him. “Come on, take one!”

He grins, finally picking out a pinkish-orange one for himself. “If you insist, princess,” he teases with a flourish.

Marinette’s cheeks burn at being called ‘princess,’ but she manages to flirt back with “Only if you’ll be my prince.”

He’s clearly thrown off-balance, and she relishes in the pink dusted across his nose. The air around them seems anticipatory. Like the atmosphere itself is waiting for something.

Then a crash echoes in the back of the store, breaking the spell. Adrien coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, I actually came here to ask you something.”

“Oh?” she manages.

“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his head. “There’s this thing I have to attend, a wedding. My friends are getting married, and I was hoping you would go with me. As my guest, I guess?”

“I’d love to,” Marinette says, a grin spreading across her face. “When is it?”

“Next Saturday.”

Marinette’s smile freezes. The day of Alya and Nino’s wedding. “I, uh… actually have something to attend that day. A wedding, coincidentally. And I can’t miss it — it’s my best friend’s wedding.” Marinette won’t miss Alya’s wedding for anything in the world — not even a cute guy who may or may not be asking her out. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Adrien brushes off. But Marinette can tell he’s disappointed.

“You know what?” she suddenly says, already stepping out from behind the counter. “I’ll give you a bouquet. On the house. And you can, I don’t know, pretend I’m there with you. And tell me all about it over text.”

“Thanks, Marinette, but you don’t have to,” Adrien says. “It’s fine.”

“Nonsense.” She gathers a bouquet together and presents it to him in record time. “A gift from me, okay?”

After staring at it for a long moment, he finally takes it. A fond expression flits over his face. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she vows.

“Nino, I think I’m in love,” Adrien says dreamily from where he’s lying on the couch in his new apartment, game controller clutched tight as he pummels Nino’s robot in Ultimate Mecha Strike III.

Nino’s already poor defense against Adrien’s onslaught crumbles as he freezes in real life. The game finishes quickly, and a screen with “Player 1 Wins!” flashes at them. Gaping, Adrien’s best friend swivels around in his seat to face him. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. I really, honestly, think I’m in love.” If his words don’t convince him, then Adrien’s sure the dopey grin on his face will.

“What— who— when—” Nino suddenly deflates. “There go Alya’s plans to set you up with her best friend at the wedding.”

“She planned to what?” Adrien asks incredulously.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nino says quickly. “What’s their name? Where did you meet them? How long have you known them?”

“Her name’s Marinette,” Adrien rattles off, “I met her at the flower shop she owns, and I’ve known her for… three weeks now? Four weeks? And we’ve been texting for a few days too—” He noticed the incredulous look on Nino’s face. “What?”

“Are you messing with me?”

“No! Why?” He shrugs. “I asked her to come to your wedding with me, but she had a wedding of her own to attend on the same day. It was disappointing, that’s for sure.”

Nino squints at him. “Did she say any more than that?”

“No…. Okay, you’re acting weird. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Nino glances at his watch. “Just wondering when Alya’s going to get here, that’s all.”

“She should be here any minute now—” As if on cue, the doorbell rings, a cheery sound that’s entirely at odds with the panicked expression on Nino’s face. “That should be her.” 

Adrien gets to his feet to let his best friend’s fiancée into his apartment. “Hey, Alya!” he says, welcoming her in. “It’s been a while!”

“Only like three weeks, Sunshine.” Alya frowns in contemplation. “Did you get a haircut or something?”

“Yeah, maybe a day after I last saw you,” Adrien confirms. “Wanna play UMS with Nino and me? We could also play some other game, one where we won’t have to keep trading controllers, if you’d like.”

“UMS is fine,” Alya says, setting her bag on Adrien’s kitchen counter. “I doubt any of you are as good as my best friend, anyway. Hey, babe!” she calls, spotting Nino sitting frozen on the sofa.

“Hey, Als,” Nino says in a strained voice. He looks a lot closer to laughter than panic now.

Alya heads over to the cabinet and selects one of Adrien’s cups, then moves over to the sink to fill it with crystal-clear water. “Did I miss anything?” she asks.

“Adrien’s in love,” Nino replies, his shoulders shaking. He’s laughing now. 

Alya spins to face him. “Is that so? Congrats, Adrien! Guess I’m not setting you up with my best friend anymore, then. Wouldn’t want to get in the way.”

“That’s exactly what Nino said.” Adrien resists the urge to duck under the counter as Alya’s eyes fill with mirth.

“Oh, yeah, also,” Nino continues, finally standing up and joining them at the table. “Her name is Marinette. And she owns a flower shop.”

Alya promptly bursts into laughter. “What?!” she wheezes. “Sunshine, is this true?”

“What about this is so funny?” he asks defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as Alya and Nino practically double over.

Tears are forming in Alya’s eyes when she takes a deep breath. “It’s just—” And then she’s gone again.

Finally, Nino sobers. “You’ll see,” he says cryptically. 

“What are the odds?” Alya gasps out. 

Adrien frowns. “Do you… know Marinette?”

“You could say that,” Alya shrugs. “We went to school together.”

Nino squints at Alya, who tilts her head. Then Nino nods, as though that makes any sense.  

“What?” Adrien asks. “There’s something you guys aren’t telling me.”

“Seriously, Adrien, you’ll find out,” Alya says gleefully. “And we’ll be there to watch when you do.”

Chapter Text

“Alya, you look beautiful,” Marinette says proudly as she steps back to view her best friend wearing her wedding dress.

Alya’s already tearing up. “Marinette… I can’t believe this day’s finally here,” she blubbers. “It’s so much better than I’d hoped. Nino’s out there, and he’s waiting for me…”

“Alya, don’t cry, you’ll smudge your makeup,” Marinette scolds teasingly. 

“I can’t go up there,” Alya cries. “What will everyone think if they see I’m crying?”

“You got this!” Alya’s sister, Ella, pipes up. 

Ella’s twin, Etta, nods. “The only person whose opinion matters is Nino, and he’s getting married to you after more than a decade of dating— there’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure he’s seen you cry before.”

Alya only cries harder. But now there’s a grin spreading across her face, and it’s obvious the tears are from joy and love. “Aww, come here, girls,” she encourages her sisters, opening her arms wide.

Ella and Etta oblige, wrapping their older sister in a hug. Then Alya nods to Marinette. “You too, Mari. You’re my best friend.”

“Through thick and thin,” Marinette agrees. Then she hugs Alya tight.

After a minute, Alya dabs at her eyes with a tissue and smiles, picking up the bouquet Marinette had given her. 

“Ready?” Marinette asks. 

Alya grins. “Ready.”

Ella and Etta go first, strewing flower petals across the carpet leading to the front of the chapel. Marinette goes next, smoothing the front of her handmade dress anxiously as she takes in the hundreds of people sitting in the room. 

And then there’s a sudden intake of breath from all around her as Alya emerges, stepping slowly to the front of the room, her dress trailing behind her as she walks toward her future.

Marinette’s in the perfect position to see Nino’s face as he catches a glimpse of his bride. His eyes go glassy, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watches Alya walk toward him. Marinette can’t help but smile fondly, his love for her best friend apparent in everything he does.

Then her gaze slides over to Nino’s best man and she chokes.

It’s Adrien standing there, wearing a perfectly-pressed suit with gelled hair and is that one of the flowers she’d given him tucked in his lapel? And he’s staring at her with shock that she’s sure matches her own.

The priest is looking at her, and it takes Marinette a moment to realize that it’s because she has Alya’s ring. While she’s pulling it out of her pocket, Alya’s watching her with barely concealed laughter in her eyes. Marinette narrows her eyes at Alya in response— does her best friend have something to do with this? It wouldn’t surprise her.

“Now you may kiss the bride,” the priest says, and Marinette startles from her thoughts to see Adrien standing in a similar position to her, as though he too had been tasked with holding a ring— Nino’s ring.

Now that she thinks about it, hadn’t Alya mentioned something about Nino asking his best friend to be his best man? Is Adrien Nino’s best friend? Is he the one that Alya’s been trying to set her up with for ages?

She’s so distracted that she doesn’t even notice when Alya and Nino separate or when the priest presents them as a newly-married couple, only realizing when the audience erupts into applause and cheers and shouts of ‘congratulations!’

The guests all begin to head for the reception, Alya and Nino following them. But Marinette lingers, and she spots Adrien doing the same. 

“Hi,” she says, once everyone else has gone. “Should we, um, go to the reception?”

Suddenly, Adrien facepalms. “They knew,” he informs her. “Alya and Nino. They knew about us! I told them that I was in— uh—” He blushes. “I told them about you, and they started laughing a lot, and when I asked why they said ‘you’ll see’ and they knew!”

“That does sound like them,” she says a little sourly. “Though a little warning would have been appreciated.”

“So Alya and Nino’s wedding was the one you were attending, huh?” he asks as they fall into step, leaving the venue.

Marinette nods. “Alya and I have been best friends since collège. It was only natural that I be her maid of honor at her wedding. And you and Nino?”

“We met when he was DJing one of Père’s stuffy parties,” Adrien replies offhandedly. “It was a side gig while he was working for his degree in filmmaking. We talked after the venue, hit it off, and have been best friends since.”

“I still have no idea what your father does,” Marinette tells him. 

“Wait. Really?” When she nods, he sighs. “See, the moment I tell you his name, you’ll know instantly.”

“He’s not the old mayor, is he?” If Adrien’s related to Chloé Bourgeois, she thinks she might cry— and that family has already had Chloé’s far nicer half-sister Zoé come out of nowhere, who knows what else they’re hiding?

Adrien laughs, immediately assuaging her fears. “No way. He’s not André Bourgeois levels of well-known. I just know that you’d know who he is.”

Marinette frowns doubtfully. “Have I mentioned him? Or met him?”

He shakes his head. “Let’s just say he’s well known in a field you’re interested in.”

“You said Lila worked for him, right?” They enter the reception room, where everyone’s gathered to eat and congratulate Alya and Nino. “Wasn’t Lila a model for some big fashion company?”

Adrien’s silence says it all, and Marinette slowly turns to face him. “Your father owns a big fashion company, doesn’t he,” she says flatly.

He pauses, then nods.

She squints, trying to remember what she’d heard about her former classmate. “She’s… she modeled for Gabriel,” she finishes. “Your father is Gabriel Agreste?!?!”

“Surprise,” he says.

“Oh my god, I’ve been flirting with Gabriel Agreste’s son,” she says in a strangled whisper.

“Yeah— wait. Flirting?”

“You didn’t hear that,” she demands. “How did I not know? Your face is everywhere!”

Adrien laughs. “Apparently big sunglasses are a better disguise than I’d thought.”

“No kidding. Also, is Gabriel Agreste really stupid enough to think Lila’s a good person?”

“That’s my father you’re talking about,” he chides with a light laugh.

Marinette immediately backtracks. “I’m so sorry, it’s just— Lila’s—”

“Heh, it’s fine. For what it’s worth, he’s received multiple complaints about her from a lot of people. Even his own assistant hates her. He just won’t take the hint because he likes how good of a spy she is.” Then he frowns. “Not that she’s a very good spy. Basically no one at Gabriel trusts her with anything.”

“Understandable,” Marinette says a little distractedly, scanning the reception room for her best friend. “I wouldn’t trust her to give me the time of day.”

“So, I see you two have met?”

She immediately turns and punches Alya in the arm. “Alya! I told you no tricks!”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Alya teases. “Just stood back and watched.”

Marinette sighs. “I guess…” she mumbles, the words sounding as forced as they feel. “But still.”

“Als, it’s time to serve the croquembouche,” Nino calls, waving to his new wife.

“Oh, would you look at that, I have to go,” she tells them, grinning, then hurries off in Nino’s direction, calling over her shoulder, “Enjoy the party, lovebirds!”

Marinette’s face flames red. She doesn’t dare try to look at Adrien.

(If she had, she would have seen his cheeks were as beet-red as her own.)

Chapter Text

It’s a quiet day at the shop.

Rose doesn’t work today, and there’s no chance of Alya stopping by— she’s still on her honeymoon— so Marinette feels a little bit lonely. Though the sun’s still not close to setting, she’s exhausted enough to consider closing up shop early and heading home.

Since their run-in at Alya and Nino’s wedding, she and Adrien haven’t really texted much, either. She’s not sure what happened to cause his texts to dwindle from their constant conversations to just one or two messages a day.

An anxious part of her wonders if she’d said something wrong, if she’d somehow managed to mess up this one infatuation that she’d actually hoped might have been reciprocated. It would only be fitting. Marinette has never had much of a way with words, after all.

Great, and now she’s worsened her mood even more.

Sighing, Marinette finishes watering the last of the potted plants and sets the watering can down. She can see signs of disease on one of her purple lisianthus plants, so she carefully extracts the pot from its shelf and carries it into the back room. She’ll have to keep it quarantined on the off chance that it’ll infect anything else.

She grabs a pair of garden shears and begins trimming the browning leaves, dropping the clipped foliage into a steadily-growing pile beside the pot. By the time her work is done, her poor plant looks bare, lacking in many of the vibrant green leaves that usually dot its branches. “I’m sorry,” Marinette tells it, “but it’s the only way you’ll get better.”

The plant doesn’t respond. It’s a plant.

Marinette resists the urge to slap her forehead. “And now I’m talking to a plant,” she says dryly. “Great. Just great. I need to take a nap.”

She still has one more plant to check, though. Her peony, the same one that’s been diseased for a while. At least it’s finally started to perk up more, its white blossoms looking less sickly and more vibrant.

Sure enough, unlike a few weeks prior, Marinette only has to clip off a couple of dead leaves from the peony bush. Another handful of days, she imagines, and she won’t have to take care of it every afternoon.

The doorbell rings as she’s sifting through the leaves one last time to make sure she’s got everything. Marinette moves to stand up— then the back of her head whacks onto the shelf above her. 

This time, she isn’t so lucky as to get soil in her hair.

One of the pots careens off the shelf, shattering against the ground. The white tulips that had lived in the pot lay on the concrete, their soft petals coated in the soil that they’d been carefully planted in. Ceramic shards skid across the leaf-strewn floor.

Marinette stares at the mess, stunned.

Her eyes sting. Her throat feels tight. Why did this have to happen?

“Um, hello, is anyone here?” she distantly hears, but there’s a high-pitched ringing in her ears and Marinette can’t place the voice.

She drops to a crouch, gently gathering one of the tulips in her palms.

“Marinette?”

Hot tears trace paths down her cheeks. 

Why is she so clumsy?

“Marin… oh,” the voice says from behind her. She feels more than sees someone lean down next to her. Her eyes are still fixed on the tulip in her hands. “Hey, Marinette, it’s okay.”

She shakes her head numbly. “It’s… I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien says again. “You can replant them, right?”

“I— I’m s-sorry,” Marinette stammers, suddenly realizing what this must look like. She’s a grown woman, she should be acting more mature than this! And the man she’s in love with just walked into her store and saw her crying over a broken flower pot! If she ever had any chance with him, it’s surely gone now.

“Sorry for what?” he asks, tilting his head innocently.

Marinette scrubs at the tears on her cheeks. “You d-don’t have to help me…”

“I want to help you,” Adrien insists, standing up. “How about you go and grab another pot for your flowers? I’ll start picking up the pieces of the broken one.”

She doesn’t argue.

When she returns with a white ceramic pot, Adrien has finished gathering the shards of pottery into a neat pile. He’s sweeping up the soil, gently extracting the tulips’ roots from the dirt.

Marinette joins him, scooping up the soil in between her palms and dropping it unceremoniously into the pot. He follows her lead.

Before long, they’re rooting the tulip plants back in the dirt. Marinette pats the soil down, then hefts the entire pot and takes it into the back room. The plant will need a bit more care for a while as it adjusts to basically being transplanted, so she’ll keep it in a place where she can keep a better eye on it.

She brings a trash can back out and begins picking up the ceramic shards to drop inside. Once she’s done, she brushes off her hands. “Adrien… thank you,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s no problem.” He smiles. “We’re friends, why wouldn’t I help you?”

Marinette feels that word like a stab to the heart. Friends. Only friends. Still, she gives him a slightly strained smile back. “So, um, how can I help you today?”

“I, uh… I came to talk to— to buy a bouquet for a special someone!” Adrien glances away, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s… what I came for.”

“Oh.” Marinette can’t look at him any longer. She feels like her heart would only break more. “Tell me about them. Maybe I can help.”

“Well, she’s… creative,” Adrien says after a long pause. “Artistic.”

With a heavy heart, Marinette plucks a few pink amaryllis. 

“She’s kind,” he continues. “But not afraid to speak her mind.”

Carnations, then. Pink as well, to match the amaryllis. And then blue-purple delphinium, for boldness.

“She’s beautiful, too. But she’s modest and humble, not full of herself in the slightest.”

Orchids for beauty. Marinette picks up blue, at first, then changes her mind and grabs purple instead. Modesty is a little harder, but she finally settles on violets.

“And she’s hilarious! I’ve never met anyone who gets my sense of humor so well.”

The geranium symbolizes silliness and fun. And it may be a little bit petty, but Marinette remembers that she used geraniums in Adrien’s ‘fuck you’ bouquet to Lila, too. And while ‘stupidity’ isn’t exactly the same as ‘I hate you,’ Marinette doesn’t want to go that far, so this tiny bit of revenge on the girl that stole Adrien’s heart will do.

“She likes UMS, too. I—”

“I think that’s all I need,” Marinette says, her voice strained. She hopes he doesn’t notice. Ultimate Mecha Strike had been her and Adrien’s thing… to hear that he now shares it with this mystery girl, too? It hurts. “I, uh, here. Let me explain the bouquet to you.”

Adrien waits patiently.

“So, uh… you said she was creative, so the amaryllis is meant to represent that,” Marinette starts awkwardly. She hopes it’s not clear that her heart isn’t in it. “Orchids for beauty… um, carnations for kindness, delphinium since you said she was bold, geraniums for silliness. Modesty is these violets over here,” she gestures to the cluster of purple flowers, “and, um… that’s it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Adrien says, pulling out his wallet.

Marinette shakes her head. “No, you can… you can have these for free,” she whispers, keeping her gaze trained on her hands as she wraps and readies the bouquet. “As thanks for earlier, and because we’re friends.”

“Nonsense! I’m paying.”

“Really, it’s fine…”

“Marinette, look at me.” Startled, she glances up— then realizes that he’s taken off his sunglasses. His green eyes, the same eyes she’d said were pretty the first time she’d seen them, glitter with determination.

Marinette wants to melt into a puddle on the floor. Marinette wants to stare into his gorgeous eyes for eternity. Marinette wants to go home and sob on her pillow.

Marinette suddenly realizes that she’d completely zoned out and missed Adrien talking. She shudders, blinking rapidly. “S-Sorry, what did you say?”

Adrien chuckles. “I said I’m paying. It’s forty euro, right?” He slaps two twenty-euro notes onto the counter. “Here.”

“No, really, you don’t have to…”

He grins at her, then grabs the two bills and darts around the counter, standing in front of the cash register. Marinette watches in dumbfounded silence as he pokes at the buttons, trying to figure out how it works. “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Can you open this for me really quick?” He gestures to the drawer that holds the money.

“Why?”

Adrien clicks a large button on the side, and the drawer pops open. He slips the twenty-euro notes into their spot and shuts the drawer. “There, now you can’t argue.”

“I… fine.” Marinette gives up. “Just— take the bouquet.”

He does. “I’m sure she’ll love it!”

And because Marinette’s clearly a masochist, she says quietly, “Tell me how it goes, okay?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll know,” Adrien says cryptically.

“What?”

He steps out from behind the counter, heading back to the customer side of the desk. Marinette stares at him. “I’ll give this to her right now. And I’ll ask her out, and I’ll hope she says yes.”

At this point she’s not sure if he’s doing this on purpose. Does Adrien know about her feelings? Is this some roundabout way of telling her that he doesn’t like her like that? But it’s such a jerk thing to do…

“Marinette, here you go,” Adrien says, and holds out the bouquet.

She stares.

The longer she goes without saying anything, the more Adrien’s grin falters. “I, uh… th-this is for you,” he stammers out. “The girl I was talking about was y-you.”

Error. Error. She can’t compute. Input not processing.

“Well, I… I know giving a bouquet to a florist is kind of stupid… it sounded more romantic in my head…” Adrien is wilting in real-time. “I’ll just g-go—”

“Wait!”

He pauses mid-turn to leave the shop.

Marinette all but snatches the bouquet from him and digs out one of the crystalline vases they sell, stuffing it resolutely inside. “I— I love it,” she says a little too loudly. “Thank you, Adrien.”

Hope floods his face. “So you’ll go out with me?”

This is a dream. This has to be a dream. There is no way Marinette is this lucky in real life.

But… if this is a dream, might as well make the most of it. “I would love nothing more.”

“Cool.”

“Y-Yeah. Cool.”

They just stare at each other. What is even left to be said after that?

Finally, Marinette scratches her wrist nervously as she speaks. “J-Just give me a few minutes to close up shop and we can get dinner somewhere, if you’d like.” She’s a little surprised at her own forwardness, but somehow, this feels right.

Adrien’s smile softens. “I would love to.”