Chapter Text
Mornings were always the same for Gabriel Agreste. He would wake up to an empty bed, an empty life, an empty soul. He would turn his empty eyes to the hundreds of portraits of her that covered his walls. Pictures printed or painted or sketched or scribbled directly onto the walls and floors. He needed to remember. He would never forget, never move on. And he would do anything to get her back. Gabriel always woke up crying. When he saw her face he would begin to scream. He would expel all his emotion through choked sobs and red hot tears so that he could remain composed throughout the rest of his day. The rest of the morning would be a blur after that. Brush teeth, wash face, stare himself down in the mirror, get dressed. Suddenly he’s downstairs in the kitchen. No matter what he ate it would turn to sawdust in his mouth. Then it was to his studio where he would mindlessly design the latest Agreste fashion, his mind preoccupied with plans and schemes of how to get his hands on those damn jewels.
And like every other day, this is where Gabriel is today. Standing behind his screen, hands drawing, mind racing.
“...Miraculous… No, no that wouldn’t work…” Gabriel squeezes his eyes shut to help him focus better.
“Gabriel.” Nathalie’s voice startles Gabriel from his rumination.
“What is it, Nathalie?” His tone is sharp. Gabriel doesn’t like to be disturbed during his work.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but we have a PR problem.”
Gabriel sends her a glance and she walks up to his podium.
“Sir, it appears that the private vent twitter you set up earlier this week was not in fact set to private,” Nathalie turns her ipad around so Gabriel can see a video pulled up on Alya Césaire’s second blog, The Dramablog. She presses play and Alya’s face pops up on the screen.
“What’s up, Parisians? Today’s Dramablog update involves none other than Paris’s own Gabriel Agreste, creator of the Agreste fashion line and father of famous model Adrien Agreste. Last night twitter user @adrienfanboy1 happened to check the following list of Gabriel’s assistant Nathalie Sancoeur’s twitter and found something very shocking,” A screenshot of Gabriel’s private twitter comes up on the screen. “It appears that Gabriel Agreste made a vent twitter earlier this week and forgot to mark it as private. Among hundreds of tweets sobbing for his dead wife, Emilie, is one tweet that stands out for his use of the F-slur.” The tweet pops up on screen:
“Many people are calling for Agreste to be canceled and deplatformed. Personally I just want an apology. Homophobia is never ok. That’s all for now, Parisians, stay tuned for upda–” Gabriel smacks the ipad out of Nathalie’s hands and Alya’s words are cut short by the sound of breaking glass.
“FUCK,” Gabriel slams his hand on the podium in anger. “God forbid a man mourn his wife. First it’s Ladybug and now it’s the woke mob. Everyone is my enemy.” He pulls up twitter on his podium screen and begins typing. “I will not apologize for mourning my wife in the way I see fit.”
“Gabriel–”
“And… Posted.”
Nathalie looks at Gabriel with exasperation. “Do you have any idea of the level of PR nightmare we have right now? Why would you post that? What are you going to do to get out of this?”
Gabriel takes a deep breath. “Don’t worry, Nathalie, I have a contingency plan in case anything like this ever happens.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do.” Gabriel smooths out his hair and checks the time. “Tell Adrien I want to have dinner with him. And get my phone.”
Mornings did not agree with Adrien Agreste. After a night full of bad dreams he always woke up with the sun. Those sunny moments between sleep and wakefulness were the only moments he would feel peace for the rest of his day. And then he would remember. He would remember that his mother was gone, that his father was cold, that there was no one left in the whole world who loved him. He would remember that he was on his own, completely alone and unprotected in a world which never seemed to stop throwing shit at him. Most days there really seemed to be no point in getting out of bed and entering that world. Nathalie would come by, two, three, four times to make sure he got up. She would remind him of all the appointments in his very busy schedule on those days. But today was a weekend and a rare case of an empty schedule. He could have asked or snuck out to see his friends. He could have patrolled the Parisian streets as Chat Noir. But instead he just lay in bed, getting up only to pee or restock Plagg’s cheese before throwing himself back under the covers.
Nathalie knocks on his door. “Adrien, your father has requested to see you for dinner.”
Adrien sits up abruptly. His father wants to have dinner with him?
“Please come downstairs as soon as possible. He has something to talk to you about.”
Adrien checks the time on his phone. 6:30. How had it already gotten so late?
“Thank you Nathalie!” Adrien rises to his feet and almost faints in the process. Did he even have dinner last night?
“Jesus, kid. If dinner was all it took to get you out of bed I would have offered you some of my cheese hours ago.” Plagg dashes into the cheese cabinet and reemerges with a slice of camembert. He floats up to Adrien and waves the stinky cheese in his face.
Adrien wrinkles his nose and takes a step back. “Ew, Plagg gross. Get that away from me.”
“Suit yourself.” Plagg tosses the cheese in the air and catches it in his mouth.
“For the record I’m getting up because my father wants to see me.” Adrien tosses his pajamas on the floor as he gets into the shower for a quick rinse.
“I’ve never met a teenager as excited to hang out with his dad as you are.” Plagg shakes his little head. Adrien ignores him as he dries off and pulls on his clothes.
Another knock on his door. “Adrien, your father wants you downstairs now .”
“Coming, Nathalie!” He yells through a mouth full of toothpaste. He spits and rinses and makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. It always unsettled him how he could rot in bed all day and still look ready for a photoshoot after just a shower. He shakes his head to break the eye contact and ruffles up his hair. Leaving the bathroom, he pulls on his orange Agreste brand sneakers, running out of his room and down the stairs.
“Hello, Father,” The door to the dining room closes behind him a bit too loudly and Adrien winces as his father’s eyes flick towards the origin of the sound.
“Adrien. Sit.”
Adrien takes his seat at the opposite end of the table from his father. His place is set but there is no food on his plate yet. Gabriel on the other hand begins to cut into his steak.
After a few moments of awkward silence marked only by the sound of clinking silverware, Adrien gets over his anxiety and decides to speak. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Ah, yes.” Gabriel sets down his fork. “Adrien, are you gay?”
Adrien sputters. “What?”
“It’s a very simple question, Adrien.”
Adrien looks to Nathalie for guidance but her face remains expressionless.
“No, I’m not gay.”
“Not even a little bit? What about bisexual? Some people are bisexual.”
“No, I'm not bisexual.” Adrien says incredulously.
“Pronouns? Transsexual?”
“No father, I am cis and straight.”
“Cis…? What is cis. I’ve never heard that before.”
Adrien looks back at Nathalie. Is this his father’s attempt at a joke? “Cis as in cisgender. Meaning that I am not transgender.”
Gabriel looks disappointed. “I thought that you would at least be something .”
“Father, what is this about?”
Gabriel takes another bite of his steak and chews slowly in silence. After what seems like years, he sets his fork down and looks at Adrien who squirms under the eye contact and lowers his gaze.
“Adrien, I need you to pretend to be gay.”
Adrien’s eyes shoot up to meet his father’s. “Excuse me?”
“This is not a discussion. You have a dinner date with British-French actor Julian Gaylord in about–” He checks the time. “Thirty minutes. Nathalie will accompany you for the drive and explain everything.”
“Father, you can’t possibly want me to–”
“You will pretend to be gay and that’s final.” Gabriel runs his finger over his wedding ring.
Adrien looks down at his lap. “Yes, Father.”
Gabriel pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. “That will be all.” By the next minute he’s left the room leaving Adrien and Nathalie alone.
“Nathalie–”
“Adrien, I know it’s a lot to ask but your father really needs you to do this. For the sake of the Agreste brand.”
“Has everyone gone insane? How will this help the brand?”
Nathalie opens the dining room door. “I’ll show you the video during the car ride. Come on, we need to go.”
Adrien stares out the window as the car pulls up to the restaurant where he will be meeting Julian Gaylord.
“I can’t believe my father is forcing me to be gay just to get him out of a publicity scandal.”
Nathalie looks at Adrien with what could have been sadness. Adrien can never tell.
“It won’t be forever. One day when you find the right girl I’m sure he will let you be bisexual.”
“Thanks, Nathalie.” But her words do nothing to ease the swirling bubble of dread growing in his chest. Might as well face it head on. There’s no avoiding it, after all. Adrien opens the car door and steps outside. As he stands up, his vision goes for a second and his stomach grumbles to remind him that he hasn’t had anything to eat since last afternoon. At least he would finally get dinner. Even if it was with a guy he has to pretend to be in love with. He scans the outdoor tables to see if he can spot the actor. Before he can start walking inside, he is tackled with a hug from behind.
“Adrien!” A British voice calls out. Adrien turns to meet the pale blue eyes of Julian Gaylord. His wavy brown hair is swept back and he has a wide smile on his freckled face. He wears a blue and white striped button up tucked into a pair of chinos and a pink knit sweater tied around his neck. A single diamond earring dangles from his right ear.
Adrien smiles a smile as close to the real thing as he can manage. “You must be Julian.”
Julian kisses Adrien on both cheeks and leads him inside the restaurant. Adrien already notices heads turning to look at them and a few conspicuously positioned phones.
“Two, please.” Adrien could have sworn that recognition flashes through the hostess’s eyes but hopes that he’s just being paranoid. The fake couple is led to their table and handed menus. Looking at the menu Adrien can hardly stand to think about food as the anxiety has turned to nausea. Suddenly, Adrien looks up at Julian with alarm. Does he know that this is all for show? Or does he believe that Gabriel Agreste has really set him up for a date with his son?
Julian seems to notice Adrien’s fear and smirks. “Don’t worry, I know all about the scandal and daddy’s plan. I’m kind of in the mood for Quiche Lorraine, what do you think?”
“You know?” Adrien looks around and lowers his voice. “And you don’t mind that I’m only pretending?”
“Well, darling, of course I don’t mind. After all, I'm pretending too. Ooo, or what about Salmon en papillote? I do love French food.” Julian crosses his legs and sets down the menu. “Ok, I’ve decided, definitely the quiche.”
“You’re pretending also? Why?” Adrien is bewildered.
“Lots of people do it. Draws in a fanbase. Get the queers talking about you. Lucky me that my mum’s good pal Gabriel is looking for a fake partner for his son. Waiter!” The waiter comes over and Julian orders the salmon. Adrien just asks for water.
“Anyways, it’s called Queerbaiting, look it up.”
“Will you excuse me for a minute?” Adrien gets up from the table and almost trips on his way to the bathroom. He doesn’t make it to the toilet in time and throws up his stomach acid in the sink. It burns in a way that he thinks he deserves. How could his father ask him to do this? How could he possibly pretend to be gay?
Back to the table and Julian is leaning in close to Adrien, showing him pictures of his world travels on his phone. The close proximity makes Adrien uncomfortable, like all the air is being stolen from his lungs. He tries to maintain a relaxed smile.
“... And this is from the family trip to Crete.” Julian lowers his voice and whispers in Adrien’s ear. “Do you see that hottie standing next to me? Her and I got along great, if you know what I mean.” Adrien whips his head around at the sound of someone’s camera shutter. A blonde girl around his age looks at him with a deer-in-headlights expression.
“Left my ringer on… sorry.” She mumbles before running out of the restaurant. Julian just laughs.
Later that night, Adrien lays in bed, chewing on a granola bar as he scrolls through his twitter timeline. Tweet after tweet of pictures and videos of him and Julian at the restaurant.
Is Adrien gay?
When did Julian and Adrien start hanging out? What does it mean?
Guys we shouldn’t speculate on people’s sexualities.
They’re soooo cute together, did you see the way Julian whispered in his ear?
#Juldrien forever <3
Adrien throws his phone and flinches as it clatters on the floor.
Plagg startles at the sound. “Watch where you’re throwing that thing, kid.”
“Sorry, Plagg. I just don’t understand why my father would ask me to do this.”
“Well it’s ‘cuz he’s an asshole.” Plagg frowns. “Come on, it’s not all that bad.”
“What could possibly be the positive in this situation, Plagg?”
“Well for one thing, girls go crazy for a guy who’s a little fruity.”
Adrien ignores Plagg and rolls over in bed, pulling the blanket over his head.
Plagg flies over. “Sorry, Adrien. This situation sucks but you’ll get through it. You get through everything.”
Adrien hopes to God he can.