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Today was not a good day for Nino.
Sure, it hadn’t started out too poorly. He’d woken up, gotten ready for the day by going through his hygiene and breakfast routines, and plopped down at his desk to work on some mixes.
Heck, he’d even gotten a text from Adrien that had cracked him up. Apparently when the model had woken up, Plagg’s foot had been in his mouth. According to his boyfriend, kwami feet taste about as good as Camembert.
No, things all started going south when he met up with his boyfriend and girlfriends at the carnival.
Well, to be clear, it started when Alya called to ask what his ETA was since the three of them were already at the subway station, and it was then that Nino remembered what day of the week it was- and holy shit, he was going to be so late!
In his hurried panic to grab his things and go, he whacked his head on the edge of his loft bed. Besides the sharp, but short-lived agony and the longer lasting ache, he somehow, with the type of bad luck only Adrien seemed to have, managed to crack the lens and frame of his glasses.
Because of that mishap, he ended up having to swap out for his older (and weaker) pair because his mom forgot to order more contacts when she went to the drug store.
So with blurry vision and a throbbing temple, he peddled his bike to the subway station like a man possessed. But, continuing with the string of bad luck, his pass jammed in the scanner and he missed the train by about thirty seconds.
To make things even more fun, when he finally got to the carnival thirty minutes after Mari sent a text saying she and the other two had arrived, he couldn’t find them. Nino didn’t have the best eyesight, there was a reason for his glasses, after all, but he felt ridiculous craning his neck to look through the crowd as it milled about.
He sent a text to Alya. “I’m here. Where are you?” He waited a minute for her response, but when nothing came, he sighed and turned back to the crowd.
Finally he spotted a blond halo among the sea of people, and he waded toward it. He emerged near the ice cream stand- that would make sense, Adrien loved sweets.
When he finally reached the blond, he sighed in relief and threw his arms around his waist. “Ugh, Dude, I had the hardest time trying to find you. You know, if you wanted something sweet, you could have just said so, I would have wooed you with my awesome milkshakes.”
Nino felt the figure tense, and then he heard a voice that was most definitely not Adrien’s ask, “What the fuck? Who are you?”
Nino died a little (actually a lot) inside. Freezing on the spot. “SHIT. SHIT. HOLY SHIT!” repeating in his mind over and over as he looked up at disgruntled stranger.
The DJ jumped away, mortified, at the same time his phone buzzed.
“I am so, so, sorry!” Nino enthused, glancing down to read his text. “I thought you were my boyfriend.”
Alya:“We see you, heading your way~.”
The blond narrowed his gray eyes in a glare. “Is that right?” Other than his eyes, and slightly more kept hair, the stranger could have been Adrien’s twin.
“Nino!” Adrien shouted, running up and scooping him into bone-crushing hug. Nino noticed his boyfriend’s hair was ruffled up in a very Chat-like manner, probably his attempt at being incognito. “We were looking everywhere for you! We said to meet at the crepe stand.”
Mari and Alya came up behind, chatting and holding hands. Nino didn’t have time to appreciate how cute they looked in their matching summer dresses, as he currently seemed to be staring Death in the face. His girlfriends froze when they saw a blond glaring at their boyfriends.
“What did I miss? Who are you?” Alya asked, all business as she nosed up to the stranger, dragging Marinette with her by their clasped hands.
The boy turned to address the new noise, his eyes glancing past Alya and landing on Marinette.
“What are you doing?” he demanded of the seamstress.
She stared at him, puzzled. “Huh?”
“I’ve been waiting for you! Are you not taking this date seriously? And who is this girl?” He gestured to Alya, looking generally miffed.
“I’m her girlfriend,” Alya hissed. “Just what is you business with Marinette, Mister?”
The boy blanched. “Marinette? No, you’re Birdie, right?”
Marinette shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed in a way that Nino recognized as meaning she was on the verge of something. “Nope, sorry.”
He bent down to study the heroine of Paris, his forehead scrunched in concentration. “Whoa, you look insanely similar to my girlfriend. I was so positive that you were Birdie. I could have sworn you were my girlfriend,” he claimed. He turned to Nino, looking significantly less annoyed, “I guess I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about what?” Adrien asked as he snuggled up against Nino, needing affection.
Nino tried to laugh it off. “Oh, n-nothing too significant.
The teen scoffed, but his lips quirked up in amusement, "I was minding my own business, waiting for my girlfriend, and suddenly this guy, ” he gestured to Nino (who, if he’d had a shovel, would have buried himself), “grabs me around the waist and starts flirting!”
Adrien froze, taking a step back from Nino and looking betrayed. “You’re flirting with someone else? Really? I am not enough?” Nino could hear the self-doubt in Adrien’s voice, and his gut clenched with heavy guilt.
Alya turned and gave him an unnatural smile. It read, “Explain now or suffer eternally.”
Marinette just sighed. “I’m sure it was a mistake. You look like our boyfriend here. Same hair color, similar build. In a crowd this size, it was an unfortunate coincidence, I’m sure. Right, Nino?”
Nino gulped, nodding so fast the others thought he might get whiplash. “I am so incredibly sorry. I thought you were him,” Nino said, pointing to Adrien.
The model still looked kind of pouty, but for a different reason now. “You thought I was him? We look nothing alike!”
“I agree,” the stranger added, crossing his arms saucily. “I see no resemblance.”
“Adrien, really? I have my glasses for a reason. I love you, but I’m kind of blind with this old pair. I saw tall, blond, and slim after looking around for ten minutes, so I jumped. Kind of literally.”
Marinette continued staring at the tall stranger. Finally she stepped back and declared, “I knew I recognized you!”
The older teen jumped at her revelation. “Excuse me?”
“You’re Bridgette’s boyfriend! I knew it! What was it, ah, yeah, Félix, right?”
Recognition seemed to dawn in the boy’s eyes. “Oh, you’re that Marinette.”
Marinette gave her winning smile- the one Alya claimed could melt even Chloé- and tapped her finger to her cheek, “Bingo!”
“Princess, explain please,” Adrien said, as Nino pet his head in apology.
“Félix!” a new voice called. Nino turned his head to see…Marinette? “Ah! Mari! What are you doing here?”
The girl, nearly identical to his girlfriend, pulled the heroine of Paris into a hug before kissing Félix on the cheek. Up close, Nino noticed this girl had longer hair, her eyes were just a little less blue, and her cheeks conspicuously lacked the freckles he loved to kiss.
“Guys, this is my older cousin, Bridgette. And the young man that Nino just harassed,” she winked at him teasingly, “is her boyfriend, Félix. I met him briefly at the family party last year while you guys were working on the essays for Madame Curieuse. I figured it out because you called her Birdie at the party too.”
Nino cringed. He didn’t know if it was better that he was somewhat connected to the person he’d jumped, or worse. On the one hand, the possibility of an assault charge went down significantly, but on the other hand, he’d probably see more of Félix in the future now that his relationship with Adrien, Alya, and Marinette was steady.
The DJ just knew that he’d probably never live down flirting with Félix, he could already see the mischievous glimmers in his gilfriends’ eyes, and he knew that when Adrien was done pouting, he’d join in the mischief.
Alya glanced between where Marinette stood with Adrien and where Bridgette stood with Félix. “Are you sure you guys aren’t two sets of twins. Because all I see is double the hotness.” She winked at the older two, and Bridgette laughed while Félix blushed and glanced away.
Satisfied that things had resolved themselves, the future-reporter grabbed Nino’s hand. “Come on, Honey, let’s hit the rides before we have to go home.” She gave him a devilish grin. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to stay here and jump every blond boy over six feet?”
Nino gave a long-suffering groan as Marinette and Adrien laughed at his expense. It was a very long day indeed.