#but someone just made her friends do a BARRE CLASS the morning of her wedding

[greyeyedmonster-18]

(okay, im in my fitness/wellness era rn now and i get it working out has its benefits and joys. but i would never. for any reason. force my friends to do a workout class with me for a bridal festivity.

like tell me you hate your friends without telling me)

[mintaka14]

with credit to @lineith for this stunning artwork https://lineith.tumblr.com/post/641420491909988352/smooching-the-best-friend-as-one-does-a-sketch which is what I was visualising for Marinette’s pink wrap (and how cute are those two!!)

And with thanks to the LBSC crowd.

Coryphée

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Two – Pas de Caractére

 Marinette edged the door of the studio open on Monday morning for the company class, trying not to drop the bags and parcel she was juggling. She let out a startled squeak when a whirlwind of escaping curls and intense purpose enveloped her in an exuberant hug.

“Alya,” she protested. “Can you at least wait until I’ve put everything down?”

“Way to go, girl! You got the part!” Alya gave her a squeeze, and Marinette bobbled everything in her hands. One of the bags slid free and hit the floor. She handed the parcel to a dark-haired girl near the door before she could drop that too, and Mireille ripped it open with a cry of gratitude as a pair of ballet slippers spilled out.

“Marinette, you’re a lifesaver! It always comes apart when I try to sew anything”

“Well, they should hold now. I reinforced the ribbons, and your slippers will wear out before the binding does.”

“Never mind that. You got the Florine solo and Bluebird pas de deux with Adrien!” Alya continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, following Marinette to the low benches at the side of the huge studio. “And you’re- ooh, is that a new one you made?” she asked, noticing Marinette’s soft pink wrap and the blossoms embroidered down the sleeves. “That’s pretty.”

Behind her, an unwelcome voice chimed in, “It’s such a cute colour.” Marinette turned to face Lila Rossi, and the Italian girl reached out to touch Marinette’s sleeve before she could react. “And those little flowers are just too adorable. You can hardly tell that it’s handmade from a distance. I would have loved something like that when I was ten, and it’s a shame I’m too old for it now, or I would have asked you to make me one too,” Lila said in honeyed tones, flicking her auburn hair back over her shoulder.

“Adrien!” Alya swept on, ignoring the tension. Marinette wasn’t even sure she’d noticed it. “You’re partnering with Adrien.”

“Yes, congratulations,” Lila said, the sugar in her smile cut with acid. “I do hope it’s not going to be awkward for you, working with Adrien like that. Still, maybe he’s forgotten all about it by now.”

The room was filling up with chatter and the thwack of someone beating their pointe shoes into shape.

“It must be so hard, being partnered with the guy you have a crush on who turned you down like that,” Lila sympathised, and Marinette gritted her teeth.

“I’m over it.”

“Of course you are.” Lila patted her hand. “It’s just, there’s no shame in it if you feel like it’s too much. I know we’d all understand if you decided to step aside this season.”

Marinette took a deep, calming breath, and said, “Thank you, Lila, but I’ll be fine.”

“Of course she’ll be fine,” Alya struck in. “She’ll be better than fine. This is your chance to get Adrien to notice you,” she told Marinette in an excited stage whisper.

Marinette sighed, and slipped free to take a place at the barre. Above them, the enormous ring of lights threw shadows across the massive steel ribs of the dome that curved overhead, and the mirrors reflected dancers stretching, and stripping off thick socks and warm leggings, and pinning wayward hair back into place.

“He turned me down, remember?”

“But that was three years ago. You’ve barely dated anyone since then, and I know for a fact that none of those guys lasted beyond the third date. So if you’re not still hung up on Adrien, then what is it?”

And Marinette froze. The only thing she could think of worse than Alya thinking that she was still pining after Adrien was Alya finding out about Luka and how she felt about him. The schemes. The plots. The helping.

“I knew it!” Alya said triumphantly as Marinette remained silent. “You’re still into Adrien. So now’s your chance, girl! He’s had plenty of time to work out what he’s missing out on, and all that time rehearsing together, the rush of performing together, his hands all over you…” the other girl wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously, and Marinette groaned.

“Alya, I don’t-“

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng, Mlle Cesaire,” their instructor’s voice snapped from the door of the studio. “When you are quite finished gossiping, we are waiting on you to begin.”

“Yes, Madame,” Marinette whispered, and Alya suppressed a giggle, taking her place at the barre behind Marinette.

Fortunately, with Madame’s eyes on them and class to focus on, Alya wasn’t able to say anything more. Marinette had been friends with Alya since they’d both joined the Opera Ballet School, and Alya had been there through her searing crush on Adrien, helping her to come up with ways to get his attention. The possibility of a season and her first serious role fraught with romantic plans and schemes and plots filled Marinette with a sinking sense of dread.

As class finished, there was a general scramble for water bottles, and the occasional groan of someone peeling satin and nylon off the blisters on their feet. The floor was littered with dancers sprawled in ungainly positions of collapse as they took advantage of the brief break.

“Principals, solos,” the ballet mistress said in a commanding voice that carried over the bustle of a roomful of dancers all grabbing a quick snack and chattering like a tree full of birds. “Fifteen minutes, and then I need you in the studios downstairs. Ladies and gentlemen of the corps, I expect you back here promptly at twelve to begin choreography. We have a lot of work to do.”

Marinette got slowly to her feet, and Alya caught Marinette’s hand as she passed, giving her an unsubtle wink and a tilt of the head towards where Adrien was talking to Puss in Boots and one of the princes. He lifted his head just then, and met her eyes for a discomfited moment before he looked away quickly. Marinette just sighed and scooped up her bag, heading for the door.

As the soloists made their way into the smaller studio downstairs, Madame Viret turned a stern look on them.

“We have a lot of hard work ahead of us. Make sure you check your rehearsal schedule every morning, because it will change with little notice and I will not accept that as an excuse to not be here when we need you. Aurora, Prince Florimund, you’ll be next door today with the director,” she said, turning to the principals. “If you’re one of the soloists for the christening scene, join Master Novgorodsky. Everyone else, if you’re involved in the wedding in Act Three I want you here. Now, we begin.”

Madame gestured sharply to the fairies to take their place in the centre of the floor as she began to outline the choreography of the pas de quatre to them. Adrien made his way around the edge of the studio until he was standing next to Marinette. There was something a little hesitant about the smile he gave her.

“Hey, Marinette,” he said in a hushed voice. “It’s been a while since we … talked.”

It had been three years of awkwardly avoiding each other in an environment where you really had to go to some effort to not talk to someone.

“It’s been a while,” Marinette agreed quietly. Adrien shuffled his feet.

“I wanted to… I hope… it’s not going to be a problem, dancing with me… I mean…”

Marinette turned to face him. “It’s fine, Adrien. It was a long time ago, and all forgotten now, if you can forgive me for putting you on the spot like that.” She gave an involuntary giggle. “And look! I can actually string two sentences together now. I think that’s a sign that I’ve moved on.”

Adrien chuckled, and the tension drained out of him. “Yeah, I didn’t have any clue that you even liked me until you asked me out.” He stiffened again, as if realising that he might have put his foot in it, but Marinette just gave him a tiny smile.

“I’m looking forward to partnering with you,” she said, and then Madame turned to glare at them so they subsided into silence until she called for the Bluebird and Princess Florine.

Marinette didn’t have time for any of her doubts, or for worrying about Adrien, over the next half an hour as Madame Viret walked them through an outline of the choreography that she wanted from them.

It was exhausting, but it went easier than Marinette had expected. When Madame directed her into a passé, she found Adrien exactly where she needed him to be for the pirouette en dehors that followed, anchoring her turn, and Marinette felt some of the last remaining tension fade away. Maybe this partnership could work. He certainly seemed to be good at reading what she was going to do, and his technique was solid, she knew. They could be professional.

“Let me see the bluebird lift,” Madame commanded, and Marinette waited just long enough to make sure that Adrien was ready before she threw herself fearlessly into the lift and felt him sweep her up. Her hips landed across his shoulder, exactly where they were meant to be, and her back arched as her arms fluttered upwards with elegant precision.

She was vaguely aware of Madame��s rare and sharp “Good!” and the satisfaction of a difficult move achieved, then she felt the minute shift of Adrien’s posture, and she rolled gracefully with the movement as his hands guided her down and set her on the floor again.

“Lovely, Marinette,” Madame conceded. “An excellent beginning. Adrien, make sure you rotate and lock your arm more.”

She moved on, and Marinette gave her new partner a brilliant smile. This could really work.

Adrien was staring back at her with wide green eyes and a slightly dazed look on his face, and then he beamed back with that perfect smile that had started her crush in the first place.

“Wow, Marinette,” he said. “I knew you were good, but that was amazing! I’ve never had a partner who mastered a lift like that first time before. We make a great team.”

~~~~~

“So, how did the first day go? Didn’t get dropped on your head?” Luka asked as the stage doors closed behind Marinette. He’d been leaning against the wall next to his violin case, a hoodie tied around his waist and his black painted nails drumming against his torn denim jeans in time to some tune in his head, but he looked up as she came towards him and smiled, and Marinette’s heart gave a familiar stutter. Luka scooped up his violin and they fell into step together, heading towards the metro.

Marinette shook her head, and grinned up at him. “Adrien was actually a pretty good partner. It was exhausting, but so far so good. On the other hand, I think Lila’s been trying to spread rumours that I must have slept with someone to get this part.”

“What?”

She laughed. “It’d be funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous. Have you met any of the people involved in the casting decisions?”

She looked up, and Luka was frowning a little, lost in some thought that didn’t seem to appeal to him. As soon as he noticed her watching him he gave a wry half-smile.

“She sounds like a real piece of work,” he said, and Marinette gave a snort of laughter.

“Is she any good?” Luka asked. “I’ve never seen her perform.”

“Ye-s,” she admitted slowly. “She wouldn’t be in the Opera Ballet Company if she wasn’t, but– “ Marinette scrunched up her nose, trying to work out how to put it into words. “There are things you need if you’re going to make it in ballet, especially if you want to become an étoile one day. You need the body for it, you need to have the heart to work at it and give your all to it, and you need to be tough enough to push on, no matter how many Lilas try to stop you.”

There was a soft snort of laughter from beside her.

“And Lila has all those things,” Marinette went on. “But something I read once said that a dancer’s mind is the thing that make the difference, and that’s why Lila’s never going to quite make it. She doesn’t have nice thoughts. There’s a hardness in her dancing that’s going to get in her way and stop her from reaching the top, no matter how much she schemes,” she summed up with an incisive sniff.

Luka was giving her that warm smile that she loved so much.

“Then you must have the most beautiful thoughts in the world,” he told her. “I always love watching you dance. There’s an absolute grace in you that can’t help but inspire the music in me. You make me think of warm blue skies and perfect mornings, and I can see that in everything you do, not just your dancing. I can see that creativity and passion and grace that you bring to everything you care about.”

Marinette suddenly felt as if he’d stolen the air from her lungs.

“Luka!” she protested faintly, and his smile grew wider.

She was almost relieved that they’d reached the bakery as the fire in her cheeks threatened to overwhelm her. At the door of the bakery, Marinette asked, “Are you coming in for dinner?” but Luka shook his head.

“I need to get home, but I’ll swing by to pick you up in the morning if you want the company. What time do you have to be at the Garnier?”

“I’ve got class at ten, but I thought you didn’t have to be there til after lunch?”

Luka just gave a shrug and leaned down to drop a friendly kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be here at quarter past nine,” he told her, and lifted his hand in a wave as he strode away.

The next morning, Marinette was still up on her balcony with the remains of her breakfast on the little table behind her when she heard a musical whistle drift up from the street below. She broke off the stretch that she had started, and leaned out between the pots of geraniums along the balcony railing as Luka waved up at her. He slung his violin case over his shoulder and gave her a warm smile.

“Ready to escape from your tower, Princess Florine?”

“Should I try and fly down?” she called back to him, and his smile grew wider.

“I’ll catch you if you want to try.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ll be down in a minute.” She hurried down through her bedroom, snatching up her bag and the lunch that her mother had left for her on the way. The cafeteria food was alright in a pinch, but it couldn’t beat her mother’s cooking.

Luka was waiting for her on the street, and they fell into step on the way to the station. For once, the commute to the Palais Garnier felt too short, and Marinette let out a faint sigh as the building loomed into view. They’d just reached the stage doors, and Luka was holding one open for her when a voice hailed her from the other side of the courtyard.

“Marinette!” Adrien called, loping towards them eagerly. He was every girl’s dream, with his charming smile and dancer’s lean body, and there was a time when Marinette would have been reduced to a babbling mess by his attention. Luka shot the blond boy an enigmatic look, but didn’t say anything.

“I was hoping to catch up with you.” He finally seemed to notice Luka. “Oh, hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s all good,” Luka said imperturbably, waiting until Adrien had joined them inside before he let the door swing closed. “It’s Adrien, isn’t it? Marinette’s talked about you. She said you were partnering her this season.”

Adrien’s smile was warm. “Yeah, I’m very lucky,” he said sincerely. “She’s an incredible dancer.”

Luka’s smile was a little harder to read. “She is. She also plays a mean game of Ultimate Mecha Strike.”

Adrien blinked at him in confusion. They reached the staircase leading up to the studios, and Luka stopped, tilting his head towards the corridor that ran underneath it.

“I’m heading this way. Nice to meet you, Adrien.” His gaze settled on Marinette for a moment. “See you later, Marinette.”

Before Marinette could protest, he’d already turned and was striding away, his head bent and lost in some thought or strain of music.

Adrien was watching Luka with a tiny frown that looked odd on his normally sunny features.

“Was that your boyfriend?”

There had never been much chance of that. Once upon a time, when she was barely fourteen and he was a romantic, sensitive sixteen year old, he’d sort-of confessed to her … you’re as clear as a music note, as sincere as a melody, you’re the song in my head… She’d been overwhelmed, and she’d panicked, but once she’d been ready to face Luka again he’d never said anything since to suggest that it had been anything more than a fleeting moment of poetry. He’d dated other people over the years, and she’d had her brief relationships, and he’d never changed the way he treated her. Marinette suspected that Luka had completely forgotten he’d ever said those beautiful things to her, although that was when he’d started calling her melody.

“No,” Marinette said, suppressing a small sigh. “Luka and I have been friends since we were little, Luka’s sister too. I was at school with Juleka before I got into the Opera Ballet School. Luka’s at the Conservatory, and he plays with the Company orchestra from time to time.”

Adrien’s eyebrow lifted at that. “Impressive. Maybe that’s where I know him from.”

They climbed another floor in silence, but Marinette was aware of Adrien shooting glances at her. He seemd to be almost jittering with a nervous energy now that was making her nervous in turn.

“A friend of mine is having a party on Saturday. You should come,” he said abruptly, and Marinette stumbled on the steps, catching herself on the stair rail. What was going on here? He gave her that charming, hopeful smile of his. “It’d be fun, and it’d be nice to get to spend a bit of time together away from the studio. Get to know each other, seeing we’re going to be working together.”

“I… have plans…” she said uncertainly.

“It’s at Le Grand Paris,” he coaxed, and that smile grew brighter. “Just come for a little while. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

They were at the door of the studio, and suddenly it seemed like everyone was looking at her.

“Saturday,” he repeated, as she tried to find her voice under the weight of all those stares. She made a strangled noise, her shoulders curling in embarrassment. She could see Lila glaring daggers at her, and Alya’s cheshire grin.

“I can’t,” she sputtered at his back as he walked away.

She wasn’t wasting a precious Saturday night on a party full of strangers at the Grand Paris hotel, no matter how bright Adrien’s smile was, and Saturday found her curled up on Juleka’s bed while Juleka frowned and carefully painted pink spots onto Marinette’s nails and Luka ran through a quick set of scales on his violin in the background. Marinette watched as Luka shook out his hand and resettled the chin rest.

“Soooo… Adrien, huh?” Juleka drawled.

“Hmm?” Marinette said absently.

“Adrien,” Juleka repeated, shooting a look at her brother. Luka must have told her about meeting Adrien at the Garnier, and Juleka didn’t sound thrilled about it, but then she’d endured enough gushing paeans all those years ago in praise of Adrien’s smile, his hair, his kindness, his smile, his perfect arabesque, his smile… Marinette buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“Careful!” Juleka yanked her still wet hand down. “I don’t want to have to do that all over again.”

“That was years ago,” Marinette whined. “And he turned me down.”

“Are you going to try and change his mind, now that you’re partners?” Juleka pushed.

“No!” Marinette flashed a quick glance at Luka as he frowned and adjusted one of the tuning pegs, and she glared at Juleka, holding her friend’s gaze in a silent message. “And you know why.”

Juleka rolled her eyes, but mercifully didn’t say anything further.

Marinette didn’t think that Luka had been paying attention to them, but later when Juleka left the room to answer Rose’s call he paused in the middle of the adagio he’d been playing and said quietly, “You know she’d come round if you got together with Adrien, don’t you?”

“There’s nothing to come around to,” Marinette grumbled. Luka was watching her with those too knowing blue eyes, and she wondered what he was seeing in her face. When she shifted uncomfortably, he dropped his gaze to the violin in his hands.

But he didn’t say anything further about Adrien when he walked her home much later, and he was there at the bakery door on Monday morning when she left for the Garnier, with a smile for her and a proffered earbud as they walked.

Class was gruelling that day, and Marinette didn’t have much time or energy left to worry about what Luka had seen. As soon as class finished, she stretched her aching muscles out on the wooden floor with a groan, and closed her eyes. Out in the hallway, Marinette could hear the noise of approaching voices and laughter, but she didn’t open her eyes until a familiar deep voice said just above her, “Hey there, Princess Florine. They’re working you hard, I see.”

Her eyes flew open to look up into Luka’s amused gaze and warm smile, and she sat up in a hurry, scrambling to her feet. His hands steadied her as she threw her arms around him.

“Luka! What are you doing here?”

“There’s a welcome.” He wasn’t the only musician who had found their way into the studio, and a few of the ballet dancers who were dating members of the company orchestra were busy with very public displays of affection.

“I might think you’re not happy to see me,” Luka teased.

Marinette pulled back to stick her tongue out at him, and found Alya at her elbow, eyeing Luka with interest.

“I didn’t know you knew one of the musicians. Marinette, why didn’t you tell me about your gorgeous friend here?”

Marinette closed her eyes, willing herself anywhere but there. When she opened them again, Alya was watching her with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile. And that was exactly the reason that Marinette had never really talked about her friendships outside the company. On the other side of the studio, Lila’s attention was fixed on them in a way that made Marinette uneasy. Alya held out a hand to Luka.

“I’m Alya, and you’re cute. Tell me everything.”

When Marinette dared to sneak a glance at Luka, he was looking rather startled and amused.

“There’s not a lot to tell,” he said slowly. “But I’m guessing you’re Alya.”

“Interesting. Marinette’s told you about me, but I haven’t heard a thing about you.” Alya’s expression turned speculative. “Now, why would that be?”

“Because I wanted to save him from getting grilled by you,” Marinette muttered.

“Because I know all Marinette’s secrets,” Luka said, and Marinette gasped.

“Traitor! You wouldn’t!”

His amusement became a grin as he looked down at her. “For half a dozen raspberry macarons, my lips are sealed.”

“Fine,” Marinette pouted. “You do know that Maman would have given you as many as you wanted, don’t you?”

“Sure, but blackmail macarons taste so much better.”

Alya’s gaze shifted rapidly between them, taking it all in. “So I take it you’ve known each other a while?” she inquired brightly.

“It’s been a while,” Luka admitted. He deflected the questions Alya kept firing at him with calm good nature. Her interrogation was drawing attention from some of the company, and Marinette felt her stomach sink as Lila sauntered towards them. The Italian girl hooked a hand through Marinette’s arm and her eyes ran over Luka, taking in the teal blue hair, the piercings, and the ink.

“That’s a lot of tattoos,” she said with a barely suppressed sneer at odds with her honeyed tone, and Luka’s eyebrow rose, but he stayed silent. She dismissed him to focus on Marinette. “I didn’t know you were into the bad boy type, Marinette.”

Marinette prised herself free of Lila’s grip. “What’s that supposed to mean, Lila? Are you saying that Luka’s a troublemaker because he happens to have some body art?”

“And I’ve been trying so hard to be good,” Luka sighed.

“Honey, you’re better than good,” Alya teased, eyeing him up and down. “I don’t know about Marinette, but I love a guy with tatts.”

“Oh, no! Of course, I didn’t mean anything of the sort!” Lila gasped, grabbing at Marinette’s arm again. “I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. Does it hurt?” Alya asked Luka. Her attention was on Luka’s arms. “Why an anchor? It seems a bit out of character for a musician.”

Luka glanced down at the tattoo on his left forearm of an anchor surrounded by tulips and roses. “Well, Ma’s a pirate, so it seemed appropriate,” he said composedly, but Alya had already moved on.

“Nice snake,” Alya said, poking at the teal snake coiling down around his right bicep from under the sleeve of his tshirt to his forearm. It seemed to have a glint of amused sagacity in its eye rather than menace, and her own eyes lit up with a leer that made Marinette nervous. “Is it proportional?”

“Alya,” Marinette groaned in dismay, but Luka seemed entertained rather than put out by Alya’s blatant suggestiveness, and Alya’s attention shifted to the tattoo just under the snake’s nose, where it seemed to be reaching out to touch a tiny ladybug sitting on a branch of cherry blossoms that was almost hidden by the wide leather cuff that Luka wore around his right wrist.

“The ladybug’s a bit of an odd one out,” Alya commented.

He’d got that ink at the same time that Marinette had had her birthday tattoo done.

“That one’s just for a bit of luck,” he said casually, and Lila’s eyes narrowed at the quick smile he gave Marinette.

“You two make such a cute couple,” she said, hugging Marinette’s arm tighter. “Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone in the orchestra?”

Luka said nothing, but his gaze slid sideways to Marinette as she said stiffly, “Because we’re not a couple.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. I do hope I haven’t put my foot in it.” Lila pulled her hand away from Marinette’s arm in a show of hurried embarrassment, her eyes wide with distress. “You seem very close, but I’m sure he’s just a friend, if you say so.”

Luka’s eyebrows climbed at that, but Marinette didn’t grasp the significance of the vindictive little smile that Lila shot at her as she walked away until Adrien came up beside her, his brow creased as he glanced around the group and settled on Luka.

“How’s it going, Marinette?” he asked softly, and gave Luka a stiff nod. “Luka. What brings you here? Not that it’s not good to meet you again,” he trailed off awkwardly. It was not uncommon for the orchestra to socialise with the ballet, and Marinette didn’t understand why Adrien seemed to be discomfited by Luka’s appearance in the studio.

“Just checking in on my favourite dancer,” Luka said with an unreadable smile.

Alya found a new target, swivelling to fix Adrien with a stare. “You know Luka?”

“We’ve met,” Adrien said tersely. His glance fell on Lila on the other side of the studio, then it shifted from Luka to Marinette and back again, and Marinette frowned.

“Now, this is interesting,” Alya said.

“Alya,” Marinette growled, and her friend threw up her hands.

“Fine, fine, I won’t ask.”

“Director’s coming,” someone called near the door, and the musicians started to scatter. “Couffaine, you coming?”

Luka quirked a smile at Marinette.

“Looks like they’re kicking the riffraff out. See you after rehearsal?” he asked her, and Marinette nodded. He tipped his head to Alya and Adrien. “Alya, it’s been a pleasure. Adrien.”

“For a musician, he’s got some nice muscles on him,” Alya said approvingly, and Marinette cringed at Luka’s choke of laughter as he headed out of the studio. She was limply grateful that Luka was out of earshot and that Adrien had moved away before Alya added, “Girl, is that the reason you’ve been so chill around Adrien lately?”

“What? No!” Marinette stuttered, and the words I wish cut through her like a knife. She took a deep breath, and tried to smile at Alya. “We’re just friends.”

Alya’s eyebrows lifted.

“Seriously, I’m more like a younger sister to Luka,” Marinette insisted.

“If you say so,” her friend said sceptically.

When Madame Viret called her and Adrien away for their pas de deux rehearsal it didn’t go nearly as smoothly as things had gone on the first day. Adrien seemed distracted, and several times he missed Marinette’s cues until Madame called a halt.

“Adrien,” the ballet mistress snapped, “your head needs to be here with us, or one of you is going to end up injured.”

The blond muttered an apology, but he was still frowning as Marinette took his hand and rested her other hand on his shoulder for the attitude promenade.

“Is everything alright?” she whispered to him.

“You didn’t come to the party on Saturday.”

“I’d told you I wouldn’t be there,” Marinette muttered back as she executed a balance. “I had plans.”

“What about this Saturday?” Adrien asked a little too loudly, and subsided as Madame turned an icy glare on them. As soon as Madame waved a hand for a break, he dropped down beside Marinette as she collapsed and reached for her water bottle.

“Maybe we could get coffee sometime. Or dinner. I’d love to take you out to dinner, if you’re free.”

Marinette took a deep drink, playing for time, and choked a little.

“This Saturday? Or Sunday? I know a great little place not far from here that I just know you’d love.”

“Adrien, that’s sweet,” she said uneasily, “but I don’t think I can.”

His head tilted towards her as if he was trying to translate what she was saying.

“I mean, it’s probably not a good idea to date someone else from the company, is it?” she tried again. “It always just seems to cause trouble.”

“But it doesn’t have to,” Adrien said hopefully. “Just give us a try. Saturday.”

“Adrien, I can’t!”

“Is there someone else?” he asked her. “Is it that musician friend of yours, the one with the blue hair?”

Oh, how she wished she could say yes. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing ocean deep eyes that could see right through her and a slow, sweet smile, and opened them again to hopeful green eyes and a sun-bright grin.

“No,” she said reluctantly, and repeated yet again, “we’re just friends.”

Adrien’s smile grew wider in relief. “Look, just think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just… give it a chance.”

He got to his feet as Madame called for them, and held out his hand to her. Marinette took it, and put aside overthinking her complicated emotional state to let her training and the movement take over. It was a relief to let it all go for a little while.

She was half-braced for Adrien to ask her again the next morning when she arrived at the Garnier, but there was no sign of the blond dancer. She had finished pilates and had started warm up stretches for class before Adrien finally arrived, breathing a little hard as if he’d been rushing to get there. Alya was telling her something about something she’d overheard that morning.

“Cutting it close, Agreste!” someone called out, and Adrien gave a sheepish grin.

“I got held up this morning because I came in with my father. He wanted to deliver the costume designs in person.”

Marinette’s head whipped around, cutting off what Alya had been saying to her.

“The designs are here?” she asked abruptly.

“My father’s meeting with Madame Marchand right now to hand them over,” he confirmed.

Master Novgorodsky rapped on the piano for their attention, and by sheer force of will Marinette focused on the choreography. It could not have been said that she was at her best that morning, and several times, Master Novgorodsky called her wandering thoughts back to the placement of her feet and arms. The minute that class broke, she took off for the corridors that led up to the wardrobe ateliers.

Through the long windows of the millinery department rows and rows of blank heads stared down from the shelves, and sat on the work benches surrounded by tools and tufts of hair. Next to it, the decoration atelier twinkled and sparkled like Aladdin’s cave with tubs and jars of sequins and glass jewels, and streaks of paint everywhere. Another mannequin head supported the beginnings of a glittering headpiece, and a huge rat’s head wearing a crown from a past production of The Nutcracker stared down from the top of a cabinet.

A few craftspeople glanced up from their work as Marinette hurried past their ateliers and smiled at her, and Marinette waved, but didn’t stop to chat. Costume storage was just beyond, and at the door Marinette drew a deep breath as she always did, letting it out slowly. The racks of costumes and rolls of fabric, and the tutus carefully layered in snowy drifts, never failed to calm her. The head seamstress frowning over a gown spread out on the benchtop looked up to smile at Marinette as she came in.

“Marinette! What brings you up here?” the woman asked.

“I heard that the Sleeping Beauty designs from Gabriel had arrived,” Marinette said hopefully, and the seamstress laughed.

“I should have known you’d be showing up the moment you got wind of that. No one’s supposed to see them before first fittings.” But she was already heading into the back recesses of the costume storage, and Marinette followed.

She took the book that the head seamstress handed her with great reverence, and settled herself into a chair. It wasn’t long before she’d lost herself completely in the exquisite designs and the notes that Gabriel Agreste had included for them. The seamstress laughed, and left her to it.

When her feet eventually started to prickle with pins and needles, she realised with a start that she’d been sitting there, poring over the design book for far too long and that afternoon rehearsals would be starting soon. Hastily she closed the book and handed it back to the head seamstress, babbling her thanks as she hurried out the door. She made it into the studio just ahead of Madame Viret, and Adrien gave her a curious look.

“Where were you? You disappeared before I could ask you if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he whispered.

“Oh, Adrien, your father’s work is incredible,” Marinette enthused, and Adrien’s eyebrow rose.

“So that’s where you’ve been? Up in wardrobe? I thought we weren’t allowed up there without an invitation from the costume director.”

Marinette grimaced guiltily. “They don’t mind, and I really wanted to have a look.”

“Oh, you’re so into costumes and sewing, aren’t you Marinette, with all your little projects,” Lila interrupted, and gave a tinkling little laugh. “It’s so lucky your partner is the son of Gabriel Agreste. You might get to meet him, and all his contacts in the industry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Lila?” Marinette asked angrily, and right on cue, there went the hand flutter and the wide eyes.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I never meant to imply that you were only interested in Adrien because his father is Gabriel Agreste.”

“You’re a fan of my father’s?” Adrien asked with a puckered brow, and Marinette saw Lila’s flash of triumph.

“I admire his work,” she admitted evenly. Adrien’s face lit up in a beaming smile.

“Then you should come to the Gabriel gala on Saturday,” he invited her.               Marinette was distracted from what he was saying by the look of livid fury that swept over Lila’s face.

“It’d be a lot more fun than going on my own,” he was saying, “and I’d love you to meet my father. I’ve told him a lot about my brilliant pas de deux partner.” He noticed her reluctant expression, and said, “Just as friends. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

“I’ll… think about it. Just as friends.”

She and Luka were halfway home that night, and Luka was smiling softly at her raptures about the costume designs, before she worked up the courage to mention Adrien’s invitation.

“Adrien asked me to the Gabriel fashion gala next week,” Marinette told the footpath in front of her, and there was a long silence from Luka beside her.

Then he said nonchalantly, “Are you going to go? Adrien seems like a nice guy, and you’d probably have fun.”

It shouldn’t have hurt that he was so casual about the idea of her going out with another guy.

“You really think I should say yes?” she asked him in a small voice.

“It might be fun, seeing all Gabriel’s latest designs and getting to hang out around the fashion houses. And there was a time when you would have flipped for a chance to spend time with Adrien,” he teased gently.

Why did it feel like she was paying for that now?

“Maybe,” she said, feeling her spirits sinking even lower.

When Adrien asked her again the next day, she said yes, and had to admit afterwards that she’d enjoyed herself. The new season’s couture was dazzling, and Adrien was good company, getting her laughing over his awful puns and startlingly accurate impersonations of some of the celebrities there. And if Gabriel Agreste had been seven kinds of cold and austere when Adrien had introduced her to his father, he had defrosted enough to offer a trifling compliment on the dress she’d made herself. Marinette had found it hard to martial a coherent sentence in response, and Adrien had teased her about it afterwards.

She was still a little startled, though, in company class the next morning when Adrien presented her with a rose and a flourish. What had happened to ‘just friends’?

“Adrien…” She took the rose reluctantly, very aware of the curious eyes on them, and Lila’s dagger-sharp attention.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the best time I’ve ever had at a fashion gala, milady,” Adrien said. His smile brightened like the sun. “You made the whole evening worthwhile.”

“So you two are a couple now?” Lila asked, and Marinette could hear the ominous note in her voice. Adrien obviously didn’t. He threw his arm around Marinette.

“Not yet, but I’m wearing her down,” he said, and Lila’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“How sweet.”

Marinette slipped out from under Adrien’s arm, backing away.

“I have to- I have, a thing. I’ll see you later.” She whirled around and almost ran from the studio, the rose still in her hand. Once she’d reached the outer courtyard she let out a muffled scream that drew a few startled glances.

“Very clever,” Lila’s voice said behind her, and Marinette whipped around. “You may think you’ve won, but Adrien is so out of your league it isn’t funny, and he’s going to realise that before long.”

“I’m not interested in Adrien!” Marinette cried, frustrated, and Lila gave her a pitying stare.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re not fooling anyone. We all know just how desperate you were to get Adrien all those years ago. Throwing yourself at him didn’t work, so you’re trying playing hard to get now, and it might have got you an invitation to the gala but it’s just sad. And I’m going to make sure that Adrien sees just how sad and desperate you are.”

Lila made a move towards her, and Marinette jerked back out of reach before Lila could touch her arm. Somehow, the rose that Adrien had given her ended up on the ground, and Lila crushed it under her foot with one quick step.

“Oopsie,” the Italian girl said with false regret and bright eyes, and Marinette watched her turn and strut away.

Marinette still cringed at some of the things that she’d done to try and get Adrien’s attention when she was seventeen and deep in the throes of her infatuation. Egged on by Alya she’d even committed a few minor felonies, and now she was paying the price for it. Everyone seemed to be taking it for granted that she was in love with Adrien Agreste, and the more she protested against it, the less convincing she sounded.

“For all the stupid things I did when I had that crush,” she told the sky, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay?”