#those piano designs are so extra btw I respect that

[manzanamarim]

Plays our theme song but alone this time

Hey I really liked this scene *screams*

[real-fakedoors]

under leaves so green - CHPT 10 - Miraculous Ladybug

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)

Cross-posted on AO3 and FF.net

Chapter 10: Phalaenopsis Orchids and Easter Lillies

In which, Adrien is reminded that he is rich and has two bizarre conversations, and Marinette decidedly looks great in red and should really invest in a watch. As a pair, they enjoy ice cream, movies, and perhaps a little more.

Lying in bed, Adrien stirred  from an immersive sleep, filled by hazy dreams of warm cheeks and silky, raven hair, delicate fingers and hungry kisses. He groaned, rolling over slightly beneath the sheets; it should be illegal for a dream that lovely to be cut short.

Even so, as he blinked away the dreary bonds of fantasy that kept him a mile into his mattress, Adrien woke rather easily.

Lately, sleep was refreshing, but it was also a distant, cheap substitute for reality.

Everything was more vivid these days, his smiles and his laughs purer, his steps and temperament lighter. Marinette was filling up everything he had, everything he knew, like a viscous liquid that crept into the crevices of his world and rid each one of any memory that once stung with absence. His relationship with his father was already improving. He felt like he could be more honest with Nino, and they had talked via text or by phone almost every night this week about his… “situation.” Adrien had learned to appreciate coffee, what his own favorite flower was, and that an unbelievable amount of thought goes into planning a wedding, down to the fabric a bride chooses to accent her bouquet.

Stretching, the blond sighed contently as he sat up from the mattress and spotted his kwami, still sleeping just a few inches away. The eighth hour of morning was just slipping away, day brightening by degrees beneath an overcast sky. They didn’t have anywhere to be for nine hours... (and two minutes, thirty-eight seconds, not that he was counting), so Adrien began his day quietly to let his kwami sleep in.

He was certain Plagg would never admit it, but the green-eyed, camembert-loving little nuisance clearly liked Marinette too. He had been less irritable since Adrien had started spending time with her, and though there was likely some cheese-bread-bribery involved in Plagg’s evaluation, it was nice that his kwami supported his decisions. The longer they went between visits to the shop, the more Plagg slipped into his typical dyspeptic self - maybe the black cat just enjoyed the opportunity to slip out of Adrien’s jacket and hide in the bushes? Maybe he had a soft spot for flowers? That would make sense, because, as it turned out, so did Adrien.

The shop was a temple, and he was a worshipper unworthy of its delicacy. From floor to glass ceiling, the air emitted subtle, warming sensibilities in the shape of vines, petals, and a peculiar girl in a green apron. It made his heart flutter against his ribs to even imagine her, sitting in her stool and weaving a floral tiara like a mark of wild royalty. In those walls, Marinette was a princess of the metropolitan boscage, abloom with vibrancy despite the perimeter of concrete jungle. Anyone fortunate enough to wander into her wilderness was bestowed good graces by her kingdom, an unsolicited blessing to all the people of France.

Adrien couldn’t stop thinking about her, and she wasn’t even here.

How had Plagg put it again?

Girls got me down to a science, without even trying.

Yep. That was it.

Sure, in an academic context, Marinette’s performance last year in science class was, um… less than stellar . But in the complex balances and bonds of relationships? She was a master scientist, precise in her measurements and methodology. Marinette knew exactly how to love and tend to something while it grows, and blooms, and thrives.

Too bad Francious-DuPont didn’t offer plant pathology, Adrien thought with a shameless smile; Marinette would ruin the curve for the whole class.

Floating through his morning routine, the teen showered, dressed, and headed down to breakfast. While a predictably bland meal waited for him at the bottom of the stairs, he had no trouble finding ways to get excited. His withdrawal symptoms had him strung out, craving anything that might pass the time sooner, so he might see her again, hear her voice, admire the softness of her cheeks and the way her voice tinkled like a crisp bell on a wintery morning, sharp against the pillows of snow.

Adrien bit into his toast and tasted sunshine flavored by flora and loam, swallowing to the comforting thought of her.

He had barely been able to contain the desire until now, and knowing they would be together, just the two of them (well, and probably his kwami) with an evening charged by romance would be too much. Adrien knew he would not be able to deny himself anymore; tonight, he was going to kiss her.

Breakfast slowed while he thought about that prospect in particular, falling through the fantasies and questions and curiosities. He imagined their warm, languid breaths mingling together, but how might her lips tremble with his? Would she be excited, or nervous? Passionate and hungry? Gently, or fiercely, would she press back against his own advances?

Adrien gulped when he felt his phone buzz, realizing he finished eating several minutes ago.

  Nino (9:54 AM):

Sup bro? Ready for tonight?

 To say he was ready would be an understatement, and Adrien chuckled at how hopeless he had become.

  Adrien (9:55 AM):

Yes, I think so. Thanks for having my back with this, btw. How are you?

 His heart was in a far worse place than it had ever been with Ladybug. While the masked, elusive woman would always have a special spot in his heart as his first love, the way he felt with Marinette was different. The girl turned to a puddle of nerves when they spoke, which only made her more adorable when she shot bashful glimpses in his direction. If he smiled, her cheeks warmed, and the color was flattering against the piquant depths of her eyes.

There was a new, exciting part of this too, and it came in the form of a memory.

It was a feeling that had gone out the door not soon after his mother, flitting from his repertoire of fixed smiles and polite postulations that he’d learn to perfect over the years. Adrien had grown so used to simplex relationships that reciprocity was nearly a foreign concept, almost forgotten, but Marinette brought it back.

She made him feel wanted , for who he was.

Not what he was - model, wealthy, superhero, or a foot in the door to fashion. But who he was - Adrien. Just another guy she went to school with, who had been lucky enough to become friends with Nino, and then the girls by association. He, beneath it all, had some semblance of the life of any other normal teenager. He liked video games and fencing, he could eat sweets by the armful and he had an objectively perfect sense of humor. She had treated all parts of him - those that she saw through his civilian self or his inner-cat - with only respect and kindness.

Marinette made him feel wanted and appreciated, and it made him want to return the feeling. He wanted her to love him, he wanted her to fall in love with him.

As Chat, when they spent time together, everything was forcefully separated by degrees. He could never be too direct with his friendship while he was masked for the sake of her safety, lest Hawkmoth or someone else learned of their bond and treat her as a target. But even so, she demonstrated an unbelievable amount of care and sensitivity towards him beneath their ever-mirthful banter.

When Adrien’s phone buzzed again, he nearly dropped it from his daydreaming.

  Nino (10:04 AM):

np man, I’m excited for you too! Plus Alya won’t stop on it. I’m starting to think she ships you guys more than she ships us. Lol

 Adrien grinned at his phone and stood from the kitchen table, marching the ingrained path to his bedroom and typing a response.

  Adrien (10:05 AM):

lol that sounds like Alya… Did you still want to get together for lunch tomorrow?

 At the landing, the blond paused and returned to his messages with Marinette from the previous night. Their conversation cut-off abruptly when he called her, but reading back, he still found himself grinning a Chesire smile

  Marinette (Yesterday, 8:31 PM):

Sorry I got caught up w/ some design thing - did you still want to talk? I’m free now.

 The memories were so fresh, but strangely untethered to time and space even with the timestamp. They had gone to bed way later than either of them intended, and their conversation had been light and natural. Marinette laughed at his “dumb” jokes while Adrien defended his pride, and they talked about everything from Mecha Strike to piano, favorite holidays to the last time she redecorated her room. Minutes became hours, and his desire to be the one to elicit another laugh from her, to hear that euphoric music bubble at her lips in the form of an adorable giggle, was insatiable.

Adrien had noticed something the longer they spoke. If she laughed especially hard, Marinette would release the smallest, most delightful little exhale afterwards, and it undid any attempts he had of acting nonchalant everytime. It was a precious observation, just a tiny sigh of vulnerability, and it was more of those minute details he yearned for.

Nino texted him again, and the vibration roused him. He realized he had been inanely standing outside his bedroom, thumbing through his messages instead of entering his room like a normal human being.

It was borderline unfair, that the delight that came by a cheeky smile and pink lips had basically stripped him of nearly seventeen-years of common sense. Then again, nothing about Marinette was common, and nothing about how madly he wanted to see her was sensible.

Unfair, maybe, but Adrien was happy to accept this fate.

He entered the room and spotted Plagg, now awake, laying completely prone and staring at the ceiling from atop his camembert hiding place. Upon Adrien’s arrival, the kwami didn’t even bother to look in his direction.

“Breakfast cheese is the best cheese,” Plagg yawned, his lazy statement somehow sounding like a greeting.

Adrien rolled his eyes and strode towards his desk, sitting but not interested with his computer.

  Nino (10:08 AM):

Yaaaaaaassssss! But ill have to push back for like 1:30 instead. Working on some set stuff for my show on friday.

  Nino (10:09 AM):

but seriously - tonight? Im free basically the whole time so if you wanna talk post-date lemme know! You’ll kill it bro.

 Adrien wrinkled his nose, but smiled as he constructed a response.

  Adrien (10:09 AM):

I hope I don’t - if our first date ends with me killing her, then I have to imagine I’m doing something wrong.

 The joke seemed sufficient to stave off Nino’s questions, but it didn’t exactly rid Adrien of his own anxieties. This would be his first real date. He was a bit older than his peers to start dating - Alya and Nino got together, what, a year and a half ago? Ivan and Mylene have been together for longer, and Rose and Juleka revealed they’d been together for almost as long a few months ago, and those were just the people with established relationships. How many of his friends probably “dated around?”

Adrien bit his lip at the very teenage-worries that crept up to rattle his nerves a little further. It’s not like he was a sex-starved, hormone-driven mess of a high schooler, but the sort of “unspoken but known” truth that people around him were having sex and he hadn’t even gone on a date yet was… unnerving? Embarrassing? Strange, and uncomfortable to think about? All of the above?

As far as he knew, Marinette hadn’t dated anyone.

Adrien felt some comfort in that, his palms a little less clammy at the idea of slipping his fingers around her own, knowing she was just as green to this unnavigated world as he was.

Whatever expression had situated onto his face must have been amusing, because the silence broke with an abrupt cackle as a spot of black flashed across the room.

Plagg laughed at him, rather pointedly, and Adrien scowled.

“ What ?”

The kwami flew around him and landed at the nape of the blond’s neck, lolling backwards so his head hung over Adrien’s shoulder.

“You’ve got that look again, and it’s just my new favorite.”

Adrien pursed his lips. “For my guardian or guide or whatever, I feel like you bully me an awful lot.”

As if reiterating that same point, Adrien’s kwami poked his neck and added, “Maybe, but I know when you’re all up in your brain getting worked up over something dumb. Someone’s got to keep you grounded around here. ”

“Is that a pun?” He swatted at the presence below his ear. “Cause I’ve been grounded plenty thanks to you.”

Plagg scoffed and batted a hand. “Oh stop , would you just relax? You’re just lovesick and nervous about your date with your new girlfriend .”

Adrien swallowed, surprised by the arid desert that had replaced his throat. It was almost funny that a week ago, Plagg using that slang to refer to Marinette would have made Adrien roll his eyes or defensively fluster for an answer. Now, the teen didn’t mind at all. In fact, he blushed at the suggestion, but smiled dreamily at the possibilities attached to the label.

Another vibration in his hand captured his attention, and Adrien’s gaze flickered down to evaluate Nino’s response.

It wasn’t Nino.

Adrien shot up to standing so fast he gave himself a bit of headrush, and Plagg flinched backwards and almost rolled off his back.

“Ay!” The kwami protested in annoyance.

“Ah,” Adrien grimaced. “Sorry, Plagg. Just - Marinette um... “

Cat eyes narrowed up at him, but his kwami simply scrunched his nose and forced down whatever whining readied itself at his lips.

“Whatever, as long as you don’t keep me up all night tonight…” He grumbled, waving a hand.

Wearing a sheepish grin, Adrien glanced down at his phone and sat back at his desk (just standing in the middle of his room felt a little weird).

  Marinette (10:12 AM):

Welp, i overslept *and* i have some really wonderful bags under my eyes. Blaming both of these on you, im afraid.

  Marinette (10:12 AM):

… but I would be lying if I said I was sorry about it. See you tonight at 6:30…. “Anything.” :s

 Adrien pursed his lips, considering a response. He wanted to feel guilty, but much like Marinette said, he wasn’t at all sorry for keeping her up. (Okay, maybe a little , but it had been so worth it). He slipped into the memories of their conversation from yesterday.

    Propped up against the headboard, Adrien curled up on beneath his comforter with a pillow in his lap. He cleared his throat, twice, and studied the face of his phone. With a low exhale, he moved the device to his ear, and the ringing felt like it went on and on and on.

“Hello,” Marinette’s cheery voice answered, and he relaxed immediately. She was so easy to get worked up about if he postulated for too long, but just the smallest piece of her - a picture, her voice, even just reading her name pop up on his phone was enough to melt the tension right off him.

Adrien greeted her comfortably. “Hi, Mari. What’s the ‘design thing’ I interrupted?”

“Design…? Oh, no,” she laughed mirthlessly. “It’s just a gown I’ve been working on, but I’d much rather be talking to you.”

He felt his heart-rate pick up, and it was clear by Marinette’s reaction she hadn’t intended to be so brash this early in the conversation.

“I-I mean, talking to you is a way better way to pass the time than agonizing over this dumb thing.”

“Oh? And what’s dumb about it?” Adrien questioned. She always talked so fondly of the opportunity to have a needle in her hand, so her statement came as a surprise.

There was a pause, and Marinette’s voice was softer than before. “It’s just, I’m tired of it. I’ve been working on this for so long and it never seems to be right. Has that ever happened to you?”

“Mmm…” Adrien hummed, trying to imagine what she was doing right now. He was probably more frustrated than he had a right to be that he couldn’t picture it. Was she laying in bed? Standing on her balcony, or sitting at her desk?

Continuing to sit in silence might seem suspect, if not a little creepy when he considered what was occupying his thoughts, so Adrien coughed and tried to come up with a reasonable answer. “I… yeah, I think so. I’m not much of the creative type, though. But I’m sure you’re being hyperbolic. You’re an excellent designer from what I’ve seen, Mari.”

“Wel-well, thank you. I was the winner of that bowler contest, if you recall.” She giggled, and it sounded a little nervous. Somehow it only made her cuter, and Adrien was glad he had the chance to talk to her on the phone a little more before their date. Just listening to her laugh brought a suspicious rush of scarlet to his cheeks.

“Well, technically,” he challenged, a mischievous grin spreading. “I believe Chloe won, and you took the win right out from under her nose.”

That only made Marinette giggle harder.

God , he could listen to that sound forever. She just sounded so happy when she laughed.

“Yeah, that’s exactly how it happened. You know me, always sneaking in and stealing the win.”

He made his voice incredibly offended, though the curve of his lips would have given him away. “I know, right? First, the bowler hat, then Max’s video game tournament, and then you even took Wii bowling from me . You’re a monster.”

“Hey!” She remarked, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s not my fault I have a natural talent for weird things, but I’m a total mess when it comes to literally everything else. Walking, talking, homework… that’s all blah. But you put a wiimote in my hand and bam . Hole in one.”

Adrien snorted, absently lifting a hand to scratch Plagg’s head. A tiny purr followed.

“That’s the wrong sport, Marinette.”

“See? Conversations… not exactly my speciality.”

He chuckled and shook his head, more than a little regretful he failed to ask her out sooner. They might be having this conversation snuggled in his blanket together, where he could see her smile instead of having to imagine it.

“You know, besides fencing and basketball, I’m really not even into sports.” He mused. “Yet, here we are. I’m beginning to think we don’t have anything else in common. Quick, tell me about your day!”

Marinette didn’t respond at first, and Adrien felt just the lightest echo of worry that he had made her doubtful. Of course they had more in common than that, but he knew if he started down that road he might lose his will and just sneak out to see her again. She was both magnetic and enigmatic, and it was like the more he knew about her, the less he felt he really knew her, and wanted to know even more. Marinette had become his favorite riddle, and if he tried to number the ways he’d fallen hard for her, he’d be up all night.

A crisp, kind voice interrupted his idle admirations, and he blinked as he struggled to pay attention. “It was… really lovely, actually. A little hectic because of the akuma, though. I didn’t make a lot of sales, but… that was still good. It gave me time to get the store in order so I’ll be, um, ready to leave in time… for, ah, tomorrow?”

Adrien wondered if she could hear his heartbeat in her ear, a quiet tremor of excitement rising at the mention of their date. He could certainly hear it in his own.

“I’m glad,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m really happy you made time for this. For our date, I mean. This conversation, too.”

The voice that answered was saccharine and forgiving, a whisper of sincerity that turned his throat dry.

“I’m really looking forward to it, Adrien.”

Was that his name? He forgot for a moment. It sounded so different coming from Marinette.

Before he could respond, a snicker came on the line followed by a quip. “Oh, right. I was supposed to start calling you Trouble .”

Adrien laughed, wiggling his toes under the blanket and curling closer in on himself. Whatever this attitude Marinette had developed when they talked now was just… just... so endearing .

It was like the dark-haired girl had chosen him to share a secret with, and she was slowly and thoughtfully revealing more each time they spoke. The changes were subtle, and if Adrien didn’t have the blessing-and-curse of a double-life, he wouldn’t have been able to appreciate how much it meant to see the two sides of her come together.

Even better, when Marinette acted like this, Adrien knew she was flirting with him. The dynamic was different now, not just amusement or compassion, but sort of hesitant and temptatious, a small invitation to see if this was okay. The thought excited him that she wanted to flirt with him.

“ You can call me anything,” he flirted right back. “ But I can’t say I minded when you called me cute yesterday.”

She flustered a bit, and Adrien felt a small swell of pride.

“I’ll, um remember… that.”

It reminded him of when Nino had taught him how to play poker, and he had just raised her bet.

Once Marinette regained her wits, however, Adrien could not say he would have expected her to call his wager.

“Alright, Anything ,” her voice dripped with triumph. “I’ll be sure to update your contact in my phone.”

Adrien laughed outright, surprised and pleased by the simple joke.

It was unbelievable to him that his kwami was the image misfortune, because he felt like the most fortunate person in the world.

    Plagg smacked Adrien with his tail, a sting lashing his cheek.

His hand defended his face, and though it didn’t really hurt, it was more of an affront than anything. “ Ouch! What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me ?” Plagg parroted in a whisper. “The assistant lady is at your door, you nimrod. She’s been knocking for a minute straight!”

Adrien’s eyes grew wide with surprise, and true to his kwami’s word, a rapt brush of knuckles tapped on the other side of his door.

“C-coming!” He called, scrambling to standing up while Plagg flew away to hide. Almost stumbling to get to the door, Adrien shook his head and tried to focus.

“H-hi, Nathalie, what can I do for you?”

Beyond the frame, to so-name woman stood poised, her hand still curved to a fist in midair as she halted her knocking. Nathalie raised a brow, looking over his conspicuous smile with a doubtful one of her own, but refocused her attention to the tablet in her hands.

“Your father is requesting you in his office,” she chirped dutifully, and Adrien tried to hide his grimace. While things were less tense between the two, he wasn’t particularly thrilled by any opportunity for them to argue again. Status quo was working just fine, and anything else threatened to ruin that.

“Sure, thank you -- ” He began, starting into the hallway and closing the door behind him. Nathalie took a step back, but she continued to flick through what was probably his schedule.

“Oh,” Adrien paused, tapping his chin. “I just remembered. I am supposed to see Nino tomorrow for lunch?”

Nathalie’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, but she nodded without looking up.

“He texted me and asked if we could push it back to… 1:30?” Adrien half-asked, half-informed his father’s assistant of the change in plans, double-checking his messages to be sure of the time.

The woman’s lips pressed together thinly, and her hands flew along the keys as she made adjustments.

“That is acceptable,” she eventually said. “You have a photoshoot and interview tomorrow afternoon, and you are expected to be there at four, so just be finished and ready to leave from Monsieur Lahiffe’s house at 3:30 PM.”

Adrien smiled, always glad when Nathalie could be accomodating for sake of his friends. It was sort of distant, but he imagined the woman cared in her own strange way, and he followed a pace behind her as she led the way down the stairs to the foyer.

“Before I release you, there are some things on your agenda for today. First,” Nathalie cleared her throat. “Your date with Mlle. Dupain-cheng is at 6:30 PM this evening, so your car will be ready at 6:00 PM promptly.”

“That’s great,” he replied honestly, hoping the pink tinge to his cheeks wasn’t obvious. It was getting easier to speak about Marinette to other people after the proverbial verbal assault he faced at the photoshoot yesterday, but it was all still a little awkward for him.

Adrien began to turn when they reached the bottom step, eyeing the grand doors to his father’s office wearily. Nathalie, apparently, was not finished, and the words that followed were sharp, reverberating off the cold marble walls.

“And you have an appointment at Le Grand Paris with Mlle. Bourgeois today. Once you are finished with your father, we will head to the hotel.”

Processing that, Adrien furrowed his brow.

“Wait, what? I didn’t know I was supposed to see Chloe today.”

He wasn’t mad, not exactly. Just surprised.

While the blonde girl was not particularly fond of Nino, Alya, and especially Marinette, Adrien still valued her friendship. It was one forged from time rather than commonality as they grew older, but there were certain things he could only relate to with her - growing up with money, under scrutiny, and raised by some of the most famous men in Paris. They still saw each other outside of school occasionally, and he really didn’t mind if the conversation stayed clear of his friends, but Adrien at least expected her to text him first.

“She gave your mobile a call on Saturday,” Nathalie paused, and understanding rushed to greet him. So Chloe did reach out to him, but it was while he didn’t have his phone. It was a little disconcerting to think of Nathalie or his father answering it on his behalf, but that was a conversation for another time. “Your father gathered it had been long enough since you saw your friend, so he arranged for the meeting.”

“Umm… okay, yeah, that’s fine. If one of you would just let me know ahead of time next time, I would appreciate it.”

The woman gave him an amused look, but did not comment. She had in fact let him know on Sunday, but he had been so wrapped up in the excitement with his new “friend”  that she assumed he had forgotten.

She would let it go, just this once.

“Certainly. Now, your father is waiting,” she gestured towards the door, and Adrien affixed an award-winning smile and followed his marching orders. The crisp notes of Nathalie’s heels could be heard rescinding in the other direction, and Adrien cleared his throat before knocking.

“Father?” Adrien spoke carefully, pushing open the double doors slowly and peeking around.

As expected, the man was glaring down at his designscape, studying something on the screen with reverent attention.

“You wanted to see me?”

His gaze flickering up for a moment, Adrien felt himself pale a bit under the intensity. Clearly his father was angry about something, but the focus he had dedicated to the screen instead of his son at least suggested he was not angry with him.

Hopefully...

“Yes, come sit,” beckoned an even voice, and Adrien tried maintain his cool while he shut the door and did as his father bid.

Once seated in the pit around the runway, Adrien took a slow breath and stared at the wall vacantly, trying to remind himself he had only a few more hours until he would see Marinette for their date. Surely he could survive an hour or so with Chloe and whatever this conversation was about to be, Adrien reassured himself.

Though his palpitating heart was a disconcerting milieu to his internal voice, and the mixture of the two did not add up to a very convincing pep-talk. After a few minutes, Adrien started to squirm.

Finally, after a lifetime of anxiety compounded in only a few minutes, his blond hairs popped up to the sharp click of his father’s dress shoes against stone tiles. The sound was a pinch to his nerves, and Adrien unknowingly started to bounce his leg as his father approached.

“Let’s discuss your plans with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” his father instructed, taking the seat across the pit and crossing his legs. The man squinted at Adrien’s jittering thigh, and the boy placed a hand on his knee in an effort to stop the bouncing.

Adrien agreed, not exactly sure what he was getting himself into. “Yes, Father?”

Pursed lips appraised him for a moment, and his father adjusted his glasses.

“I want you to cancel them.”

A silence followed, but it was loud as a raging overture. Adrien gripped his knuckles so tightly the skin drew taut, turning white in his sudden anger. He was angry, of course, but he felt more disappointment than anything; he knew something had to go wrong. No way things were working so well in his favor - it was just building up his anticipation so the fall might be twice as hard.

Across from him, Adrien’s father raised a hand and a brow simultaneously. “Let me finish. It’s not what you think.”

Seething, Adrien spat a few words. “Go on, then.”

His father’s jaw clenched, the disapproval clear in the lines of his face. “Don’t get an attitude, son. I said it’s not what you think.”

Adrien just pressed his lips together to keep from saying something else that would surely land him in trouble, so he was resigned to simply lean back and await the lecture.

Sighing, his father met his son’s hardened stare. “Assuming you don’t have a secret life you’ve been keeping from me, you haven’t dated.”

The man tilted his head to one side, smiling slightly when Adrien choked. Surely, his comment was intended as a joke, but Adrien could only hope his father didn’t read into his caustic reaction.

Managing a weak nod, Adrien tried to pay attention as his father continued.

“I want you to enjoy yourself, but I would be lying if I wasn’t worried. She seems… like a good match for you, and clearly you’re excited. As long as you’re happy, I would support your decision if you choose to pursue a relationship with Mlle. Dup -- er, with Marinette .”

That made Adrien redden unexpectedly. It was hard to tell what was more surprising, that his father was being so straightforward, or by the his earlier demand to cancel his date and then his sudden contradictory suggestion.

Adjusting his posture, the stern man continued. “I know you have an evening planned - was it dinner and a movie?”

Adrien considered correcting him - a movie, yes, but dinner, no - but decided to keep his face blank.

“Well, while I wish it wasn’t so, there will be press involved eventually. I don’t expect you to go out with a hood on. That would be unfair to you, and to her. If you are genuinely interested in this girl, I want you to be able to pursue her honestly and openly.”

There was a waver in his father’s typically severe voice, and Adrien eyed him carefully. Looking away instead of forward, he was gazing the portrait at the end of the room. Adrien’s focus followed, coming to rest on the picture as well. His mother was perpetually smiling down at the both of them, her features captured as a sepia phantom beneath flecks of gold. She was obscured, separated from the corporal by burning questions that would probably haunt them both forever.

Sighing, Adrien bit his lip and looked back to his father. He had been thinking about this a lot himself, remembering what Macey had said to him at the photoshoot.

“I thought you said you would let me go on this date. We talked about this all already - and I’ve already told Marinette we’re going out…” Adrien inhaled, refusing to let his voice crack, and continued. “With all due respect Father, I’m going to see her tonight whether or not you’ll allow it.”

A familiar sneer crossed his father’s expression, but Adrien did not back down.

“Of course I’m not forbidding you from seeing her. All I’m asking is you cancel your movie and dinner. Invite her here for dinner, or see if there isn’t something you can do out of the public eye. You could even see if you could rent out a restaurant instead, I don’t mind the bill.” His father’s lip twitched slightly as Adrien’s own mouth had dropped to a comically perfect ‘o’.

Standing, Adrien’s father strode around the pit. His voice softened as he sat beside the teen, placing a hand on the boy’s knee. “Fame is a burden and a gift, son. I... met your mother before our celebrity, but you’ve been born into this. I know you want for it all to be... normal , with your public schooling and your friends, but a relationship is going to be very different. I won’t be able stop the press from making outlandish stories from nothing.” He paused, and Adrien watched him quietly.

“I imagine somewhere more private for your first date might be best. I don’t want you to have to hide anything, especially not because of me, but I also don’t want your chances at... happiness with this girl to be stricken by our name.” His father gulped and drew his hand back, folding it neatly with his other into his lap.

Adrien was decidedly speechless, stomach twisting into intricate knots as he absorbed the words in silence. Macey’s suggestion yesterday had left him with some worries, but Adrien had just figured he would deal with it when he had to. That his father was so concerned that he offered to buy out an entire restaurant for them? That he seem genuinely worried about his ability to have a decent chance with Marinette? That he brought up his mother at all?

This was rather a very elaborate and cruel joke, or an episode of the Twilight Zone: Agreste Edition, because... what the heck was going on ?

“... Dad?” Adrien said eventually, not really sure what else to say, but his father did look up at Adrien’s call.

A beat of empty observation passed, both considering the other in an oddly comfortable silence. Adrien didn’t really feel like speaking, and it seemed his father had said everything he wanted to say.

“I... ” Adrien began, breaking the stare as he leaned over his knees, tracing patterns in the marble with his mind’s eye. “... thank you? I mean, yeah… thanks.”

Clearing his throat, the teen tried to figure out something else to say. “Well… you know, I guess I’ve thought about it too. I don’t want reporters to track her down or demand questions from her… I really, really do like her. I don’t want to mess this up.”

His father’s expression turned strange, a cross between a frustrating scowl and a knowing flash of pride. “Your mother received threats, you know.”

That gave Adrien pause, and his attention flickered back towards the painting on the wall. They hardly ever spoke about Mom, but then, who was he to question the chance to remember her outside the confines of his own memories?

Slowly, he ventured a line of questioning. “I never thought about… what did you guys do?”

Beside him, his father appeared thoughtful with a hand at his chin. “ I didn’t really do anything, though I might have wanted to. Your mother handled herself rather well.”

Adrien snorted unexpectedly, the image of his mother wacking a reporter or a crazed fan with an umbrella coming to mind. She had been a model and an actress in her own right, but neither were famous when they met.

His father wore only a bemused smile and got up, but did not ask what was funny. For some reason, Adrien thought he might already know.

“Well,” Adrien said, leaning back and smiling down at his lap. “I guess I’ll talk to her and see what she would like to do. The plans were her idea, so I’d rather not make the decision for both of us, and I had been planning on asking her about… that whole paparazzi part of this anyways. I’m not sure what else we’ll do, but...”

Now standing on the other side of the runway, his father glanced at his watch. “Yes, that’s acceptable. You’re supposed to see Mlle. Bourgeois shortly, so just let myself or Nathalie know when you decide what you intend to do.”

Adrien rose to his feet, scowling slightly. He had almost forgotten about seeing Chloe, which would cut into his time to figure out something else to do with Marinette if she allowed it.

As he bid his father farewell, the fashion icon called his attention a final time.

“Adrien?”

His name sounded strange coming from his father’s mouth - they rarely addressed each other so informally. Adrien turned on his heel, a foot from the door.

The man had already stepped back up to his work station, peering at his screen, but he directed his voice towards his son. “Your interests in Mlle. Dupain-Cheng are your own, so you are free to do as you please. But…  if you would at least keep me updated, I would like to know how things are... going.”

A smile came to his lips, so wide that it actually hurt. “Y-yes, definitely! Thanks… thanks again, Father.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied simply, hands already moving over the designscape again, indicating Adrien’s dismissal.

Stepping out of the office, Adrien felt slightly dazed by the dip in adrenaline he didn’t realize his heart was compensating. The hush of stone shuddered behind him, grounding his awareness slightly into the foyer, but he was feeling shaken by the conversation. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but it had just been entirely not what he expected. His stomach felt twisted, but his heart fuller, and Adrien barely noticed that Nathalie was beckoning to him.

The woman was already standing by the front door, opened wide to a breezy morning. What had begun as overcast skies lined by pewter clouds had grown to smoky billows, a dark preview of another summer storm.

Adrien frowned when the woman called his name and began to wave her hand out the front. “Adrien, let’s go. The car is waiting, and I’d like to beat the rain if we can.”

“R-right,” he cleared his throat. “Let me just grab a jacket.”

Leaping the stairs, Adrien flew into his room and whispered heatedly for his kwami.

“ Plagg, c’mon! We gotta go .”

A narrowed pair of green eyes peeked out of his camembert cabinet while Adrien grabbed his olive, rain-resistant jacket from his wardrobe.

“Only if I can bring a snack.” Plagg countered, already hauling two sizable chunks of cheese through the air as Adrien fixed his collar. The blond had only time to roll his eyes before exiting his room again, not bothering with verbal consent as Plagg had already claimed a spot within the layers of fabric.

The drive was slow, for which Adrien was thankful. He needed some time to collect his thoughts after a conversation like the one he had just shared with his father, switching gears to mentally preparing himself for Chloe’s… um, temperament.

Adrien sighed longingly as he thought about yesterday, stopped at a light when he spotted ebony pigtails moving down a familiar street. Marinette had been sitting only a foot away, and one of her delicate hands, stained by dark soil up to her wrists, had been resting on the center console. He could have easily locked their fingers together had he not been so captivated by her animated storytelling or the entirely general distraction of her presence.

Tonight. He tried to remind himself, and glanced at his phone to check the time. It was almost 11:30.

Unsure of how long Chloe might want to hang out, Adrien figured this was the best opportunity he had to contact Marinette.

  Adrien (11:29 AM):

I’m looking forward to it too! But I did want to ask you about the plans… maybe we could do something besides movie + ice cream? It’s a long story.

 He had to imagine she wasn’t terribly busy, noting the first few drops of rain spattering the windows like tears of relief, dripping from the clouds that strained with their mass. At some point during their phone call, she had mentioned rain kept window-shopping customers at bay, which seemed reasonable. Only loyal or intentional shoppers would brave the weather for a day-trip to a flower shop.

(Well, a loyal shopper, an intentional shopper, or Chat Noir. He’d gone to the shop many times when it was raining if he didn’t feel like heading home, ever-tempted by the opportunity to tease and bicker with his Princess.)

  Marinette (11:31 AM):

Super busy atm - but thats np! You pick and just let me know. I gtg.

 The text was so simple, yet the reassurances coursed through him like a stimulant straight into his veins. Adrien felt himself relax in the backseat just by seeing her name flicker across his screen again, but he still felt a twinge of guilt while he tucked his device away. His suspicions in relation to the weather had been wrong, and he hoped she would be okay there by herself for the next several hours.

Adrien rested his eyes, a watery Paris streaming by outside. Of course she would be fine. Marinette had turned down Monsieur Declair right in front of him, and who knows how many men before that. She opened the store in the morning and closed it in the evening, managing everything alone and with an impressive show of grace and knowledge at every turn. The shoulder injury had been more his, Nino’s and Alya’s fault in surprising her, and it was almost alarming how easily she could haul massive planters around without batting an eye.

Still, still , in spite of all that, Adrien worried for her, just because he wanted to worry.

Marinette wasn’t his to worry about.

Not yet, anyways.

It seemed silly, and he knew if he verbalized it to anyone it might sound downright insane, but just having some tiny bit of right to worry for her felt nice. If she would be okay by herself, if other people might think to themselves, “Wow, I wish I could take her on a date,” if she would be lonely during the slow hours or if she missed him a little bit. Adrien knew he missed her, more than a little bit, and again he tried to imagine what she might be doing. Making a sale, chattering happily through tales of taxonomy? Or maybe she would be building a bouquet with nimble hands, analyzing every piece of the creation like it was the symbol of posterity for whoever might purchase it. Then again, she might be heaving a watering can high above her to offer respite to dried roots and withering flowers…

No sooner did Adrien decide he would stay in his daydreams all day, soothed to the soft splash of rain against the side of the car, did Nathalie announce their arrival.

“You can call when ready. We will be in the neighborhood. For sake of your date...” The woman paused and glanced at the clock. “Please be no later than 5 PM.”

“Sure,” he agreed, baffled by the idea of spending five solid hours with Chloe. Even having been friends as long as they had, the idea of spending five hours with almost anyone sounded exhausting.

“I’m guessing it’ll be closer to two.”

The doors unlocked and Adrien bid them farewell, throwing up his hood as he marched into the front doors of Le Grand Paris hotel.

He nodded at the doorman, needing no formal introduction for his arrival, and quickly walked through the rotating golden doors.

Flicking some rain from his hair, Adrien blinked at the blinding light as he removed his hood.

Le Grand Paris sparkled, a sun in its own universe. A model of opulence, the foyer was as magnificent and excessive as ever. Ceilings, walls, and faces painted golden, the furniture of the lobby varied between tones of somber maroon and rich purple, embodying the essence of aristocracy. Where his home was cold and subdued, this place stifled the senses with bright, bold decor that, in his totally unprofessional opinion, was almost gaudy.

More than ever, Adrien was craving the perennial, refreshing air of the greenhouse; truly, it was the only place in Paris he felt like he could breathe normally. Everything else was too much or too little. He’s fallen into the Goldilocks complex, he mused, and Marinette was his in-between.

Idly running a hand over the velvet face of a couch to his right, Adrien’s attention snapped up at the call of a familiar voice.

“ Adrikins! ”

A whip of blonde hair smacked his face a moment later, Chloe throwing her arms around him in one of her characteristic bulldozing hug. She squeezed him around the shoulders, so Adrien exhaled and hugged her back.

“Hey, Chlo’,” he greeted as they stepped apart. “How are you?”

She examined her nails while her other hand rested at her hip, smiling while she answered. “I’m great, actually. Really great! I’ve been so busy since school let out, but I’m really glad you found some time to catch up.”

Adrien grinned easily, resting his own hands in his coat pockets. “Me, too,” he began honestly. “I feel like it’s only been a few weeks and everything is already so different.”

“Oh?” She quirked a brow in his direction.

Adrien felt himself pink slightly and looked at the furniture he had previously been admiring. Maybe jumping into the topic that burned his throat could wait until they got out of the lobby.

“Y-yeah. Nathalie mentioned you wanted to do lunch?”

The blonde eyed him dubiously, but chose to dismiss the flicker of curiosity that flashed across her expression. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and began to march towards the elevators.

“Yes,” she paused to make sure he was following, and resumed texting in time with her words. “Daddy’s letting us have Le Bar for lunch today; there aren’t any events scheduled or anything, so it’s no big deal.”

“Got it,” he said as they stepped into the elevator.

Adrien pressed the button for Mezzanine since Chloe was preoccupied with her phone, a little relieved to hear their destination. The storm outside was intensifying, accented by rumbling claps of thunder; seeking a restaurant outside the hotel seemed like a foolish undertaking.

Le Bar was housed just above Chloe’s room, and it offered a marvelous view of Paris in all directions. It was a frequent choice of theirs for dining if it was just the two of them, and Adrien enjoyed the privacy. Unless reserved for an occasion, the restaurant did not allow reporters and the price of the menu kept away most other Parisians.

Adrien recognized that it was sort of awful and pretentious for him to think that way, but it didn’t make it less true. By way of necessity, the extravagance of Le Bar exluded most fans and cameras, and it was a nice opportunity to relax without the nagging fear of being recognized and swamped by the media or by well-meaning but admittedly creepy women, often much older than he was.

A blessing and a curse , his father had said. These sorts of moments reminded him why.

Chloe’s signature yellow sweater was tied round her waist today, which he guessed was her outward expression of distaste for the humid weather. Adrien still wore his jacket, unphased.

They spoke in polite pleasantries while the host brought them to a table (Chloe’s favorite along the Western side of the building). Save for a group of Chinese men in suits discussing something quietly halfway across the room, there was no one else in Le Bar today. Adrien caught an occasional piece of their conversation in Mandarin, but otherwise, they were as good as alone.

“So,” Adrien began while Chloe took a long sip from her Pellegrino. “What’s new with you? You said you’ve been busy?”

“Oh yes,” she nodded seriously, setting down her glass. “Daddy’s been giving me some projects, and the reception on Saturday is my baby. I’ve been working myself crazy over it.”

Adrien arched a brow.  “Oh… really?”

He knew Chloe was starting to take on more responsibility with her the hotel, and as far as he could tell, she actually rather enjoyed the “party-planning” aspect of things. Still, to hear her sigh and talk about “work” was… weird.

The blonde took her phone out and glanced at it, only to quickly tuck it away a few moments later. “Yes. And, don’t mind that,” she gestured towards the pocket containing her cellphone. “I’ve got Jean on the line about some atrocious selections someone made for Saturday. I feel like I have to do everything myself with this party.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m waiting on a few messages myself,” Adrien replied, hand subconsciously going to rest on his jean pocket. “What’s Saturday?”

Chloe scowled at him while taking another drink. “What do you mean ‘what’s Saturday’? It’s La Nuit des musées ! Duh, you’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Riiiiight,” Adrien responded, adopting a scowl of his own. “Nino and Aly… er, Nino mentioned that to me too. Nathalie said I had something already on my calendar.”

“Uh,” she crossed her arms. “O f course you already have something on your calendar. It’s this . You agreed to it months ago.”

He pursed his lips, now trying to remember. Had he mentioned what he wanted to do with Nino and the girls when asking Nathalie about his schedule? Adrien reached for his phone and flicked through to his schedule

...Apparently, he must not have mentioned it, because Chloe was absolutely right. A big block of time was set aside on Saturday, coded yellow - in his calendar, that usually meant another “social outing” arranged by his father. Adrien was more than a little embarrassed that he didn’t put two-and-two together, but then, he supposed this was also good news. Now he definitely could go with Nino and the girls; he just never expected to already have the time set already aside in his agenda.

“Huh. Yep, I guess I will be there,” Adrien shrugged and put his phone away, noting a little sadly that he hadn’t gotten any new messages while he did so.

“Well, good . I at least want someone I know to appreciate all the hard-work I’ve put into this.” Chloe pouted, and Adrien just smirked and shook his head when the waiter appeared.

“ Bonjour , Mlle. Bourgeois, Monsieur Agreste. What can I get for you?”

“Usual for me,” Chloe snapped her menu closed, and Adrien wondered why she even opened it.

“Um… something light for me, maybe just a coffee? Cream and sugar, please.”

The man nodded and dashed back to the kitchen.

“Just coffee?” Chloe narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You better be eating right, Adrikins. I heard the rumors about modeling.”

“Trust me, I’ve been eating plenty.” He bit his lip, trying to fight a smile. Marinette and her parents had basically provided free food to him almost everyday as of late. “And I’ve gotten a taste for coffee recently, thank you very much.”

Judging by the face she made, Chloe could tell there was more than he was letting on.

She vocalized her suspicions as the waiter reappeared with his coffee. “So what, then? Have some big fancy date you need to be hungry for later?”

Chloe’s probably-innocent quip had been so spot on that Adrien nearly choked on the first sip of his drink.

Needless to say, if that hadn’t given him away, then the incriminating crimson that bloomed from beneath his collar would have certainly done the trick. Adrien felt his coat along the back chair sashay slightly, and he imagined Plagg was having himself a good laugh.

“ Whaaaaat? ” She gaped, both hands gripping the table. “You do have a date! Adrien, why didn’t you say so?!”

“Ahh,” he rubbed his neck, trying to will away the embarrassment. “You know, it’s… just supposed to be low-key. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”

“But this is your first, first date, right?” She leaned forward, more excited than he would have expected her to be.

Bashful, he merely nodded.

“Then it is a big deal!”

Adrien chuckled a bit and cleared his throat. “I-I guess it is?”

“So, do I know them? How did you meet? Tell me everything.” Chloe’s voice was demanding, and this was the part Adrien knew was going to be a little more difficult.

“Ah… Yes, you do know her.”

Her lips thinned. “ Well ? How do I know her? She better be up to standard.”

Scratching his cheek, Adrien let out a low sigh. There was a whole consortium of ways he could imagine Chloe reacting - a blank stare, an annoyed scowl, an aggravated lecture. Hostility of some sort was basically a given, so Adrien was absolutely prepared to defend Marinette if he had to. He didn’t mind Chloe, but he wasn’t going to sit by and let her insult Marinette if she reacted deleteriously.

Adrien tried for patience, but his underlying excitement unraveled into a mess of gushing words.

“She’s not just ‘up to standard’, Chlo’. She’s… smart, charming, and so, so pretty - I feel really lucky to even have a chance to take her on a date. So please, don’t freak out? It’s Marinette.”

...

The girl blinked a few times, face comically blank.

“... Oh.” That seemed the extent of what Chloe could manage as far as a verbal response.

“And listen,” Adrien leaned forward, feeling his nerves start to untether under her scrutinizing gaze. “I know you and Marinette never really got along very well… or, at all, really. But she’s been an important person in my life since I started school, and it would mean a lot if you just… tried to be happy for me? I mean, I don’t even know if she’d want to date me or be my g-girlfriend,” he cringed, hating that he stuttered saying the world outloud. “Since tonight’s our first date and all. But I think I have a chance, and I… I just want this to work. I really, really want it to work. So… yeah.”

Clearing his throat, Adrien adopted some facade of confidence and forced himself to meet Chloe’s hardened stare. He brow was drawn together, and the way her focus flickered over his face seemed to suggest she was thinking very hard about something.

Eventually, she formulated a response.

“You like… Marinette.” It was slow and deliberate, like she was trying to test the words on her tongue before believing them.

Adrien sucked on his teeth, annoyed. Was that much not obvious?

“Yes. I do.”

After a tense thirty-seconds, the waiter appeared with Chloe’s meal. They both bristled slightly to mind their manners with the server, but once he scurried away, Chloe’s eyes had turned to dangerous slits, and the way she clicked her tongue seemed venomous.

That being said, when she spoke again, her voice was surprisingly flat.

“Okay.... Okay . Well… good for you, I guess.”

It could have been taken as sarcasm, but it didn’t sound like it to him. Chloe simply picked up a fork and began to eat, and Adrien watched her carefully while he sipped his coffee.

“You’ll give her a chance?” He said, trying to measure her reaction. After she finished chewing, her tone was just as brisk and judgemental and as perfectly-Chloe as ever.

“I mean - ugh, sure . If you really like her then I can’t do anything about that. I think you could do way, way better, but…” She shrugged and returned to her meal.

Adrien glowed, savoring the warmth of his drink with another sip.

“Well… thanks, then, Chlo’. I appreciate it.”

The girl grimaced but just focused on her food, and their quiet was interrupted shortly by her long-awaited text from Jean regarding the reception for Saturday.

For the remainder of their meal, Adrien mostly listened as their conversation returned to the La Nuit , Chloe’s current list of annoyances, and the akuma attack on her father. They didn’t comment any further on his date with Marinette, and he was somewhat grateful. He wasn’t in much of a mood to talk, but if given a chance, really feel like talking much, he knew he wouldn’t be able to help but rhapsodize on about her if asked.

    Marinette’s timing had always been a bit off.

Whether it was attendance for class, setting her alarm, knowing what to say or when to say it, or even just trying to sync up the clocks in the bedroom, she just could never get things quite right. Always walking up and descending escalator, she was never as on top of things like she wished to be.

That being said, Marinette still tried her best, though fate always tended to be on the side of Father Time.

At least, in the confines of her greenhouse, she could always rely on Mother Nature.

It was Tuesday.

Tuesday evening.

Thirty-two minutes past six, to be exact.

Her date with Adrien was starting exactly one-hundred and twenty ago, and she had no idea.

The skies that evening were carved from obsidian, hard and flat for the expanse of the skyline. The majority of the rain stopped about an hour ago, but the whole of Paris seemed lulled to sleep by the aria of droplets that rang out through the day. Everything was quieter, softer, and darker for the rain.

Bent over a sea of pallid lilies and creamy orchids, Marinette sighed and readjusted the cramp settling between her shoulder blades, rubbing away beads of sweat along her cheek only to replace them by smudges of dirt from her toiled fingers. Her apron tickled her neck, hair secured in a bun around the collar of her favorite jumper.

For an evening on the cusp of summer, it was chilly. Marinette had misjudged the weather and taken out several plants for a “streetside” display when she opened the shop that morning. Her intention had been with a hope to attract some passersby before the storms moved in, a little bristled by her recent review of their “books.” The business was barely in-the-black, and that made her nervous.

Even so, the heavy clouds, seemingly wrought from iron with their weight and might, had other plans for her plants. Marinette was pelted by sheets of rain in the trips outside early in the afternoon, dragging back in as much as she could as fast as she could, not wanting any of the sweat, blood and tears she had soaked into her plants to be wasted by the ravaging winds.

From that point on, Marinette had deemed her hair as a lost cause and put it up as neatly she could. She managed a good spirit through it all, amused by the idea of coins falling on her head instead of rain. Fighting akumas had given her a strange source of context.

The precipitation really hadn’t slowed until the day was almost over, and the dreary weather was apparent even in her private world. The shop felt damp and heavy, none of her heliotropic plants rising to follow the arc of the sun; there was no light to guide the way on a day like this. Had the skies not been so cast by a charcoal impressionist, Marinette might have noticed how late it had gotten or the fact that she hadn’t even begun to close the store yet.

Saying goodbye to Alya at 5:30 should have been the final nail in her proverbial coffin, but Marinette remained blissfully unaware of her own impending fate. An order to accompany a much more literal coffin came just after midday, and with the funeral order any pretense of preparedness had been dashed. Arraignments, and subsequent arrangements, had taken her attention, and she tried to throw herself into work so she might not have to think too deeply about death.

Doubled over, Marinette began to carve some sort of path around the back office (every surface was basically covered by planters and stands and pots for the funeral). Straightening to take a deep breath, her attention came to rest on her familiar travel mug.

For all that Alya was - outgoing, supportive, friendly and perhaps a tad pushy - she was ultimately a caring person and a valued friend. Marinette smiled fondly at her favorite mug, recalling the rush of pleasant surprise when Alya brought her a surprise second burst of caffeine, extra-large-and-extra-sweet, in the form of a spare thermos. The brunette claimed to have carried it all the way from her parent’s bakery. She had even gone so far as to pour the liquid reassurance back into Marinette’s regular cup from the morning, creating the ultimate illusion of comfort and support.

Marinette walked over and gripped the subdued steel exterior, flexing her fingers around the comforting weight of the drink before taking a vigorous swig. She found a foothold of confidence in the stifling heat of cream and bitterness, returning to the memories of that afternoon.

    Alya stood with a proud smile on her face, arms crossed as Marinette took a meek step out of the bathroom. “You’re going to do great , girl,” the brunette said, resting a hand on each shoulder. “Adrien isn’t going to know what hit him - and let’s be honest. You look damn hot in that outfit.”

“Alya!” Marinette whined, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I can do this…”

“Sure you can,” her friend said, throwing an arm over Marinette’s shoulder and strolling towards the front of the store. Thank goodness there were no customers at the moment.

“Just remember to breathe and be yourself. Even if that’s stuttering-blushy Marinette. Because frankly, if you keep blushing like that it’s only going to make your skirt pop even more.”

At that, the dark-haired girl all but pushed the reporter out of the shop, stomach flipping all the while. “OKAY-BYE-AYLA-THANKS-FOR-YOUR-HELP!”

Once the bell stopped ringing, Marinette’s shoulders slumped. A sympathetic Tikki, camouflaged in her Banks’ roses, flew down to appraise her charge.

“Alya’s right, Marinette.” She smiled gently. “You look very pretty, and I’m sure Adrien will be impressed. But that doesn’t matter, anyways - the important thing is that you have a good time!”

Chewing her lip, Marinette sulked as she collected what was essentially the last of her Easter lilies and returned to the back of the shop.

Tikki stayed a step beside her as she set down the plants, marching straight back to the bathroom; she was more than ready to change back into sensible clothes. Alya had demanded to see a preview of Marinette’s date outfit, and it had earned her the “Alya Hotness Stamp of Approval.” The thought was both flattering and horrifying.

“Gahh, I just wish I knew what we were doing now.” Marinette wrung her hands, and Tikki frowned. “What if I’m too dressed up? Not dressed up enough? Maybe I should keep this on, just in case.”

“You should wait until your done with work, Marinette. It would be a shame to get dirt on your special outfit,” her kwami offered gently.

Marinette stuck her tongue out in frustration, but she knew Tikki to be right. In the back, the dark-haired girl had prepared an extra bag to store her change of clothes, along with makeup, deodorant and some other back-up supplies.

Spotting her reflection in the exterior glass windows, Marinette fidgeted with her appearance, considering herself. Would Adrien find her bare legs to be too daring?

The passing thought only made Marinette feel more nervous.

Attuned to her concerns, Tikki giggled at her chosen through their reflections. “I know I’m biased, but I think red is a great color on you.”

That made Marinette smile, and she entered the bathroom. She freshened up briefly, taking only five minutes to change back into her work clothes (and to apply some deodorant) before carefully packing away the clothes again.

The skirt had been a daring pop of ruby, and it brushed along Marinette’s pale thighs til about an inch above the knee. The fabric was light and moved with her, sheer but thoughtfully constructed in layers so as to maintain some modesty. She intended to pair it with a cozy sleeved shirt, horizontal stripes of classic black and white that were loose but comfortable against her skin.

For the time being, Marinette returned to her responsibilities, ladened by her work uniform and topped by her favorite jumper in the softest shade of pink. She had brought the extra layer originally to help ward off the morning chill, and right now it felt like a comfort blanket that she feared to take off.

With a quiet exhale, she slipped the apron back over her head and tied it firmly round her waist.

    “Marinette?”

Tikki was flying an inch from her nose, and the girl flinched in recognition. She had been leaning against the desk, staring down at her coffee in silence for several minutes.

“Are you okay?”

Marinette offered her kwami a strained smile “Yeah... thanks, Tikki. I know it’s just nerves… I just am so worried I’m going to do something wrong and blow it.”

“Oh, Marinette,” Tikki sighed, floating over and settling on the desk. “Don’t talk like that. Even if something were to go badly, which I know it won’t, you know Adrien is just excited to spend time with you .”

“Right,” Marinette replied, sounding not-at-all convinced. She took another drink from Alya’s support in the flavor of almond syrup and caffeine, stopping to shake out her ebony mane. Marinette began brushing through the tresses with her fingers, spilling her concerns to a quiet audience of sympathetic flowers and a patient kwami.

“I just wish I wasn’t so nervous. It’s like I’ve taken one step forward and fifty-thousand steps back. I’m… oh, no, w-what if he tries to kiss me?! Oh Tikki, I’m so doomed .”

Marinette’s cheeks flared scarlet by the end, so bright she could have passed for Ladybug.

Tikki merely shook her head. “Well, do you want Adrien to kiss you?”

Eyes blew wide, Marinette gulped painfully but managed a tiny nod.

“Then why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?”

Marinette ducked her head and fiddled with the thick sweater, too afraid to check the time. If it was close to 6:00, she might lose her lunch; if she had to wait much longer, she might pass out.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I just… w-what if… what if I’m bad at it? A-at kissing, I mean.”

A shameful lump lodged in her throat, and Marinette tried to hide her face in the collar of her jumper. On Tikki’s part, it was difficult not to laugh at the dark halo of raven hair peeking through the neck of the light pink sweater, but that would be hurtful and that was not at all the little red being’s intention.

Tikki measured each word carefully, her eyes bright with reassuring pride. “You’re a special, beautiful human being, Marinette. Inside and out. And Adrien is a kind person, but even more, he’s your friend. I think the only reason he wouldn’t enjoy himself is if you don’t enjoy yourself. A kiss is supposed to be special only because you want it to be; if you decide that’s not something you’re ready for, you don’t have to kiss him.”

Swallowing roughly, but feeling a little better, Marinette could still feel her heart lodged in her throat. The only way to breathe again would be to get it out at this point.

“Thanks, Tikki.” She exhaled slowly. “This is just… sort of unreal? I’ve loved him for so long, it’s hard to try to imagine what tomorrow will look like. I’ve dreamed of today, and now it’s here, and I feel both somehow completely under and over-prepared for it.”

Tikki followed her as she moved around the room, but Marinette paused when bluebell eyes locked with her own. She exhaled her fears, and managed to inhale some small amount of courage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset or anything. I’m actually really happy, I promise.” She offered, and Tikki seemed to relax at the honesty coloring her chosen’s tone.

Marinette studied her hands, still cupped around the dark exterior of her thermos.

Really, she was happy. Incredibly happy. So happy, in fact, that it hurt, and her stomach had started to churn at the thought that, by the time the day was over, she would have gone on a date with Adrien.

“I just… don’t want to disappoint him.”

Adrien’s texts throughout the day had been increasingly cryptic, and it was starting to make her worries multiple. First there had been a change in plans, then the suspicious questions, and now just silence . Marinette’s pulse surged with uncertainty, trying to riddle through what he could be planning.

Still, she smiled dreamily. “I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend before, and I’ve not really dated anyone… I don’t know how any of this works, but I guess neither does he?”

Gazing up, chosen and kwami wore matching grins, and Marinette added, “I’m just… I’m going to stick to what we agreed on. Like fighting an akuma. A plan.”

Tikki bowed her head and smiled. “I know you can do it, Marinette. Remember, just be thoughtful, and I’ll be with you every step of the way!”

Marinette’s smile dimpled and she shut her eyes, taking a few steady breaths before replying.

“Thanks, Tikki. You always know just what to say.”

When her eyes opened, it was to the hackneyed call of a bell at the front door, calling for her attention. Marinette looped her hair elastic along her wrist, and stretched while calling around the corner.

“I’ll be right there - just one second, please!”

Tikki disappeared with a wink, and Marinette awkwardly high-stepped her way around the garden of white silken petals.

“ Bonjour , my apologies…. ap-ap-ap…” Her brain stopped working, a record catching at the end of an oldie, and she mouthed the same sound over and over at the sight across from her.

A crown of platinum hair stood out like a sun breaking the dawn against a dark backdrop, night having settled outside. Green eyes and a confused expression were all pointed in her direction, but both succumbed to a smile so beautiful it made her breath hitch.

Adrien had his phone in one hand, presumably about to call her, but he quickly tucked it away when their eyes met.

Marinette felt her knees go weak and her mouth gaped in shock, so she firmly closed her lips and tried to present her warmest smile, cursing madly at herself internally.

You… you… you idiot! How did you lose track of time! What is the matter with you, you klutzy, luckiest-unluckiest, lovesick stupid girl?!

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Marinette crossed the counter. “H-hi, Adrien,” she greeted meekly, trying not to stare. He’s mastered the look of “nice-but-not-too-nice,” dressed in perfectly fitting jeans and a nice, clearly Gabriel-brand shirt over a plain shirt. The neck dipped slightly, exposing a line of his collarbone that drew her eye. Marinette was finding it very difficult to remember a single word of French.

“Hi, Marinette. I hope I’m not, uh, interrupting? Did work get very busy?” He spoke carefully and glanced at his watch.

Damn this beautiful, well-mannered boy. Of course he would try to absolve her of any of the guilt she was absolutely due to have.

“I… um, I’m sorry,” Marinette took a step forward, keeping her voice low and head lower. She could feel her cheeks burning in shame. “I just got lost of time track - I mean, uh, I lost track of time.”

When he didn’t respond, she blurted, “Someone died.”

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.” He took another step closer, immediately sympathetic. “I wish I had known - were they someone you were close to?”

Marinette snapped her eyes to his face. Her tongue felt felt slow and encumbered - how was she supposed to respond to that? Why in the world was he blushing?

“N-no! No!” She waved her hands, practically yelling. He blinked in surprise.

“I… ugh, okay. Let me start over.”

A long, slow inhale followed, and Marinette closed her eyes. Across her tongue, a dance of musky humid air and the taste of flowers mingled together, a remind of the primordial presence she had grown here. Besides the quiet patrons of petals, it was just Adrien here. Adrien, her long-time crush, but more importantly, Adrien her long-time friend .

And the exhale.

When Marinette opened her eyes, she already could tell her cheeks bloomed with the color of embarrassment, but her contemplative action had the intended grounding effect. She was able to meet his gaze a little easier, and the bemused, pure smile that waited for her carried her through what was a very necessary explanation.

“I’m sorry, Adrien” she said, wearing a shy smile. “Time got away from me today. The person who died - I mean, there was an order for a funeral . It wasn’t someone I knew personally, but… yeah. I guess I probably shouldn’t have started out by talking about death. Nothing like jumping right into the heavy stuff?” Marinette finished with an awkward laugh.

To her surprise and greater relief, Adrien chuckled, and she joined in with a growing giggle of her own. The whole ridiculousness of the situation caught up with her, and the respite helped her to unwind.

“I like to think I’m pretty creative when it comes to jokes,” Adrien said with a grin. “But not a lot that have to do with death that wouldn’t be in poor taste. You’ve effectively silenced my funny-bone for the moment, Marinette.”

Her stomach fell through the floor when he said her name; it sounded so much sweeter coming from his tongue.

Coughing, she tried to meet his eye. “ Well , I want to say that’s something to be proud of, but this whole conversation has turned really macabre. Speaking of,” she tapped her chin. “I can wrap this up really quickly, if you can just give me a few minutes. Do you mind coming to the back with me?”

At that, Adrien raised a brow but nodded, and Marinette lingered at the front to lock the door and flip the sign to closed. She acted without much thought, and when she flipped the overhead light off the room became shockingly dark.

“Oh,” Adrien breathed quietly, clearly a little surprised. Illumination poured through the opening to the back of the store, outlining his broad shoulders and slightly tousled hair in shadow. Marinette, unable to see his face, tried for boldness and reached for one of his hands to lead him through the darkness.

A soft pressure ran through her fingers, and his fingers intertwined with hers easily. In the pewter light, shadows cast by a small forest, she was glad he couldn’t see her smile.

“C’mon,” she said gently, tugging him a step behind her towards the brightness across the room

It was a short walk - hardly even worth the hand holding - but reason was out the many windows now. This was unchartered territory, a sea with no compass, with only instincts and emotion to guide her.

Marinette didn’t drop his hand when they walked through the back, and she felt a little smug by the way his mouth fell open. “ This ,” she raised her other hand. “Is what I’ve been working on. The only thing that brings more people together than a wedding is a funeral.”

“Mari,” his voice seemed breathless, and she felt her grip turn to putty in his hand. “This is amazing. You did all of this today ?”

Shyly, she nodded, and forced herself to release his hand. She really needed to finish this if they wanted to get any further than the door.

“Thanks, let me...” Marinette began to carefully scoot something around, clearing a path to the chaise so he might be able to sit down. For a designated employee lounger, it seemed like Chat and Adrien used it more than anyone else.

He was quick on the uptake and began to help her shift the two larger displays out of the way, and their close proximity caught up to her more than once.

After another minute, they had divided the white ocean to create something resembling a walkway, at least maneuverable enough so that Adrien could get to the chaise and Marinette her desk. Almost immediately, she sank into the chair and pulled some papers forward, the ink bleeding through another day the shop held her here.

“Twenty Phalaenopsis blumes,” she murmured, brow creased. “And every last Easter Lily I have. Meh.”

“I love these,” Adrien commented off-handedly, and Marinette looked up to see him leaning over one of the orchids.

She smiled and turned back to her work. “Oh, me too. Orchids are probably my second or third favorite of all flowers.”

“Really?” The suggestion seemed to amuse him. Marinette merely nodded and kept her head forward, trying to use this as some approximation of what sort of inventory she was going to need. A lot more Easter lilies, clearly, but her orchid stock was actually probably okay. A regular order of them should do her fine, but she would be sure to change her preference to white.

“One of the things I love most about this job,” Marinette offered after a moment of silence, feeling guilty to make him wait for her. The least she could do was try to keep up some conversation. “Is the way people never act the way we expect them too.”

Adrien’s tone was quiet. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“All of this… these whites are so pretty, so pure, you know?” She lifted her shoulders and gazed around the office momentarily, stopping to meet Adrien’s curious gaze. “When I think of funerals, it’s all black and sadness. It’s almost hard to imagine human beings associating Phalaenopsis blumes - the orchids - or Easter lillies with death, but here we are.”

The blond smiled, and the purity of the gesture put each lilly and orchid to shame.

“I’ve never been to a funeral, but I think I can imagine,” he said, voice so soft it was like silk wrapped around her skin, and she was glad for her sweater at the moment or else he might have noticed her sudden gooseflesh.

“Yeah… it’s something about the color. Other colors mean, you know, love and romance and never ending happiness. Blah blah blah,” she waved a hand, and he smiled at her. “But when it’s soft, gentle like these - this white - it means something totally different. Sympathy. It’s sort of beautiful, don’t you think?”

“...Yes.” He responded after a pause. “It is beautiful.”

Marinette blushed and lowered her head, completing the bare minimum work she needed to so as not to come in tomorrow to an utter nightmare. After another few minutes she pushed away carefully from the old mahogany desk, spinning to face him.

“Your hair looks really nice like that,” Adrien offered when it was clear she had finished. Beaming, Marinette murmured a thanks. She had forgotten taking it out of her bun, and now the waves were loose around her shoulders.

“You really… you, uh, don’t look half-bad yourself?” Marinette felt a rush of confidence when he laughed, so she tried for a casual voice and asked a question.

“So, what is this mystery date you’re taking me on?” Risking a flicker of attention to his face, her heart swelled to see his lips turned up in an unbearably cute smile.

“Ah, right,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Mystery might be putting it a little strongly. That makes it sound like I planned something elaborate. It was more of a… Hail Marinette than anything.”

She snorted. “Please tell me you didn’t cancel our plans just to accommodate a joke.”

He grinned widely, and there was a flash of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, I wish. But, eh, I said earlier it was sort of a long story. Guess it’s better we discuss it now.” The choice of words should’ve been cause for concern, but Adrien’s voice was calm and reassuring. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from smiling back at him, and crossed her arms.

“Okay, then, what’s the stitch?” She asked, eyes lingering over the mass of deliveries next to the desk. Adrien followed her gaze, and his furrowed brow looked curious.

“First of all, there’s one very important thing I need to know. Was that a Kim Possible reference?”

“Um, of course?” Marinette could feel the second-dosage of caffeine starting to prick her brain, turning her typically reasonable mind to a hyper, giddy mess. Great.

Adrien laughed, eyes sparkling as he leaned over his knees. “Wow. You are something else.”

“Pfft, don’t even. Kim Possible was a great show.” She stuck out her tongue defiantly.

Across from her, he blinked a few times and reached for his phone. Curiously, Marinette scooted a little closer and tried to see what he was doing, but stopped when he turned up the volume.

“There’s a reason I always keep my phone on silent,” he commented. The room was still for a moment until she heard it - Adrien played his text tone.

Doop-doop, da-doop .

“Oh my god,” she placed a hand over her face, giggling madly when the realization hit her. “You really are a dork.”

The blond bit his lip through a smile, tucking his phone back into his jeans. “I thought you were the one who just initiated a conversation saying what’s the stitch ?”

“I did,” Marinette agreed between chuckles, trying calm herself. “But I also happen to want to be a designer, so I get a free pass to use ‘stitch’ conversationally.”

Adrien laughed and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Beaming at her tiny victory - of what, she wasn’t even sure - Marinette felt her cheeks pink when he met her eyes. For someone who spent most hours of the day within the walls of a green wonderland, his eyes made it all look like a cerulean afterthought.

“So…” she tried to keep the waver from her voice, and Adrien smiled when she coughed slightly. “What’s the plan? I assume you didn’t want to talk about Kim Possible all night?

Adrien tapped his chin. “As tempting as that sounds, I think we should try to stick to something at least reminiscent of a date. Any ideas?”

Marinette smirked. “I’ve never dated before, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“Well…” he began slowly, keeping his attention to his fumbling thumbs. If she didn’t know any better, the ravenette thought he looked a little sad, and it made her chest ache.

“I guess… honesty is the best policy. So, yeah, today I had a talk with my dad about - um, us .” Marinette tried to keep her gaze steady, nodding politely. That seemed to help him gather his thoughts, and his expression turned impish.

“And I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m actually sort of famous,” his smile widened when Marinette rolled her eyes. “So basically, I thought the movies and ice cream would be low-key enough so the press might not, you know, harass us? But my father seemed to think that was a bad idea, and, I guess I’d rather play it safe than sorry. I was hoping we could do something more private. If that’s okay?”

By the end, her brow came together, and Marinette thought about his concerns seriously.

It made a lot of sense. In fact, a tiny, terribly petty part of Marinette’s brain had already accounted for the fact that reporters might see her with Adrien, and she sort of felt exhilarated by the idea of being photographed with him on an actual date (not like that whole fiasco a few years ago when his bodyguard was akumatized). The romantic fantasy of dodging the paparazzi with him, trying to hide their faces while photographed was just that, though - a fantasy. The longer she thought on it, and the more thoroughly she studied the dip in his brow, the serious downturn in his lips, and the hardness in her eyes, Marinette recognized it was just a pipe-dream waiting to become a pipe-bomb. Sure, the imagination of holding hands or gripping to his arm while some camera person yelled questions at them seemed a bit endearing, it was also something that Adrien had to deal with every single day. If anything, it meant that he was taking this rather seriously to take steps to avoid that, and the thought made her heart flutter furiously against her ribs.

Marinette smiled and focused her attention to his face, forming words slowly. “That… is just fine, Adrien. I don’t mind going out with you, like, in public. Like, with the cameras, I-I wouldn’t be angry being, um, ‘spotted’ with you. Isn’t that what you famous people say?”

His natural smile returned, and it spurred her to continue. “But I wasn’t married to the idea of the movies or ice cream anyways. It was… Alya’s idea, to be honest. We can do anything you want, and I’d be happy.”

Ducking her head, Marinette was surprised to hear his weight adjust on the lounger, the sound of shifting fabric indicating he was moving. Adrien came to kneel in front of her in the desk chair, occupying the small amount of space in a meadow of emerald and ivory. The lines of his face were etched from the most benevolent watercolors, soft and sensitive as he appraised her carefully.

“Speaking of being spotted ,” he began, brushing a tender hand across her cheek. “You have dirt on your face.”

Marinette’s felt her eyes widen, every nerve abnormally responsive to the caress of his fingers as he rubbed the smudge from her pores with a light pressure.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

Marinette.exe has stopped working.

Adrien was leaning terribly close, and his presence was intoxicating. She drank in every detail of him, complexion warm and soft, lips pressed in a line of focus as he studied her cheek, blond hair pushed away from his sparkling eyes. His breath reminded her of eucalyptus leaves and sunshine, and she could feel his light exhales brush her fringe along her forehead. Careful and surprisingly gentle, his thumb stroked comforting patterns along her cheekbones, and she was certain he could feel them grow warmer by the second under his touch.

Marinette could hear Tikki in her mind, the kwami’s voice steady and reassuring.

Remember, just be thoughtful.

Right. She needed to unwind herself from him, but god if it wasn’t hard.

Offering a coy smile, Marinette tilted her head slightly to catch his eye. When their gazes met, Adrien blushed the color of roses, and he smiled sheepishly while drawing his hand back.

How easy it was to get caught up in each other, Marinette mused. She even dared to question - to hope - did he adore touching her face as much as she wished he would continue?

An affectionate smirk played at Adrien’s lips - god , if he wasn’t so handsome -  and he leaned back on his knees.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled. “I think I got most of it.”

She touched her hand to her face, the skin beneath ablaze with warmth. “Thanks…”

Trying to focus on anything but his face, Marinette settled on the one of the fixtures of lillies to his back, and it was easier to string together words again as she studied the familiar waterfall of powdery petals, simple smiles of cream beneath their window-paned twilight, occupied only between two nervous sets of eyes and a wistful expanse of silence.

“Anyways…” Marinette cleared her throat. “I’m done here now, so maybe we can finally get around to, I don’t know, something date-y?”

Adrien bit his tongue, smiling. “Date-y, huh. Well…” he started to stand up, careful not to knock into any of her meticulously prepared arrangements. “Are you hungry?”

Her hands went to her belly at the mention of food. “Always.”

Amused, he offered a hand to help her stand, and she was probably a little too eager to accept. He didn’t let go of her, collapsing their fingers together, and the action was thrilling. “Well, then we’d better get you some food. Can you wait here while I get the car?”

She smiled and gave him a mute nod.

Adrien squeezed her hand and smiled. “I’ll be right back,” he managed a swift salute and was out the front door before she could do much but blink.

On cue, Tikki flew out of nowhere and squeezed Marinette’s cheek.

“Wow! That was really romantic, Marinette.” She giggled happily as the bluenette just blinked dreamily, covering her heart with both hands.

“You should finish closing up the store so you can go when he gets back! I’ll be in your bag…” The kwami zipped away, and the flutter of air as Tikki brushed by her ear was slightly rousing.

“Okay… okay .” Untying her apron, Marinette threw it over the back of her chair and pulled the pink sweater over her head hurriedly.

Practically sprinting around the store, the girl hastily closed up everything else she could without making too much of a mess. She locked the register and brought the cash to the back, turned off the last of the lights. Of course, she would have preferred Adrien not seen her at all in her her sweaty work clothes and dirty jeans, but this opportunity actually worked to her advantage. With impressive speed, Marinette was shimming into her second change of clothes, packing away her worn work ensemble into her bag. She shared a quick, desperate glance with Tikki before resuming her mad dash around the shop.

She used the few moments she had to freshen herself up and pop a mint into her mouth, disturbed by the possibility that Adrien had suffered through her coffee breath, and paused at the exterior glass windows again. Alya had brought her a fire-engine red beret, a practical icon in the world of French fashion, and she affixed it to her hair perfectly off-centered.

For a moment, she looked every part the classic Parisian young woman, but the thought was fleeting as Marinette remembered a certain blond was waiting for her.

She scurried out the front, readying her keys to lock the door behind her. Adrien was already there, standing under the front awning and looking up at the billowing night sky quietly while she finished up. As the bell chimed, he turned and visibly brightened at her reappearance.

“I hope you don’t mind that I changed,” Marinette said absently as she locked the door, gesturing towards her outfit. “I know you waited long enough, but I figured I could at least pretend to clean myself up...”

By the time she spun back to face him, she caught him very pointedly, um, looking over her outfit. It was hard to say who blushed more at being caught, and they both smiled and looked away. Alya’s voice echoed in her head -

If you keep blushing like that, it’ll just make your skirt pop even more.

Adrien cleared his throat, still looking away. “N-Not at all - I think you look, really, wow? You know? Beautiful. For a florist, you sure floor- ed me.” They met eyes and he winked, clearly enjoying the chagrin that replaced her shy smile.

In a fluid motion, Adrien stepped forward her and wrapped an arm around her waist. They both paused when the sudden movement elicited a squeak from Marinette’s lips, and the blond seemed prepared to step away out of fear of invading her personal space. Instead, Marinette fumbled to cling to his jacket, trying to wordlessly reaffirm that, not only was this okay, but she wanted him to know that his touch was welcome.

“I s-should hit you for that joke,” Marinette teased, and Adrien grinned shamelessly.

“But it’s true! You look so pretty, it’s made me dai-zy.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, dropping her head while he enjoyed a warm giggle.

Under her breath, she muttered, “How can someone so cute have such a bad sense of humor?”

“What’s that?” He cooed in her ear, and Marinette’s hairs stood on end. “Did you call me cute again?”

She could practically taste his cologne on her tongue as they started walking down the street, and Marinette tried to keep her focus on the familiar silver sedan parked a little ways from the store. If she didn’t, she probably wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from collapsing further into him, to run her hands over his chest or grab his collar and capture his lips with ravenous kisses. That would probably come on a teensy bit strong, she wagered.

Marinette noticed Adrien bobbing his head, lips pursed in her periphery. He appeared to be in the middle of some sort of internal debate.

“Hmm,” Adrien hummed, stopping outside the car. The vehicle was running, and through the tinted windows Marinette could see his driver in the front seat.

“Something on your mind?” She offered, quirking a brow up at him. “If it’s another pun, you can just take me home right now.”

“Actually, yes to the something, no to the pun,” he mused, leaning down to get the door for her. “Since our plans changed, should you notify your parents? I don’t want them thinking I abducted you.”

Probably louder than was appropriate, Marinette erupted into laughter. Without thinking, she slipped a candid remark. “Oh, please. My Mom’s about ready to start planning our wedding.”

“Oh?” Adrien’s face spread into a wicked grin. “Does that mean I’ve already got your mother’s approval?”

Mortified, Marinette flustered and reached for the door, pushing his hand aside to let herself in so she wouldn’t have to answer. She grumbled to herself while putting on the seatbelt, cursing that annoyingly handsome, knowing grin he sported while he joined her in the back seat.

Quietly, she leaned over to him while his driver locked the doors and put the car in gear. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“Maybe I wanted to surprise you,” he responded coyly, having the audacity to wink at her for the second time tonight. It made her heart flutter, a net capturing her voice in her throat.

Damn, damn, damn this adorable boy.

Petulantly, Marinette crossed her arms in the backseat and ignored him for the rest of the car ride. When she did chance to glance in his direction, he had his phone out and was texting with a scowl on his face. If she looked for too long, his attention would snap over to her and she could tell he was going to say something, but she simply pointed her chin a bit higher and turned back to the window.

If he was going to submit her to horrible jokes for the whole night, then she was going to treat him to some silence.

After about ten minutes of driving, Adrien made a casual announcement. “Okay, we’re almost there.”

Marinette studied their surroundings, sucking her teeth. She had some choice questions the boy beside her, and she almost wondered if he was doing this to get on her nerves.

They were still in the same neighborhood, driving aimlessly. They’d even passed the flower shop again. The dark streets of Paris swept by under muted lamp-light, subdued in an evanescent haze. The energy that usually brought civilians to the streets was banished, and the world felt very empty but for the two of them (and, well, their driver).

Once they circled the street for a third time, Marinette had begun to fidget. She couldn’t suppress her burning curiosity, so she picked at her skirt and whispered in his direction.

“C’mon, what’s this about?”

Instead of answering right away, Adrien leaned all the way across the seat and whispered in her ear, causing her face to burst with color. His voice was surprisingly husky, and it knocked her heart into an irregular rhythm of the most lovely palpitations. She made a mental note to schedule an appointment with a cardiologist once this was all over.

He countered her question with a question of his own.

“Close your eyes?”

Swallowing, Marinette complied wordlessly. Just barely, she managed a few words through her dry throat. “I’m guessing no peeking?”

This was insanity. That’s what it was. Adrien had reached out and took her hand, and began rubbing circles into her skin. She shivered visibly, and Adrien hummed a quiet agreement.

“No peeking,” he repeated, and she could hear the smile behind his voice.

After another few minutes that felt like the entirety of this unforgiving mortal coil called life, Marinette felt his hand draw away, and she had to fight not to open her eyes.

“Okay, can you keep your eyes closed? I’ll come around and let you out.”

“If this is some convoluted attempt at chivalry…” She warned, tone playful as she bit her lip. Adrien snickered quietly, and Marinette heard him get out of the car, closing it firmly behind him.

Feeling a little awkward, she whispered to the driver. “Thanks, um, for doing this.”

She didn’t expect a response, so it was a surprise when she heard a grunt of acknowledgment. It was sort of nice, and it was definitely one of the first times he’s ever made an intelligible noise that she could recall.

Before she could do much else but smile, she felt a brush of cool night time air brush her face, and the door was opening.

A soft, strong grip found her hand, and she blushed furiously when she realized he was unbuckling her seatbelt, leaning entirely in her personal space. Marinette had to hold her breath to keep from shrieking, sighing, and squeaking all at once.

“Okay, here we go,” he said evenly after the belt was relieved from her pelvis and shoulder, and Adrien gave her plenty of support while getting out of the car.

“You know as well as I do that I can barely walk with my eyes open, Anything .” Marinette pointed out, gripping to his arm with both hands and squeezing her eyes together. “So take this as me trusting you with my life.”

“I’m honored,” Adrien answered. “We’re about there, but keep your eyes closed .”

Marinette wrinkled her nose but did as she was bid, and an old story jogged her memory while they walked.

“When I was in the third grade,” she mused softly. “I went to a summer camp where we went on field trips all around Paris. I imagine your parents didn’t allow anything like that?”

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, and Marinette detected a bit of tension in his mannerisms. She dared herself to brush a little closer to him before continuing.

“Well, maybe that’s for the best. This story doesn’t have a happy ending.” She scoffed. “I don’t even remember where we were going, but on our way back to the bus I closed my eyes and let my camp friend guide me back. One thing led to another, and I ran into a telephone pole and got a horrible nose bleed.”

Marinette scowled when she heard Adrien start to laugh, but she pushed on. “It was terrible! One moment, I��m walking with my friend and then bam, literally. Blood everywhere in front of all the other kids, counselors, everybody . I think Nino was there - I bet he might even remember. All I really remember was the blood and crying a lot.”

“Aww, Mari,” he said, voice a mask of sympathy. She could hear him trying to keep from laughing, and the notion made her giggle lightly herself.

“So… you know, take it as a compliment! After Paige Curtis jacked up my nose in the third grade, I don’t trust many people to guide me like this.”

As she finished her story, they stopped walking. Marinette felt him step away and the absence left her colder than she anticipated in a catching breeze, shuddering and flattening out her skirt anxiously.

A lot of things happened at once, leading to Marinette opening her eyes without express permission. That being said, Adrien appeared ready to give the cue anyways, and his eyes sparkled in the dark as her expression morphed to one of shock.

His voice was soft, and features animated.

“Um, surprise?”

A loud bell, and a creaky, familiar door.

Candles, flickering little orange lights everywhere.

Glass reflections of dark juniper leaves, constellations of rainbow petals dotting the canvas of her flower shop, awash with marigold shadows that flickered with the flames.

“What… the…?” Marinette mouthed, walking forward with her mouth hanging open. She couldn’t even care to close it at that moment - what had he done ?

She struggled, looking up and around before resting her eyes on a shy, smiling blond as he closed the door behind her.

Never had the bell sounded so bright, tinkling in her ear like a childhood secret. Marinette swallowed uselessly, eyes coming to rest on a simple folding table in the very center of the store.

A big cooler was on the floor, along with a large laptop and a stack of assorted DVDs.

Adrien rubbed his hands together, evidently nervous that she had nothing to say.

“W-well, you know, I felt bad that we had to switch up the original plans… so I thought I could bring the movies and ice cream to you, since we couldn’t go out because of me?”

Marinette just stared, wide-eyed as he took a hesitant step closer. A tiny part of her brain wondered what the heck her face could have looked like, but the rest of her attention was torn between studying his expression and trying to puzzle together how he could’ve pulled this off.

She was entirely surprised, of course by the picturesque scene he built especially for her, but even more so by his reaction .

Marinette had never seen Adrien like this - not even when he asked her out. The searching, almost worried look in his emerald eyes, wide and sensitive, and the way they studied her face for a hint of disappointment; the way his hands fumbled to reach for her own when she continued to say nothing, linking their fingers together with clammy palms; his glowing cheeks, twinged pink and orange beneath the lights he had somehow so carefully organized around the shop.

If she didn’t feel about ready to pass out, Marinette would have kissed him right then and there.

She wanted to, desperately, but her body was stuck just like that.

Adrien, apparently, was only growing more nervous. He started to ramble, and Marinette just watched the way his lips moved, mesmerized by how soft they looked.

“I-I know, you know, work is probably the last place you want to spend your free time, but… I thought it would be private enough, and I can only imagine you’re sick of it here, but it’s my favorite place in the whole city, Marinette. Anytime I come here my day is ten times better, because I get to see you. I h-hope… I hope this isn’t all too weird for you?”

Bowing his head, Marinette followed his gaze. He was staring at their hands, but when he spoke again, his focus was on her face. The glimmer of his eyes peered out from beneath his blonde fringe, obscuring his face ever-so-slightly.

“Are you… surprised?”

“Surprise is…” Marinette licked her lips, trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Definitely one word for it.”

His posture straightened slightly, emboldened by her encouraging words. “Would ‘pleasantly surprised’ be a possible substitute?”

“... Let’s just say, being a florist, you have successfully floor -ed me.” Marinette smiled and dropped his hands, but only to wrap her arms around his middle and hug him carefully, troubled by how absolutely inadequate the gesture felt to convey how much she appreciated his surprise.

He froze for a moment while she hugged him, but he wrapped his arms around her after a pause and she could feel him smiling into her shoulder. It gave her chills to feel his jaw brush along her bit of exposed skin, and Marinette was starting to regret not kissing him.

Still, she sighed comfortably. “Thank you, Adrien. This is really beautiful.”

He didn’t say anything as they seperated slowly, but he was wearing an amused look on his face.

“What’s that look for?” He questioned, and Marinette realized she was squinting over his shoulder at the flickering orange lights.

Bemused, she moved around him to confirm her suspicions. “These are… LED candles, aren’t they?”

Adrien blushed slightly. “Yeah… I thought actual flame inside a place filled with plants was probably a little hazardous.”

She giggled at that, and he shot her a look.

“I didn’t want to be playing with fire .”

“Adrien, why?” She groaned, slumping her shoulders. “We were having a moment!”

“I made the moment better,” the blond argued, standing up a little straighter. “Come on, let’s sit. The ice cream won’t stay forever.”

Marinette let him pull out her chair, although not before sticking her tongue out at him. At that, Adrien beamed and sat down, situating his own folding chair right beside her (as opposed to across the table).

“Ice cream is a rarity for me,” he commented as he pulled forward the plastic cooler. “So I just sort of bought anything that sounded good, and grabbed some spoons. I figured we could share?”

Marinette peered in the insulated plastic contraption and had to bite down at the urge to laugh, managing a stifled little snicker instead. It was your standard beach or party cooler, and it was packed from top to bottom with probably twenty different flavors of pint-sized ice creams.

“A man with manners, yet he eats from the container…” Marinette noted, looking slyly in his direction. Adrien shrugged and offered her a spoon.

“What can I say, I’m a man of mystery.”

“ That ,” Marinette said severely, trying to hide a smile. “Is the most honest thing you’ve ever said.”

“That seems to imply I’m a liar. Do I deceive you often, Mari?” He teased back, setting out six flavors to start and grabbing the pile of DVDs.

Marinette was smiling so widely it was starting to hurt, but she didn’t care. “I can’t even count the ways.”

He snorted. “You’re unbelievable sometimes.”

In lieu of a response, Marinette popped the first scoop of the night into her mouth. “Mmm, ‘ooo goo’th.”

“Gooth?” He raised a brow, and Marinette punched him on the arm with her spoon-hand, cheeks filled with cinnamon bun flavored ice cream.

“‘On’th mathe ‘un of me!”

Adrien heeded her mumbled warning, biting his tongue to keep from laughing. Instead, he gestured down towards the movies.

“Okay, so, what’ll it be? I called the Hail Marinette, so I figure the least I could do is let you pick the movie.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes in the low-light, leaning forward to better read the names.

“These…” She paused, checking the selection a second time just to make sure. “These are all Disney movies.” “I like Disney movies,” he stated matter-of-factly, and the cheeky grin he gave her made her heart beat a little faster. Awareness washed over her, her skin turned hyperaware of his proximity - arms practically on top of each other, their legs were touching under the table. There wasn’t an inch between their chairs, and Marinette was almost sorry it wasn’t one long seat… but she was getting ahead of herself.

Marinette coughed. “I like Disney movies too, but I haven’t heard of half of these. Oh, but you’ve got Studio Ghibli…”

Working on opening a tub of frozen dessert of the banana chocolate variety, Adrien nodded seriously. “Of course; Disney Japan. Miyazaki is a genius.”

She pursed her lips, biting down on the urge to confess her love to him right then and there. Why did he have to be perfect in every conceivable way?

Movies, Marinette. Not “marry me and have my children.”

“How about Castle in the Sky? I haven’t seen that one in ages.”

Adrien’s eyes sparkled, clearly thrilled by the suggestion. “One of my favorites.”

As he worked on setting up the movie, and Marinette used the opportunity to snatch the ice cream he had chosen and seize the first bite.

“You are pure evil, I swear,” Adrien muttered, the smile at his lips betraying any real anger. Marinette just hummed merrily, demonstrating with unnecessary enthusiasm how absolutely incomparable it was to savor the first bite.

“I’ll get you for that,” he swore. Marinette used the little rush of victory to muster a wink, turning her attention to the opening credits.

Studio Ghibli films were infamously long for animated features, but the time passed easily. Adrien, true to his word, waited for Marinette to crack open the next flavor and stole back the first bite, grinning triumphantly when she pouted. After another couple flavors and passing around the containers, Marinette declared she needed a break from the richness and Adrien packed the ice cream away; they had barely dented the haul he had brought, but she would be lying if she didn’t admit to enjoying the opportunity to sample. It was like the window-shopping of the dessert-world, and growing up in a bakery, it was nice to be on the other side of the glass for a change.

Once their melting distractions had been stored away, both blond and bluenette were sucked right into the movie. The soundtrack was a marvel and the animations were beautiful and dynamic, emblematic of just about every creation marked by the Studio Ghibli seal, and the plot was more compelling than Marinette remembered. Perhaps it was a product of nuance, appreciating film differently as you aged, or from the the unsung irony that she, like Sheeta, had a magical artifact that gave her inexplicable powers. In either case, Marinette was pulled right in, empathetic to the girl’s capture, identifying with her struggle to resign her power in exchange for Pazu’s safety.

Thank goodness Chat Noir had never been captured; she wasn’t sure what she would do.

More than once, Marinette found herself more of an audience to Adrien than the movie. His eyes lit up as Pazu orchestrated his plan with the Dola pirates, he scowled in time with Sheeta’s ongoing struggle, and he admired the beauty of Laputa once they discovered the magical island.

Occasionally, he would make a passing comment about the film in the form of an curious bit of obscure knowledge only a true fan might know.

“Oh, and that - the ‘aetherium.’ That’s something they added for the dub. I think it’s originally called volcite, or volucite… something like that,” he murmured, flickering his attention from the screen to her face. Marinette had been clearly caught staring, and it made her blush furiously.

As the ending neared, Marinette took a slow breath and tried to force some courage. Her hand slid from the table and sought out Adrien’s (he had both hands folded under his chin, rapt attention directed towards the screen). At the gentle introduction of her fingers, he blinked and glanced in her direction, wearing a small smile. She tried to return it steadily, and instead of accepting her offer directly, he cupped her fingers delicately between his hands and brought her hand to his lips, whispering secrets into her skin.

“I almost cried when I first watched this. I thought Pazu and Sheeta died.”

Marinette felt herself pink, the sensation of his warm breath dancing along her wrist, and he tugged her hand slightly to draw her closer. The chairs made it a little awkward, but she ended up propping her elbow on the arm rest while Adrien cupped her hand in both his own, brushing his lips over the valley of her knuckles absently. It was hard to tell if he was doing it on purpose or if he had been that deeply pulled into the movie, but Marinette was totally unable to focus on anything but the hypnotic pattern of his breathing, cresting over and between her fingers.

At some point, she closed her eyes and nearly fell asleep to the sensation; she didn’t even notice the movie ended until he said her name.

“Marinette?”

She flinched so suddenly that her knee smacked the table, and a slew of florist’s curses followed.

“ Mother of flowers, ” the girl spat, gripping her knee and hissing. “Damned daffodils, Lazy freakin ’ Susans.”

Adrien’s voice was amused, but he placed a delicate hand on her injury. “How do you go without breaking your arms and legs everyday?”

“It’s…” she peeked through her lids, gulping at the sight of his hand on her exposed skin, all of her nerve-endings on fire. “An art, I think.”

“It sure is.” Adrien murmured, moving his hand away. Marinette’s skin burned where he touched her, aching for the electricity she felt flow through his fingertips.

Standing, Adrien put back together his DVDs and closed the lid of his laptop, stacking everything carefully. A black duffle bag appeared from beneath the table, and he grinned sheepishly.

“I’m not going to let this ice cream go to waste,” he said as he stored away the cooler. “Maybe you can come over and help me finish it sometime.”

Marinette had begun to stand, but froze halfway through the motions. Adrien seemed to catch himself, and when their eyes met she admired the rosy tint that colored his cheeks.

“I mean, if you… if you’d want to do something like this again. I had a lot of fun, though I am sorry it wasn’t Andre’s ice cream.”

Adopting a soft smile, Marinette stopped him in his tidying up by placing a hand over his.

“I would… I would love that, Adrien. I don’t have really anything to go on - except that one time we dressed up in disguises and went to the movies,” she paused and smiled when he made a face. “But I can say confidently that this was the best date ever. Thank you.”

Chairs pushed out, they stood in a darkened room, quiet but for their breathing. Marinette was angled towards him, and he was mostly facing the table, one hand on the DVDs, another hesitating over the plastic surface with her own trembling fingers. A shotgun in the silence, Marinette heard him gulp more than she noticed the action, her own attention drowning in the viridescent depths of his keen, bright eyes. The flicker of false-candle light followed his features as he turned to face her properly, and she watched as his attention flickered from her eyes to her lips.

Marinette could feel the hunger in his stare, and it caused a maelstrom in her stomach of her unfamiliar, wanton curiosity.

Adrien’s gaze went back to her eyes, and Marinette felt weak beneath his mesmerizing stare. His nose was close enough that she felt the light brush of skin against her own, and his presence was like pure adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Marinette?” He breathed, and she could barely hear him over the raging storm of her pulse, pounding in her eardrums.

“Can I kiss you?”

The best she could manage was a tiny nod, and her lashes fluttered closed when the inches grew to centimeters, and millimeters, and then air was forgotten, a memory of something to be savored between their tongues.

Careful and sweet, his lips were soft and warmer than she could have ever imagined. Marinette was drunk on his taste, sweet like ice cream but hot like a summer breeze. She grabbed his collar and pulled just so, trying to express how much she wanted this. It made her heart explode like fireworks on Bastille’s Day, illuminating her spirit with sensations that were somehow both new and yet familiar.

She had never kissed anyone - save for Chat Noir, once, under very exacting circumstances - and this was entirely different. Not a duty, but a request, his lips were a guide and the hands that cupped her cheeks - when did those get there, anyway? - were an invitation.

It was very difficult to pull away, and her tongue felt greedy. It wanted to taste his mouth entirely, to explore and probe how his breath tasted. She wanted to let her hands roam, to explore more than just his collar, but Marinette’s lungs reminded her that she needed air.

When they pulled away, she was practically gasping. Her skin was flushed ruby, and he appeared to be in much the same state.

Once she felt her voice crawl out from their forgotten cavern, Marinette managed a small, lame reaction.

“Wow. So that’s what that’s like.”

He grinned smugly, clearly pleased with himself, and started to pack up the remainder of the table. “Wow, indeed.”

Adrien folding the table in half and it collapsed relatively easily, and Marinette started to gather each of the fake candles.

The silence was… maybe a little awkward, but mostly because it was sparked by electricity that Marinette had never known before. It told her to go back, to kiss him again with twice as much fervor, to give into her baser instincts, but her brain remained stubborn and focused.

A mantra helped.

Candle, grab, flip the switch. Candle, grab, flip the switch. Candle, grab, flip the switch .

By the time the shop was completely restored to the way Marinette had left it, she hesitated in handing him the final candle.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, lowering his hand when she clutched the plastic thing to her chest.

“N-no,” Marinette said, ducking her head. Her shoes were somehow much more interesting than his face right now, especially since every part of muscle memory was telling her to pay attention to his lips again. “I just… I was wondering if I could keep one? This was special, so… I’d like to remember it.”

Adrien’s feet entered the frame, and Marinette quivered like a leaf in a dry breeze.

“Of course,” he answered gently, lifting her chin with a hand. The lustful hunger that had crept into his eyes earlier was replaced by his usual gentleness, and he smiled so beautifully Marinette hiccuped.

Like a true gentleman, he didn’t comment on the sound for sake of her dignity. Instead, he stepped around her and held open the door, the bell tinkling above their heads.

“Let me take you home,” he offered, and Marinette nodded briskly and scurried after him, locking the door in the damp Paris air.

The ride home was quiet, Marinette’s hands a jittery reflection of her internal catastrophe. They tapped, danced, pinched and flexed along her skirt and the center console, the need to text Alya or cheer to Tikki or splash water on her face all useless in the silent confines of the sedan.

By the time they idled in front of the bakery, Adrien flashed her a grin and spoke for the first time since leaving the shop.

“Can I get the door for you?”

He usually didn’t ask - he rather insisted, or acted petulant when she refused. His tone hinted at something deeper, and it was just like when he asked to kiss her. For once, Marinette agreed.

Rolling her eyes, she replied with pseudo-exasperation. “ Fine .”

Beaming, Adrien let himself out and walked around, opening the door for her and offering a hand. Marinette could see the lights on upstairs, but the base of the bakery was merificully dark. She half-expected her parents to be standing in the store with signs and t-shirts ready, welcoming him into the family.

“Sooo…” Adrien began, rubbing the back of his neck not at all casually as they reached the front door. “About that offer to come have some ice cream again…”

Marinette snickered and covered her mouth with a hand. For once, she didn’t care about how silly she might sound. She didn’t care about being too eager or blushy or awkward.

Adrien had kissed her - he had asked if he could - and right now, she was on cloud-nine.

“Yes, you absolute dork. We can go out again, anytime.”

Blond brow’s raised, he leaned forward with an eager smile. “Really? You mean it? Er, does that… are you saying you’ll be my girlfriend? N-not that you have to be, we could just go on another date sometime. I just really enjoyed tonight, and… you know, I would love if you would be my girlfriend.”

Marinette smiled and crossed her arms. “Seriously, Adrien, if I was any more obvious, I’d have to hit you over the head with a sign that says, ‘ YES! DATE ME ALREADY!’”

At that, he laughed and the sound was pure euphoria.

Without hesitation this time, one of his hands went to her face and his other found her hand, pulling her close and pressing their lips together. This kiss was a little rougher, a sort of eager enthusiasm not muddled by hunger or questions or hesitation. It was just as delicious, but temptation was replaced by unbridled happiness. She could feel him smile through the kiss, and it made it that much sweeter when he pulled away, breathless.

Adrien’s smile reached his eyes, and the streetlamps cast tiny shadows in his dimples. “I hope you know, you’re signing up for lots more puns. And no take-backsies.”

“Take-backsies? Seriously ?”

“Yep.”

Marinette pursed her lips and stepped back, appraising him seriously. “How bad are we talking with the puns?”

Adrien, bouncing on his heels, studied the Dupain-Cheng Bakery sign above her head.

“Crumb on, you donut really want to tempt fate, do you?”

Marinette put her hand on the door, refusing to let out the laugh that bubbled to her lips.

“Go home before I call take-backsies anyways.”

Bonus Scene: Earlier that day...

“And don’t forget to tell your parents!” Tikki called as she disappeared into the folds of Marinette’s overly-large tote bag.

“Ahh…” The girl groaned, facepalming. Marinette had definitely been avoiding the subject with her parents, not wanting to make a big deal of things, but since she wasn’t going to be home for dinner there was no hiding it any longer.

Setting her jaw, Marinette descended the stairs and tried to appear casual as she entered the bakery. Maman was in the back, washing her hands, and Marinette could hear her father’s voice mingle with those of customers, carried from the front of the store.

“Good morning, honey,” greeted her mother. Marinette smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but firmly closed it again when she felt herself blush.

The silence caught her mother’s attention, so the woman furrowed a brow and turned to her daughter. “Marinette? Are you alright?”

She sucked her teeth reluctantly, which only further enticed her mother’s curiosity. The woman dried her hands and moved in front of her daughter, placing a hand on each shoulder.

“Alright, spill it. What’s happening?” The woman’s voice remained soft but firm, and Marinette tried to delay the inevitable by sipping her beverage again.

She was vaguely aware of the sashaying at her shoulder strap; Tikki’s encouragement needed no words to speak volumes.

“Maman,” she began, voice unusually husky. Marinette cleared her throat. “I won’t be home for dinner tonight. I’m… going out.”

“Oh,” the woman smiled warmly and dropped her accusatory stance, moving to a cooling rack of croissants and splaying them out platter, playfully swatting her daughter’s hand when she moved to steal one. Marinette blew a raspberry and her mother laughed, but not before shoving  another buttery, fluffy pastry back to her daughter.

Marinette chewed happily, and her mother just kept her focus on the task at hand.

“Well, don’t be too late. I’d like to have you back by, say, 9?”

“That sounds great,” Marinette hummed the words through satisfied bites, and her mother began packing together some additional pastries in a brown paper bag.

“And what are you kids doing tonight? Going over to Alya’s?”

Marinette licked her lips, her mouth feeling rather dry. “Um, no, actually.”

Just - just say it! Get it over with.

Her mother tilted her head curiously, and Marinette managed to bulldoze on.

“I’m going to the movies. With Adrien. On a… on a date.”

At that, her mother paused and looked up, meeting her daughter’s gaze with humor in her eyes. “Adrien, from school?”

Marinette bit her lip and nodded, but was surprised when her mother’s face spread into the most dazzling smile. “Well, why didn’t you say so? It’s about time! Why don’t you extend your curfew ‘til… 10:30?”

“W-wait, what?” Marinette blinked, surprised her mother was so lenient.

The woman simply shook her head and laughed lightly, handing the bag of treats to her daughter.

“A mother knows these things, sweetie. And this is great for me, if you waited until next month it would be me instead of your father doing laundry for the next three weeks.”

Probably loud enough that every Parisian in a ten-mile radius heard, Marinette howled at her mother.

“YOU WERE BETTING ON THIS?! WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH MY LIFE?”

Her mother patted her back soothingly, and rested her head along Marinette’s arm. “He seems like a nice boy, Marinette. Just be careful and don’t be afraid to set boundaries. And if you guys run out of things to do with the disappointing turn in the weather, you’re welcome to come back here for a while.”

At that, Marinette released a good-humored groan and patted her mother’s head. “Thanks, Maman. And yes, Adrien is nice… I’m, heh, I’m actually a little nervous.”

She ducked her head, as if the action would hide her disquiet from her mother; the woman seemed to know all.

She wrapped her daughter in a quick hug, and Marinette felt some tension in her muscles fade.

“You’ll do great, I just know it. You’ve grown up to be so smart, and confident, and beautiful. So don’t worry, dear. And if it helps, your father and I already approve… so, you know. Go get ‘em!”

“Maman!” Marinette ran a hand down her face, in part to hide her rosy cheeks but mostly from exasperation.

The woman leaned a little closer, dismissing her daughter’s irritation, and whispered.

“And if you can find a way to sneak in a kissing session, your father will be doing the laundry for two months straight! I’m rooting for you!”

The shriek that came from her mouth could not be aptly described as human.