11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug or any other copyrighted material.

Lucky Us

By: Princess Kitty1

Chapter 11

Marinette lay flat on her back, staring dismally at her bedroom ceiling. There was a trapdoor over her head that led to a balcony where she'd spent much of her time as a teenager, sunbathing on sunny days, tending her little rooftop garden, hanging out with friends, or just plain thinking. At her current level of regret, she envisioned herself climbing through the trapdoor, up to that balcony, and taking an enthusiastic leap off the roof of her house.

She had a fake date with Adrien that night. Adrien Agreste, who she had kissed on the cheek and called handsome boy not even twenty-four hours ago. A date during which her best friend planned to ditch her so she could be alone with Adrien, whose cheek she had kissed, whose appearance she had complimented. To his face. In a brazen display of her inability to hold her alcohol.

She groaned.

It had taken a monumental effort not to run screaming to Chat Noir after it was all said and done. She'd wanted to, but guessed he wouldn't like hearing about how she'd kissed a guy who wasn't him. She picked up her phone and glared at it. What was the point of having a best friend she couldn't tell everything?

Not that anything was stopping her. She could tell him.

And after that she could admit that the reason she had ended up tipsy in the first place was to cope with her irrational fear of losing him to some cute acquaintance.

Her urge to jump off the roof intensified.

Determined to keep her sanity intact, Marinette turned her thoughts away from the night before. There were better things to dwell upon, like the fact that she didn't have to go to work the next day, or the next day, or the day after that. She untangled herself from her bedsheets and climbed down from the loft. Her right foot landed on top of a wadded-up piece of sketch paper.

Oh. Right. There was the design competition, too. Her bedroom floor was a minefield of discarded ideas, but their sacrifice had not been in vain. On her computer were two designs, one male and one female, finalized and ready to submit as soon as the contest opened. No turning back. No chickening out. The worst they could do was confirm that she wasn't as good as the other designers, which didn't necessarily make her bad, just not best. She let out a weak laugh. If only she had the confidence to believe that.

Marinette washed her face while she waited for her phone to turn on. She hadn't always been so shaky. Her younger self charged into every activity, every competition with enough confidence for ten people. She never let minor setbacks determine how she felt about herself. Alya used to call her fearless.

But the Marinette of the past did not know pain like the Marinette of the present did. She didn't know what it was like to be kissing the sky one moment, then hitting the cold ground and shattering into a million pieces the next.

Lucky her.

The phone chimed with an email notification.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: Summer2 hours ago

It should be illegal to work on Sundays. Wait…

Good morning, buginette. It should be illegal to work on Sundays.

As I write this, you're probably sleeping in like I wish I was. Please enjoy it for the both of us. In fact, please sleep an extra four hours for me. Perhaps the power of my undying love for you will forge a connection between us and allow me to feel rested.

I'm so tired, I'm going to cry.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

You don't usually work on Sundays.

Did you change jobs?

(Good morning, by the way.)

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

I didn't. It's part of the preparation for this upcoming week, which will be insanely busy. Sorry again for any and all future absences. If only I could email you for a living…

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

What do you do for a living, Chat Noir?

x.x.x

Adrien's face warmed. He stowed his phone and schooled his expression into one of professional interest as the director of the fragrance commercial continued briefing his team on his grand vision.

Ladybug wanted to know what Chat Noir did for a living. Okay. No need to freak out. Never mind that this was the same woman who insisted they shouldn't share personal information with each other, now asking him for personal information. It didn't mean anything. Just like her curiosity about Marinette didn't mean anything.

"Is something amusing, Monsieur Agreste?" the director asked.

Adrien hadn't realized he was smiling. "Nope."

His phone buzzed again.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

Sorry. You don't have to answer that.

x.x.x

Marinette paced the length of her small kitchen. "Oh God, what's wrong with me today?" she whined. She dumped the phone on the counter and went to the refrigerator in search of breakfast.

Of course Chat Noir hadn't replied to her email. He, too, probably wondered what had gotten into her, and at this point she welcomed his speculations. Marinette grabbed a tub of yogurt, a carton of orange juice, and the mixed berries she'd used for her chocolate torte. A nice, healthy smoothie would fix her right up.

It was all Adrien's fault. If he hadn't come to the bakery last night, he wouldn't have been dragged into the party, she wouldn't have been tempted to kiss his cheek, and she wouldn't be prying into Chat Noir's personal life to distract herself from the fact that her lips had touched Adrien Agreste's body and he hadn't called to cancel their fake date yet.

Her phone chimed. Marinette handled it the way she might have handled a grenade.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: Summer4 seconds ago

I work in marketing.

You?

x.x.x

Adrien tapped his fingers on the table. His co-star for the commercial, another famous French model named Ange Simon, spared him a glance. Marketing. Not far from the truth. He used his body to market his father's products to the young and beautiful people the advertisements targeted. Ladybug hadn't asked for specifics.

But lobbing the question back at her had been a risky move. His heart raced in anticipation of her reply. Would she tell him outright? Would she get mad at him for volunteering the information when she told him not to?

His screen lit up. Adrien waited until the director's back was turned to sneak a glance at Ladybug's email.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: Summer21 seconds ago

Sales.

x.x.x

Sales. Marinette laughed at her own joke as she waited for the blender to finish obliterating her smoothie. She was a salesperson. Every day she woke up at dawn, baked a ton of pastries, then charmed customers into buying them.

She imagined Chat Noir working at some nice company, dressed in a suit. A nine-to-five kind of guy who carried a briefcase and drank no less than four cups of coffee a day. She imagined him, jaded and tired, sitting at a conference table, sneaking emails to her with a discreet little smile on his face.

Her heart skipped a beat.

How did Chat Noir imagine her? With an answer like "sales" he'd probably drawn a mental picture not unlike hers: a young woman who worked for a company and drank no less than four cups of coffee a day. Or, considering her interest in fashion, he might have pictured a boutique employee. Marinette wouldn't have minded working in a boutique—one that sold her own designs, of course.

Her phone chimed as she poured her smoothie into a glass.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: Summer13 seconds ago

Sales, huh? I can see that. We've known each other for what, a year? You could have sold me a private jet two months into our acquaintance.

Wait a minute… we've known each other for a year. A YEAR. Ladybug! Do you know what this means? We have an anniversary to celebrate! It might have passed already, but I still think we should do something special.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

Aren't you supposed to be busy?

We could always watch another movie together.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

Only if I pick the movie this time. Your taste in films makes me question my feelings for you.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

Rude.

x.x.x

By the time the meeting ended, Adrien had an extensive list of foods he wasn't allowed to eat for the next few days—the price of being a model—and a burning desire to run from his responsibilities. He spent the ride back to the mansion fantasizing about buying a motorcycle and driving far, far away, his Lady's arms wrapped around his waist…

A noise from Nathalie's tablet pulled Adrien out of his daydream. "Your father wishes to speak with you," she announced.

Just what he needed. "Let me guess: right this minute?"

"That is correct."

He wondered if his father had found out about the Gucci purchases. Then a more horrifying idea struck him: what if Nino had made good on his threat to tell Gabriel about Marinette? The car stopped for traffic and Adrien considered opening the door, somersaulting into the street, and making a break for it. He'd buy the motorcycle, ask Ladybug if she wanted to elope with him, pick her up, wait until the mansion was abandoned to sneak in and rescue Plagg, then hightail it to Italy, where he and his Lady would change their surnames to De Luca and live off grapes and bread until he got a stable job as an eccentric-yet-lovable painter—

Or he could go talk to his father like an adult.

When the car pulled into the Agreste mansion's formidable garage, Adrien climbed out and attempted to straighten his tie. Chloe was much better at tying them. The temptation to call her whispered in his ear, but knowing Chloe, she'd hang up on him the moment she figured out he was trying to get out of a conversation with his father.

He marched into the house with grim determination. Colette stood in the foyer.

"Good afternoon, Monsieur Agreste," she cried, her voice shrill in the way many peoples' voices were after a personal encounter with Gabriel Agreste. "All the arrangements for this week's meetings have been made. You have a Skype conference with the after party's caterers as soon as you complete shooting tomorrow, then the following day—"

Adrien cut her off with a hand on her shoulder. "Colette, isn't it Sunday? You should be at home with your family."

She darted a nervous glance from him to the door behind which his father undoubtedly waited. "But…"

"If the arrangements are done, just email the schedule to me. I'll look it over this evening." Adrien gave her shoulder a reassuring pat, then kept walking. Let that be his last good deed before his father killed him.

He opened the door to Gabriel's office and was surprised to find the desk vacant. He turned his head. His father crouched beside one of three mannequins that inhabited his office, scrutinizing a gown Adrien had never seen before.

"How was the meeting?" Gabriel asked without looking at him.

Adrien closed the office door. "Great," he said, then added, "the director's vision is… something else."

This time Gabriel leveled him with a don't start glare. "He is the best in the business. Please take his instructions seriously."

Adrien clucked his tongue to avoid reminding his father that he always took his mind-numbing, soul-sucking job seriously. He didn't want to risk pissing Gabriel off further if Nino had indeed dropped the Marinette bomb. Adrien gathered up his courage and moved straight to the point. "Is that all you wanted to know?" he asked, keeping his tone casual.

Gabriel's frown relaxed. "Yes and no," he said, and Adrien braced himself for the question. "Do you have plans this evening?"

That… was so far from what Adrien had expected that the air whooshed out of him as if someone had poked a hole in his stomach. Gabriel continued. "I thought that since you will be gone this week, and I will be gone next week, perhaps tonight we can have dinner and discuss the progress of the design competition."

Business dinner. Thrilling. Adrien mentally kicked himself and tried to see the situation from an outside perspective. Chloe would have called this progress, an opportunity to have an honest, one-on-one conversation with his father that involved neither games nor passive-aggressive comments.

Marinette's playful smile flashed through Adrien's mind. He winced. Chloe was going to kick his ass. "I'm sorry, father. I already made plans for this evening."

Gabriel paused in his work. "Ah," he said. "Well, I suppose it was rather last minute."

A storm of guilt brewed in Adrien's stomach. He hated that instantaneous response to disappointing his father. It made him feel like he was fifteen again, grieving and scared and anxious to please so he wouldn't be left alone in that enormous house with all his mother's belongings and none of her.

He shook it off. Dinner or no dinner, this was still an opportunity. If Nino hadn't told Gabriel about Marinette, then Adrien had a chance to break it to his father before he learned it from someone else. He took a deep breath. "It's just that you've always stressed the importance of making good first impressions…" Perfect start. Flatter his father first to soften the blow.

Gabriel looked up, blinking in the way that signaled to Adrien that he'd been lost in Designer Land. "What?"

Adrien made a note to apologize to Marinette later. Apologize and bring her flowers. And chocolates. And maybe a new car. "I'm going on a date," he said.

The Designer Land haze left his father's eyes, soft and malleable blue turning to steel. "A date," he echoed. A statement, not a question. "With who?"

Adrien summoned his most charming model smile. "It's not serious, if that's what you're worried about. We're just getting to know each other right now—testing the waters—and trying to decide if it's anything worth—"

"With who, Adrien?"

He sighed. "Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She's nice."

Gabriel stood from his crouch. Even though Adrien had grown to match his father's height, he'd become so used to Gabriel towering over him that his perception had never caught up. Whenever they were in the same room together, Adrien felt like the shorter man. "And where did you meet this woman?"

"Her parents own the bakery on Rue Gotlib," Adrien said. "But they're abroad taking care of a sick relative, and Marinette has been running the business since."

"A baker," Gabriel said, his mouth twisting around the word as if it tasted sour.

"It's a perfectly respectable trade."

"Of course it is. But have you stopped to ask yourself what a baker's daughter might want from you?"

Adrien felt the insult on Marinette's behalf. "I'm the one who asked her on a date," he said, "and if I'd had the slightest suspicion that she was after my money, I wouldn't have. But it's nice to see how little faith you have in my judgment."

"You're absolutely right I have no faith in your judgment, considering your last relationship was a fling with a woman you didn't even care about," Gabriel snapped. "You may resent me if you damn well please, but for God's sake, don't hurt yourself just to prove a point."

All it does is remind me that you're depressed.

Adrien flinched. The fight went out of him. All of the sudden, he couldn't look his father in the eye.

You're depressed.

"May I be excused?" he asked.

He could feel Gabriel's gaze on him. A long moment passed. "You may go," Gabriel said.

Adrien left the office without another word.

x.x.x

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Hey, I'm sorry if I crossed the line with the fake flirting yesterday. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.

Adrien Agreste: No lines were crossed. Actually, I thought the whole thing was pretty funny.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Are you sure?

Adrien Agreste: Positive. We're still on for tonight, right?

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Right. I'll see you then.

x.x.x

Marinette put on the off-shoulder blouse that Alya had threatened her into wearing for her date and stood back to admire the ensemble. High waisted skinny jeans, heels, freckled shoulders exposed, and sensible earrings. She pinned her hair up into a messy bun. Perfect.

The restaurant Marinette had chosen was romantic, but not too high end. She and Nathanael had often gone there to celebrate the completion of art projects. Their favorite table had a view of the kitchen door, so that Nathanael could do quick sketches of the wait staff's expressions before they fixed their fake how-may-I-help-you smiles back into place. Marinette would watch over his shoulder as his pencil dashed across the page, amazed by his speed, proud that she could call someone so talented her boyfriend…

She caught herself staring blankly at her reflection and put on a fake smile of her own. None of that. Tonight was about her and Adrien—Alya and Nino. She sighed. Whoever it was about, it didn't include Nathanael.

Marinette checked her phone. Chat Noir hadn't emailed her back, so whenever he got around to it, he'd have to wait for her response. She hoped he'd gone home and taken a nap.

She left the house at a quarter to six. The summer heat rolled off the ground and warmed her body, rejuvenating her. Now that she had time to spare, she needed to get out of the house more often. All of Paris waited to be explored. She'd become frightfully pale over the cold months; a dip in a swimming pool would fix her right up. Or a trip to the beach. Her eyes lit up with mischief. Would Adrien be interested in dragging Alya and Nino to the beach with them? She'd have to run it by him sometime during dinner.

She rounded a corner and found herself on a familiar street. She kept her eyes focused ahead of her, determined not to look up at the windows of the apartment she and Nathanael had once shared. The fact that it was on the way to the restaurant had completely slipped her mind.

Memories came back anyway. Sunny afternoons in the kitchen making dinner together. The time she'd made a suggestion that inspired him so much he pulled her off the couch and waltzed her around the living room. When artist's block struck one or both of them and they threw drawing prompts at each other until it cleared.

They'd been the picture of domestic bliss, too good to be true. And now all that remained was an empty apartment.

Marinette picked up her pace and cleared the street before her traitorous eyes could search the face of the building.

The restaurant came into view. She checked the time on her phone: a couple minutes early. Alya's plan was to send a text pretending to be running late, then she would invent some emergency to keep herself away from the restaurant.

A car pulled up to the curb ahead. Marinette recognized the enormous silhouette of Adrien's driver and a nervous flutter started up in her stomach. The passenger door opened. Adrien climbed out wearing a dress shirt, slacks, and the nicest shoes Marinette had ever seen in her life. He leaned over to say something to his driver, then straightened and waved him off.

Her chest tightened when Adrien spotted her. How could any one person be so ridiculously attractive?

"You look nice," he said, and smirked at her. "Going on a date?"

Marinette giggled. "Something like that." She followed Adrien over to the restaurant window so they could talk without interrupting pedestrian traffic. "I really am sorry about yesterday," she said. Even though she had his assurance that he hadn't been put off by her tipsy boldness, she felt the need to say it again. And again. And again, but that might have gotten on his nerves. "I have this bad habit of… over-drinking when I'm upset."

"Could be worse," Adrien said. "You could have a bad habit of over-drinking when you're perfectly fine." He tilted his head. "Why were you upset?"

Marinette froze. Crap. She should have known he would ask. No way in hell was she going to tell Adrien about Chat Noir when she hadn't even told Alya. Or her parents. "I'm always a little sad to see the bakery close, even if I am grateful for the month off," she said. It wasn't the truth, but it was a truth.

Adrien nodded in acceptance of her excuse. "You're such a hard worker, Marinette. If I got a month off from my job, I'd probably spend it on an island somewhere." He frowned. "Then again, I might go stir crazy if I had nothing to do. Have you decided whether you're going to enter the design competition?"

The million-dollar question. "I am definitely entering," Marinette replied. She put on a stern expression. "And don't you dare push me into the finals just because I'm your fake girlfriend."

Adrien huffed. "You prissy designers and your need to do things the hard way." He grinned at her. "Don't worry, even if I was in a position to do such a thing, I wouldn't insult your talent like that." He withdrew his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. "Just got a text from Nino…"

Marinette felt her phone vibrate and took it out of her purse. Alya's phony excuse text, right on schedule. To her surprise, Adrien laughed out loud. He held out his phone so Marinette could see the message.

Nino Lahiffe: Got accosted by Alya on the way to the restaurant and long story short you're on your own. Good luck bro!

"Let me guess," Adrien said, "you just got a similar text from Alya?"

Marinette tried to envision Nino getting accosted by Alya on his way to the restaurant. She imagined her best friend leaping out from behind a bush and dragging him off the street—which, knowing Alya, was entirely possible.

"I admit that I knew this was coming," Marinette said. "Alya hatched this little scheme the other day. I almost discouraged her from it, but then I realized that if she and Nino were off somewhere giving us privacy, they'd have a chance for some privacy of their own."

"So they planned to play us, but really they played themselves." Adrien's smile widened. "Marinette, you continue to amaze me."

"It wouldn't be a date if I wasn't doing my best to amaze," Marinette said. She channeled her tipsy self for boldness and looped her arm through Adrien's. "Now let's get some food. Alya's going to want to spy on this evening from a safe distance. I guarantee she and Nino are somewhere nearby, making sure our date goes well."

They walked into the restaurant and claimed their reservation. When Adrien told the host the rest of their party wouldn't be joining them, they were led to a table for two in a cozy, candlelit nook that made Marinette's heart beat faster. Romantic atmosphere. Attractive, playful and flirtatious date. Perhaps Alya's plan could work in her favor.

Marinette watched Adrien as he picked up the menu and flipped it open. If only he wasn't so hard to read. That cheerful attitude of his seemed impregnable.

After only a few seconds, Adrien closed the menu and put it down again. Marinette was surprised to find his smile had vanished. "Before we order a potentially insufficient amount of wine, I need to apologize to you, too."

Alarms sounded in Marinette's head. "Umm… why?"

"I told my father I was going on a date tonight, and he didn't take it very well."

Marinette felt suddenly lightheaded. "Oh," she said. "That's terrifying."

Adrien looked embarrassed. "It's my fault. I haven't been very smart about my past relationships, so he assumes I'll screw the next one up—which is likely, if I'm being completely honest—but you and I aren't even in a real relationship. It was wrong of me to direct his anger towards someone who doesn't deserve it. I only told him because Nino threatened to tell him for me, and that would have been worse."

"And it never occurred to you to tell him that this is a fake date?" Marinette asked, her voice bordering on hysteria.

"Knowing my father, he would have taken that even worse. He's never really approved of my friendship with Nino."

Some of Marinette's panic gave way to pity. She could understand a parent disapproving of a friend if they weren't a good influence, but from what little time she'd spent with Nino, she found him to be a perfectly nice guy. Nice enough to approve of him wooing her best friend, who Marinette would have killed for. "It can't be helped," she said. "I'm only your fake girlfriend, so if your father doesn't approve of us being together it's… no great loss." She wondered if that sounded as hollow to Adrien as it did to her. "I'm happy to take the bullet if it means our friends have a chance at something real."

Adrien stared at her, his expression pained. "Are you sure?" he asked.

The only way she could see it being a problem was if she won the design competition, and if that happened, being selected by Gabriel Agreste ought to be proof enough that she had won his favor. "I'm absolutely positive," Marinette said. "Call me martyr for the cause of true love."

Adrien reached across the table and took her hand. "Even though you're not my real girlfriend, I've done nothing to deserve you."

Marinette felt the blush rise to her cheeks and cursed it for not taking the hint. Her chances with Adrien had been destroyed before she'd even gotten the chance to destroy them herself. And yet, she didn't feel as disappointed about it as she could have. No matter what happened, she still had his friendship, and that was every bit as important as a romantic relationship—though a romantic relationship would have been nice. Very nice. Even now she felt a pang of regret when he let go of her hand.

After they'd ordered their food, Marinette decided to break the silence with a personal question. "You said you haven't been smart about past relationships. What does that mean?"

Adrien cringed. "It means I've been with a grand total of two women, and dated both for all the wrong reasons." He unfolded his cloth napkin and spread it on his lap. "I dated Chloe because she asked me to. Renée… because I wanted to piss off my father, and she offered to help me with that. Among other things." He took a hasty sip of water.

Marinette observed his nervous behavior and the meaning of "other things" clicked into place. "Ah," she said. Her surprise must have registered on her face because Adrien hurried to clarify.

"It was two years ago," he said. "A younger, stupider me."

Marinette leaned forward. "You haven't been with anyone in two years?"

"Who has the time?" Adrien dragged his finger through the condensation on his water glass. "Most days I'm surrounded by other models, and the ones I know all love a good party. Younger me would have loved that. Chloe and I used to hit those parties every week, before…"

He trailed off and Marinette tilted her head, waiting for him to continue. There was an odd look on his face, like his thoughts had stranded him in the middle of a vast lake. Then he smiled at her, and happy Adrien was back, just like that. "Anyway, I decided the parties weren't worth the hangovers and cleaned myself up. It's hard to meet people when you don't inhabit their same social circles, but it is what it is."

"Have you tried online dating?" Marinette asked.

Was it her imagination, or did Adrien blush? "N-No. I haven't. A lot of people swear by it, but I doubt my father would approve."

Marinette started piecing together the puzzle of Adrien Agreste in her mind. He didn't seem happy with his job. He rebelled against his father, but also sought his approval. He snuck away to bakeries after hours for some peace of mind.

And he'd never been in love. Marinette's heart swelled with pity. Her life may not have been going the way she wanted, but at least she could say she'd experienced love before.

She watched Adrien draw circles on his glass and a picture came to mind: a boy growing up in the public eye, walking in his father's shadow, head down, committing small acts of rebellion—a friend here, a pastry there—in an attempt to carve out his own life.

"Adrien?"

He lifted his head. "Hmm?"

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Adrien let out a short laugh. She'd caught him off guard. "Are you serious? Twenty-six isn't considered grown up?"

Marinette waited.

His smile faded a little, but he managed to catch it before it slipped away entirely. "I'm a model," he said.

"Yeah, so you've probably got another year left in you before you get retired to department store advertisements for middle aged men—no offense," Marinette said. She leaned forward, determined. He'd deflected her question. Could it be that no one had ever asked him? "When you're done with the model scene, what will you do?"

"I'll… help handle the business end of the Agreste label?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You don't sound very sure about that."

Adrien stared at her helplessly. "I mean, I have a master's in business administration. That seems like the most logical course of action."

"But…?"

He laughed again. Shook his head. Averted his gaze. Drummed his fingers on the table, then caught himself doing it and curled his hand into a fist. "When I was working towards my degree, my coworkers used to joke that I was too smart to be a model," he said. "They said it wasn't fair that I'd been blessed with good looks and intelligence, but really I just spent most of my free time studying. Math and science were my best subjects."

Marinette frowned. "Why didn't you come to the bakery years ago? I could have used your help."

"Wow, a girl who's only interested in me for my brain. That's a first," Adrien joked, and the two of them laughed together. He took a sip of his water, then set the cup down. "I did tutor some of the other models when they needed help. I had fun doing it, and they told me I was good at it, so… I kind of toyed with the idea of being a teacher for a while."

"A teacher," Marinette said. She could see that. He'd be the one that all the students adored, that the older female teachers either fell head over heels for or tried to set up with their young daughters.

"Yup. Then I remembered that the sight of me in a tweed jacket would more than likely kill my father, and that was the end of that." Adrien shrugged. "But modeling and business aren't bad alternatives. I have firsthand experience with the fashion world that others trying to land a job with my father's company don't have, and that's nothing to be ungrateful about." He gestured to Marinette. "Your turn. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The waiter swung by and filled their wine glasses as invisibly as possible. "You really don't know?" Marinette asked.

"I do, but you must have a plan."

"My plan is to enter your father's design competition and win it." She surprised herself with the confident declaration, considering how little confidence she had to spare. "And if that fails, I don't know. I pat myself on the back for trying and become a pastry chef."

"You'd make a good pastry chef," Adrien said. "However, at least one of us should get to have our dreams come true, so I'll be cheering for you." He picked up his wine glass and held it out to her. Marinette picked hers up as well. "A toast to Marinette Dupain-Cheng: fashion designer."

"A toast to Alya and Nino, who have hopefully taken advantage of this evening we have so graciously provided for them," Marinette said, if only to get the attention off herself. Still, she could do nothing about the rush of excitement that traveled through her body. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, fashion designer. She loved the sound of it more than she was willing to admit.

They stuck to neutral topics for the rest of dinner: fashion trends, weather, favorite foods, Nino and Alya, work. Adrien ranted about the director of the fragrance commercial with such passion that Marinette was in hysterics by the end of the meal. But she also couldn't help feeling sad for Adrien, using his good humor to mask how much he didn't want to do the commercial. He reminded her of herself, smiling as her relationship crumbled, pretending it was okay when leaving was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

The sun had set by the time they stepped out of the restaurant. They set off towards the bakery together, Marinette's heart growing a little heavier with each step. A summer night, a handsome guy.

No chance at romance.

In another life, she and Adrien were on a real date. One that had gone incredibly well. One that would end on her doorstep, where a warm breeze would push them together and their lips would meet and fireworks would burst across the sky, either before or after a romantic song and dance number. Then he would quit modeling and fulfill his dream of becoming a teacher. Cue the happily ever after.

But this was not that life. They did end up on her doorstep, but no warm breeze encouraged him to close the distance between them. They stood, as friends, on opposite sides of a conservative gap.

Until Marinette caught Alya and Nino ducking behind the building at the end of the alley.

"We were followed," she whispered.

Adrien started to turn. "What?"

"Don't look!" Marinette hissed, and he turned back around in a hurry. "Alya and Nino are spying on us. They're standing around the corner."

Adrien's eyes lighted with mischief. "We should bust them."

"Absolutely," Marinette said.

"But first…" Adrien lifted a hand to her cheek, leaned in, and planted a kiss right beside her mouth. To a nosy couple standing at a distance it would have looked like a real kiss, and though the whole thing was an act, the way Marinette's eyes fluttered shut in that moment was one hundred percent genuine. Adrien turned his head to whisper in her ear. "Putting on a show, fake girlfriend."

A ridiculously high pitched giggle burst from Marinette's mouth. She cleared her throat, snapped on a frown, and looked past Adrien. "Hey, you two! Aren't you ashamed of yourselves, stalking your best friends like this?"

"We're not here," Nino's voice answered back, followed by an "Oww!" then a much quieter "Where are we going…?"

Marinette shook her head and sighed. "He is so dead."

A car horn honked. She and Adrien recognized his driver parked at the other end of the alley, waiting. Adrien took a step back. "Guess I'd better go. Tomorrow will be a long day," he said.

Marinette fiddled with the strap of her purse. Her cheek still tingled from his kiss. "You can text me," she offered. "If you're bored or something. And I expect pictures of Chateau Margaux. You can't just go to a place like that and not take pictures."

Adrien nodded. "I'll do that. See you when I get back in town?"

"Yeah," she said. She watched his retreating figure, thinking of how she used to see him: glamorous, unattainable, walking out of her mundane life and into the dazzling sun where she'd never be able to reach him. "Adrien."

He looked back at her.

"It's not too late for your dreams to come true," she said, "so I'll be cheering for you, too."

He stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, then the corners of his mouth turned upwards. He lifted his hand in a wave. She waved back, and waited until his car pulled away before unlocking the door and stepping into the bakery.

The kitchen was clean and silent, the storefront beyond it dark, curtains drawn over every window. Marinette removed her heels and walked up the stairs to her front door. She let herself into the quiet house, switched on the lights and dropped her shoes beside the umbrella stand. Then she raised a hand to her cheek.

There may have been no chance for romance, but it didn't stop her from celebrating the little things.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: Summer1 minute ago

Oh God oh God oh God I can't do this

CHAT NOIR I CAN'T DO THIS.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

It's midnight, so I assume this is the design competition you're freaking out about. Ladybug. Take a deep breath. Have you filled out your entry form? Are the files attached?

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

Yes.

I can't do this.

Why did I ever think I could do this?

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

Because you know deep down that you can. Because you believe in yourself as much as I believe in you.

Breathe, Ladybug. Click submit, then go to sleep and fur-get about it! You'll be fine.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

I'm going to throw up.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

Throw up if you must, but not before you CLICK SUBMIT. Do it right now. Do it as soon as you read this. Don't let it wait until morning. Don't put it off for one more second.

If your next email doesn't read "I did it" I'm going to ignore you… for like half an hour, if I even last that long.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

I did it.

I'm going to go throw up now.

Good night, Chat Noir.

(And thank you.)

x.x.x

Adrien smiled at his phone and set it down next to his open suitcase. Plagg, who sat loafing on the other side of the suitcase, stared at the phone with mild disinterest. "I know what you're thinking," Adrien said, "and the answer is no, you cannot beg the kitchen staff for camembert while I'm out of town. I've left strict instructions for them."

Plagg blinked at him. Adrien scratched under his chin. "I'll be back on Friday." He packed the rest of his clothes and flipped the suitcase shut with a sigh. "Who am I kidding, you don't know what Friday is. Just please don't die of loneliness while I'm gone. It'd be very histrionic of you."

He zipped up the suitcase and lowered it to the floor, then picked up his phone again and sat next to Plagg. His bedroom was silent except for Plagg's contented purring. Adrien laid back, closed his eyes…

…and saw Marinette standing by her door with her earnest expression and freckled shoulders.

It's not too late for your dreams to come true, so I'll be cheering for you, too.

He closed Ladybug's email and opened his messages.

x.x.x

Adrien Agreste: Good luck with the competition, Marinette. You're going to be great.

To Be Continued

A/N: I watched the movie La La Land this weekend and it completely ruined my life. I need to watch it at least three more times before it leaves theaters. And then it needs to win a million Oscars.

Since I'm not sure when the next update will come, I want to wish y'all a Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I also want to thank you guys for putting up with the lack of updates. I just found out I got straight A's this semester again, and I can't tell you how much your patience and support means to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

And if you were thinking of getting me a present this year, there's a cute little review box down there that you can leave some words in. :D