24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug.

Lucky Us

By: Princess Kitty1

Chapter 24

After a marathon of hilariously bad movies, one too many drinks for Alya, and several slices of delicious cake devoured while listening to some of Nino's works in progress, Marinette's party wound to a close. She offered to help clean up, but everyone protested.

"The birthday girl does not work on her birthday," Alya declared with the unshakable certainty of a drunk woman. "As a matter of fact, get out. Just leave. Adrien! Make yourself useful and walk Marinette home."

Adrien, who'd had at least two drinks himself, saluted her. "Yes, Captain!"

Marinette shook her head. Even inebriated, Alya couldn't stop trying to get her and Adrien alone together. She thought about retaliating, but decided that being hungover at work the next day would be punishment enough for her best friend. So she thanked Nino again, accepted a clumsy hug from Alya that lasted twenty seconds longer than it needed to and included a miniature speech about how much she loved and appreciated her, then followed Adrien out of the apartment.

Once on the street, Adrien struck up a jaunty whistle. Marinette looked up at him. "You're in a good mood," she observed.

"Who, me?" Adrien grinned. "Of course I am! There's nothing better than spending the day with friends."

"You sure it has nothing to do with the alcohol?"

"Alcohol is a depressant. The only thing it'd make me do is drag my feet and talk like my tongue is swollen. Besides, I didn't have that much." Adrien leaned in closer to her. "You want to hear a secret?"

Marinette's eyes widened. A secret? What kind of secret? A big secret? Had he somehow figured her identity out by the timing of her email? Was he going to confess to her, right here and now? She nodded, her heart beating faster.

"I can't whistle when I'm drunk," Adrien said.

Marinette deflated. So much for figuring her out. "You can't?"

"Nope. Chloe thinks it's the funniest thing in the world." He shook his head. "I pucker my lips and blow but nothing comes out. Except for air. And a little bit of saliva. It's very attractive."

Marinette giggled. "I bet." They stopped on a street corner and waited for the traffic signal to change. "There's a fuzzy memory in my head of one of your drunken exploits. Something that was all over the tabloids. I think it had to do with a prince?"

Adrien let out a weak chuckle and scuffed the pavement with his shoe. "Yeah, I convinced the visiting Prince Ali to slide down a fire escape with a mixing bowl on his head and nearly caused an international incident," he said. "There are times when being best friends with the mayor's daughter comes in handy… for things like staying out of prison." The signal changed and they stepped out onto the street. "Prince Ali had fun, though. He and I keep in touch."

"Well darn, that beats every single one of my drunk stories," Marinette said.

"As entertaining as it was, it's not something I'm proud of." Adrien stared at the ground as they walked. "I did most of those stupid things because I wanted to get back at my father. I'd spent so many years being a dutiful son, staying on my best behavior, never causing a scene so I wouldn't make him or the company look bad. And when that did nothing to improve our relationship, I snapped." He paused. "Sorry, I didn't mean to dump all of that on you."

Marinette held up her hands. "It's okay. If you want to talk about it, I'd like to hear about it."

Adrien gazed at her for just long enough to make her heart race again, then smiled and looked ahead. "I started out big. Those drunken nights of debauchery with Chloe—"

"And Prince Ali."

"And Prince Ali, yes," he said. "Then something terrible happened that made me reconsider pulling dangerous stunts to get my father's attention, so I made stupid decisions with women instead."

"What was that supermodel's name?" Marinette asked. When Adrien's eyebrows went up in surprise, she shrugged. "Alya was interning at Zag Weekly back then. She fed me all the gossip." She smirked. "I wasn't one of those fangirls who kept up with everything you did, if that's what you're thinking." Which was true; before Adrien walked into the bakery the previous year, he'd barely been on her radar. Just another privileged rich kid blowing his fortune and making bad choices.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't thinking that," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Anyway, Renée Leroux. She was very… long."

"Long?"

"Her face, her hair, her torso, her legs. It was like being in bed with Slenderman."

Marinette stifled a laugh. "That is so mean!"

"I'm not saying it to be mean," Adrien cried. "The first word that popped into my head was 'spider' and that would have been even meaner, so I went for Slenderman instead. In any case, I appreciated her spindly limbs at the time. But… our relationship had no substance." The sadness returned to his smile, tempting Marinette to smooth it away. "We were just two cold people trying to get warm," he said.

Marinette imagined taking his hands, rubbing them between hers, blowing warm air on his fingers—because if he needed heat, she had plenty to give. But she kept her hand at her side, swinging not one foot away from his. A little bit closer and her knuckles might have grazed his, and her pinky may have snuck out and wrapped itself around his pinky, and he might have taken a chance and slipped his hand into hers, and she might have threaded their fingers together…

"But you don't do that kind of stuff anymore," she said.

"I don't," Adrien replied. "It accomplished nothing and didn't do me any good. Besides, my father and I are finally talking things out."

"Yeah?"

"He asked me what my plans were after the design competition."

Marinette's eyes widened. "That's great!" she cried. "What did you tell him?"

"I said I didn't know." They rounded a street corner and the bakery came into view. She almost regretted living so close, even though her feet throbbed in her heels with every step. "The design competition is the busiest I've been in a long time," Adrien said. "It's interesting work, and I'm not bad at it, but I doubt I could keep it up the way my father does."

"You didn't bring up the teaching thing?"

He shook his head. "I'll wait and see how things play out over the next couple of weeks before I break it to him. He knows I'm tired of modeling, but I think he still hopes I'll take interest in the label and run the business side."

"You'd get to wear a suit and tie every day," Marinette said.

"Yeah, and I'll make all my friends call me Monsieur Agreste."

"Did you get my text, Monsieur Agreste?" she asked in a playful tone.

Adrien straightened, slipped his hands behind his back and did a frighteningly good impression of his father's severe expression. "Why yes, it was quite humorous. I believe the colloquial term is l-o-l."

Marinette snorted. "Okay, you do that a little too well."

"I've had years of practice," Adrien said with a mischievous smile that suited him far better than the stern look.

It brings out the Chat Noir in him, Marinette thought, and felt the giddiness of knowing who he was all over again. As they approached the bakery, she realized that she had the perfect chance to tell him who she was. Her palms began to sweat. She couldn't keep the secret forever. She didn't want to. Why not tell him now that she had him alone?

They reached the alley door. Marinette pulled her housekey out of her purse, took a deep breath, and turned to face Adrien. His smile perked up a bit. Damn it, did he have to look at her like that? "W-Would you like to come in?" she asked before her courage could fail her.

Adrien's brows drew together. "Any other time, I would," he said, "but I have to get back to the house. Tomorrow's a busy day and my secretary needs those papers signed."

Marinette mentally kicked herself. She'd forgotten about the papers. "Right."

For a moment, he looked like he might decide to come in anyway. Marinette willed him to come in anyway. She'd offer him a Ladybug special. But then Adrien took a step back, as if he needed the distance to resist the temptation of her offer, and Marinette had to hide her disappointment. "Did you have a fun day?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "it was a great birthday. Thank you, and Nino, and Alya. I really appreciate it."

Adrien bowed at the waist. "Well, if ever you are in need of a good time, I am more than happy to entertain you."

He laid the innuendo on so thick that Marinette stood waiting for him to sprout cat ears and a tail. But he merely wished her a good evening and set off down the alley with that same jaunty whistle. Marinette rolled her eyes, unlocked the bakery door, and went inside.

Not even two minutes later, her phone chimed.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

How did you do it?

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

Umm… how did I do what?

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

How did you infect the girl I like with your horrible taste in movies? Tell me your secrets so that I can make you pay for your sins!

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

I don't know, Chat Noir.

Maybe you just have horrible taste in women. :-P

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

LIES. LIES AND SLANDER.

APOLOGIZE, VILLAIN.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

You'd think I would remember how much of a dork you are when I go a while without talking to you.

Am I setting my expectations too high?

Looking back on our emails through the rose-tinted lenses of nostalgia…?

(I appreciate your silliness, chaton.)

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

I know you do, buginette.

So what have you been up to?

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

Oh, you know, stuff.

There were some things that required my undivided attention.

How about you?

Did you score with your cute acquaintance?

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

"Score" is such a rude term. Why would you use "score" when there are so many nicer words? "Did you successfully romance your cute acquaintance? Did you woo her? Did you sweep her off her feet?"

The answer is no on all accounts.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust now

Bummer.

x.x.x

Adrien woke up in the middle of the night.

He checked the time on his phone: two in the morning. He rolled over and went back to sleep…

…and woke up in darkness.

He checked the time. 3:47. He went back to sleep.

And woke up at 5:12.

"Okay, I give up," he groaned.

Adrien slid out of bed—gently so as not to disturb Plagg—and walked into his bathroom. There would be no restful sleep on Announcement Day. Even though he wasn't the one being judged, he still felt semi-queasy. He showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, then spent ten minutes trying to decide on the best suit for the occasion and wishing he'd consulted Chloe on Monday. Or Marinette the day before.

He surprised the kitchen staff by appearing in the kitchen well before seven. "Don't worry," he said, "I'll get my own food."

Then he stared at a bowl of fruit for a full minute before someone recommended an apple, for which he shot them a grateful look.

Adrien's restlessness wouldn't let him sit and eat, so he wandered the mansion. Nathalie's empty office stood bare of most decorations, but on her desk he discovered a few keepsakes: a crystal butterfly paperweight his father had given her for Christmas a while back, a desktop calendar of Monet paintings, a framed photograph of Nathalie's brother with his wife and son, and another framed photograph of a much younger Adrien beaming between his smiling parents with Nathalie and the Gorilla on either side of them. A sticky note on the corner of her computer monitor read "Reminder—girls' night with Colette, Sept. 2nd."

Adrien moved on to his father's office. Framed photos from Adrien's past model shoots occupied one wall. Behind a large desk hung a painting of the late Mrs. Agreste, dressed in and surrounded by gold.

"You're up early."

Adrien turned. His father stood in the doorway, fully dressed and neat as a pin despite the hour.

"I couldn't sleep much," he confessed.

Gabriel considered his words, then nodded. "You are apprehensive about this afternoon. Don't be. The only judge who should give you any trouble is De La Cruz, and the best way to put an end to his tantrums is to ask him how his horse Bonita is doing," he said with a smile that bordered on sinister.

Adrien wondered, not for the first time, whether his father was a fashion designer or some kind of mafia boss. "Okay," he said slowly. "I was more worried about the people who entered. There's going to be a lot of brokenhearted designers out there today."

"Ah." Gabriel straightened. "You should not concern yourself over that. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they entered this competition. Any designer worth their salt would have developed a backup plan to keep their career moving forward in the event that they did not advance." He raised an eyebrow. "The fashion industry is a never-ending competition. You compete against your fellow designers to see who sets the trends. It certainly isn't all there is to it, but it is a major component of it, and an aspiring designer who cannot bounce back from a loss will not make it far in this line of work."

"You know, I think if I hadn't been your son, I never would have guessed how scary the fashion industry is," Adrien said.

A hint of a smile touched the corner of Gabriel's mouth. "Well, I am glad that you are my son," he said.

Adrien knew that. He'd always known that. But he couldn't stop the grin that overtook his face anyway.

When he left his father's office, he dumped his apple core in the nearest trash bin and took his phone out of his pocket. Almost 6:30. He opened his inbox and pulled up Ladybug's email thread. They'd stayed up late talking to each other the night before, catching up on what little noteworthy information they could share—namely, Adrien's love life and the amusement Ladybug derived from it.

He'd taken the opportunity to ask her about the guy she'd been crushing on a while back: Mr. Impossibly Handsome and Out of Her League. She'd cryptically replied that he wasn't as out of her league as she thought.

Adrien sighed. It had nothing to do with him. He had feelings for Marinette. He'd chosen to pursue Marinette. She just happened to be in love with someone else, and any day now she'd act on that love and that would be the end of that.

He'd almost told her the day before. In his room. With her standing so close, looking up at him with those wide blue eyes like she wanted something from him.

But perhaps he'd just imagined that.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: Summer2 hours ago

Good morning, buginette! I got little sleep last night and today is scheduled to be exhausting, so if you're in a generous mood and feel like buying me another coffee, this bag of bones (and fur) would greatly appreciate it.

x.x.x

Adrien entered the main conference room at Agreste HQ and fought back a scream. Sitting around the large oval-shaped table were ten assistants of all sizes and nationalities whose blank expressions mirrored Nathalie's. Each assistant held a tablet on which the faces of the guest judges were displayed in varying states of emotion. Some already appeared to be bickering with each other.

Adrien recognized most of the designers from previous competitions, fashion weeks, and other social events. He approached the table, keeping in mind that he was his father's son and should therefore be able to handle a group chat with the most powerful names in the industry.

"—stole the design from me and everyone here knows it!"

Or not.

A silver-haired woman wearing dramatic makeup, who Adrien knew simply as Cristine, leaned back in her office chair with a smirk. "It's not my fault you can't help boasting after a few glasses of wine, De La Cruz," she said. "Maybe next time you won't try to seduce one of your competitors."

"Bambini, please," the Italian Gianmarco Leuzzi cut in, "why don't we all hold our tongues and let our chosen do the fighting?"

"I'm confident that my pick will outclass the rest of yours, seeing as I have the best taste at this table," an American designer named Edgar Ills said, then graced Adrien with a look. "No offense to your father."

Adrien lowered himself into the chair at the head of the table. He'd always wondered how his father had gotten a group of designers who hated each other to work together on his design competition, and now he knew: he'd sold it to them as yet another way to compete over who had the better eye.

"Adrien, you look fantastic. It's like staring into the past and seeing Gabriel in his early years," the elderly French designer Madame Gusteau said from her tablet screen.

"Thank you," Adrien said, because he didn't know what else to say.

"Both of you, always kissing up. It's disgusting!" De La Cruz shouted.

"Oh, shut up already. Let the boy speak," Leuzzi said, and the table fell silent.

Adrien took a deep breath and summoned Chloe's mantra to the front of his mind. Gorgeous and in charge. Gorgeous and in charge. "On behalf of my father, I thank you all for your contributions to this year's competition. He greatly values your input and trusts in your knowledge and experience."

Adrien heard what sounded like an "of course he does" from the general direction of Edgar Ills.

"He invites all of you to the competition's finale next weekend so that he may deliver his thanks in person," Adrien said. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "So without further ado, please present your chosen finalists."

He fought back another scream when the assistants, in one synchronized movement, produced envelopes from behind their tablets and passed them forward. The designers began to chatter and take verbal swipes at each other again, but Adrien heard none of it. His entire focus zeroed in on the ten envelopes that Colette leaned forward to collect.

Adrien watched her open each envelope, read from the paper inside, then type something into her tablet before moving to the next. His mouth went dry as the number of envelopes in the pile diminished until none were left. He drummed his fingers on the table impatiently as Colette turned and tapped on her tablet a few more times.

Then the large viewing screen at the head of the conference room flickered to life, and ten names appeared under ten designs.

Jeanne Chevotet, Lise Poullain, Veronika Okienka, Emma Barrande, Ae Min-Hee, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Noemie Chapuis, Astrid Edouard, Adele Montgomery, and Beatrice Besson.

Adrien exhaled forcefully.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

There she was, along with her design for an outfit that took inspiration from both traditional French and Chinese clothing, on display for the greatest designers of the world to see.

"…dreadful taste, as usual."

"I've got this one in the bag."

"Shall we place a friendly wager on that, Edgar?"

Adrien tuned the judges out and stood from his chair. "Colette, send the names to our web team and have them email the finalists," he said with a smile. "We'll drop the official announcement at noon."

x.x.x

designcompetitionatbutterflyCompetition Finalist29 minutes ago

Dear Ms. Dupain-Cheng,

We are pleased to announce that you have been selected as a finalist…

x.x.x

Alya Cesaire: IS THIS EMAIL THAT YOU FORWARDED ME WHAT I THINK IT IS

Alya Cesaire: MARINETTE OH MY GOD

Alya Cesaire: I AM UGLY CRYING AT MY DESK RIGHT NOW

Alya Cesaire: I AM TOO HUNGOVER TO BE CRYING LIKE THIS

Alya Cesaire: I SENT IT TO MOM AND NOW SHE'S CRYING TOO

x.x.x

Manon Chamack: I'M SSCWEREAMING MARINETTE YEEEEEES

x.x.x

Nathanael Kurtzberg: You did it, Mari!

x.x.x

Nino Lahiffe: Yo! Congrats, Marinette!

x.x.x

Adrien Agreste: Congratulations, Marinette. I knew you could do it. :)

x.x.x

Marinette hung up from a video chat with her parents and wiped her eyes. Her phone hadn't stopped vibrating since the announcement went live on Gabriel Agreste's website. She'd been in shock when she first forwarded the email to Alya, but when she told her parents the news and saw the joy on their faces, the shock wore off and her tear ducts went into overtime.

She grabbed her yo-yo and pulled up her internet browser, staring at the email again.

A finalist. She was a finalist. One of the most famous fashion designers in the world had singled her out among a crowd and decided she had what it took to win. And now everyone had their eyes on her, waiting to see what she would do next.

Marinette flicked her yo-yo out and pulled it back into her hand. Her heartrate hadn't been normal since the moment her sleep-crusted eyes landed on the email that morning. But now it sped up for a different reason.

She'd promised herself. No more hesitation. No more fear.

She took a screencap of the email, cropped out her name and everything but the congratulatory paragraph, then opened Chat Noir's good morning message and hit reply.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: SummerJust nowAttachment: NotCoffee

No can do on the coffee.

Will you accept this image instead?

x.x.x

Adrien stopped walking in the middle of the hallway, causing Colette to almost collide with him.

"Are you all right, Monsieur Agreste?" she asked.

Adrien stared at his phone. At the image Ladybug had sent him. At the paragraph congratulating her on her advancement in the design competition. A message that only ten people had received that morning.

Ladybug was a finalist.

He immediately switched back from the email to his father's website, where the names of the finalists had been posted an hour earlier.

Jeanne Chevotet. Lise Poullain. Veronika Okienka. Emma Barrande. Ae Min-Hee. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Noemie Chapuis. Astrid Edouard. Adele Montgomery. Beatrice Besson.

One of them was Ladybug.

But who?

To Be Continued

A/N: I'll give you a hint, Adrien: She's been in your bedroom.

My first short story, "Carter Lake," has been published over at Flash Bang Mysteries! Just type it into your Google search bar. You can read it for zero dollars and zero cents.

The end is nigh! Marinette has begun Operation: Reveal! What will Adrien do now that his two best girls are in the finals? Feel free to speculate in the box below!