24. Satisfaction Brought It Back

It had been a long time since Marinette had woken to the smell of someone else making coffee for her on a weekday, and shifting under the sheets Nino put out for her, she wondered how long she could enjoy the morning before the nightmare circus of her day began.

“You up?” Nino asked, glancing up over the rim of his laptop as Marinette stirred.

“Mmhmm,” Marinette muttered, scratching the back of her head as she sat up, fumbling around for her jeans. “You heading to work?”

“Don’t have a shoot until noon, but…” Nino trailed off, squinting at his laptop screen. “Something’s happening…”

“Something’s always happening,” Marinette said, glancing down at her phone to see a flurry of texts from Sylvia and Ellie. “…you mean with Gabriel?”

“Gabriel to Make Announcement Today at Nine,” Nino said, reading the headline of an article as Marinette tugged her pants on underneath the blankets. “Fashion House Expected to Announce Permanent Successor to the late M. Agreste. That was posted an hour ago, so we got another half before they announce it.”

“No doubt Marcel is a shoe in for the job,” Marinette sighed, wobbling to her feet with a small scowl. “Ugh, I only had two beers last night; why am I hungover?”

“I thought Marcie was the head of the house?” Nino said as Marinette padded into the kitchen.

“I think he was interim CEO,” Marinette said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and dumping half the sugar dish into it. “The head of a Parisian fashion house has to be more than just a businessperson; they’re responsible for the entire aesthetic of the company, from high fashion to accessories.”

“They’re really gonna put a guy who thinks pocket squares are some kind of phone game in charge a company that’s supposed to set the standard for men’s fashion?” Nino said, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, I know he has the board in a sleeper hold now that Adrien’s gone, but that’s tantamount to fashion suicide, doesn’t it?”

“I would think so,” Marinette said, leaning against the counter and taking a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “The one satisfaction I take from all this is that Gabriel will be a flaming wreck of a fashion house shortly after Coccinelle goes under.”

“You don’t know that it’s going under,” Nino said.

“Says the man who hasn’t seen our sales reports,” Marinette said.

“Maybe Adrien and Alya’s insanity turned up something?” Nino said, standing up and heading over to the fridge.

“I’m not betting on it,” Marinette sighed, glancing at her phone. “Alya call?”

“Nope,” Nino said, tugging out a basket of berries and a carton of milk. “I shot her a text at ten or so, but she probably went to bed already. Long day and all.”

“I bet,” Marinette said, thumb hovering over Adrien’s contact for a long moment before closing her phone. “And Adrien? Are you still mad at him?”

“Disappointed, more like, but I’ll get to him in due time,” Nino said, snapping a banana in half and tossing it in the top of the blender. “Are you?”

“I…don’t know,” Marinette sighed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Should I be? Do I even have the right to be mad at someone for trying to save my business?”

“You do if it makes you feel like you got run over,” Nino said, tipping the milk and berries into the blender. “I get how you might feel like someone went and made decisions on your behalf without consulting you first.”

“Whether I feel like that or not, that’s kinda what happened, isn’t it?” Marinette chuckled, picking at a loose thread in her shirt. “I don’t know…I don’t like feeling this powerless; especially when it’s people I care about that make me feel that way.”

Nino offered a sympathetic nod, filling a glass full of berry smoothie and passing it to Marinette as they both glanced at the clock. Ten minutes was all that separated them from whatever announcement the staff at Gabriel were planning, and Marinette doubted there was a person in Paris more worried about it than she was.

Of course there was a person more worried than Marinette, but she had no way of knowing that Marcel Dubois was cutting through traffic on the wrong side of the street to get to Gabriel before they made an announcement that nobody told him was happening.

He had almost choked on his toast when he opened his tablet to see that his company had announced an announcement that had sent the stock price into a .0000001% tailspin that nearly made his heart stop. The morning had already been blocked off for firing the maid for disturbing his antique stamp collection, and now he had to reschedule, hastily dress himself, and race towards Gabriel before the company burned to the ground without him.

Honestly, he did so much for the company that he should have given himself a raise months ago.

Pulling into the parking garage with a screech, Marcel ignored the protests of the parking attendant as he waddled as quickly as he could towards the door.

“Lemarc?” Marcel said, calling for the security guard as he entered. “Lemarc, I need y-”

Marcel stopped dead in his tracks, out of surprise because the security desk was empty and not because a thirty foot jog had already winded him. Glancing around the empty lobby, the overwhelming and uncharacteristic silence seemed to press in on him as he headed towards the elevator. There was an overwhelming sense of secrecy that seemed to shadow every step, amplified by the fact that nary a worker seemed to be coming or going from the front office.

It wasn’t a national holiday, and even if it was, Marcel had cancelled paid time off for all but the most important state holidays (a cost cutting measure that was no doubt going to pay off down the road), so it wasn’t as though he had accidentally come to work on an off day. As the glass backed elevator ascended past floor after floor of empty design stations and cubicles, Marcel’s unease only seemed to amplify. Opening his phone, he was about to call Bruno for the tenth time that morning to ask where everyone was, when a notification ping caught his attention.

Opening the email, his eyes narrowed in confusion before slowly widening in horror as he read press brief out loud.

“Acting Gabriel CEO, Marcel Dubois-”

“-Announces Retirement After Twenty Five Years of Service?” Nino read, frowning at the screen as Marinette leaned against the wall behind him, fingers pressed to trembling lips.

“What else does it say?” Marinette asked, wondering if her galloping heartbeat was the product of nerves or the titanic cup of coffee she just drank.

“Well,” Nino said, adjusting his glasses as he read further down the article. “It says that-”

“-after more than a quarter century working to build the premier men’s fashion company in France,” Alix read, legs dangling over the back of the couch as Max fixed breakfast, a pearly white grin on his face. “Marcel Dubois-”

“-announced late Monday that he intended to step down as acting CEO for the Gabriel house of fashion,” Kim read off his phone as he ran, barely breaking a sweat as Sabrina huffed and puffed on the elliptical beside him. “Though M. Dubois could not be reached for commentary-”

“-insiders fully expect him to publically announce his retirement plans-”

“Slower,” Chloe said, leaning against a wall and staring dreamily into space as Nathanael read the brief. “I want to savor this moment…”

“-at…a…p…ress con….fer…ence…this….Tuesday,” Nathanael said, voice dipping an octave. “When approached for a statement, Adrien Agreste, son of the house’s founder Gabriel, said-”

“-‘Marcel has always been a treasured member of the Gabriel family, and we wish him all the best in his future endeavors’,” Alya read, glancing up at Adrien as he stared out over the city. “Bit late to get your feedback on it, but looks like they printed it just as I wrote it…sound good?”

Adrien glanced up at the portrait of his father that hung from the wall, staring imperiously down at him with an inscrutable look on his face. For the first time, Adrien couldn’t tell if his father would have distained him for making such an emotionally driven business decision, or approved of the lengths to which he went to keep the company safe. For the first time since Adrien could remember, the specter of Gabriel Agreste didn’t hang over the choices he made; he didn’t know how his father would have reacted to all this, and frankly he didn’t particularly care. Gabriel wasn’t there to pass judgment on his son’s behavior anymore, so all Adrien could do was what he thought was right.

“Sounds good,” Adrien said, turning to head towards the office door. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Your call,” Alya said, biting her lip. “Hey…you gonna see Mari after this?”

“Probably gonna try and apologize to Nino first,” Adrien said, glancing back at his partner in crime. “You?”

“Think I’ll wait til everything calms down,” Alya sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I have some stuff I need to do back home…”

“Everything okay?”

“I…hope so,” Alya said, chewing on her bottom lip. “Just up late thinking…got something to talk to Nino about is all.”

Adrien opened his mouth, but thought better of prying. It wouldn’t do for him to butt into their relationship; whatever Alya needed to talk to Nino about was between them. “Well…good luck. And if you need anything-”

“Thanks,” Alya said with a small smile as she straightened his tie. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Adrien said, taking a deep breath and heading towards the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

As the elevator reached the top floor and Marcel’s face began to resemble a swollen tomato, he stepped into Gabriel’s executive offices, casting his eyes around wildly for anyone who could explain this lunacy to him.

“Leon?!” Marcel called out, making his way to the office as best he could with the lights dimmed. “Bruno?”

“SURPRISE!”

Much to the dismay of everyone in the universe, Marcel did not have a heart attack as he rounded the corner to see his numerous co-workers, subordinates, and business associates all jumping out in party hats. The lights flicked on, confetti rained from the ceiling, and a banner reading Bon Voyage! unfurled and dropped over the doorway to his office. Off to the side, Andre Bourgeois’ horrible daughter filmed the whole scene, tears in her eyes as a smile threatened to split her face open. The applause was nearly deafening as Adrien and Bruno emerged from his office, smiling and leading the applause.

“Adrien?” Marcel managed to choke out. “What’s all this about?”

“What, you thought we’d let you go without giving you a proper goodbye?” Adrien said, passing Marcel a cup of punch from a nearby table. “Sorry this is kinda rushed, but you should have given us some more notice!”

“N-Notice?” Marcel spluttered. “I don’t understand, I never gave any notice!”

“Which is why we couldn’t get a bigger cake,” Adrien said, nodding at the small white cake that said Goodbye Marcel :) in green icing. “Good bakery though; Chloe here set it all up.”

“It was no trouble,” Chloe said, raising her phone and taking a snap of Marcel’s baffled face. “When I heard you were leaving Gabriel I just-”

She trailed off, blinking rapidly and fanning her face as Nathanael offered her a tissue from his pocket.

“I-I just never thought this day would come,” Chloe said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

“….I-I’m sorry, do you even work here?” Bruno asked.

“Don’t ruin this for me!” Chloe hissed, shoving a cup of flat off-brand soda into Bruno’s hand. “Just drink your Professor Pepper and let me have this!”

“Okay, okay, I know everyone wants a piece of the man of the hour,” Adrien said, steering Marcel through a crowd of elated employees. “But we have some paperwork to take care of in the back, so everybody mingle until we get back!”

Adrien shot a wave over his shoulder, steering Marcel into Gabriel’s old office and locking the door.

“Adrien, I don’t understand what’s going on here,” Marcel said, straightening his tie anxiously as he took notice of Leon standing against the back window. “Leon, what’s going on here?”

“I don’t understand what part you’re having trouble with,” Leon said coolly. “I thought it would have been obvious; this is your retirement party, Mr. Dubois.”

“Have a seat,” Adrien said, all traces of cheer gone from his face as he sunk down into Gabriel’s old chair with a wince as he sat on something hard. He reached back and pulled out a small ping-pong paddle of all things, sharing a curious look with Leon before setting it down on the desk as he reached for a manila folder off to one side. Through the door, music started wafting in, suggesting that once Marcel left, the party began in earnest.

“W-Would someone please explain to me why I woke up to the news that I’m retired?!” Marcel spluttered after a moment of silence. “And why there seems to be a spoiled little girl leading my staff in a chorus from Scrooge?!”

Wordlessly, Adrien opened the folder and withdrew a stapled packet of worksheets, paystubs, and account information, tossing it across the desk for Marcel to review. Adrien watched the color drain from his face as he picked up the papers, paging through sheet after sheet of evidence that tied him to hundreds of thousands of euros worth of corporate fraud.

“Lau Chan Lan,” Adrien said, tossing another packet across the desk to Marcel. “Lueng Chun Ying.”

Another packet landed in front of Marcel. “Lao Bak Leong,” Adrien said, leaning back in his chair. “Care to guess what these people have in common? Other than being completely fictional that is.”

“Are they?” Marcel said, setting the packets down as though he would contract some disease from handling them too long. “I’ve never heard of these people before in my life.”

“Really?” Adrien said, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting then that you’d take it upon yourself to approve the paystubs of three men you’ve never heard of before every single month since last December.”

Marcel opened his mouth to fire back, but realized he couldn’t say anything without incriminating himself. He pulled his phone out to contact his lawyer when another manila folder landed on the desk, followed by a fountain pen as Adrien pushed both across the table towards Marcel. “Signature, please,” Adrien said.

“What is this?” Marcel said, glancing at the papers over the rims of his glasses. “What are these supposed to be?”

“Release forms, non-disclosure agreements, non-compete agreements, pension release forms, forwarding address forms for anything you might leave behind when you leave today,” Leon supplied from his post by the window. “We’re also going to need your keycard, parking pass, personal computing devices that the company leant you during your tenure-”

“Gentlemen, please,” Marcel said, holding his hand up. “I-I know this looks incriminating, but whoever spread these f-false a-and troubling allegations about me is no friend to this company or the way we do business.”

“At last we can agree on something,” Adrien said, tilting the computer monitor so Marcel could see his own e-mails sitting in Adrien’s inbox. “Because that person was you, funnily enough, and I can’t think of anyone who is less of a friend to Gabriel than you are at this very moment.”

“Th-those aren’t mine, I swear!” Marcel stammered, sweat collecting on his brow as he glanced between Adrien and the screen. “I’ve never seen them before in my…the thought of me embezzling money f-from my own…I-I think my lawyer should be here for this…”

“Do you want to get lawyers involved?” Adrien asked. “Because we can get lawyers involved. By all means, let’s open up an international investigation that sends the stock price of this company plummeting while the press picks you to the bone.”

“A CEO Embezzling His Company’s Funds,” Leon mused, scratching his chin. “I can almost see the headlines.”

“Your career is done,” Adrien said.

“You can’t just toss me to the curb like some kind of trash!” Marcel stammered, wiping his brow. “Y-You don’t even work here anymore!”

“Perhaps not, but as Gabriel’s majority shareholder, his opinion has considerable heft,” Leon remarked.

“And why am I not surprised to see you grubbing after my job, Garron?” Marcel snapped. “I don’t doubt you manipulated poor Adrien into-”

“Leon didn’t manipulate me into doing anything,” Adrien said. “After everything you did to…to Gabriel, did you think I would just sit back and let all this slide?”

He knew he had given away too much the moment he almost slipped Marinette’s name, and as Marcel’s brow furrowed, he knew that their pretenses weren’t holding up to scrutiny.

“…this isn’t just about these…accounts, is it?” Marcel said quietly.

“No, it’s about how you’ve completely failed to make anything out of the company my father-”

“This is about that business with the Dupain girl, isn’t it?”

Leon could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped a couple of pegs as Adrien seemed to be stunned into silence. Marcel had always lacked the foresight to know when he had stepped too far, so of course the miserable little ringworm had the nerve to look like he had struck a chord as he turned to Leon. “Leon, are you really prepared to put our company on the line over such an emotionally charged decision.”

“So you don’t deny it?” Adrien asked quietly.

“Why would I?” Marcel said, crossing his arms. “So what if I reallocated company funds to eliminate competition-”

“She runs a fledgling design company out of a studio that’s smaller than this office,” Adrien hissed. “In what universe is she competition?”

“In ten years, Ms. Dupain could completely shut out our growing women’s section,” Marcel said coolly. “I was seizing an opportunity and planning for the future-”

“Don’t pretend this was about anything other than your ego,” Adrien spat, fingers clenching on the desk. “When my father started this company-”

“He trampled over more start-ups than I ever did,” Marcel said, glancing over the rim of his glasses. “You think you become a fashion mogul by playing nicely with the other little boys and girls? When your father was five years older than you, the men’s boutiques he hadn’t outright bought were crumbling as his brand took off. People gave up, left the country, and I think even one poor sod hung himself as his partners left. Your father-”

“Don’t-” Adrien said in a low, quiet voice that spoke of barely restrained anger. “Don’t you dare hide behind my father’s ghost.”

Adrien had risen to his feet without noticing, hands clenched and leaning on the desk as he glared daggers at Marcel who leaned back in his chair, a little nervously.

“You think I don’t know my father wasn’t perfect?” Adrien said. “I don’t think he was a particularly good man; probably an even worse father. Clearly I didn’t know him well enough, but I know he had more class in his fingernail clippings than you have in your entire body. He wasn’t just a parasitic slug hanging off the bottom of a company he didn’t found; yes, Gabriel Agreste put people out of business. But he was an artist; he did more than just count coins and cut costs. He wanted to leave a mark on an industry he cared deeply about, which is more than I can say for someone like you. You may have fooled my father into thinking you had some kind of business sense, but at the end of the day, you’re just a cheap fruit salesman with no class, no taste, and no business in fashion!”

“If you think I’m going to roll over because of some blackmail,” Marcel said, pushing the papers back across the table. “Then you haven’t-”

“Thought this through?” Adrien laughed. “No…that’s one thing I have done. If you don’t take your pension and leave quietly, we can get the police involved in a nice, long, international fraud case. If you beat the criminal charges, we’ll take you to civil court and bleed you for every dime you’re worth. And if you somehow escape culpability with your job intact, I’ll tell the board I’m selling my shares to anyone who will promise to fire you the second they take over if they don’t remove you themselves. And if they don’t, I actually will unload my father’s shares to anyone that can promise you gone; Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, hell, I’ll sell us out to Wal-Mart if it means you aren’t in charge anymore!”

In the wake of what could only be described as a bolt of thunder from a blue sky, Leon and Marcel could only stare stunned at Adrien.

“That’s the difference between us, Marcel,” Adrien said, pushing the papers across the table again. “I don’t play with my food. So why don’t you do yourself a favor and take the easy way out.”

Marcel glared at the papers in front of him with a dark scowl for a long moment, weighing his options and glancing at his phone as though trying to decide if this was the hill he wanted to die on. He certainly had the resources, time, and no shortage of spite to fuel his crusade…

…on the other hand…

“Fine,” Marcel spat, seizing the pen and scribbling his name on form after form. “I will gladly take the ten million euros this company still owes me and leave you to play dress up.”

Adrien tried not to let his relief show too much as Marcel burned his way through the documents, tossing the pen back at Adrien as he rose to leave.

“Before I leave,” Marcel said, buttoning his blazer. “I just want to-”

“Marcel,” Adrien said quietly. “The only thing I want is for you to eat some cake, make your goodbye speech, and leave this fucking office before I change my mind about suing you.”

Marcel’s lips pursed, nostrils frozen in a sneer as he turned, opening the door to raucous party carrying on outside, and a makeshift choir singing along to the music on the speakers.

“Aaaaaand if I had a bugle I would blow it! To a sort of celebration touch! Buuuuut since I left my bugle at home, I’d simply like to say, thank you very, very, very, much!”

The door closed as Marcel was dragged into a crowd cheering for his downfall, leaving Adrien and Leon alone in his father’s office.

“Well…that’s one less thing to worry about,” Leon said, gathering the papers and sliding them into the folder.

“One less thing to worry about,” Adrien sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“You know, I think we could have had him fined for what he did,” Leon said, glancing at the young man who seemed so young as he slumped in his father’s old chair. “I’m curious as to why you let him go without so much as a slap on the wrist; hell, you gave him his pension after he practically robbed us.”

“I wanted him to go quietly,” Adrien muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If we got the lawyers involved, this could end up costing us a lot more in bad press and legal fees…and-”

“You wanted it to be over for your friend, didn’t you?” Leon surmised.

“…do you think I did the right thing?” Adrien asked, glancing up at the portrait of Gabriel staring coldly down at the office beneath him. “Would my father have-”

“Far be it from me to say how you should or should not feel about your father, Adrien,” Leon interrupted, hands folded in front of him. “But Gabriel…is no longer with us. You’re going to have to decide for yourself what’s right and wrong from now on.”

“Yeah…I guess you’re right,” Adrien said, eyes lingering on the portrait for a long moment. “When’s the board going to vote on Marcel’s successor?”

“Shouldn’t be too long,” Leon shrugged. “We’ll have to compile a list of candidates first, of course.”

“Well…I think I know who has my votes,” Adrien said, shooting Leon a small smile.

“Really?” Leon said, returning the smile. “That is…very good to hear.”

“On the condition that Bruno is rewarded for his help in all this,” Adrien added. “Maybe something in marketing; I know that’s what he majored in.”

“Ah…well, that may be tricky as he handed in his resignation this morning,” Leon said with a small sheepish smile.

“What?” Adrien said, sitting up. “Why?”

“I’m afraid this Marcel business has rather sullied his opinion of Gabriel—and, indeed, the fashion industry—as a whole,” Leon said, paging through the folder awkwardly. “I admit, I can’t exactly blame him; we haven’t put our best foot forward lately as a brand.”

“No…I guess we haven’t,” Adrien said, wondering why he felt so sad. Now that he battle was over, the collateral damage could be properly evaluated, and the casualties from his crusade seemed to pile up around him. Though Bruno leaving wasn’t entirely Adrien’s fault, the legal clusterfuck that surrounded his departure exposed the ugly inner-workings in a way that likely disenchanted the young man from a career he had worked so hard to get into.

“So much for the beacon of men’s fashion,” Adrien sighed, leaning back in the chair.

“With luck, we will be again,” Leon said, nodding towards the door. “Coming?”

“You enjoy the fireworks; I’m gonna…think about some stuff,” Adrien said, waving Leon off with a small smile. “Thanks again for everything.”

“Like I said, I was never involved,” Leon chuckled, leaving Adrien alone with his thoughts as the sounds of celebration played one room over. Again, his eyes wandered over to the portrait of his father, scanning the painting’s lifeless eyes for any sign that had had made the right decision. But Leon was, as he usually was, right. Gabriel was gone, and just as Marcel couldn’t hide behind his ghost anymore, Adrien knew he had to take steps to disentangle himself from what his father would have wanted for him. He needed to start making his own decisions…

Which included decisions about his relationship with Marinette.

He didn’t have long to stew in his own thoughts as a soft knock came on the door.

“Hey, so weird question,” Chloe coughed, sticking her head in the room. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen…oh, I don’t know…a ping-pong paddle in here, would you?”

“Okay, now give me pensive; like you just learned that you’re adopted and that your birth mother died in a car crash on your fifteenth birthday.”

Nino fired off a row of pictures as the model took on an expression of sad contemplation, looking out over the city as the roof door opened behind Nino.

“Closed shoot,” Nino called without looking up from his camera as the model regarded the intruder with more interest than a perfume ad called for. “Hey, eyes over here; we’re losing daylight.”

“You didn’t tell me I had a partner,” the model said, smiling over Nino’s shoulder as he felt a familiar presence sidle up behind him.

“Let me guess; tall, blonde, with a guilty and uncomfortable look on his face?” Nino asked, firing off another round of shots without acknowledging their guest.

“Got it in one,” the model said, shooting a coy wave that Nino decided to snap in case the art director liked it. “Though I think he would look much better if he-”

“Not paying you to look cheerful, dude,” Nino said, taking another quick round of shots before letting out a small sigh. “Alright, take five; no smoking though.”

“Ugh, you’re a tightass,” the model huffed, hopping off the ledge of the roof and meandering over to a cooler filled with water just out of focus.

“A tightass who doesn’t want to huff your nasty smoke,” Nino sighed, turning around to acknowledge Adrien for the first time. “How’d you find me?”

“Your boss played golf with my dad,” Adrien shrugged, hands stuffed in his pocket. “Wasn’t hard to convince him to leak the shoot location.”

“Is there anyone in the fashion industry Gabriel didn’t know?” Nino sighed, putting the lens back on his camera. “And if so, can I work for them?”

“No one outside of New York,” Adrien chuckled, chewing on his bottom lip. “If this is a bad time, I can-”

“No, it’s fine,” Nino said curtly. “It’s just work after all, right?”

“Okay…I get the sense that you’re mad at me,” Adrien said with a small wince.

“Wow, brains and beauty; you really lucked out, didn’t you?” Nino snorted folding his arms. “Though I guess you should consider yourself lucky that you didn’t land yourselves in jail.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d still be sore about that,” Adrien said quietly, avoiding Nino’s piercing brown eyes.

“Shit, that’s not even half of it,” Nino sighed, running his hand through his hair. “As long as we’re on the subject of being sore, how about the fact that you acted like I was out of my mind for suggesting that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go from zero to felony in sixty seconds?”

“Well, what were we supposed to do?” Adrien asked, throwing his hands up. “I had to-”

“Did you?”

“It worked didn’t it?” Adrien countered, hackles rising for a moment before he remembered he was supposed to be contrite. “I mean…I didn’t know that at the time…”

Adrien let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, man. You had a good point but I was too hot under the collar to listen to what was essentially good sense…and I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t care what you had to say.”

“And?”

“Look, I can’t apologize for what Alya chose to do herself,” Adrien said, crossing his arms. “Fact of the matter is that I didn’t exactly twist her arm into doing it, you know?”

Nino opened his mouth to retort, lips twisting in displeasure. “…man, I hate that you’re right about that.”

“I mean, you’re free to take it out on me all you want if it makes you feel better,” Adrien said. “God knows I bowled you over like a runaway fruit cart, but if you’re mad that Alya went along with it-”

“Yeah…that’s something I gotta bring up with her,” Nino sighed. Blaming Adrien was easy, and while he was still hurt that his best friend so casually disregarded his opinions, it didn’t change the fact that Alya did exactly the same thing. Things between them had been a little uneasy ever since she moved in a few months back, and Nino worried that this recent spat was symptomatic of something more serious.

Not exactly something he was rushing to confront head on either.

“Guess it could have been a lot worse,” Nino said, scratching the back of his neck. “You talk to Mari yet?”

“I was on my way over there after this,” Adrien said, chewing on his lower lip. “Alya’s…well, she headed back to your place after the whole Marcel thing popped off. I think you should probably scoot over that way as soon as you’ve wrapped up here.”

“Yeah…just might do that,” Nino said, checking his watch. “Got a couple more hours left on the clock, so-”

“Right, right,” Adrien said, backing towards the door. “I just wanted to-”

“I know,” Nino nodded with a small smile. “And I appreciate it.”

“Not gonna make a habit of it, I swear,” Adrien said, visibly relieved.

“You better not,” Nino snorted. “Next time I’m not gonna let you off the hook so easily.”

“Duly noted,” Adrien chuckled, turning to go before Nino called out to him.

“Hey,” Nino said with a lopsided smile shot over one shoulder. “Good work taking out the trash today.”

“It was high time someone did,” Adrien laughed, heading down the stairs. “He was starting to stink the place up.”

Marcel Dubois took rejection as well as most affluent men in their mid-fifties; which is to say with all the grace of a bull in a china shop.

The problem with using a company car for so many years was that he now found himself walking out the front door of Gabriel, ten-million euro richer and without any way of getting home other than walking. Now retired, he found himself at a complete loss for what to do…other than settle accounts with Adrien and his little friend, of course.

Muttering under his breath, he traipsed down a sidestreet, wondering just how he could employ his new wealth to ensure the Dupain girl bore the brunt of his displeasure. If she had thought that professional rivalry was the depths of his ingenuity, she would be gravely mistaken.

And if Adrien thought he had defanged him, he was wrong about that as well.

He knew people who specialized in causing other people unhappiness, and with Gabriel’s severance package, he had some extra cash to exact his full, and exquisite revenge. A vacation might be in order first; somewhere with loose morals and fruity cocktails where he could sit by the beach and calculate the ways to humiliate Adrien, Gabriel, and that blue haired bitch in ways they couldn’t even begin to fathom. Once the rum started flowing, he could make a phone call to several associates who could-

“Excuse me, sir?”

Marcel ignored the young man who approached him, hand outstretched and a ridiculous orange helmet on his head.

“Sir, the road is closed, you’re going to have to find another way,” The young man said, jerking over his shoulder to where a covered construction site blocked the only way out of the side street.

“I will take my chances, thank you,” Marcel said coldly, temper flaring as the man continued to block his path.

“Sir! I’m sorry, you can’t-”

“Listen,” Marcel spat, jabbing a finger into the young man’s chest. “I am at least twice your age, make ten times what you make in a year, and pay the taxes that allow you to keep your joke of a profession. So when I say that I’ll take my chances, the only thing I want to hear is yes, sir, Mr. Dubois!”

Brushing past the young man, he felt renewed bile well up inside him. He might have been beaten temporarily, but nothing was going to stop him from regrouping and inflicting a world of misery on those who thought to deny him what he wanted…

…save for the open sewer main that he would have noticed if he had listened, or bothered to read the signs posted around the manhole.

A nearby security camera recorded the former-CEO of Gabriel barreling through caution tape, captured the stunned expression on his face as his foot failed to find purchase on the sidewalk, and recorded the last moments of Marcel Dubois life before plummeting twenty feet, splitting his head on the side of the canal, and drowning in ten thousand gallons of Paris’ finest sewage. His cell phone, frozen on the number of an unscrupulous thug, dropped beneath the fetid waves and vanished from sight.

Half-past five, the bell above her shop door jingled, pulling Marinette from a largely fruitless day of work. Ellie and Sylvia had called in sick, no doubt celebrating the downfall of their greatest professional rival, while Marinette worked with a gnawing sensation of discomfort.

She thought that Marcel’s firing would be the end of her worries, but the fact was it just stemmed the bloodletting, and Marinette was still face with the unenviable task of repairing her brand’s reputation…and determining where she stood with Adrien. And while she didn’t expect Ellie and Sylvia’s help with the latter, the fact that they were out and about while she still worked only added to her irritation.

But as the door closed out front and a soft knock came at her office door, she realized she had more pressing things to worry about.

“Can I come in?” Adrien called softly.

“It’s open,” Marinette sighed, straightening her skirt and blouse as Adrien made his way into her private office.

“Hey,” Adrien said with a small wave.

“Hey,” Marinette replied simply as uncertain silence hung between them for a moment. “How was the party?”

“Didn’t really pick up until Marcel made his speech and left,” Adrien said, scratching the back of his head. “Which is around the time the wine started flowing and Chloe busted out the Unsanctioned Roast of Marcel Dubois.”

“You’re joking,” Marinette said with a small snort.

“Nathanael recorded it all,” Adrien assured her. “Haven’t seen that much bile flow from Chloe since she was in school.”

Adrien glanced around the office with an appraising look on his face. “So…this is where you’ve been staying, huh?”

Well, might as well get this over with, Marinette said with a small sigh.

“It’s not as cramped as it looks,” Marinette assured him. “Once you push the desk and couch off to one side, you can actually fit a pretty big air mattress in here…until it deflates.”

Adrien sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the arm of her couch. For a moment neither of them spoke, waiting to see who would crack first and start explaining themselves. But as much as she was unhappy that Adrien and Alya had gone out of their way for her, it could have apparently been avoided if she had just been honest with them to begin with.

“I wish you would have told me,” Adrien said after a long moment of silence.

“…I kinda wish I did too,” Marinette sighed, leaning back on her desk. “I…never wanted you to find out secondhand…I never wanted you to find out at all, really.”

“So you were just planning on living out of your office until your business was steamrolled by a company with more resources and influence?” Adrien snorted, shaking his head.

“I thought I could fight out of it,” Marinette said, crossing her arms. “And I did…as much as I could anyway. We’re a lot farther than we were last month-”

“That doesn’t change the fact that all Marcel had to do was wait you out,” Adrien sighed. “You know he could have had you blacklisted from every runway show in France, right?”

“I know.”

“And you didn’t tell me because-”

“It wasn’t your fight to fight!”

“Really?” Adrien said, raising an eyebrow. “Tell me again how my father’s company blackmailing my…my friend wasn’t my concern?”

“Because he was only using me to get at you,” Marinette insisted. “He only wanted to use our…relationship to strongarm you into doing what he wanted you to do and I…”

Marinette bit her lip, shaking her head as she stared at the wall above Adrien’s head. “I wasn’t about to let you get dragged back into a job you hated,” Marinette said. “I wasn’t going to let you do that for me.”

Adrien’s heart clenched in his chest as a flash of fierce protectiveness crept into Marinette’s voice. “You think I would have gone back?”

“I don’t know what you would have done,” Marinette snorted, watching Adrien slowly rise to his feet. “You’re telling me you seriously wouldn’t have just gone back to working at Gabriel to get Marcel off my back?”

“No,” Adrien said, a little quicker than Marinette would have liked. “The only reason I would have gone back was to put Marcel out on his ass the minute I caught wind he was using my father’s company to hurt you…which, truth be told, is what I did.”

“With Alya’s help?” Marinette said, raising an eyebrow.

“Why is everyone acting like I brainwashed Alya into helping me out?” Adrien sighed. “Okay, yes, this manic plan was my idea, but I didn’t exactly have to twist Alya’s arm to get her to help me. And I bet money that I would’ve gotten Nino to help too if I had come up with a plan that wasn’t motivated by immediate, morally questionable revenge because—believe it or not—you’re the kind of girl people commit white-collar crime for!”

“That doesn’t make me feel good!” Marinette groaned, throwing her hands up. “I am not a maiden in need of defending! Or at least I don’t want to be!”

“Well…tough!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Look, nobody likes needing other people,” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck. “Especially people who are so capable that they rarely need a helping hand.”

Marinette scoffed as Adrien approached, glancing away defiantly as she wondered how to process such a roundabout compliment. She didn’t want to admit the fact that her pride played a role both in her choice to keep her friends in the dark and her current irritation that she didn’t manage to deal with Marcel herself.

…but what could she have done?

It wasn’t fair, but god knew she didn’t have the resources to slug it out with a multi-millionaire fashion house hellbent on her destruction. As far as Marcel had fallen since pursuing his little vendetta, it was by and large due to his own incompetence and overall rotten personality rather than anything she had done to stop him. As Adrien had said, all he needed to do was wait for her business to inevitably go belly up.

But it hadn’t. She survived. Thanks in no small part to the fact that her boyf…friend had engineered Marcel’s retirement in a way that wouldn’t sink her business.

“People actually like you,” Adrien said, riding the wave of confidence that only came from ousting a business rival for good and all. “…some of us…maybe more than others.”

Marinette’s stomach lurched as he looked up at her, almost daring to read into his words more than he probably meant them. He cares for me as a friend, Marinette told herself. A friend who he committed light fraud for but a friend…just a friend…just a…

She swallowed heavily, sighing through her nose as a lump formed in her throat. “Adrien…I can’t do this anymore.”

Adrien felt a cold lump forming in his stomach as he almost instinctively took a step back. “Can’t…do what?”

“I can’t…” Marinette sighed, gripping the edge of the desk for support, laughing as she shook her head. “I…hear you say stuff like that and I…it makes me wish you meant something else. It makes me…want something that I know you can’t give me and I-”

“Wait…” Adrien said, heart pulsing in his throat. “Like…what?”

“This has…all been really fun,” Marinette said, heart pounding in her ears. “But I can’t…I can’t be with someone who doesn’t feel the same way about me that I feel about them.”

Adrien only blinked, hardly daring to believe his own ears. It was almost as though Marinette was suggesting that…that she…

“And how do you know that?” Adrien asked, taking a step closer.

“Well…you said-”

“No…you said,” Adrien reminded her.

“Well, you agreed that this was just gonna be casual!” Marinette replied.

“Only because I thought you wanted it to be,” Adrien said.

“So…why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because…” Adrien bit his lip, cheeks flushing a little. “I…thought this was gonna be the only way I could be with you! And…”

“And?” Marinette asked,

“…and I really…really wanted to sleep with you,” Adrien murmured, looking properly abashed as though he hadn’t tied her up and had his way with her on multiple occasions. “But…well, I’d be lying if I said that was all I wanted…”

Silence hung for a brief moment as they stood so close together that Marinette could practically feel Adrien’s heartbeat. Her hand reached out for his tentatively, fingers lacing in his as she leaned back against the desk, looking up at him as she dared to hope that her day could get even better. Surely she couldn’t be that lucky…could she?

“Well…I only said that because I wanted to sleep with you too,” Marinette murmured. “But…that’s not all I wanted…the fact is…Adrien…I really like you.”

Breath left her lungs as a secret she had been guarding since she was fourteen finally flitted out into the air. Adrien blinked, seemingly dazed as she rambled on. “I’ve liked you for a long time and if you…if you still just want to be friends then-”

Her heartfelt confession was swallowed by a kiss as Adrien swooped in, apparently not waiting another second for her to confirm what they both already knew. His hands cupped the sides of her face, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs as he kissed her. He leaned in, and Marinette had to fall back on her hands or get completely bowled over by his sudden desire. Or maybe it wasn’t sudden at all. Maybe she wasn’t the only one pining after her sex-friend, savoring the little moments of emotional intimacy when they were both naked and clinging together after a particularly heated scene. As they kissed, she thought back to every stolen touch, less-than-innocent peck on the cheek, and text strings that bordered on flirtatious. And it all added up to one, inescapable truth confirmed with each stolen breath between kisses.

He wanted more…they wanted more.

“You should have just asked,” Adrien laughed, barely drawing back from her mouth.

“You shouldn’t have just agreed to something you didn’t want,” Marinette countered.

“Who said I didn’t want to bed you?”

“No one, but…time out,” Marinette trailed off with a laugh, shaking her head. “Are you saying what I…think you’re saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying?” Adrien asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “That you are sweet…charming…wonderfully witty…and exceptionally brave, and I would love to get to know you in more than the Biblical sense?”

Marinette willed herself to hold his gaze, not daring to look away in case she missed what she had wanted to hear for so long.

“Because I do,” Adrien murmured, kissing her again as though he was worried she would slip away if he stopped. “I want you…all of you.”

“There’s a lot of me,” Marinette murmured. A failing business, a schedule that caused her to work odd hours. He had grown up with a fashion designer father; did he really want to be in a three way relationship with her and her business?

“I know,” Adrien said, eyes almost pleading her to believe him. “I want it all.”

“And you’re not…just saying that, right?” Marinette asked, screaming at herself to just shut up and kiss him again. “So we can continue to-”

“I don’t care about that,” Adrien said with a small laugh. “You’re…great in bed-”

“Thank you.”

“-but if we never sleep together again…I’d still want you,” Adrien said, glancing up at her. “All of you. Without…reservations or conditions…I just need you to know how much I’m crazy about you, Marinette.”

Her teenage fantasies of Adrien professing his undying love to her paled in comparison to have him standing between her legs, desperate for the chance just to be a part of her messy, chaotic life. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face any longer, leaning her forehead in against his as she threaded her fingers through his.

“…then you can have me,” Marinette murmured, leaning in for another kiss. “Only if I can have you too.”

“And you want me?” Adrien asked almost hopefully.

“…since I was fourteen,” Marinette said with a small smile. “And at the risk of stroking your ego…I don’t know if I ever really got over you.”

“Well…now you don’t have to,” Adrien said, leaning back suddenly and offering her a hand. “Come on.”

“Hm?”

“I just thought of something,” Adrien said, glowing smile spreading warmth to every corner of the tiny office. “We can’t very well date without…you know…dating.”

“Oh my god,” Marinette laughed. “Are you asking me out, Adrien Agreste?”

“Are you saying no?”

“Aren’t we past that?” Marinette said, scratching her arm. “Do we have to do the whole first date thing when we’ve seen each other naked already?”

“Fraid so,” Adrien said with a sheepish shrug. “Bad luck otherwise.”

“Right,” Marinette said, rolling her eyes as she took his hand. “Because you’ve had such bad luck lately.”

“Of course, if you don’t want free dinner, we can always-”

“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth,” Marinette said, snatching her purse from the coatrack as they made their way through the empty office. “Hey…are you still mad at me? For not telling you about this Marcel thing?”

“…no,” Adrien said as she busied herself with the lock. “You were in a bad spot and had nothing but bad choices to make…and besides-”

Marinette turned around to see her friend…her boyfriend staring down at her with a sly, toothy grin.

“You’ll have plenty of time to come up with a suitable punishment for lying to me all this time,” Adrien purred, fingers lingering on her skin as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. Her heartbeat spiked as he took her hand, tugging her down the street as she wondered if there would ever come a day when Adrien wouldn’t make her heart race with the barest hint of effort. Part of her wondered what it would take to turn his normally confident demeanor on its head…but part of her hoped she would never fail to fall for every cheesy line he threw her way.

But she could have it both ways. And besides…Marinette had more than a few punishments she would happily endure at the hands of her new love.

The moment Nino stepped into his apartment, he knew something was off.

Since Alya moved in, there were usually one or two stray flannels hanging off the backs of chairs or books left face down on the counter. Now it seemed that nearly every trace of Alya had disappeared from the apartment; a fact that made the bottom of Nino’s stomach drop out as he hesitantly called her name.

“Alya?”

He meandered through the house, eyes landing on spots where Alya’s things used to be only to find them empty. Her books, her laptop, even her wardrobe seemed to be snatched out from under his nose without him even noticing and the longer his footsteps echoed off the walls of the empty apartment, the colder the icy pit in his stomach got.

Nino perked up as he heard the key slide into the front door, bounding across the apartment as Alya walked in, seemingly startled at his presence as the key dangled from her fingertips.

“What’s…what’s going on?” Nino asked. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“Mom and Dad’s for the moment,” Alya said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Once I figure out where to go from there, I-”

“You moved out?!” Nino said.

“That’s…typically what happens when you move all your things out,” Alya said. “I…I know this seems bad but-”

“You’re…you’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” Nino said softly.

“Did I say that?” Alya asked quietly.

“Well, shit, Alya, what am I supposed to think when my girlfriend moves out without telling me?!”

“Look, I was going to tell you before I did it, but Papa’s friends were off work and-”

“And you just decided to leave?!” Nino sighed, barely able to believe what was happening. “Is this because of the whole Marcel thing?!”

“Can I explain myself or are you just going to jump to wild conclusions before I can get a word in?” Alya snapped, crossing her arms across her stomach. “Look…I’m not going to apologize for what I did but…”

A little of Alya’s anger seemed to ebb away, replaced by reluctant embarrassment as she looked up at him.

“I…I’m sorry for how I treated you,” Alya said quietly. “After everything was done, I was just…sitting at Adrien’s place trying to find reasons to be mad at you and coming up completely empty. That wasn’t fair, or right, and however much I wanted to help Marinette…that doesn’t make it right to just brush you off like you didn’t matter to me. Because you did…you do…and maybe that’s not something I’ve told you enough.”

Nino stood in the kitchen, confused as Alya took a tentative step towards him.

“Did we ever…really get back to us?” Alya asked softly.

“What?”

“I mean we just…picked up where we left off like we hadn’t spent the last seven years apart,” Alya said, shaking her head. “I mean we’ve only been dating a couple of months and we just moved in together because, what, we thought we were ready? After three dates?”

“We’ve been on more than that,” Nino argued.

“Not since we were seventeen, Nino,” Alya said. “I’m not the same girl you used to go on homework dates with at the café across from the arcade. And I know you’re not the same guy you used to be either…and maybe it’s time we stopped pretending like we’ve been dating for seven years.”

Alya held her hand out, offering him the key to his apartment with a small smile.

“I’m moving out,” Alya said. “Because I don’t want to break up with you. Because I want to go back, take our time…get to know each other again before we jump into something neither of us is really ready for. We’re…different people. And I really want to get to know you without having to spend every waking minute with you. There’ll be time for that…but I’m not ready for it now.”

Nino was quiet for a moment, eyes wandering between the key and Alya’s face. For a moment, she wondered if her moving out without telling him had been the last straw; that he might take his key and decide the new Alya was more trouble than she was worth.

“Okay, you can talk again,” Alya said after a long moment of silence. “Please…just, say something. I know it sucks for me to act like your opinions only matter when I want them to but…I-I want to fix this. I want this to be okay.”

Nino stared at the key for a long moment, closing his eyes and sighing through his nose. “No.”

“No…what?” Alya said.

“No, I’m not taking my key back,” Nino said flatly, folding his arms. “Look…you want to move out? You want space? Great; if that’s what you need…then go for it. Maybe I jumped the gun a little early asking you to move in with me, but it was that or share a bathroom with your sisters for another year.”

Alya shuddered at the memory of unclogging the shower drain every other week, grateful, at least, that Nino had significantly less hair than her sisters did.

“But I made you a key for a reason.” Nino said, closing her hand around it. “Whether you use it or not is up to you…but it’s yours. Whenever you want to reach me, you can. So…keep it. And if you ever decide you want to live with me again, I don’t have to go through the trouble of making another.”

Alya felt him open her fingers, pressing his hand against the key in her palm with a squeeze that made her chest ache.

“Because if starting over means I get to keep you, then I’ll gladly go back to square one,” Nino said, thumb running along the crest of Alya’s palm. “Especially if it means getting to fall in love with you all over again.”

“…wow,” Alya said, pretending to scratch her nose as she struggled to hold back tears of relief. “Adrien really rubbed off on you, h-huh.”

“Please; I taught him everything he knows,” Nino said, tugging her towards the door. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” Alya asked as Nino tugged her out of the apartment.

“Well, we can’t exactly start dating again until we go on a date, can we?” Nino said, leading her into the elevator. “Besides…arcade doesn’t close until midnight.”

“You’re really going to relive our first date beat-for-beat?” Alya laughed, shaking her head as the doors closed behind him.

“Well…if it ain’t broke,” Nino shrugged.

“You’re ridiculous,” Alya sighed, leaning in to kiss him only for Nino to pull back.

“Um…excuse me?” Nino said, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m the kind of guy who kisses before the first date?”

“…seriously?”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted a re-do,” Nino said, nudging Alya in the side as she let out an exasperated sigh. “And if we’re gonna re-do it, we’re gonna re-do it right.”

Most of Marinette’s first dates didn’t end with her arms tied behind her back, blindfolded and perched on a stool as her partner rubbed lazy circles on her bare back. Her dates didn’t end with her stripped naked, restrained, and waiting for whatever her partner had in store for her.

Which, now that she thought about it, was probably why she didn’t end up going on many second dates to begin with.

But the promise of many, many wonderfully weird dates to follow brought a smile to Marinette’s lips as Adrien leaned in, claiming her lips in a fierce kiss that spoke of so much more than simple lust.

“Mine?” Adrien asked, hand roaming over her ass with a small squeeze.

“Yours,” Marinette replied between kissed, gasping softly as Adrien’s other hand slid between her bare, quivering thighs.

“Mine?”

“Yes, sir,” Marinette said, arching into his touch as he softly squeezed her breasts. “Yours.”

His hand slid off her breast, resting in the middle of her chest as he softly repeated his question. “Mine?”

Marinette smiled, warmth blooming through her body as she nodded. “All yours.”

He cupped her face between his hands, kissing her softly on the forehead as she swore she felt him smile as he did so.

“All mine,” he whispered, lips trailing down her neck. “Mine.”

The word mine thrummed in her ears as his hands slid across her body, repeating softly like a reverent hymn meant only for her. His promise pulsed with every beat of her heart, seeping into her skin with every kiss as he went about toying with her; savoring the sensation of her naked skin under his fingertips.

“Mine,” Adrien repeated as he slowly sank to his knees in front of her, lips grazing her hot, wet sex almost hungrily.

Mine, Marinette thought with a small gasp. You’re all mine.