13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug.

Lucky Us

By: Princess Kitty1

Chapter 13

Adrien and Nathalie walked out of the room he'd been using for Skype meetings that week. One more down, a handful to go. He bid Nathalie a temporary farewell, then set off to find Ange. There were ten minutes left of lunch before Ange was scheduled to be filmed running, breathless and carefree, through the vineyard—in slow motion of course—and Adrien had a score to settle with her.

He dodged workers and members of the film crew lounging around smoking cigarettes. He peeked in a few rooms, but they were empty. Finally, he walked outside and found Ange chasing down her lunch with some bottled water. He approached her.

Ange lowered the water bottle. "How was the meeting?"

"Fine." Adrien raised a hand. "Listen," he said, "Marinette is my friend."

A slow blink. A hint of a smirk. Ange crossed her arms and leaned back against a column. "Yes?"

"I wanted to make sure that was perfectly clear."

"To whom, exactly?"

Adrien's frown deepened. "Don't—" He cut himself off. "Just, don't."

He walked away.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: Summer6 hours ago

Did I tell you I picked up my old yo-yo?

Turns out I still had it stashed in a drawer.

Almost gave myself a couple black eyes, but I'm getting better.

Be proud of me. :-)

x.x.x

After eating his own lunch, Adrien called his father.

"Is everything all right?" Gabriel asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Yes." Adrien had found himself a comfortable sofa to sit on, complete with more pillows than any one sofa probably needed. He reclined against it. "The director's in a good mood, so I think everything is going the way he wanted it to."

Gabriel made a satisfied noise. "I look forward to the finished product," he said. "And Nathalie, has she been helpful to you?"

"Nathalie is always helpful. You know that." Adrien leaned forward to scratch an itch on his back.

"Indeed." Gabriel paused. "I have received many comments on your performance regarding the business end of things. Our associates are pleased. You have conducted yourself well."

Now it was Adrien's turn to be suspicious. Was that a compliment? An authentic compliment, devoid of sarcasm and the promise to make things even harder on him? "Thank you, father," he said, trying not to sound uncertain. He tucked his phone between his face and shoulder so he could scratch at the backs of his arms, then remembered the purpose of his call. "How's Plagg doing? Has he stopped crying?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I found that if I leave the office door open, he comes in and sits for a while without causing trouble. I expected him to knock things over and shred the curtains, but aside from the crying he is a well-behaved cat."

"Are you sure we're talking about my cat?" Adrien asked as he scratched the back of his neck. Knocking things over and shredding curtains sounded exactly like Plagg.

"Perhaps he misbehaves around you because you let him get away with it," Gabriel suggested.

Adrien shrugged. That was a fair assessment. Plagg could have dragged a dead body into his room and he'd have hired the best lawyers for—why the hell was he so itchy? He stood up and stared at the sofa pillows. Something white poked out of one of them. Adrien pulled on it.

And dropped it with a gasp.

A feather.

"Adrien?"

"Yeah so if everything is fine then I guess I'll call you later, father. Bye!" Adrien ended the call and ran to the nearest mirror, scratching all the way. He yanked his shirt off, ignoring the gaping stare of a startled female worker, and swore under his breath. His back was covered in swollen, itchy bumps.

This would be fun to explain to the director.

x.x.x

Adrien Agreste: Status report, Special Agent Flour Girl. Over.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Preparations have been made and we are on schedule. Though I'm not sure how much dancing I'll be able to accomplish in these heels. Over.

Adrien Agreste: Speaking of pain, want to hear something funny?

x.x.x

Marinette covered her mouth and let out a murmur of sympathy. "Adrien had a bad allergic reaction to feathers," she said to Alya, who stood in front of Marinette's mirror curling the ends of her hair.

"Adrien's allergic to feathers?"

"Looks like it." Marinette cringed. "He says his whole back broke out in a rash and the director had a cow when he saw him. Poor thing. He can't catch a break, can he?"

Alya turned around, curling iron in hand. "You know, what you should do is drive out to Chateau Margaux and spend the night tending to his wounds."

Marinette stared at her. "You think rubbing anti-itch cream on Adrien's back is romantic?"

"It could be? Give me a break, I'm improvising." Alya wrapped another strand of hair around the iron. "And don't act like you don't want to feel up Adrien's back muscles."

"I do," Marinette said, "just not when they're covered in hives." She checked the time. One hour left until Nino's show, and she hadn't heard a peep from Chat Noir all evening. Normally he would have messaged her by then. Was he working even later today? Had he fallen asleep the moment he got home? She put her phone down and sat on her hands so she wouldn't give into the temptation to email him again.

"I will do something nice for Adrien when he comes back," she said. "I found this recipe for a cinnamon roll cheesecake that sounds so good my mouth watered while I read the ingredients."

"You're going to share that with your best friend Alya, right?" Alya asked.

"I'll save two slices: one for you and one for Nino, so you'll be forced to deliver it to him," Marinette said with a grin. She'd refrained from harping on Alya for most of the day, but now she couldn't help herself. Tonight, she would have a front row seat to the Alya and Nino show, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Though she felt a little sad that Adrien wouldn't be able to enjoy it with her.

Marinette pushed her feet back into her heels and stood with only the slightest wobble. She'd practiced walking in them for most of the afternoon, including up and down stairs, which she only did because she knew Alya was coming over and would discover her body, should she trip and plummet to her death. She wasn't bad at walking in heels, she just hadn't done it in a while. Sensible shoes were bakery standard.

But why even bother with heels? The point of them was to make her legs look long and sexy, and she didn't feel like attracting that kind of attention. She was going dancing to forget guys, not find new ones.

Adrien and Chat Noir. Chat Noir and Adrien.

Marinette checked her phone one more time, but her email inbox remained empty.

x.x.x

"—could there be feather pillows on the property when Monsieur Agreste specifically mentioned Adrien's allergy to avoid this very—"

"—think he needs medical attention? His back looks redder than earlier—"

"—can digitally insert dead celebrities into Star Wars films, then removing a rash from a television commercial should be no—"

Adrien lay on his stomach, trying to tune out the voices shouting over him and staring at his phone in dismay. With all the people surrounding him, he hadn't been able to email Ladybug. What if she was worried about him? What if she thought he was ignoring her? What if she got mad at him for not replying?

"I don't need medical attention," he said, if only to resolve one of the ongoing arguments in the room. He hissed in surprise and relief when Ange draped a wet cloth over his burning back. "Thanks."

"I disagree," Nathalie said, and Adrien buried his face in his arms. Of course she did. "Had your father been here, he would have—"

"My father isn't here and he doesn't need to know about this. It'll only piss him off."

"We do not want to piss off Monsieur Agreste," the director agreed.

"He'll be angrier if we don't tell him now," Nathalie insisted, and the argument started up anew.

Adrien sighed. Frankly, he didn't care what they did as long as they got out of his room so he could email Ladybug before the night was over. He closed his eyes and thought of pleasant things: Plagg's purring, plush blankets, hot chocolate in winter, warm croissants from Marinette's bakery, Marinette's smile—

Adrien lifted his head and glared at his phone. If that's where his thoughts were taking him, then forget thinking. He'd rather ask Ange to knock him unconscious with a blunt object.

He had nothing against Marinette. He just wasn't the type of guy who got his feelings tangled up in two women at once. If he was interested in Ladybug, he couldn't be interested in anyone else. No complications. No surprises. No headaches, no heartbreaks, no mess.

The only reason he was even thinking about Marinette in such a way was because Ange had suggested it.

It had nothing to do with Marinette's beauty, her great sense of humor, her kindness, the way her eyes had sparkled in the restaurant lighting the other day, or the cute nose-scrunching thing she did sometimes. Nothing whatsoever.

"Ange, could you do me a favor and hit me as hard as you can with that decorative vase over there?"

"Nope," Ange replied, "but I can get you some anti-itch cream." She gave his shoulder a comforting pat and wandered out of the room while Nathalie and the director continued to shout over each other.

With everyone distracted, Adrien grabbed his phone and opened his email inbox.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

Late night. Couldn't email any sooner, but I'm here now. Your favorite tomcat is at your service!

If you're still awake, that is.

x.x.x

The club was already packed when Marinette and Alya entered. Many people were out on the dance floor, but just as many seemed to be getting drinks while they waited for DJ Bubbler to come on. Marinette stuck to Alya's side, watching her step to make sure she didn't snag her heels on anything and wipe out before the night even started.

She'd received Chat Noir's email, but with Alya standing right next to her, she couldn't reply. Hopefully he'd assume she had gone to sleep, not that she was mad at him for not emailing her sooner. At this point she might as well wait for morning. She had to monitor the situation between Alya and Nino, and keep Adrien informed of the evening's events. Chat Noir would only distract her.

Alya nudged Marinette. "Is that Chloe Bourgeois?" she yelled over the music.

Marinette searched the semi-darkness. Sure enough, Chloe Bourgeois sat at a high table, wearing a short sequined dress, staring straight at them. Marinette waved at her. Chloe raised a hand and beckoned them closer.

"I think she wants us to go over there," Marinette said.

"What? Why?"

She shrugged, but she was already moving forward. Alya made a noise of protest and followed after her. Chloe and Adrien were friends, and Adrien was a good person, so Chloe must have been a decent human being under all her bad temper. Right? Marinette tried not to let her doubts show as she approached the table.

Chloe's eyes shifted from her to Alya and back again. She didn't look the least bit impressed.

"Hi Chloe," Marinette said, scrambling for something to say. "I'm kind of surprised to see you here."

"Why would you be surprised?" Chloe asked.

Because judging by their interactions at the bakery, Chloe and Nino seemed to get along about as well as a snake and a mongoose. "I didn't think you and Nino were such good friends," Marinette said.

Chloe's expression twisted in disgust. "We're not," she spat. "But I love DJ Bubbler's music almost as much as I love that coffee you make me. The fact that he just happens to be Nino is a detail I'm forced to overlook."

"What's so bad about Nino?" Alya asked.

Marinette panicked. Alya must have known better than to trust Chloe's opinion of someone, but she'd still asked, meaning she wasn't fully sold on the idea of Nino as a love interest yet. Marinette understood and even admired Alya's cautious approach to romance, but it also made her want to rip her hair out.

Chloe scrutinized Alya for a long moment. "You must be the reporter." She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. "Nino," she said, "is far too nice. Too committed to his work. Too laid back, too trusting, too good to Adrien, and too confident in his sense of humor. Which is fine if you're into that sort of thing, but I find it appalling."

Marinette's shoulders sagged under the weight of her disbelief. Had Chloe just disguised a compliment as a complaint? Judging by the blatantly shocked expression on Alya's face, she had.

Chloe waved her hand at Alya in a shooing motion. "Now go away. I need to talk to Marinette."

Marinette straightened, suddenly feeling like a schoolkid that had been summoned to the principal's office. Alya arched an eyebrow at her, but Marinette nodded. She'd be fine. It was just Chloe, sitting by herself in a crowded dance club with no drinks to toss in her face. Her fake nails could do some damage if she decided to attack, but…

Chloe waited until Alya had walked off into the crowd to gesture at the empty chair across from her. "Sit."

Marinette sat. For as long as she could remember, Chloe had never wanted to talk to her one-on-one. In fact, Chloe had always made a point to speak to her as little as possible, even when ordering something from the bakery. The only thing that had changed was Marinette's relationship with Adrien.

She could guess what Chloe wanted to talk to her about.

Chloe maintained her posture, looking like a queen upon her throne staring down at a lowly servant. "I hear you're fake dating my Adrikins," she said.

Marinette mimicked Chloe's regal demeanor. She refused to be intimidated. "He told you that, huh?"

"He tells me everything. We're best friends." Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. "But it's obvious to anyone who isn't as stupid as he is that you have your eye on him, so I wanted to make sure you understood the difference between your little play act and reality."

"No need to go through so much trouble. I know Adrien isn't interested in me," Marinette said. She hated that those words still tasted bitter in her mouth.

Chloe tilted her head. "And you're okay with that?"

Marinette frowned. "I'm not hanging out with Adrien to get in his pants, if that's what you're thinking. I'm hanging out with him because I like him, and I like being friends with him. He's a good guy."

Chloe stared at her. Uncrossed and re-crossed her legs again. She lowered her eyes to the empty table. "Adrien is a good guy," she said. "He's too good for his own good. You'd think being sheltered his whole life would have made him wary of strangers, but no, he'd be friends with everyone if he could." She shook her head. "I like that about him. I want him to stay that way. He's already depressed enough that if someone stabbed him in the back—"

"I would never do that to him," Marinette said.

Chloe slid out of her chair. "You'd better hold onto that promise," she said, "because if you hurt him, I'm going to make it my personal mission to ensure no one ever eats at your little bakery again."

Marinette knew she should have been frightened by the threat, but oddly enough, it sent a rush of warmth through her. Chloe was dead serious about protecting Adrien. A bad person wouldn't have gone to the trouble. "Hey Chloe," she said, and Chloe looked back at her over her shoulder. Marinette smiled. "I want to apologize. I think I misjudged you."

"No," Chloe drawled, "you really didn't." And with that, she walked off toward the dance floor, ignoring every admiring glance and flirtatious grin sent her way.

x.x.x

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Nino's set is about to start. How's your back?

Adrien Agreste: Burning less, but still ugly. I wish I was there. ):

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Hmm. Hold on a sec.

x.x.x

Adrien's phone buzzed in his hand: Incoming call from Marinette. He stared at the phone as if he'd forgotten how to use it, then tapped the screen and lifted it to his ear. A burst of noise came through, followed by Marinette's voice.

"Hey! Can you hear me?" she asked. Music blasted in the background.

Adrien propped himself up on his elbows. "Y-Yeah. Can you hear me?"

"For the most part. I've got the volume turned up all the way. Anyway, I figured since you can't be here in person, I might as well put this technology to good use so you can enjoy the show, too."

His heart did a little somersault in his chest. "Thanks, Marinette. That's very sweet of you."

"What?"

"I said thanks!" he repeated, a little louder.

"You're welcome. I'm holding the phone up now."

Adrien put his phone on speaker and lowered the volume so it wouldn't disturb anyone outside the room, then laid back down with his head on his arms and a smile on his face. The sound quality wasn't the best, but he knew Nino's music well enough to get the gist of what was happening. He wondered if Alya was enjoying herself. He knew Chloe was enjoying herself.

And if he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was there, standing beside Marinette, watching her react to the music while he toyed with the idea of reaching for her hand…

…so he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. That was a thing that happened in clubs.

Adrien sighed through his nose. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. He'd told Ladybug as much the night before. There was no doubt in his mind that the moment he saw Marinette in person again, all thoughts of being interested in her would cease. As a matter of fact, he was so sure of himself, that he decided he'd put it to the test as soon as he returned to Paris.

He'd drop by the bakery, say hello, verify that he did not have a crush on her, and everything would go right back to normal.

x.x.x

Marinette could only describe the look on Alya's face as dazzled. She stared at Nino as if she'd stumbled upon buried treasure: lips parted, a growing smile, her body fidgeting with the desire to jump up and down. And Marinette, an expert on all things Alya Cesaire, could safely say that she had never seen her best friend look at a guy that way.

At the end of the set, the club burst into wild applause. Marinette brought her phone back to her ear. "You still there?" she asked Adrien, afraid that he might have fallen asleep on her. She hadn't planned on calling him, but Chloe's reminder that he was unhappy, coupled with his own sad text message, had filled Marinette with the desire to do something nice for him. Even if it had kept him up until three in the morning.

"I'm still here," Adrien confirmed. Marinette pressed a hand against her other ear so she could hear him better. "Tell Nino I said it was a kick-ass show."

"Will do. But hey, I'm going to have to let you go. I think Alya has it bad for Nino—like, really bad—and I need to do some follow-up prompting. I'll text you the details later, okay?"

"Got it. Good luck, Flour Girl."

Marinette grinned. "Talk to you soon, Model Behavior." She ended the call and slipped her phone inside the hidden pocket she'd sewn into her dress, then hurried to Alya's side. "Well?" she asked.

"That was…" Alya shook her head and looked at Marinette, still as dazzled as before. "I mean, if he was invited overseas he must be good, but I wasn't expecting him to be that good."

Marinette spotted Nino headed towards them, a pair of orange and blue headphones around his neck, shaking hands and slapping high fives as he went. She grabbed Alya by the arms. "Look who's coming this way!"

Alya's eyes widened. "Shit. What do I say?"

"Tell him that the only thing better than hearing his music would be marrying him," Marinette said, all thoughts of subtlety thrown to the wind. Alya ripped her arms away from her just as Nino reached them.

"Good evening, ladies. Saw you two out there dancing, so I take it you liked the show?"

"Liked it? We loved it!" Marinette cried. "Isn't that right, Alya?"

Alya nodded, looking so uncharacteristically shy that Marinette had to refrain from squealing. Oh, this was a very good sign. "It was amazing," she said over the noise of the crowd. "And the firsthand experience will help me write a great article." She smiled. "You're incredibly talented."

Marinette, sensing this as her cue to leave, jumped into the conversation. "And I am incredibly tired. I think I'm going to head home, but why don't you two stay here and have a drink?"

"Marinette," Alya hissed.

Nino caught on. "Sure, I'd love to buy you a drink," he said to Alya. "If you're up for it."

"Oh. Yeah! Absolutely."

Marinette backed away from them, winked at Nino, then turned and pushed through the crowd toward the door, giggling the entire way.

As she walked, she sent Adrien a series of text messages that she hoped were somewhat coherent, then tucked her phone back into her dress and followed the light flow of pedestrian traffic towards home. Giddiness made her lightheaded. She breathed the warm Parisian night into her lungs and resisted the urge to twirl. What a wonderful evening! She'd gone dancing for the first time in months, Adrien would be pleased with the day's developments, she'd been threatened by the mayor's daughter, and her best friend was in love—or very strongly infatuated. Either was good.

Marinette walked along with a spring in her step and music in her heart. It was almost as if the world had turned into a place where dreams came true. Sometimes. When they felt like it. She even had the courage to believe that maybe she'd make it to the finals of Gabriel Agreste's design competition. Or at least that the next time she picked up her yo-yo, it wouldn't hit her in the face.

She cut through the park beside her house and reveled in the scent of grass and trees and water from the nearby fountain. If there hadn't been a police officer on duty, she might have climbed in and splashed around in the water to soothe the dull ache in her feet.

Instead, Marinette tilted her head up to the sky and smiled as wide as she could. What was this? A familiar feeling, but one she hadn't felt in a while. One she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a while.

She was happy.

Suddenly, the world was a friendly place again. Her future sparkled with possibilities. Soon her parents would return from China and she'd be able to start taking hesitant steps toward a destination unknown. But it didn't scare her like it used to, it thrilled her.

Maybe it was silly of her to feel that way just because one good thing had happened, but maybe it wasn't silly at all. Tonight was the culmination of many small good things, all coming to a head. When she looked back on the past year, she was amazed by what had transpired: She'd met Chat Noir, she'd taken over the bakery and hadn't driven it into the ground, she'd made new friends, she'd overcome her anxiety and reached for her dreams. And even though she had no guarantees about her future, she couldn't help but think that she just might turn out all right in the end.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: Summer5 minutes ago

Good morning, Chat Noir.

Sorry I missed your email last night.

I turned in early and woke up late, and now I have a headache.

Two more days until your hell week is over. Hang in there!

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: SummerJust now

Good morning, buginette! It would seem we are opposites today: you turned in early and woke up late, I stayed up late and woke up early.

Headache Town—Population: Us.

I look forward to that bright and happy future when I can email you at random hours of the day again. (Why does it feel so far away?) Wait for me, my Lady!

x.x.x

Marinette winced as she stepped out of the supermarket, bag of groceries in hand. Did the sun have to shine directly into her eyeballs? She could have stayed home; she'd woken up at almost noon, which guaranteed that she'd be useless for the entire day. But since Adrien would be back in town tomorrow, she wanted to make sure she had the ingredients for the cinnamon roll cheesecake on hand. She reminded herself to message him asking when would be the best time for him to swing by.

She'd sent Alya a text that morning, but hadn't gotten a reply yet. Now she knew how Alya felt when she hadn't messaged her immediately after Adrien's fake kiss. Had anything happened? Were feelings confessed? Did they agree to go out on a series of dates to get to know each other better? Had they spent the rest of the night making out on a bar stool? These were important questions that Marinette needed answers to.

She crossed the street and stifled a yawn, wondering what to do with the rest of her day. She'd received a few commissions for doll clothes, so getting those done as soon as possible sounded like the best use of her time. Plus, it meant more money in the bank, which never hurt to have.

As she approached the bakery, Marinette noticed someone standing at the front door, staring at the closed sign. Must have been a tourist if they didn't know all the bakeries this side of the city were on holiday until September…

Only, it couldn't have been a tourist, because she recognized the length of his legs, the width of his back, the skinny build and the hunch in his shoulders and that redhair, filling her vision, her ears, her head until she was blind and insensible of everything but him.

And her shoes must have scuffed the pavement, because he turned at the sound, and when his sea green eyes met hers she was twenty-four again, standing in his sunlit apartment with her broken heart bleeding all over her sleeve—smiling, but not understanding.

To Be Continued

A/N: Oh hey, Nathanael's back.

I know, I know. Just let it all out in that little review box down there.