5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello friends. It has been two months. "Why has it been two months?" you ask. Because I had to write a 74 page novella followed by a 12 page essay and then put together a final portfolio. The good news is I finished my first year of grad school with a 4.0 GPA!

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

Lucky Us

By: Princess Kitty1

Chapter 5

LadybugRE: 2015Just now

…

Chat.

You're not really not speaking to me, are you?

x.x.x

Adrien poked his head out of his bedroom. He peered down one side of the hallway. A maid carried an armload of linens towards the laundry room. He checked the other side. Empty. No one on the stairs. He withdrew.

Seconds later Adrien somersaulted across the corridor, pressed his back against the wall, and crab-walked towards the stairs, making sure he stayed out of sight of anyone who might have passed through the lobby. He'd overslept. The one day he meant to get the hell out of the mansion early, and he'd snoozed right through his alarm clock. If it hadn't been for Ladybug's email, Nathalie would have been the one to come wake him. Or worse.

News of Gabriel Agreste's impending competition had hit the internet the night before. One glance at his Twitter feed showed Adrien that the whole fashion world was ablaze with the announcement. Hence the reason he now crab-walked down the stairs, praying that no one of consequence was home. He reached the landing. No hope of hiding there. He straightened up and tiptoed the rest of the way down, resisting the urge to make a run for it. The front door was in sight. So close.

Nathalie emerged from the dining room and froze as she spotted him. "Adrien!"

Adrien whirled around to face her. "Good morning Nathalie sorry I overslept and wow am I in a hurry didn't even have time to brush my hair as you can see so whatever it is will just have to wait until later bye!" He yanked the front door open and bolted.

"Come back here!" he heard her yell from the threshold. "Your father wishes to speak with you!"

He dove into the waiting car and scrambled to put his seatbelt on. "Drive, drive, drive!"

The Gorilla, used to Adrien's dramatic flights from the mansion, calmly pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic.

Only after Adrien had caught his breath did he notice he wore two different colored socks.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 201530 minutes ago

My Lady, I offer my humblest apologies. I grovel at your feet. I tear my clothes and prostrate myself before you.

Last night… I had an affair.

Call me a no-good tomcat if you will. After my effusive declarations of love, you must have correctly assumed that my heart (and mind and body) belonged only to you. But you see, for years I have been pursued by another, and I must admit that her charms and seductions have been hard to resist. I am but a man, buginette. A weak man with powerful needs. It was only a matter of time before—

Oh, hell. I overslept. Sorry.

x.x.x

Marinette was surprised to see Adrien both late and unkempt. He walked into the bakery with rogue hair, mismatched socks, and a stifled yawn, but the moment he laid eyes on her, his entire demeanor changed. She had never seen anyone literally perk up before. His shoulders straightened. His mouth spread outwards in a smile he couldn't contain. His eyes glittered like precious gemstones.

In her periphery, Marinette saw Manon look from Adrien to her and back, so she knew it wasn't just her imagination. He really was staring at her like she'd made his whole week simply by existing. He arrived at the front of the line while Marinette debated whether she should faint now or faint later, his radiant smile reserved for her alone. "Good morning," he said, his tone a little too breathless for mere acquaintances.

Marinette's mouth dropped open.

Manon, correctly assuming her boss had been incapacitated, intervened. "Good morning, Monsieur Agreste. What can we get for you today?"

Adrien startled and scanned the dessert case in front of Marinette. In his apparent eagerness to see her, he'd forgotten to look. "It's too early for that chocolate torte, isn't it?"

"It's never too early for chocolate torte," Manon replied as she pressed a ceramic plate into Marinette's hands and returned to the register. "Besides, the fresher the better, wouldn't you agree?"

Adrien waited until Manon was focused on ringing him up to make eye contact with Marinette. She wasn't sure, but she thought she felt his gaze pierce the depths of her soul.

He mouthed something at her.

Marinette blinked. What? she mouthed back.

He tilted his head almost imperceptibly in the direction of his usual table before turning his attention to Manon. He wanted to talk to her? Right now? There were no customers behind him, no large orders waiting for Marinette in the kitchen. But going over to make conversation with a guy she was notorious for being unable to speak to would make Manon suspicious. Scratch that, it would make her more suspicious than she already was. Marinette could see by the way Manon spoke to Adrien that she'd noticed something was different between them.

Sure enough, the moment he was out of ear shot, Manon turned on her. "Is there any specific reason why a famous model walked into our bakery with sex hair and looked at you the way he used to look at your cookies?" she asked.

Marinette scrambled for an excuse. "I don't, but wouldn't it be the perfect time to ask him?"

"Right!" Manon laughed. "Like you're going to just walk right up to him and start a conversation."

Marinette dusted flour off her apron, tilted her chin up, and tapped Manon on the nose. "Watch me," she said. With false confidence wrapped around her like a superhero costume, Marinette marched into the seating area. She could sense Manon's eyes on her back as she approached Adrien's table. Oh God, she was approaching Adrien's table. In broad daylight. With witnesses. And she had to act like they'd never spoken more than a few words to each other. She almost swerved to the left to talk to Monsieur Ramier instead—he always stopped in for a croissant and a bag of bread crumbs to feed the pigeons around Paris. But Adrien looked up from his phone as she drew near and dazzled her with his smile. So much for escaping.

"How's the torte?" she asked.

"Delicious," he replied, "but I was right. It is way too early for this much chocolate. My stomach won't appreciate it."

"But your taste buds do?"

"Oh yes." Adrien gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Would you like to join me?"

So far so good. Marinette waved her hands back and forth. "I can't. I mean, there are things to do. Dishes. I have dishes to wash. And dough to prepare for tomorrow. But thank you for the offer."

Adrien lowered his voice. "I need to ask you something."

Marinette laughed like he'd made some kind of joke. She snuck a glance at Manon and saw her blatantly staring at them. "About what?"

He took her cue and laughed as well. "Your friend, Alya," he said. "Is she single?"

Marinette froze. Her surroundings fell away from her, sight and sound and smells, plummeting along with her stomach into the great unknown. It was a miracle she found voice enough to reply. "Yes."

"Great," Adrien said, his happiness so genuine that Marinette felt a twist in her gut. He reached for his phone, checked the screen, and cringed. "I'm late," he said. He ate the last bite of his torte and stood up while Marinette tried to recollect where she was and what she was doing. "We'll talk tomorrow," he assured her in a quiet voice, then thanked her for the delicious cake and promised he'd be back on Wednesday at a normal volume. Marinette looked after him until he'd ducked into his private car and was driven off to whatever appointments he had that day.

She picked up his plate and walked back to the counter on autopilot. At the sight of her expression, Manon's suspicion turned to worry. She dragged Marinette into the kitchen. "What happened?"

Marinette stared at the plate in her hands. "He asked me if Alya was single."

But, she thought, maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe she'd jumped to conclusions and that awful twist in her gut, that whisper of you knew it was too good to be true echoing around her skull, were simple overreactions. But when Manon's only response was a muttered "shit," Marinette lost her grip on optimism. She dropped the plate into the sink's soapy water. "It's fine," she said. "Don't worry about it."

Manon bit her bottom lip. Clearly it wasn't fine. "Marinette…"

"Can you straighten up the seating area? I'll be out there in a minute." Marinette lowered more plates into the sink and began to scrub the syrup, sugar, and crumbs off them. She heard Manon walk away after a while. A quick glance confirmed she was alone, and she let her shoulder sag.

You knew it was too good to be true.

Which was exactly why she wouldn't cry about it.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 201510 minutes ago

Oh Chat, you don't have to lie to me.

If she makes you happy, I give you my blessing.

PS: Know anything better than ice for swollen eyes?

x.x.x

"Have a seat, Adrien."

If someone had asked Adrien how he thought his life would end, "at the hands of my father" would have been his first response. He tried not to dwell on the tragedy of that.

Standing in Gabriel's office always made him feel like a five-year-old. When his mother was alive and things were better, he used to play in there sometimes—very quietly—while his father worked. On rare occasions he'd look up and find his father watching him, the stress lines on his face smoothed out, a fond smile playing at the corner of his lips.

But there was no fond smile today. Only the severe, measured look of a father whose son had deliberately disobeyed him.

On Gabriel's desk sat a tablet, internet browser open to Zag Weekly's website. As Adrien slid into the chair across from the desk, his father tapped the tablet screen with his index finger. "Would you care to explain why this Alya Cesaire claims you told her I had a design competition set in stone?"

He recognized that tone of voice. It was what his father's employees affectionately referred to as the Oh Shit Voice, as in oh shit I'm about to lose my job. Adrien had no job to lose, but he did have a life, and considering he'd already foretold his own doom, today must have been the day the prophesy was fulfilled. He sat up straight, determined to go out like a man. "I thought that was what we agreed on yesterday," he lied.

"I said I would reconsider. These decisions take time. A design competition takes time," Gabriel said. He tapped on the tablet screen and Zag Weekly's website was replaced by a calendar crammed with events—his work schedule. "Does it look like I have time to spare?"

Adrien bowed his head. "No sir."

Gabriel let him stew in his shame before speaking again. "Well then. Seeing as you are so willing to sacrifice other people's time, I thought this might be an excellent opportunity to teach you a lesson."

The office door opened. In walked Nathalie, accompanied by a woman in a suit who, judging by the terror on her face, had yet to master the stern expression worn by all Agreste employees. "We will not cancel the design competition," Gabriel continued as the two came to stand behind Adrien's chair. "For whatever reason you appear to be looking forward to it, and I'd hate to disappoint you." His flat tone suggested he didn't care one way or the other whether he disappointed Adrien or not. "But as I cannot spare any of my time to arrange it, I am leaving you in charge."

Adrien went slack-jawed. "Me?"

"Who better? You are familiar with my method of doing business. Your schedule is lax compared to mine, and isn't it about time you started participating in the family business? Yes, I think you will do nicely." Gabriel gestured. "Nathalie and Colette are your assistants. Colette has worked on the previous design competitions and knows what needs to be done. She's scheduled a press conference for the official announcement in two days. You will be speaking on my behalf."

"A press conference in two days?" In Adrien's state of shock, he could do nothing but repeat what he heard.

Gabriel arched a silver-blond eyebrow. "Is that too short notice for you?" he asked.

Adrien put a lid on his surprise. He wouldn't give his father the pleasure of seeing him squirm. "Two days is perfect," he said, and turning to Colette he added, "Would you please call Ms. Cesaire and invite her to the press conference? I promised her I'd get in contact when I had more information."

Colette's eyes widened like she hadn't expected to be put to use, much less spoken to in a kind manner. "Right away, Monsieur Agreste."

Adrien beamed at his father. Gabriel smirked back. "I trust that you will have everything under control," he said with a challenge in his tone. "You are dismissed."

As soon as Adrien was out of the office, he drew his phone out of his pocket. He'd received a short email from Ladybug that worried him, but he had business to attend before he could reply. He tapped on Nino's number and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Dude," Nino said, "I hope you're not calling from the afterlife because you know ghosts freak me out."

"I am. Turns out they give you one last phone call—like prison—and I'm using mine to tell you where my father dumped my mangled corpse."

Silence. "R-Really?"

"No!" Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nino, listen, clear your schedule for Wednesday afternoon. You're coming to a press conference." Excitement broke the surface of his dread. "And clean up a little, because that reporter you like is going to be there too."

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 20151 hour ago

Do my eyes deceive me? An email from my Lady in the middle of the work day? To what do I owe the pleasure? In answer to your question: chilled tea bags, cucumber or strawberry slices, and cotton balls soaked in warm salt water. My best friend swears by that last one. She's ill-tempered and constantly working herself up into tears.

Is everything alright?

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 2015Just now

Oh gosh, sorry.

A friend showed up at my door with home-cooked food and then stayed over for a couple of hours.

I'm a sucker for home-cooked food.

I'm a sucker for fast food.

I'm a sucker for food.

I'm a sucker.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 20152 minutes ago

You are no such thing.

Let me tell you who the real sucker is: yours truly. You probably knew this already, right? Well my best friend—the ill-tempered one—she's got a bit of a drinking problem. We might need to hold an intervention for her soon. Whenever she goes out on the town and gets falling down drunk, guess who ends up pulling her from whatever club she's passed out in? That's right, Chat Noir, her knight in shining armor on speed dial.

It doesn't even occur to me to say no. We've been friends since we were babies. I can't just leave her out there, you know?

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 201533 seconds ago

Is she the woman you had an affair with last night?

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 2015Just now

I OVERSLEPT. THERE IS NO OTHER WOMAN. IT IS IMPORTANT TO ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND THIS.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 2015Just now

Right. ;-)

There is no other woman. ;-)

I totally understand. ;-)

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 2015Just now

Ladybug, I'm going to cry.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 2015Just now

Thanks for the laugh, kitty. I really needed it.

Good night.

x.x.x

Alya rushed into the bakery at noon the next day. Marinette, who wasn't accustomed to seeing her at noon on a Tuesday, steeled herself for bad news. For her best friend to run across town to talk to her the day after Adrien asked if she was single, it could only mean one thing.

Alya doubled over to catch her breath, then straightened, still panting. "Press conference!"

Marinette blinked. "What?"

"I got a call—from Adrien's secretary—inviting me to—a press conference!" Alya leaned on the counter. "I need water."

Marinette fetched a cup of ice water and brought it her. She watched Alya drain it and resisted the urge to launch into a series of more personal questions. If Adrien had asked her on a date, Alya would have opened with that. She'd have been outraged on Marinette's behalf. Every customer in the bakery would have gotten an earful of gossip.

"It's scheduled for tomorrow afternoon," Alya said. She handed the empty cup back to Marinette and grinned. "Guess that means the competition is officially official."

"Guess so," Marinette agreed. She knew she should have shown a little more enthusiasm, but it was difficult when her mind kept replaying Adrien's unbridled happiness over Alya's single status. It wasn't that she was angry—she could never be angry about a guy liking her best friend. No one was more deserving of love and happiness than her hardworking best friend. The wound was just too fresh. Marinette didn't have the energy to be cheerful, let alone fake it.

Luckily Alya was in too much of a hurry to suspect Marinette's delicate attitude had nothing to do with the competition. "Don't worry," she said, "whichever of the hundred designs you have stashed upstairs you decide to submit, it'll be perfect."

"I don't have a hundred designs stashed upstairs." Marinette lowered her voice to a mumble. "It's more like seventy. But if I do enter, it'll be with something new."

"I expected nothing less from you." Alya checked the time on her phone and leaned forward to give Marinette a parting kiss on both cheeks. "I'll come over tomorrow night and tell you all about the conference. Ooh! We should get some gelato. It's definitely hot enough."

Marinette had a feeling the conference would be the last thing on Alya's mind.

Unable to help herself, she checked her email as soon as Alya was gone. She usually didn't pull her phone out until after work. The day before had been a temporary lapse in sanity, more of an excuse to stay locked in the bathroom until her eyes stopped leaking all the tears she'd been trying to keep at bay. Today she had no excuse.

She wanted to talk to Chat Noir. He was the only escape from her daily life that she had.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 20154 hours ago

I lost sleep because of you.

For two hours I tossed and turned, wondering if you were serious or not. You should know that I would never be unfaithful to you. Chat's honor.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 201551 minutes ago

That would be reassuring if we were actually dating.

You should lose sleep over more important things, chaton.

Like video games.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 201537 minutes ago

She speaks during the work day again! What have I done to deserve this honor? I'm so touched! To see my Lady's voice before the twilight hours—etc. etc.. Can I skip the dramatics and wonder if this is the beginning of a new era in our relationship?

I'd pester you more, but there's been an increase in business lately that demands my immediate attention. Would that I could do nothing but sit around talking to you. It's much more fun. ):

x.x.x

Marinette saw an increase in business herself towards the end of the work day. Three different orders came in, one for the weekend and one large enough to require extra employees on hand. She'd have to plan accordingly.

When six o'clock rolled around, she dismissed her closing shift assistant and picked out a flaky pastry for Adrien, then boxed up the rest and waited in the kitchen for the homeless shelter people to come by. Did she even want to see Adrien? Her stupid heart betrayed her. Of course she did. His having feelings for Alya didn't affect her desire to see him in any way. It was as strong and energetic as ever, setting flight to the multitude of butterflies in her stomach while she waited. She groaned and opened her email.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 20151 hour ago

I like talking to you too, kitty.

So.

Gabriel Agreste is holding another design competition this year.

My best friend's gotten it into her head that if I enter, my victory is pretty much guaranteed, but…

I don't know.

It's one thing to design for yourself, another to bare your soul to your hero and get shot down.

I'm not sure my heart could take that.

x.x.x

Adrien ran through the darkening streets, Marinette's umbrella clutched in his hand. So much for being inconspicuous. He hoped he was disguised enough that bystanders would only see some random idiot charging through pedestrian traffic like a maniac, and not the son of a famous designer.

The meeting with the budget specialist had gone on forever. Three times in the last hour Adrien had been tempted to get up and politely kick everybody out of the meeting room, but how would that look? Did he really feel like explaining to his father that he'd left business matters unresolved in order to keep a promise to a girl?

He made it to the door, then hesitated while trying to decide if he should knock—there was no way Marinette would still be down in the bakery—or ring the buzzer—which was strangely formal. He settled for knocking first; he'd ring if he had to.

Several quiet seconds passed while Adrien caught his breath and cursed the weather for being so humid.

The door opened.

Marinette stared out at him, clearly surprised. She'd put her hair up in a bun: loose tendrils framed her face and a pencil was stuck through the bun itself, giving her an artistic appearance that nicely suited a baker. Adrien smiled sheepishly. "I got stuck in a meeting."

Marinette blinked. Another strand of hair came loose from the bun and fell to the side of her face. "I didn't think you were coming."

He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry," he said, then remembered the umbrella. He held it out to her. "It served me well."

Her gaze lowered to the umbrella. She took it from him. Stared at it for a moment. Then she let out a comically large gasp and moved out of the doorway. "Come in," she said, making a sweeping motion with her arm. "I was just—oh my God." Her hands flew up to her hair and yanked the pencil out.

Adrien stepped over the threshold and immediately felt some tightly coiled thing inside of him relax. There was something so peaceful about the bakery, the perfect cure for his hectic day. He turned to Marinette, who had placed the pencil on the small desk at the back end of the kitchen and now charged toward the refrigerator. She hadn't let go of the umbrella. "Three people called with orders at the end of the day, so I'm just checking to make sure I have all the supplies I need. Might have to buy some more raspberries for Mrs. Chapman's crepe cake."

"If you're busy, I can leave," Adrien said. "We'll talk another time?"

"No!" Marinette whirled around with a pastry in hand. "I mean, I got most of the work done already. It's fine." She clicked on the lights in the dining area and Adrien followed her to his table. Before he sat down he checked his phone: one email from Ladybug.

Marinette took up the opposite chair, then noticed she was still holding the umbrella and leaned it against the wall. "Anyway, I figured you must be busy, what with the design competition and everything," she said.

Adrien pocketed his phone and fell into his chair with a sigh. "Even busier. My father put me in charge of the whole thing."

"Really?"

He nodded. "He thinks it's time I started showing interest in the family business. So now I get to organize the competition and the after party, food and entertainment included. Good thing my best friend is a DJ." Adrien tried the pastry. It had a subtle honey taste and left flaky crumbs everywhere. Delicious. "And speaking of best friends…"

Marinette's eyes widened. "Yes?"

He leaned in toward her. "I asked about your friend Alya because—"

"You like her?" Marinette said.

Adrien froze. "What?"

They stared at each other. Adrien's brow furrowed. He thought back to their conversation the day before and realized that, given the way he'd both phrased his question and reacted to her answer, he had indeed given off the impression that he was interested in Alya. "Oh! No, geez, not at all," he said, then backtracked. "Not that she isn't pretty or anything. That came out wrong. She's very pretty, but I'm not the one who's interested. My friend Nino—he was with me on Sunday—it was love at first sight. Or at least a very strong attraction."

"Your friend," Marinette reiterated. He couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"He's a good guy," Adrien said. "A little lacking in the confidence department, but I can vouch for him."

A smile crept its way to Marinette's face. "Your friend!" she said again. "What did you say his name was?"

"Nino Lahiffe. His stage name is DJ Bubbler. I don't know if you've heard of him."

"It sounds familiar." Marinette leaned forward. "Your friend is interested in Alya," she murmured, more to herself than him.

Adrien took that as an encouraging sign. "Yes. You should have seen the way he acted around her. Completely dumbstruck." Nino hadn't stopped texting him since the day before, sending pictures of different clothing combinations for his expert opinion on How to Impress a Woman. What kind of friend would Adrien be if he didn't do everything in his power to help?

Marinette looked thoughtful. "Well," she said, "I do want Alya to find a nice guy, but I can't set her up with just anyone…"

Adrien seized the opportunity. "I'll bring him by tomorrow," he said. "I have to give a press conference in the morning and he's coming with me for moral support. You can meet him yourself, decide if he's good enough for your friend, and if he is we can maybe try to get them together?"

"We?" she squeaked.

"If you're up for a game of matchmaker." Adrien smiled his winningest smile. He had to get her approval. For Nino's sake.

Marinette stared for a moment, then she stuck out her hand. "All right. I'm always up for a game of matchmaker," she said. "But if Alya doesn't like him I won't pressure her."

"Absolutely not," Adrien agreed as he shook her hand. The design competition was the perfect excuse. He could keep inviting Alya to cover events as they unfolded and Nino, when he wasn't working on the music, could oh-so-conveniently be in the same place, then Adrien would mercilessly ditch him so he'd be forced to either make conversation or let things get awkward. Ah, Nino was going to hate him. "May I borrow your phone?" he said to Marinette.

She almost dropped the phone trying to get it out of her pocket, but she handed it over nonetheless. He dialed his own number and pressed the call button. "There," he said, giving it back to her. "For scheming purposes. And, well, next time I'm running late I'll send you a text."

"Right," Marinette said, her eyes fixed on the screen. She jumped like she'd been pinched. "And I can, ah, send you the menu. On Thursday. So you can pick your own dessert."

Adrien hadn't even thought of that. He laughed. "You don't have to keep feeding me."

"I insist." Her expression was a determined one.

By the time he left the bakery the sun was almost completely gone, lampposts illuminated to guide him back to the Agreste mansion. He looked over his shoulder and saw Marinette lingering in the doorway. He waved at her. She waved back. On his walk home, he added her phone number to his contacts list—which, aside from Nino, Chloe, his father, and Ladybug, consisted of nothing but employees and business associates.

He wondered if Marinette considered them friends.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 201542 minutes ago

Ladybug.

I say this because I love you.

Enter that design competition or I will enter you in it myself.

To Be Continued

A/N: Yesterday was my 26th birthday. If you're wondering how it feels to be 26, it's a lot like being 25, only your arm hurts more because your parents surprised you with a trip to an archery range and it. Was. EPIC.

My, my. Things are getting interesting, aren't they? Do click that darling review button and let me know what you think.