Hi everyone!

As most of you know the MLBB is a fantastic time for writers, artists and readers of the MLB fandom to join forces. At the beginning of the process I was lucky enough to have two fantastic artists chose my fic to illustrate. Though not ready quite yet, this chapter WILL be having a special treat added as soon as possible by the amazing Lukalunar. I'll keep you all informed when it's ready to post, all I can say is I'm VERY excited!

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"I don't think you can compare the two; they're totally different."

"What?! They're exactly the same! It's just in a differently shaped bottle."

"You really don't have a clue."

"Adrien, I've got them both, and they smell exactly the same."

"Why do you have men's cologne?"

"I was curious," Marinette shrugged, not wanting to tell Adrien that the reason she had many bottles of Adrien the Fragrance was to spray on her pillow and pretend he was hugging her. No chance.

Adrien eyed her curiously, and to be honest she deserved it. She didn't know how they had got to this conversation, but she needed to divert it asap. She was all set to change to another topic of conversation when suddenly Adrien shoved his wrist under her nose.

"Here," he said, "smell me."

Marinette reeled back in shock. "What?"

"Sniff me. I'm sure you'll be able to tell the difference between the new and the old one. This one is a little more manly."

Manly? She thought. If there was one thing Adrien didn't need to be, that was more manly. She was barely containing herself sitting opposite him and if she had to sniff him she was quite certain she would collapse off the side of her chair. She looked into his eyes, and there it was again, Adrien Agreste and his finely tuned eyebrows, begging for her to fall at his beck and call.

Marinette bent forward and took a quick sniff before reverting herself back to an upright, and almost stable, position. The votes were in... it definitely did not smell the same. It was denser, older, and pure Adrien gloriousness. He had never smelled so good, and she would definitely be the one to know; she'd sniffed him enough. Trying to move the smell of Adrien from her nostrils she let out a well vented sigh, collapsing a little lower into her chair.

"It's okay, Marinette."

She looked up to her dinner companion and studied his face; Adrien's understanding stare, full of compassion.

"Listen, I think we both knew that wasn't going to work. Maybe you need to not make such rash decisions next time. Date someone who you know a little more. Maybe someone from the boxercise class."

Nodding her head in agreement, she cursed herself for approaching Paul last night, Adrien was right she needed to know the person not just asking anyone out. Not that he even knew he'd been asked on a date.

"Thank you for being here."

"You're welcome. And, let's be honest, he only knew you as 'flexible girl' and you called him 'Pringles Paul', it wasn't exactly a match made in heaven, now was it? Did he even bother to ask you your name?"

Groaning, she buried her head in their hands. He was right. They hadn't exactly set off on the world's greatest love story. Maybe she should have cancelled it in the first place? Saved them both from wasting time.

"Can we just remember you told me to ditch him, that wasn't very nice."

"I'd already seen him walk out the door."

"Oh."

A chime sounded from her bag resting against her hip. A quick movement had it on the table and available for all to see.

Paul.

Her mysterious disappearing date had contacted her. A sudden thought made her gasp, what if he'd actually come back into the restaurant searching for her? And she'd just gotten up and left without a word.

Paul: Hey Flexible Girl. Had to bolt. Girlfriend's ill and needs medicine. If you get chance give Stranger Things a second chance. It's epic!

"What does it say?" Adrien asked.

"He has a girlfriend!"

Adrien cringed under her stare. "Why was he on a date with you if he has a girlfriend?"

"Because I never actually asked him on a date. I asked him to go for a drink so I could get to know people at the gym better." A vibration sounded in her throat, her hands running down her face. "I can't even ask a guy out properly."

Wanting to finally put an end to her own misery she quickly changed the subject.

"So," she coughed, wanting to put an end to her almost-date and start this new one. Wait? Was this a date? She felt her palms sweat with the idea of being on a date with Adrien. Speaking quickly with a slight squeak. "Enough of my failures in love," she coughed. "How about you?"

If she ever had a deep desire to use the rabbit Miraculous, now would most certainly be one of those times. In no shape or form did she think she could sit around and listen to Adrien gush about another girl. This night was just getting worse by the minute.

She watched as he looked away from her — bad sign — and shrugged.

"I'm not really actively looking. But there's a couple of girls who —" He was glowing as he shook his head in the most adorable way, his eyes firmly placed on the ground. "There was this girl, I think I told you about her back in collège. Well..." He shrugged again, but the smile on his face told her everything she needed to know. This was definitely not a date. A realisation that stabbed her hard in the chest. She didn't know what she had expected. A declaration that he was in love with her?

She'd misread the signs once again; Adrien was just being his wonderful kind self.

"I... yeah, it's slow... and complicated," he finished.

Nodding in response, Marinette grabbed a fork to play with and shifted the conversation to try and remove the tingling from her nose and the tightness in her chest.

"Then there's –"

Marinette interrupted before she had to listen to him swoon about another girl. A date and ditch, plus Adrien gushing about another girl would not exactly be a fun filled evening. "So, how have you been? It's been a while."

She watched his eyebrows soften, a look of remorse taking over his brilliant green eyes as he reached behind his neck and rubbed.

"I didn't mean to disappear," he began. "Things just seemed to spiral out of control. Then before I knew it months had passed, and I didn't know what to say to anyone anymore. I would sit and look through all your social media accounts and see that you were all doing great, moving on in your lives without me. You didn't need my whining to drag you all down — there's only so much depressing news you can hear about Gabriel Agreste."

Marinette let out a sigh, dropping her eyes to the table. "I suppose we're all to blame really. Friendship isn't a one way street, and we are all just as guilty for not contacting you more often."

Adrien's smile was there, but Marinette knew it was the professional performing one, one she hadn't seen in years – since the day of his cover shoots.

"We're here now though, right? Even though I haven't seen you in about seven months. You're looking great, Marinette."

He stretched his hand out, placing it palm down on the table, and Marinette wasn't sure if it was a signal for her to place her own on top or if he was just stretching.

She looked down at his perfectly manicured hand, his long, slender fingers accessorised by his sovereign ring, the one he'd always worn on his right hand. His hand looked so inviting, and she couldn't help but want to feel if his skin was as smooth as it looked.

Taking the decision to move forward, Marinette was set on placing hers on top of his. She moved closer and closer, her hand mere centimetres away. She was going to do it. She was going to hold Adrien's hand, and then maybe this could turn into a date.

"I have a red pepper butternut squash soup, and a calamari." A young, attractive female approached with their order and Marinette almost made a dramatic gasping scene as she placed the face to where she'd seen it before. At the gym.

The girl was one from the group. One who spent more time ogling Adrien than working out. And before her internal angel and devil could begin to argue she, herself, did not ogle Adrien, she was just looking out for him. Making sure he used the equipment safely — that was all.

The waitresses eyes were placed firmly on Adrien as she dropped the bowl in front of Marinette. A swoosh of liquid battled to break free over the top and cause a tsunami on the table. Marinette was terrified 'for' her clothing; the orange tinted soup seemingly enthusiastic about giving them a new tie-dye effect.

Adrien's plate, however, was set down with incredible accuracy, and Marinette thought the waitress was about to pull up a chair and begin to spoon feed him. Instead, she straightened herself up and stood staring at him — a smile on her face like a kid in a candy store. Could she be any more obvious?

Despite her attention being solely on Adrien, Marinette couldn't help but feel uncomfortable by the hovering. She was literally just standing and staring but, worst of all, Adrien was so busy preparing his calamari that he failed to notice how much she was gawking at him.

Could someone actually be this oblivious?

A metaphorical slap across her face had her mouth dropping and eyes widening.

This is exactly what you do! The devil seated comfortably on her shoulder spoke up.

Adrien stretched forward for the salt and pepper, using both on his food before picking up the lemon slice and squeezing it in a way Gordon Ramsey would be proud of. Having a sneaky glance, Marinette looked in his direction. It was mesmerising; she didn't realise squirting lemons could do this to her. All of a sudden she realised what she was doing and turned her attention back to the brunette who had now manoeuvred her lips into a rather impressive duck pout.

Everything was starting to feel wrong tonight, as though she was finally having a lifelong epiphany. She wasn't 14 anymore, there was no excuse. She was 19, she needed to start looking at her life and her actions, and taking accountability for what she was doing.

"Is there anything else?" Marinette said, hoping the hint to leave would hit loud and clear.

"I just want to check M. Agreste is happy with his calamari. It's all part of the service."

To try and get in his pants, Marinette thought, as Adrien looked at the waitress and flashed her an award winning smile.

Her eyes widened as she realised what had just run through her head. She had no right to be jealous. She wasn't on a date with Adrien... he had another girl!

It didn't matter that this was the most romantic restaurant she'd ever been to with wonderful smelling food that cost more than every item of clothing she was wearing.

It didn't matter that Adrien had escorted her in with a hand on her lower back, pulled her chair out, and placed her napkin in her lap.

It didn't matter that their conversation was flowing greater than Niagra Falls; the truth of the matter was they were not on a date. Marinette wasn't Adrien's and, unfortunately, he wasn't hers, either.

Adrien looked down, placing another piece of calamari into his mouth.

As Adrien settled back from his calamari coma, he looked from Marinette to the waitress before turning his attention back to Marinette.

"Is there something wrong with your soup?" He stabbed a piece of calamari before pointing it in Marinette's direction and nodding down at the untouched liquid.

"No," Marinette said, dramatically. She shook her head to the point it almost fell off before picking up her spoon and sending it in like an Olympic diver. "It's fine — great in fact." She stumbled over her words, wanting to make sure the waitress didn't think she was complaining because she wasn't. The soup was actually fine.

"That's all then, thank you." Adrien's words were dismissive as he smiled at the waitress and then turned back to his food — placing the ring of squid into his mouth.

With a huff, the waitress turned and left, obviously off to find her next victim. If Marinette had been on a date with Adrien, she would be making sure now not to leave her a tip. Or maybe the simple one of 'leave my Prince alone'.

"You know, if it's cold, you should send it back." Adrien pushed his food around on his plate before stabbing his next victim and drowning it in the marinara sauce.

"It's fine," Marinette replied, taking her spoon to the bowl once more. To be honest, it really wasn't. She couldn't call it anything more than lukewarm, nothing like the scalding temperature she'd usually eat soup at.

Adrien placed his fork down and crossed his arms, nodding to the bowl in front of her. "Send it back."

His voice was strong, nothing like the young, naive boy she went to lycée with.

"It's fine," she responded once more, enthusiastically taking a spoonful and tilting it into her mouth to prove her point. It took everything in her not to wince. The quickly cooling liquid teasing her tongue, with a slight hint of what could be, but what it sadly was not.

"Marinette, your face is making it clear you don't like it. You need to stop worrying about what they think. If it's not right, send it back."

She sighed and looked down at the bowl, her hand lazily moving the spoon in slow and steady circles. The movement of the soup sent her dizzy.

"Marinette?"

Adrien's warm hand had once again found its way to hers. He looked to the side, and Marinette knew straight away what he was trying to do.

"Adrien, don't please! It's fine, look..." She pulled her hand away from him, took her spoon once more, and placed a spoonful into her mouth; her wince increasing as the soup had grown progressively colder. There was no way she could eat this. It was a couple of seconds away from turning into Gazpacho.

Looking over towards her friend, Marinette couldn't help but cringe. Adrien's gaze was intense, and suddenly she felt like she was in the middle of an X Factor audition. His eyebrows pulled together as he studied her, a hand absentmindedly coming to her face hoping she didn't have soup dribbling from the corner of her mouth.

"What?" She placed the spoon down and crossed her arms over her chest, Adrien continuing to eat his calamari.

He shook his head and placed his fork down, mirroring her position and finishing what was in his mouth. Ever the gentleman, she thought, glad that he hadn't progressed to spraying her with half-chewed calamari.

"Do you want some of mine? Though, I'm not sure if it's shellfish or not?"

Marinette shook her head. "No thank you, I swear I'm fine."

"You're scared to send it back," he stated as though he'd just told her that her eyes were blue.

She shook her head in complete defiance. "No, I'm not. It's fine; there's no big deal fussing over cold soup."

"Except for when it's not meant to be cold, Marinette. Send. It. Back."

She sighed and picked up her spoon, stirring around the bowl again and picking out some of the hidden red peppers. "No!" She sounded like a 5-year-old, and she knew that. "I just don't see why I should make a big deal about it." She spooned up another serving and placed it in her mouth, once again wincing as the cold substance hit her taste buds.

"Excuse me?" Adrien raised a hand and performed a little wave towards their waitress. She bounded over with a strut most models at fashion week would be jealous of. She couldn't be any more obvious with her body language; she saw Adrien, and she went for it.

"Yes, M. Agreste."

Marinette wasn't sure how she'd done it, but her voice was breathy in a way that made her want to puke.

"My date's soup is cold. Can we get another please?"

Wait? What?!? She almost toppled off her chair. Did he just say 'his date'? When did this become a date? Was she on a date with Adrien Agreste? When had it gotten so hot here?

She was seconds away from turning into a volcano when the waitress reached forward and took the bowl from her placemat, 'accidently' sending the spoon out of the bowl and onto Marinette's lap. Maybe it was a good thing the soup was cold.

"Oh!" The waitress exclaimed, making it blatantly obvious she wasn't a good actress. "I'm so sorry." Her husky voice cut through Marinette, the fake apology only causing her to dislike the woman more and to think she was beginning to feel bad for calling them the plastics.

Grabbing a napkin, Marinette began to wipe the orange soup stains from her trousers, dipping it into the water and using the dampness as a makeshift cleaning cloth.

"I'm going to speak to the manager." The movement of Adrien pushing his chair away from the table rattled the glasses, almost sending them over and creating even more of a mess than they were already in.

"No, you're not," Marinette sighed, "sit down, Adrien."

"She did that on purpose though. I thought if I said we were on a date, she'd stop staring at me and get you new soup at the same time; I didn't expect her to go all Annie Wilkes on you."

"Who?" Marinette looked up from aggressively rubbing her jeans, her eyebrows knitting together in a tight frown.

"Annie Wilkes." He sat back down opposite her, waiting for her response, only for her lips to shift into a thoughtful pout.

"Yeah, I heard that. I still don't know who that is."

He gasped, placed a hand over his face, rubbed his hair and neck, then growled. She was wondering if she'd just unknowingly offended a member of his family.

"Oh come on Marinette, don't tell me you've never watched Misery?"

If they were in an old western, Marinette was certain that a tumbleweed would have just had a lovely stroll past them.

"You know what?" Obviously her face was the only answer he needed, so he grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket and began to type. In a matter of seconds, her phone pinged once more with a new message.

Grabbing it from where it still lay face down on the table, Marinette lifted it and noticed that the message just happened to be from her dinner companion.

You have been invited to join the note 'Marinette's List' by Adrien Agreste.

She looked up at him only to notice his smirk being replaced by another piece of calamari.

That's it, she thought, you hide behind that octopus, you coward.

Opening the message and then the note, she detected it was the beginning of a checklist:

1. Be more assertive and stop worrying about what other people think about you.

2. Go on dates with people who know your name.

3. Watch Misery with Adrien Agreste.

"Seriously?" she asked, looking from her phone to her friend's face.

"It's down in writing now; you can't go back on it." He smiled again before inserting another piece of calamari into his mouth.

"I never agreed; something here has to be illegal."

He let out a snort, which suddenly became a laugh, which progressed rather quickly into a choke. Oh no! oh no! OH NO! Standing from the table, she used the two seconds it took her to get to the other side to run through her memory for some first aid skills.

As she reached him, it became clear. Hit him hard with the palm of her hand in between his shoulder blades. How many times was she meant to do this? Three? Four? She hit him once, then continued to strike him hard repeatedly, the calamari finally flying from his mouth and back onto the plate. Adrien's deep, laboured breaths were the best sound she'd ever heard — even if he sounded like a cat with a furball.

A round of applause broke out around them, Marinette tripping as she attempted to scurry back to her seat and out of the limelight. Unfortunately, her legs tangled around themselves, and she collapsed down to the floor in a rather dramatic and unflattering heap.

A panicked voice sounded above from where she was sprawled out on the ground. "Are you all okay over here? Do I need to call an ambulance?"

Marinette placed her hands on the seat of her chair and pushed herself to stand, coasting herself back down and into her seat.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, moving her hair from where it had fallen loose and stuck to her face. "I'm used to it."

"Not for you," the voice said again, "him! M. Agreste."

She looked up to see, who she guessed was the manager, fawning over Adrien — and was he rubbing his back? And what was wrong with his hair?

"Oh," Marinette said, brushing herself off.

"I'm good," Adrien replied, "my date saved me." His voice was hoarse, and he spoke through rather unattractive, chest rattling coughs. "I'm very lucky."

Even through his near-death experience, Adrien still managed to drop her a little wink before beginning his next set of rattling barks. Her cheeks flamed red hot and caused her to look away.

"We'd like to have the bill —"

"One bowl of hot red pepper butternut squash soup." The waitress announced, moving forward and hovering over the table. She dropped the bowl down rather aggressively, a tidal wave of the sweet vegetable soup flowing over the edge and onto Marinette's top. As a squeal left her mouth, Marinette launched herself out of the chair, slamming her hand on the spoon and sending it flying onto the manager's rather rat-like toupée. The man pulled it from his head and to the ground with a yelp progressing to jumping on it like it was on fire. Great, now Remy had come to join the drama.

Cringing, Marinette looked between the manager and Adrien before turning her attention to a rather smug-looking waitress. Oh, how she wished the soup had painted her instead! She'd look great as a Picasso portrait. She could feel her cheeks begin to heat up as she seated herself back down into her chair. This was beyond mortifying.

Covering her eyes, she looked down at her green stained top, praying that it would wash out when she arrived home as it was one of her favourites. Her mind was running fast, weighing the pros and cons of using vanish on her top or whether a bio-wash would be better when Adrien's chair scraped away from the floor and he stood up.

She wasn't sure if she could look at him. This wasn't the most embarrassing thing she'd ever done in front of him, but it was one of the most embarrassing she'd pulled off in such a public place.

"I'm sure you'll find this sufficient." Adrien said wryly, a selection of euro notes falling onto the table.

"Monsieur Agreste, I apologise —"

"No," Adrien stated, his voice stern but without any anger. "I feel your staff need to be better managed, monsieur. I will be sending the dry cleaning bill for my date's top and any other items that have been damaged. The service here tonight has not been acceptable."

He walked around towards Marinette, taking her arm gently and pulling her to stand, her legs wobbling slightly as she attempted to stabilise herself.

"Please, M. Agreste — here. This meal is on us." The manager reached over the table and grabbed the cash, all but throwing it at Adrien—pushing it into his hands. "And please, we invite you and your lady back for a meal at the chef's table."

Marinette didn't know what to do. She felt so alien standing watching this conversation, Adrien puffing out his chest and delivering hit after hit. She marvelled at his display of righteousness, not caring about upsetting the others' feelings as he told them exactly what he thought. His confidence was alluring. There was no anger or bite in his words, just a protective tone once again.

"Goodnight, Monsieur."

She wasn't certain when or how it had happened, but her coat was now placed over her shoulders and her arms were buried deep into their sleeves. Adrien bent down and picked up her small, cross-body bag, placing it delicately on her shoulder before moving them towards the doorway.

"My deepest apologies, mademoiselle," the manager said, his body leaning into a bow as they walked away and towards the exit.

The doorman prised open the heavy wooden door, allowing them both to exit onto the street and into the cool Parisian night air. Marinette wrapped her arms around herself, allowing a little cloud of steam to leave her mouth.

"Here."

It was only at that moment Marinette realised Adrien had been wearing something specific under his thick winter jacket, something he was removing and moving towards her. A light blue scarf wrapped around her neck with a delicate brush of his warm fingers as he made sure her bare, chilled skin was covered by the soft fabric she had carefully knitted all those years ago.

He stepped in front of her, his height towering above her; yet, she didn't feel intimidated or frightened. Instead, she felt safe and protected. His body was the perfect size to fit into; her head would settle under his chin, and all she needed to do was take one step forward. One step and she would be engulfed by the new manly scent of Adrien the Fragrance mixed with Adrien himself.

"The blue's the same colour as your eyes."

His whispered voice sent a shiver to her core. The night's cold air was nothing compared to Adrien's effect, right through to her bones. His hands were still on the edges of the woven material, his eyes firmly locked on hers as the hot air between them clashed before disappearing.

"It is," she whispered in return. Her heart yearned for him to move in and take her lips, to express a feeling similar to her own. He licked his lower lip; the glistening moisture which remained made them all the more desirable; a heartbreaking invitation to only look but never touch.

Time seemed to freeze as they stood staring at each other, the atmosphere between them changing and taking her breath away. He was looking at her in a way she had only ever dreamed about, a dream which always ended up making her sorely disappointed in her reality.

She couldn't be imagining it, could she? Life wasn't cruel enough to make her believe her dream was coming true.

A sudden blaring of a siren broke the intense atmosphere, causing them both to blink and break the connection.

What the hell was that?

Adrien coughed and continued adjusting the scarf around her neck. He twisted it tightly, before pulling his hands away, snuggly placing them in his pockets. He smiled down at his well formed knot.

"Let's get you home before you freeze." But she felt anything but cold. The look he'd given her warmed her inside out, and she wanted it again. He was being his usual gentleman, and for the first time ever, she hated that Adrien Agreste was so respectable.

"This is me."

Ten minutes later, they found themselves outside her apartment. She stretched up to undo the scarf only for Adrien's warm hand to stop her.

"Keep it. That way, you have to see me again." His smile was addictive, her own following but lacking the brightness of his.

"Is that right?" Marinette asked, one eyebrow raised as her hands came to her hips.

He laughed. "I need a boxing partner, remember? You can't just ditch me."

She tried to keep her smile, burying the feeling that he wasn't actually asking her out. She had to remember this wasn't a date. They were two old friends catching up, the attractive blond being good company after her original date had bolted.

"Of course, yes, sure... I'd never leave you alone." She lifted a hand and softly punched him in the shoulder, his reaction playful as he stepped back and faked pain.

"Ouch! Maybe I need someone with a softer hit. I'm still dealing with your last strike."

She covered her face in mortification. "I am so, so sorry about that! I really didn't mean to."

He laughed once more, and the sound of a thousand angels ringing tiny bells played in her head. How could he still make her feel this way?

"Don't worry about it. No harm done." He pulled her hands from where they'd covered her face and lowered them to her sides, cupping her hands in his own. "Listen, you need to get inside before you freeze to death."

He rubbed his thumbs over her frozen digits, the effect sending waves up her arm and towards her heart. It was only then she realised how cold she'd actually become.

"Text me when you're home?" she asked, Adrien nodding in response.

"Of course," he whispered, bending forward and placing a kiss on her cheek. The action had taken her by surprise and before she could decide what to do next, he'd moved away; her cheek feeling lost and bare without the addition of his lips. "Goodnight Marinette, I had a lot of fun."

"Goodnight Adrien."

He stood and waited for her to fumble with her keys and open the main door into the building. As she stepped over the threshold she gave him a quick smile and wave over her shoulder closing the door behind her. She leaned back against it, a loud gust of air escaping her lips, eyes closed, her body attempting to reconfigure itself back to normality.

Using her foot, she pushed away from the door and dashed upstairs as quickly as her legs would take her. After a couple of stumbles, and a few steps where she was scrambling on her hands and knees, she made it to her floor, slamming open the door and causing Alya to scream, poor Nino being head butted in response.

The scary music playing from the television echoed in the background as Alya muttered words of apology to her boyfriend. Still, Marinette was set on one thing and one thing only. Pulling open the curtains, she looked down to the corner of the street just in time to see Adrien turn and look back.