Adrien

To Miss Dial: I'll keep my eyes on the news sites then.

To Miss Dial: Hang on... Moreau's? Are you French? Why are we texting in English if you're French?

To Miss Dial: Probably because you didn't know I was French too. Surprise! I'm French.

To Miss Dial: Moreau's in Paris? It's okay for the sweets but personally, I prefer croissants from a small boulangerie just around the corner. #themeaningoflifeisflakypastry

Pocketing his phone, he leaned against the dressing table in his room. He hated how he was sectioned off from the other models, his name once again giving him the treatment he didn't want and definitely didn't deserve. Completely isolated and bored out of his mind. He was so tempted to pull out a chunk of Camembert just to wake Plagg from his early morning nap. With the lack of any good action recently, his small kwami had taken to sleeping a lot more... almost as if he'd gone into hibernation.

When Adrien had been asked to stand in as a model that morning, he was just about ready to scream. The promotion to the corporate role in his father's 'new and improved' company was meant to end his modelling commitments, but of course he was always convinced to help out with one more shoot, and one more show, and now this. He was utterly fed up with being dressed up like a life sized Barbie doll.

So when they'd asked, his first response was to say 'no', that was until his father very smugly told him that without him doing it 'Ms. Dupain-Cheng's interview ends there.' Arrogant bastard! He'd agreed, not wanting to be the reason Marinette's hard work was a waste of time. She was a very talented girl, often showing her skills although collége and into lycée, creating wonderful items for her friends and, if he was lucky, him.

It had been a shock to see Marinette again that morning. They hadn't been face to face since Félix and Kagami's wedding — the whole argument was still one told as a historical moment between the two. It wasn't that they didn't get on... they just didn't get on. He was too sarcastic for her, and she saw him as the arrogant asshole he certainly was not.

He was still curious as to why she'd applied for this job knowing full well she'd have to work with him? Maybe she wanted to make amends — which he was completely onboard with. He liked Marinette, he found her entertaining and cute. Each of her little stumbles bringing a smile to his face and a chuckle to his heart... though every laugh just seemed to make her more pissed off with him. Today's interview was no different.

His phone suddenly weighed heavy in his hand, an obsessive twitch had him tapping the screen one, two, three times. Where had his miss dial gone? She couldn't just leave him hanging like that? What if she was in trouble and she needed his help?

He turned and looked out the window; he was currently on the 8th floor and the drop was quite substantial; he hated the idea of his Miss Dial contemplating skydiving from somewhere higher.

She must have been joking, right?

Looking towards his bag, he contemplated waking the cheese gremlin and transforming to go and save her. Not that he knew who she was or where she was.

"You have 30 minutes to get ready and someone will come and grab you when we're ready to continue."

He heard Nathalie's voice outside of the door.

Checking his phone one last time with a sigh, he threw it aggressively into his bag and made his way to the centre of the room. Time to look enthusiastic and present himself as professional and willing. He needed to channel his inner-teen heartthrob mode and win her this job; maybe then he could win her friendship.

A small smile graced his lips as he thought back to Marinette's interview. She really did know how to put a smile on his face. The easy to and fro as they bantered and the way she didn't put up with any of his shit, always sent a jitter to his heart. She was hard hitting and blunt; the perfect combination for someone wanting to be part of this world, and a personality he'd missed battling with since their collége days.

A click sounded before the door slowly creeped open, Marinette's cute face looking at him as though she wanted to pick up the closest object and hurl it full throttle at his head.

"Good to see you again, Agreste." Her jaw was so tight he thought it was about to snap.

"The pleasure's all mine, Dupain-Cheng." Smiling brightly at her, he prayed she'd at least give him something back... a twitch of the lips... a glistening in her eyes... anything...

"30 minutes," Nathalie reiterated before closing the door behind her.

Silence encompassed the room. How had this suddenly become so awkward? What was he meant to do? Hug her and say no hard feelings about her attack on him this morning? Forget it had ever happened? Or do his usual thing of cracking a nervous joke?

"Shall I turn around? I know you like to greet people with a jab to the ribs." Dammit! Why the hell did he say that?

Once again she'd caught him off balance. Marinette in all her Marinette gloriousness; he'd never be able to vocalise the true affect this girl had on him. Even more so, when she was standing in the kitchen in those tiny shorts with her midriff on show; and the craziest bun he'd ever seen bouncing around on her head. No matter what, there was always something mesmerising about Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

"Har-har!" She rolled her eyes in the most adorable way and headed to the clothing rail, placing her garment bag delicately and lowering the zipper. "Put this on! I don't know whose measurements they sent me, but I'm quite certain they're not yours."

Unhooking two objects from the hanger, she threw the larger one in Adrien's direction, his hands reaching out to catch it before it touched the floor.

Securely in his hands, he held it out in front of him to study.

Oh dear Lord, no!

"I can't wear this," he said, looking up towards her and hoping he wasn't about to make an absolute idiot of himself.

Breathe slowly, Adrien! Control! Control !

"It's not my fault the measurements were wrong. Just put it on, I'm sure I can work it out." She wasn't even looking at him. Could she not remember?

"I wasn't your original model, it was –"

"Look, Adrien." She finally looked up at him and gave him one of her famed eye rolls. "I know this morning didn't go exactly as planned, but can you, for once in your life, not be a dipshit and just do what I'm asking you too."

She'd called him a dipshit, and as much as he would have loved to laugh out loud at that comment, the itch in his nose was telling him something different. He was going to sneeze.

"Marinette, I swear, I'm not being... I'm not..."

"Adrien, just please! This job means everything to me! If you didn't want me here, you could have kicked me out after the interviews." She turned back to do something else, his eyes blurring with the intense feeling building behind his eyes.

"Why would I ..." He had to stop talking; the feeling in his nose was so painfully intense, he was sure that in the next couple of seconds he was about to explode in the most grotesque of ways. He needed her to understand.

"Can you remember —" He stopped again and closed his eyes. Calm. Calm. "Can you remember the school project where you designed the hat?"

His eyes began to itch with such an intensity, he was considering trying to find something to claw them out. Maybe there was a fork somewhere he could use? Or maybe he could transform into Chat Noir and use his claws? Or maybe Plagg could just cataclysm his face?

"Oh my god!" she muttered quietly, her eyes widening as she seemed to remember her rather epic fail back in their teens. "Oh my god!"

Rushing towards him, he could tell her aim was to grab the jacket before it was covered in 'Mucus a la Agreste'. However, it was too late. The itchy eyes and tingling nose won the battle. Adrien let out a monstrous sneeze and threw the delicate, handmade garment across the room in a cheap bid to protect it.

The feathers, which had been perfectly positioned on the lapel of the jacket, scattered over their heads, leaving a raven rainbow in its wake. The feathers were beautiful; a mix of pigeon and raven, the bluish/purple sheen a wonderful sight for his watering eyes — but now they were free roaming.

Adrien sneezed again.

And again.

And again.

"I swear I didn't do this on purpose!" she shrieked, hurrying around with her hands outstretched.

Adrien attempted to keep track of her as she scrambled around the room like a little mouse after cheese. What the hell was she looking for?

Another couple of sneezes had him closing his eyes. He couldn't remember when he'd had a reaction this intense.

Suddenly, a tissue was shoved on his nose a little more forcefully than needed causing him to stumble back and take her with him. His hands absentmindedly grabbed a tight hold on her hips, in an attempt to keep them both stable.

Landing on the dresser, Marinette straddled his lap with one knee on the dresser; his arms wrapped tighter around her in a need to keep her from falling; her own hands still on his nose — complete with tissue. Time seemed to freeze as they remained eye to eye, Marinette's hands moving down slowly and cupping together as they froze on his chest.

"I didn't know it was for you," she whispered. His heart was pounding in his chest as she made no attempt to escape. His whole body on high alert from the close proximity, his hands finding it hard to relax and let her go.

For some reason, having Marinette against him, their faces mere inches apart, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Adrien found himself looking at her soft pink lips as they glistened like a siren, begging for someone to come and acquaint themselves with them. The air around them crackled as he became fully absorbed in her eyes. The tiny flicker of grey accenting the alluring blue, something he'd never noticed before.

As he absorbed himself in her gaze, a pin pricked the bubble, popping the mood as a bang on the door signalled the arrival of the styling team.

"I need to..." Marinette scrambled away, Adrien's hand stretching to the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

He watched as she walked away, gathering the jacket from the floor and continuing to put her things together; her command's short and direct, ordering the styling team around and demanding Adrien be ushering into his seat.

Taking the jacket to the work table, she began to pluck it like a chicken; disembodying it one feather at a time.

As the style team began to boss him around, directing him to look up, down, left and right, Adrien couldn't help but wonder what she was going to do with the suit. A guilty feeling kicked him hard in the stomach as he realised his allergic reaction could have just cost her the job.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a message, trying to keep his mind off whether another sneezing fit was in the process of building up.

To Miss Dial: What would be worse: losing your ability to smell or losing your ability to taste?

It didn't take long before his misdial messaged him back.

Miss Dial (12:00pm): Taste, of course! At least losing my ability to smell would make commuting on the Metro a lot more enjoyable #BOisnotfresh #thestinkyonesloveme

Smiling, he placed his phone back in his pocket; his eyes wandering over to Marinette as she moved frantically around the room. She was a chaotic mess, completely unhinged and frazzled, but right at this moment he couldn't think of any better sight.