Let Your Fantasies Unwind

Adrien packed his things from his father's office, making sure he had everything he needed before heading back to Paris, and walked over towards where his father was seated behind the desk.

"Is it alright if I head off?" Adrien asked. He was going to go anyway, but there was nothing wrong with being a little courteous – he knew his father would appreciate that.

Gabriel took his glasses off and placed them down beside his laptop, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Sure," he said before placing the glasses back on and turning his attention back to the small computer on his desk.

Taking hold of his other bags, Adrien grabbed them and headed towards the doorway, only to stop and turn back. "I'm really proud of you for moving on, Father. I know it's hard, but Mother would have wanted you to be happy and we both know Nathalie will do that for you."

Gabriel sat still for a moment as though contemplating Adrien's words, before finally answering. "Thank you, son. The same goes for you too."

A quick smile, followed by an awkward wave, and Adrien was out of the door, suitcase trailing behind him on the smooth path of marble flooring.

He'd booked into a hotel not too far from the office, where he'd spend the night before venturing back to Paris that weekend. He'd managed to rent out his apartment to a colleague for the time being, making it easier for him to come back and grab whatever was left in his one-time home.

Stopping outside the Gabriel doors, he put in his earphones and selected Félix's number, beginning his trek to the hotel for the next couple of nights, bags bouncing around on their wheel behind him as he ventured up and through Covent Garden.

No answer.

Tapping his AirPod, he continued walking around the crowds and towards the hotel.

He couldn't have made it more than five steps when, suddenly, his earphones announced the arrival of an incoming call, his phone vibrating against his leg.

Chelsea.

She'd been angry with him earlier, but he knew it was more about what she was losing rather than who - exemplified by the fact that she'd announced to him it was Fashion Week coming up, and that now she'd look like an idiot not being on the red carpet with Adrien Agreste. Fashion week wasn't for at least a month, and he was certain there would be a new unwilling victim for her to drag down the red carpet.

He didn't get all this social media stuff. In all honesty, he hated it and stayed as far away as possible. He'd had enough of it all when he was a teen star.

When he'd walked out of her apartment that morning following 'the break-up', he'd made it pretty clear they were done and she was free to move onto one of her other men. The break-up had transpired from a mixture of things, not just the fact Chelsea wasn't 'the one' for him, but also that he wasn't the one for her. She wouldn't need Bruce from the gym, if that was the case. He'd never told Félix. He was far too embarrassed, and too caught up with proving the point that he could find a decent girlfriend. What a laugh that was!

With a sigh, he tapped his ear again and greeted his ex-girlfriend on the other side.

"Hey, Chelsea."

'Don't hey Chelsea me! Where are you?'

"I'm just heading to a hotel."

'A hotel? You need to come to mine, right now. We need to talk about this.'

"Talk about what?"

'Come on, Adrien. You can't just leave me! Not after everything we've been through.'

Everything that's been through you, Adrien thought. Or in you to be more precise. He chuckled, igniting his ex and causing her to huff down the phone.

He stopped at a crossing, a quick glance down at Plagg, the small kwami looking curious and probably dying to find out what was happening on the other side of the phone.

"I'm sorry, Chelsea, this just isn't working anymore, and the long distance will just put a strain on something already wearing thin. It's been...fine...but it's time to move on."

The shrieked sound of 'Fine!' on the other side of the phone had him wincing.

'You just want to sleep with other women, don't you? Admit it, Adrien. Just because I'm not giving it to you enough. Or was it your wanker of a cousin. He's always been jealous that I'm with you, not him.'

He could have laughed again. Félix with Chelsea? Come on, what planet was this woman on? Félix had been obsessed with Kagami since the day he met her, and even though it took Kagami longer to warm to his cousin, it caused a St Elmo's Fire. They were perfect for each other in every single way.

Continuing onwards to the hotel, Adrien wished he had a free hand to face palm himself. "Chelsea, I'm sorry you feel this way, but this just won't work anymore. We're done. I don't see a future with us, and I can't keep stringing you along when I can't see myself marrying you."

He could feel Plagg's eye roll without seeing it, the words of his kwami slamming him across the face. Why buy a ring, then, numb-nuts?

Finally reaching St Martins Lane Hotel, Adrien let go of his suitcase and held up a hand to stop the doorman. He'd just finish the call before going in, the last thing he wanted to do was trail his dirty laundry across the 5* hotel's lobby.

Sniffing sounded on the other side of the call. Adrien closed his eyes, feeling like the worst person in the world, until the next words escaped his ex-girlfriend's lips.

'I always knew you were selfish, Adrien. All my friends tried to warn me that I would never be good enough for Adrien Agreste, yet you made me feel like the most special woman in the world and then ripped it away from me. I'm not giving in that easily. We're meant to be!'

No, we're not, Adrien thought, a headache knocking on the door to enter and make itself at home — just another Chelsea-inspired headache.

Not wanting to drag this conversation out any longer, he pulled up his big boy pants and made a stand. "Chelsea, I understand you're upset. You have every right to be. But this is over. I'm sorry. I'll be staying at a hotel for the next few nights, then Félix and Kagami will be over to grab any of my things left at yours. Good luck, Chelsea."

Like a coward, he ended the call before she could respond. Quickly, he took the buds from his ears and tucked them in his pocket before entering the hotel.

"Adrien Agreste," he said, handing over his credit card.

As the receptionist tapped around on the computer and asked him different questions, he looked around the lobby of the hotel. It was definitely a desired taste. From the huge chess pieces to the 'hand' chairs — chairs that were literally in the shape of hands — he could clearly see whoever designed this place was going on a bit of an avant-garde trip. His father would love it.

Continuing his perusal of the area, his eyes fell on the bar and the lone figure inside. The buzz against his thigh distracted him, his hand reaching into his pocket and declining the call as his eyes remained firmly on the female figure currently coughing and banging her head on the bar.

Adrien turned back to the receptionist and grabbed the keycard for his room before declining the next call from Chelsea, and turning his phone off. He was quite certain he knew the silhouette of the woman in the bar, and he hoped he could do something to try and cheer her up.

His eyes wandered down to his pocket, Plagg waving something at him. The tickets to The Phantom of the Opera. It was great to know his kwami was on board.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Plagg whispered, displaying the tickets like he was showing the prize in a game show.

"She does look like she's had a hard day. Maybe it would do us both good to wipe the slate clean."

"And she thinks you're hot, stud!"

Adrien chuckled, heading into the bar and looking at the sunken shoulders of a woman having a bad day. Focused on where he was heading, he was almost certain she hadn't heard him, instead focusing on the bowl currently full of alcohol in front of her as she rested her head in her arms and stroked delicately up and down the stem.

Placing his most charming smile on his face, he prepared to make her feel a lot better. "Has the day been that bad?" He leaned beside her on the bar, his hip pressed hard against the wood.

She jumped, her glass wobbling before toppling over and sending a stream of wine in his direction. The wet patch in his trousers grew as the wine soaked everything from his trousers down to his socks – great he looked like he'd wet himself.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry Mr. Agreste." She grabbed a clump of napkins from off the bar and began to pat him down, starting at his waist, blotting the tissue over the wet patch. "You've made me wet...I mean I've made you wet... I'm so sorry." She continued to dab, a sudden 'woah!' releasing from her mouth as she tapped all over his torso. "That's quite some muscle there, he must spend a lot of time in the gym."

She gasped, placing the wet napkins to her mouth, as her eyes battled to compete with the moon. He'd never seen eyes widen that much!

"Did I just say that out loud?" she squeaked.

Adrien chuckled and took the napkins from her hands, continuing to dab down the damp patches on his suit.

She was like a little mouse, and he was the tomcat, a thought which once again made him smile. She seemed completely out of sync when he was around. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had that effect on someone.

He smiled. "You've given me two compliments, today. You need to watch it or you'll give me a big ego, and I've been told it's big enough as it is."

The sudden squeal of the woman in front of him made him realise what he'd just said in relation to where he was currently drying off the spilt wine.

He stopped, his hand hovering on his crutch. Oh man, he needed to fix this before she contacted HR. "This isn't big! That's not what I meant."

Her eyes widened even more.

"It's not small either. It's erm — average, well, slightly bigger. Not that I've checked, but you know how teenagers are and when a ruler's just lying there — " He hadn't fixed it at all; he'd just made it ten times worse! If the ground could open now and swallow him, that would be perfect. He was almost positive HR would be on the phone to him first thing in the morning. "I'm going to stop talking now."

"I've got to go," she said, stumbling from the bar stool and almost falling over.

He reached out just in time to grab her arm and bring her in closer. Her body slammed into his. "I'm sorry for scaring you, Marianne. It's just, after what happened today, I thought maybe we could wipe the slate clean...start again?"

"Marinette," she said, her wide blue eyes blinking at him. She didn't seem in any hurry to move away.

Strange, but if that was her word for making up, then he could do that. "Marinette to you too."

She giggled, a delightful sound which helped him smile too. "My name is Marinette."

He finally let go of her arm, and she stepped back as he stretched to his neck, rubbing firmly just under his hair. "Awww, great! I've embarrassed myself again. It seems to be our way of communicating today."

A bashful grin adorned her face, and her sparkling eyes couldn't help but steal glances in his direction – it was undeniably fascinating. "It's okay, I think mine was worse. There's a chance I've lost my job over it. I mean, who works in fashion yet can't recognise Paris' sweetheart?"

"It happens more often than not." He smiled.

"Really?" Marinette's eyes filled with hope, only for him to kill it.

"Nope."

"I thought as much, but thank you for trying to make me feel better."

They stood smiling at each other for a moment, the awkwardness gradually disappearing — however, the dampness did not.

"Are you staying here for a while?" he asked, wanting to get to his room and strip the trousers off.

"At the hotel, or the bar?"

"The bar."

Marinette nodded and Adrien signalled to the bartender. "Can you do another of these and place it on my tab?" He gave his room number and looked back at Marinette. "I have a proposition for you —" He stopped, smacking himself on the head a little harder than expected.

"Please, allow me to start again. I have tickets for The Phantom of the Opera tonight. It's the last showing at the theatre and it's been on my bucket list since moving to London. I have two tickets, and there's only one of me, so..."

He pulled the tickets from his pocket as though he was illustrating the point – or proving he wasn't a neurotic psycho.

She raised an eyebrow. "You want me to go with you? That's... But haven't you got a girlfriend?"

"I'm not asking you out on a date. I just have a spare ticket and you're a spare person."

"Oh!" The word came out like a sigh.

"So, will you come? I could do with some company."

She looked down at what she was wearing before giving him a glance over.

He cringed. "I just need to get changed. I'll meet you here in 15 minutes. It's only a short walk to the theatre."

"Sure." She sat back down on the stool just in time for her drink to arrive. A slight smile crossed her lips. "Thank you for my drink."

"You're welcome." He turned on his heel and headed back out into the lobby and then to the elevator. The quiet laughter coming from his pocket was both infuriating and intriguing. What was Plagg going to tease him about this time?

"It's not a date. Purrlease!" Plagg flew out of Adrien's pocket as soon as the elevator doors were closed, hands on hips with one eyebrow raised. He looked comical to the eye, a little furball with uncontrollable sass.

"Don't you start! This was partially your idea. And I've literally just broken up with someone —"

"Ahhh, so that's your reason for it not being a date. Nothing to do with working together?"

Adrien rolled his eyes. Of course Plagg would bring this up.

"Plagg, not now. She's had a bad day, and sometimes it's nice to do something for others. Not that you'd understand."

"She's French," Plagg stated with a wiggle of his eyebrows. If Adrien rolled his eyes at his kwami one more time, he swore they'd be lost somewhere in the back of his head. Why the hell was Marinette's nationality important?

The elevator slowed to its level; the doors opened and saved Adrien from answering the question. He walked down the corridor without speaking a word to Plagg, before finding his room and reaching for the keycard.

"Your silence speaks wonders," the kwami said, flying in front of Adrien with a smirk on his face.

Opening the door, Adrien walked in and closed it behind, his eyes firmly on the kwami. "Let's get this straight," he said. "Firstly, the woman has had a bad day. If I remember Mary as well as I think I do, and from the way she was blatantly trying to get into my pants, she made Marinette behave like that and it backfired worse than an old Renault. Secondly, it doesn't matter if she's French, Swedish or from Mars. It makes zero difference to me, and thirdly, I literally just broke up with Chelsea. It would be a target on Marinette's back if I were to do anything with her straight after finishing with my girlfriend."

"You know how French girls kiss, right?"

Adrien grabbed his suitcase and began to pull items out, sending a rolled-up pair of socks in Plagg's direction, only for the kwami to avoid collision by phasing through them.

Plagg hovered around him, unnaturally quietly. Trying not to be as annoyed as he felt, Adrien continued to pull clothes from his suitcase, opting for a simple choice of jeans, a tee, and an open shirt with sleeves rolled up. He knew if he made too much effort, Plagg would be straight there asking him why. He took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table, before heading into the bathroom, opting for his contact lenses instead.

"Just say it," Adrien demanded, suddenly growing more and more annoyed by Plagg's aggravating silence. He reached into his toiletry bag and applied his aftershave. Chanel, not Adrien the fragrance.

"Say, what?"

Adrien turned and leaned his hips against the counter. "Whatever shit is floating around in that head of yours."

"Rude! I'll have you know I'm the smartest of the kwamis. I have to be because, you know..." His hand began to glow an eerie green. "Ultimate power of destruction." Acting like Lumière, Plagg blew an over-exaggerated puff of air onto his hand, the cataclysm disappearing.

"You're so over-dramatic. I bet Tikki's nothing like this."

For some reason this made Plagg laugh – a lot. "Yeah," he snorted. "I'm sure she's got it easy and her holder is just so perfect, because we all know Ladybugs are the creation of perfection."

Adrien studied him for a moment before replying. "I don't know if you're being sarcastic or telling the truth." Heading to the doorway, he froze, patting his pockets.

"They're still in your jacket pocket, Casanova!"

Walking to where his jacket lay on the bed, Adrien grabbed the tickets from the suit and placed them into his back pocket, muttering a thanks to Plagg as he continued out of the room and back down to Marinette.

She was still sitting on the barstool, finishing off her wine and having what seemed like a pleasant conversation with the guy behind the bar. It was good to see her smiling after she'd spent most of the day looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

With a slight spring in his step, he made his way over, giving a little cough to grab her attention and not send the remainder of her glass over his jeans. "Ready to go and see someone make worse life choices than yourself?"

She laughed, standing from the stool with a slight tumble. He reached out, grabbing her to steady her.

"I swear I'm not drunk," she quickly stated, a pink hue taking over her cheeks.

"After the day that you've had, I definitely wouldn't judge."

"That's always nice to know." She laughed, brushing her hands over her skirt. "So, shall we? I'm guessing the show starts soon."

Leading her out of the bar area, Adrien felt the lightest he had in years. The conversation flowed easy and carefree, and he couldn't help but wonder if Plagg was onto something. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the start of his new life in Paris. It had been quite a while since he'd made any native friends, or any friends at all. He'd finally have someone other than Chloé to hang around with when I finally made it back to the City of Lights.

Once they reached the venue, Adrien opened the door and allowed Marinette to enter first, smiling as she stopped and spun around the foyer. His Majesty's Theatre was one of London's finest, and although not as big as some of the others, it was the aesthetics which made it so special, so intimate.

"Do you want a drink, or a snack?" Adrien asked, leading them over in the direction of the small bar and concessions stand.

"Sure," Marinette smiled, rummaging in her bag for something. "But I'm getting these."

As silly as it might sound, Adrien couldn't help the swirl in his heart from the gesture. He'd never had a girl request to buy the snacks. Ruth and Faith had expected, Chelsea had demanded. Yet here was Marinette. He knew how much she earned and it didn't seem to matter.

"You don't have to –" he started, reaching for his wallet.

She stretched out and placed a hand on his arm. "You got the tickets. Please, let me say thank you with M&Ms."

He could have cried. The gesture was so pure and wholesome, and just incredible. He tilted his head to one side, unable to take the smile off his face. "In that case, bring on the chocolate."

"I hope you mean crispy," she laughed, joining the line at the back.

"Crispy? What is wrong with you?"

She gasped, placing one hand on her chest. "How dare you insult my M&M choice, I'll have you know they are the key to all M&Ms."

He shook his head in response. "Next, you're going to tell me you prefer Coke Zero over Coca-Cola."

She turned her head away sharply and once again he gasped.

"I'm sorry but this friendship is over, right now!" Adrien said, pretending to turn around and head for the door. Marinette grabbed his arm, spinning him back.

They both continued to laugh and joke as they moved closer to the counter. Finally agreeing on food and drinks — Marinette most likely using all her savings as a result. They headed into the theatre and to their seats. He had managed to get decent ones in the stalls and he couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of excitement as he sat down.

"My mother always wanted to play Christine," Adrien said. "She said this was her favourite musical of all time, but it needed to be seen in the theatre, so here I am."

"It does seem wonderful!"

"It was one of the reasons I learned to play piano. My mother would sing with me, and...yeah, I should stop speaking now." He felt his face heat up from the overexposure of information, his eyes turning away from hers.

His life had been surrounded by pity when his mother had disappeared, his father becoming cold and distant. The last thing he wanted was for someone else to pity him.

A warm hand touched his, tightening around it and giving it a quick squeeze. "She'll be happy you made it," Marinette said, no pity evident in her voice.

He squeezed her hand back before she moved it to tear open the top of the M&Ms. "Are you ready to have your mind blown?" she asked, waving the blue 'crispy' packet in front of his face.

"More like I'll be –"

The sound of an argument echoed around the theatre, both Adrien and Marinette looking to where the noise was coming from. As a man and woman stood towards the front of the theatre screaming in each other's faces, Adrien's eyeline changed.

Like a memory from the past, his body acted on impulse, standing up and grabbing Marinette by the hand. He dragged her through the theatre and out into the foyer, finding a cupboard and throwing her inside.

A glimpse in his peripheral vision of purple and black bubbles sent a prickling of anticipation, and maybe fear, down his back as he prepared for something he hadn't done in years. The intense feeling accelerated as cracks took over the walls and a cry was heard from inside the theatre.

He just hoped he still had it in him.

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