Chapter Text
Marinette waved and cheered enthusiastically until the newlyweds were out of sight. Alya and Nino couldn’t have looked happier, or more in love, as they headed off for their honeymoon in the Caribbean. They were going to spend the next two weeks in a beach house on a tiny island without internet access where they could enjoy perfect weather, a warm ocean full of tropical fish, and each other with no distractions from the outside world.
Nino had been very insistent about the no internet part. He was usually completely supportive of Alya staying obsessively on top of, and contributing to, the news cycle in her role as Paris’ most trusted reporter on the city’s superheroes and supervillains. However, during their honeymoon, he wanted her all to himself.
Gradually, the crowd on the steps melted away, leaving Marinette standing alone in her bridesmaid’s dress. Which was so typical of her.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have a boyfriend. She did. They’d been together almost as long as Alya and Nino had. Over that time period, Alya and Nino had gone from sweethearts to lovers, got engaged, moved in together, and now were married. Meanwhile, Marinette’s relationship with her boyfriend had barely progressed at all since they’d first started dating when they were fourteen. Or rather, when she was fourteen and he claimed to also be fourteen and she had to hope that wasn’t one of the many lies he told her to hide his identity. They’d been a couple for years now but she still didn’t know his real name or what he looked like without a mask.
When they were Ladybug and Chat Noir, the city’s primary superheroes, he was everything she could possibly wish for in a boyfriend: brave, funny, loyal, smart, and endlessly romantic. She truly loved him. She considered their superhero partnership to be as much of a committed relationship as any marriage. But sometimes, like now, it would be really nice to have a boyfriend who could be at her side when she wasn’t Ladybug.
Her family and friends thought that she was dating someone she’d met in a MMORPG and still knew only by his gamer tag. Lately, they’d started hinting that, after nearly a decade, maybe it was time for her to either find out who he really was and meet him in person or else dump him and find a real boyfriend. She was running out of excuses for why she refused to do either of those things.
They weren’t wrong about the MMORPG or the gamer tag, although that wasn’t how she’d met Chat Noir.
Back when she’d first admitted that she was in love with Chat Noir and agreed to be his girlfriend, she’d been so giddy with infatuation that she hadn't been able to resist bragging to her best friend Alya that she now had a real, official boyfriend, and he said the most romantic things! She'd claimed to have met him in an online game because couldn’t think of any other way to explain why she didn’t know his name or have any pictures of him.
Unfortunately, Alya's response had been, “Endless Empires? I love that game! Nino and I play it together all the time! You and your new boy-toy have to form a party with us so we can meet him and find out if he’s good enough for you!”
Fortunately, Chat Noir's reaction when she finally confessed to the mess she'd gotten herself into was, “I love video games! I've never played any online ones before but, if it means I get to spend more time with you, sign me up!”
These days, they spent more time slaughtering virtual monsters and building pixelated castles together as PinkKnittingFairy and GoldenGoose13 than they did fighting akumas and making out as Ladybug and Chat Noir. TheAuburnAvenger and DJCineNoir joined them for most of the monster-slaying quests and built their castles right next door. When the four of them weren’t gaming, they shared a group chat and sent each other one-on-one text messages. Marinette sometimes suspected that Chat Noir talked to Nino even more than he did to her. She’d heard the boys refer to themselves as “best friends” on more than one occasion despite not being able to share any details about their real lives.
Nino and Alya had really wanted to invite “Goose” to their wedding but he’d had to refuse because he couldn't give them an address to send the invitation to without revealing his identity and couldn’t read the invitation or attend the wedding without learning theirs. He’d made it seem like no big deal at the time, but Ladybug had seen the regret in his eyes when he’d brought it up during their next akuma fight. He’d really wanted to come. But secret identities had to stay secret, no matter the cost.
As bitter as it was to be alone at her best friends’ wedding reception, it was even more bitter knowing that Chat Noir would have been here with her to share this irreplaceable moment in their friends’ lives if he could. The most painful part of being a superhero was having to keep the most important parts of her life secret from the people she loved. In both directions.
Lately, especially while helping out with the preparations for Alya and Nino’s wedding, she’d been feeling the limitations of her relationship with Chat Noir more and more. She loved Chat Noir, and she loved their partnership. Usually that was more than enough for her. But, in her heart of hearts, she wanted more. She wanted to share a home with the man she loved. She wanted to get married and maybe, someday, have children. She wanted to introduce her boyfriend to her family and friends. Tell him everything that was going on in her life. Have sex.
Frankly, that last one had been bugging Marinette a lot lately. Kissing Chat Noir was delicious. Sometimes they kissed for hours. But that was as far as they could go. The high, stiff collars of their suits didn’t even allow necking.
The one time she’d given into temptation and carried a blindfolded Chat Noir to her room so that they could detransform and take things further, her parents had almost walked in on them. If her father had shouted “Marinette” instead of “Cherie” as he came up the stairs, or if he hadn’t shouted at all, Chat Noir would have learned her identity. After that scare, they’d agreed never to try that again.
In the last few weeks, Marinette’s curiosity about sex had reached a fever pitch. Alya and Nino had decided to abstain from sex completely for the month before their wedding, partially to make their honeymoon more special and partially because the rush of wedding preparations and flood of relatives flying in from other countries for the wedding didn’t leave them with any alone time. As a result, the sexual tension between them had built up to the point where it was uncomfortable to be in the same room with them. It had made Marinette curious just how good sex must feel if not having it made Alya suffer visible withdrawal symptoms.
So she’d made a pact with Chat Noir that they would both lose their virginity at the earliest possible opportunity and then report back on what it was like. He’d been reluctant at first, saying that she was the only woman for him but, in the end, he’d admitted that he was curious too.
Marinette was sure that anyone as charming as Chat Noir would have no trouble finding plenty of women willing to sleep with him, which meant that she’d better find someone too if she didn’t want to hear about what a great time he’d had and then have to admit that she’d completely failed at the mission she’d assigned to both of them.
Well, here she was at a party in a beautiful dress with her hair elegantly styled and her makeup perfect, surrounded by attractive young men. Some of them wouldn't even be in France a week from now. If she wanted to hookup with someone for a meaningless one-night stand, she wasn’t going to get a better opportunity than this!
Marinette marched to the bar to order herself some liquid courage.
“Vodka!” she demanded. At Max, Markov, and Noël’s startled looks, she added meekly, “...and cranberry juice.”
She’d forgotten for a moment that the volunteer bartenders for the wedding reception were her former classmate Max, his robot Markov, and Nino’s little brother Noël. She didn’t quite have the nerve to order shots of hard liquor from them.
Max poured her drink and handed it to her. “Here you go, Marinette. Twenty-five percent vodka, seventy-five percent cranberry juice.”
“Thanks.” Marinette smiled at him despite her embarrassment. “How do you like bartending?”
“It’s like a chemistry experiment,” Max said earnestly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s interesting to see everyone’s reactions.”
“Ask for something more difficult next time, Marinette,” Markov said. The little robot’s electronic face displayed a smirk. “I know more than ten thousand named drink combinations.”
“We have, like, a hundred different bottles back here,” Noël said. “If you can name it, we can make it.”
As Marinette stepped away from the bar, a man took her place and ordered, “Give me a golden martini in the prettiest glass you’ve got.”
“You need it to be in a pretty glass?” Marinette asked, raising her eyebrows as she turned to look up at him.
And stared in disbelief. His face was unreal in its beauty. His artfully styled hair was as golden as butter. His eyes were vividly green even in this less-than-ideal lighting. Marinette caught herself staring at him in slack-jawed aesthetic appreciation and snapped her mouth shut.
“My friend does,” the beautiful man said. “She asked me to get her drink.”
Of course someone that good looking would be taken! Marinette shoved down her totally unreasonable disappointment and said brightly, “Your girlfriend is lucky to have such a caring boyfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend,” the man said carelessly. “But fetching drinks for her is a small price to pay for an invitation to the Ladyblogger's wedding. I’m a huge fan!”
Max handed him a golden cocktail in a sparkling glass garnished prettily with fruit on a stick. “What do you want for yourself?”
The man’s perfect eyebrows knit in thought and then relaxed into a self-deprecating smile. “I have no idea. I don’t want to keep my friend waiting, so I’ll just take this for now. Thank you.”
Marinette sipped her drink as she watched him vanish into the crowd.
The next person in line nudged her aside so he could order his drink. Oops! Marinette quickly moved further away from the bar to avoid blocking traffic.
The guy who’d nudged her aside was kind of cute. She was pretty sure he was one of Alya’s cousins, which meant that he’d be returning to a different continent in the next day or two. Perfect for the extremely short-term relationship she had in mind! Except that he was Alya’s cousin. If she hooked up with him, he might tell his mother, who might tell Alya’s mother, who might tell Alya, and that would just be weird. Besides, he looked a little like Alya, which would make it doubly weird. No! Bad idea!
That guy with the slicked back hair leaning against the bar on the opposite side from Marinette - what was his name again? - had a reputation for being willing to sleep with practically anyone, so he probably wouldn’t say no if she propositioned him. But she might run into him at Alya and Nino’s apartment afterward. He often visited Nino to work on video editing group projects, or just sit around sipping coffee and talking about camera angles, themes and whatever other stuff media studies majors talked about. That would be so awkward! What if he thought that just because she wanted to do it with him once, that meant that she was interested in doing it with him again? Gross!
Oh, what about that guy in the stylish vest over by the buffet? She’d never seen him before, which meant that she might never have to see him again. She took a step toward him, and then a second, smaller step, and then a third, miniscule step. She needed more liquid courage if she was going to do this! She downed the rest of her drink as quickly as she could manage, wincing at the burn. When she looked up from her glass, a blonde woman had taken her target’s arm. Marinette thought she might be one of Alya’s friends from the university newspaper. The man must be her date.
Come to think of it, maybe her best friends’ wedding reception wasn’t the best place to find single young men that she would never have to see again after all.
Maybe if she got drunk enough, she wouldn’t care.
She headed back toward the bar.
Max had grown up to be surprisingly good looking…but no. No! Even if he hadn’t been more interested in robots than in girls, she couldn’t bring herself to think that way about anyone she’d gone to elementary school with.
Lost in thought, she collided with the same impossibly handsome man from before. He grabbed her arm to steady her and gave her a friendly smile.
Marinette smiled back.
The man’s face suddenly lit up with an expression of astonished delight. “I know you! I didn’t recognize you at first because your hair and makeup are different, but you’re Marinette!”
“And you’re…” Marinette frantically tried to remember if she knew him. Surely she would have remembered meeting someone this good looking, but there was something strangely familiar about him. Actually, now that she thought about it, she was certain she’d seen his face before, but the context of where she’d seen it completely escaped her. “I’m sorry,” she had to admit with embarrassment. “I know I’ve seen you before, but I can’t remember where I know you from.”
“I’m…Adrien.” He watched her carefully for a reaction.
Marinette frantically searched her memories, but she still couldn’t place him. One of Nino’s friends? No, he’d said that the girl who sent him for a drink was the one who’d been invited. Had Marinette seen him at her fashion design school? He was good looking enough to be a model, but, when she ran through the list of everyone who’d modeled in the student fashion shows in her head, she didn’t find him on it.
But she knew she’d seen him before somewhere! Part of her mind was trying to tell her that he was someone she saw on a daily basis even as the rest screamed that she definitely did not know anyone with the face of an angel who dressed in…oh, wow, was that a designer suit? A really expensive looking designer suit? It was a tribute to how distracting his face was that it had taken her this long to notice his clothes because the lines of that suit were the stuff of daydreams. It fit him so well that it gave the impression that an amazingly talented fashion designer had designed it specifically to match his eyes and then a very skilled tailor had sewn it onto him by hand.
“We don’t know each other,” the man reassured her. Oddly, he seemed pleased rather than annoyed by her lack of recognition. “I recognized you from all the times you’ve helped the heroes defeat akumas, like Evilustrator and Sole Crusher. I read about it on the Ladyblog. Just a couple weeks ago, you gave Chat Noir cheese so that he could lay a trap for Mr. Rat.”
Marinette relaxed, and even preened a little, at his admiration. “I did do those things,” she admitted.
“I’m very impressed,” he said sincerely.
“It comes from having had so many classmates akumatized,” Marinette said with a laugh. She did not say that it came from secretly being Ladybug, which was the real reason.
“We actually have met before, although I wouldn’t expect you to remember,” he told her shyly. “Years ago, at a play, I noticed that the girls in the seats beside mine were about my age. Then one of them mentioned that she’d just uploaded videos of the Mime to the Ladyblog. I realized that I was sitting beside the one and only Ladyblogger! You were the friend she was talking to. After that, I always remembered both of your faces. You sometimes work as a waitress at catered events, right? I’ve seen you at parties. And you like to write in public parks.”
“Sketch,” Marinette corrected him blankly. “I’m a fashion designer.”
“You are?” Adrien looked even more amazed.
“I made this dress,” Marinette waved her empty glass vaguely to indicate the bridesmaid’s dress she was wearing. “Alya’s dress too. And the other bridesmaid’s dresses. And Nino and Noël's suits.”
“You made them? Marinette, they were spectacular! I was impressed by how they were each designed to match the style of the person wearing them but still perfectly coordinated. I know enough about fashion to know that’s hard to do. You designed them?”
“It’s mostly a matter of picking the right fabrics,” Marinette said humbly. “I’m just glad that I managed to get them all finished in time for the wedding. It was a close thing!”
“If anything was rushed, it didn’t show.”
Uncomfortable at so much praise from a stranger, Marinette changed the subject. “So, have you figured out yet what drink you want to get for yourself?” She took several meaningful steps toward the bar.
He trailed after her. “I’m not sure,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t drink very often. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Markov,” Marinette said. “What drinks should we order?” She pointed at Adrien and then herself.
“What flavours do you like?” Markov batted the question back to them.
“Is milk an option?” Adrien asked politely after a long pause.
Marinette raised her eyebrows at him, surprised both by his choice and by his sudden reserve. The enthusiastic Ladyblog fanboy from before had been replaced by someone whose poise was as perfect as his hair.
“Yes,” Markov chirped happily. “I have ninety-three drink recipes that involve milk. For a secondary flavour, would you prefer coffee, mint, chocolate, carmel, butterscotch, or any of a variety of fruit flavours?”
“Hmm…” Adrien said thoughtfully. His eyes widened slightly in panic but otherwise his expression remained perfectly composed.
“If you can’t pick just one, you always come back for the others. That’s what I plan to do,” Marinette suggested. “What do you have that’s sweet?” she asked the bartenders.
Fortunately, the bar wasn’t as busy as it had been earlier, so Markov was able to take the time to come up with personalized lists of drinks that Adrien and Marinette might want to try.
“I admit I had my doubts about milk-based drinks at first,” Marinette admitted to Adrien, “but now I kind of want to try some.”
“Your drinks all sound delicious too,” Adrien returned the compliment. “Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll even be able to get through these.” He ruefully held up his own list.
Marinette proved her own lack of alcohol tolerance by offering with a giggle, “I’ll give you a sip of mine if you give me a sip of yours.”
Adrien looked tempted but, before he could reply to her offer, a shrill voice shrieked, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, get away from my date!”
Marinette turned to stare in horror at her least favourite person in the whole world (with the possible exception of Hawkmoth). “Chloe?” she whispered in disbelief. She turned back to glare at Adrien. “You came here with Chloe Bourgeois?” she demanded accusingly.
“Yes?” Adrien said meekly. “You…uh…know each other?”
“Chloe and I were classmates in middle school,” Marinette growled, glaring at Chloe.
“This girl was my patsy in middle school,” Chloe confirmed with a smirk. “I almost missed her when she got sent to some weird school halfway across the city for high school. None of my high school patsies were ever quite as satisfying to trample underfoot.”
“Alya thought you might have matured in the years since we went our separate ways. I told her you’d never change, but she sent you an invitation anyway because she thought it would be sad to leave you out when she was inviting the rest of our old classmates. I see that I was right about you.”
“Why should I change when my life is perfect?”
“Go ahead and keep making everyone around you hate you. I don’t care. You’re not my problem anymore.” Marinette turned to walk away.
“Adrikins doesn’t hate me, do you Adrikins?” Chloe cooed cloyingly.
“What did you do to Marinette, Chloe?” Adrien asked seriously.
“Oh, nothing much,” Chloe said airily. “Just put her in her place. She was so annoying!”
Marinette whirled back toward Chloe. “You call putting rotting garbage and cockroaches in my locker ‘nothing much’?”
“I made Sabrina do that. I’d never touch anything so icky!” Chloe confided to Adrien.
“She did that five separate times! Then there were the times she planted jewelry in my locker and accused me of stealing it. I almost got expelled!”
“You should have thanked me for all the days off you got during your suspensions.”
“She put paint on my chair. It ruined my favourite pair of leggings!”
“Don’t forget all the times I threw your homework in the trash. The teachers were so mad at you!” Chloe laughed nostalgically.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Marinette said darkly.
“Do you remember when I made Sabrina steal your pathetic little diary and read it to everyone in the courtyard?”
“Do you remember when she spent a day with her hand trapped in a box because I’d boobytrapped my diary in case she ever tried to do it again?”
“Do you remember the time I convinced your boyfriend to give you a box of spiders and you thought it was a box of jewelry?”
Marinette flinched.
Chloe cackled triumphantly. “You should have seen her face, Adrikins. It was priceless!”
“You did all that, Chloe? To Marinette?” Adrien asked reproachfully. “I didn’t know you could be so mean.”
Chloe abruptly stopped laughing. Marinette stared at him in surprise.
“All that and a lot more,” Marinette said. “Every time a teacher tried to discipline her, she threatened to have her father fire them, so they let her get away with anything and everything.”
“I think you owe Marinette an apology,” Adrien said sternly.
“You don’t apologize to the dirt under your feet,” Chloe retorted equally sternly. “Dupain-Cheng here may have tricked you into thinking that she’s worth something by wearing a fancy dress but, trust me, she’s beneath your notice. You don’t know her like I know her.”
“That’s not true,” Adrien said defiantly. “I may not know Marinette, but I know she’s done things that make her worthy of respect. Even if that wasn’t the case, no one deserves to be treated the way that you say you treated her.”
“You don’t understand because you never went to school,” Chloe whined. “You never had to mingle with the proletariat.”
“Chloe…” Adrien said warningly.
“Speaking of mingling with the proletariat, this party is lame! Let’s go, Adrikins.” Chloe flung her empty cocktail glass away and stomped off, her high heels clattering angrily on the wooden floor.
Adrien dove to catch the glass out of the air before it could shatter on the floor and apologetically placed it on the bar counter. He looked around the room with a quiet, regretful sigh and, shoulders slumped, started to walk after Chloe.
Impulsively, Marinette caught his arm. “You know, you don’t have to leave just because she did.”
“But I’m her plus one.”
“Who cares? You’re here now, and we like you. Right, guys?” she asked the bartenders.
Max shoved his glasses up his nose to better give Adrien an impressed stare. “I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Chloe like that!”
Adrien gave an embarrassed shrug. “She won’t do anything bad to me. I’m her best friend. But I know she can be…a bit overbearing with other people.”
“How can you be friends with someone like that?” Noël asked. “I mean, you don’t seem like a total rich snob. No offense.”
Adrien shrugged, not showing any signs of offense. “We’ve always been friends. Our parents are friends, so we’ve known each other our whole lives.”
Markov’s electronic face shifted from a serious expression to a smile. “If you’re staying, would you like the first drink on the list I prepared for you?”
Adrien looked to Marinette for approval. She smiled.
“Yes,” he said daringly. “Yes, I would.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll ask my chauffeur to take Chloe home and come back for me later.”