Chapter Text
Something had changed.
Definitely changed.
No one was quite sure what had happened, except that it had happened.
It was no secret that cute Marinette Dupain-Cheng, so fierce and headstrong but gentle and sweet the same time, had a giant crush Adrian Agreste. And that said crush could make her say and do weird things and behave a little strangely at times.
She blushed, she stammered, she hid behind Alya. She lost her ability to function as a human.
Besides Chloe, no one ever had the heart to tease her about it. (Except Ayla of course, bff bonus came in handy). It was an unspoken agreement not to ask or talk about it, it was taboo subject.
Adrian obliviousness to said crush and their rocky start made him very unsure how to behave around her and react to her weirdness. Together with his slightly stunted social graces after being home schooled so long, he also made a sometimes strangely behaving individual to be added to the whole equation.
He blushed, he stammered, he hid behind Nino. She made him feel like he didn’t know how to properly function as a social human being.
In addition, both teenagers could overall be slightly weird or strange, especially when akuma attacked. They would run off and disappear and their excuses were always highly doubtful.
All this, not to mention their vastly different relationships with Chloe, resulted in some truly baffling interactions between the two.
Alya and Nino tried their best to intervene and smoothen ruffled feathers, and over four years time their relationship had gotten easier, conversations smoother, smiles genuine. It was definitely not as bad as when they had been fourteen.
But no one really understood what was going on between them, and didn’t really know what to do. And so they looked on as the two did their weird little dance around each other, even if it was rather painful to watch at times.
Until it changed.
It had all started one morning, when Mme. Bustier was doing her roll call and neither Marinette nor Adrian were accounted for.
Marinette was prone to being late, but Adrian wasn't and there apparently hadn't been a call to the school by Ms Sancoer the way the teacher was frowning.
Fifteen minutes into French literature, there was a running and scrambling in the hallway outside, and both missing classmates burst through the door in a red headed rush. Partially from being embarrassingly late, other from apparently running there like madmen.
After apologising profusely, Mme. Bustier shooed them to their places, Ninos and Adrians places to be precise, as the other boy had used the tardiness his friends to sit next to his girlfriend for at least that period.
Ayla eyed them suspiciously as the scrambled past. Marinette outfit was askew, her skirt and blouse did not match the way she usually had them match and her hair open and loose, for the first time in ages. She had outgrown her pig tails long ago, a braid was now her usual hairstyle, she even had been branching out to buns and chignons as she had grown more adult.
Adrian was wearing the same shorts as yesterday, his hair sticking out in every direction, and the shirt he was wearing was definitely the one Marinette had finished two days ago and had planned to give him for his 18th birthday next week.
They looked a downright mess.
Rolled out if bed three minutes ago mess.
Maybe even rolled out of the same bed mess.
Ayla blinked at the thought and reassessed her inappropriate brain. Once they had settled down, and class continued, Ayla glanced back at them.
They were sitting there, flushed and grinning like absolute loons. They glanced at each other, snorted and began giggling as quietly as possible without the teacher noticing.
She noticed. And gave them detention.
They continued grinning like loons.
After that morning, everything changed between them. They never told anyone what had happened, but something must have happened. No one could say what exactly was going on, but something had definitively changed.
Well, maybe it was the naps.
Marinette had always had the tendency to just completely zone out during class, and no one was surprised when she began actively napping.
Over time Adrien had begun to snooze off during class as well. They both tried their best not to actually fall asleep in class, but during breaks they would just sit down and take naps. At first they had their heads down, resting on their arms on the table, faces buried in rolled up jackets.
But after that day they began napping together, next to each other, on top of each other, casually using each other as pillows. Chloe had first tried to wake Adrien, with shaking and her shrill voice, only to have Marinette sleepily pull Adrien closer and cover his ears before finally shooting up and ripping her a new one.
After that is was clear, naps were sacred and god have mercy on the fool that tried to disturb them.
They sprawled across benches out in the sunshine, his head in her lap, or her head on his shoulder and his head on hers, like they had just passed out and folded against each other.
They cuddled up against each other in the buses that took them to school field trips, dead to the world and the countryside flying by.
If there was the opportunity to take a nap, the could sense it a mile away and they took it.
The others just looked on in disbelief as the two toppled against each other, completely oblivious to the world and their stares. When the two disappeared entirely and only turned up scrunched together in a locker in the gym hall, rumours were bound to start. Ayla had tried her best to squash any inappropriate gossiping about them, but it was nearly impossible.
During lunch hour, they lay sleeping on the grass in the school courtyard, Marinette head resting on his shoulder, his face buried in her hair, arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled.
Ayla pinched the bridge of her nose, Nino just shook his head in exasperation.
Two flashes captured the moment.
Marinette didn’t even blush when her best friend showed her the picture, just asked for a printout.
Adrian turned it into his lock screen.
And with those naps came the touching.
The casual touching.
His hand on her elbow, her arm looped through his as they walked down the halls.
Casually, without any laps in their conversation. No blushing, no surprised glances.
He would sit behind her and rebraided her hair, gently running his fingers through her hair, just as she did when he put his head in her lap, to sleep or just to talk to her.
He would hug her from behind, putting his chin on her shoulder to read whatever she was reading, she leaned against him, cheeks brushing.
Even if they just sat next to each other, their legs would be lightly pressed against the others or their ankles locked.
They hugged hello and goodbye, briefly and with an intensity as if they had been separated for years or one was leaving for war.
Their handholding wasn’t really handholding, more hand-touching. Their fingers brushed against each other when they walked, not once or twice by accident but every third step. Every set of stairs they came across, he would hold out his hand to help her up, when she returned the gesture, he took her hand and blushed.
Objects passed to the other would always be an excuse to linger.
An eraser had caused fifteen minutes of handholding under the table, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.
They didn’t kiss. At least no one had seen them.
The class betting pool on the matter held eighty-three euros, a gold watch from Chloe and a lifetime worth of bragging rights.
Then there were the gifts.
She brought him croissants, smuggled from the bakery, the buttery scent wafting through the classroom, making every ones’ stomach growl and enviously eye a happily munching Adrian.
He brought her silk ribbons he stole from the ateliers of his father’s company to braid them into her hair himself.
She brought him macarons, in all the colours of the rainbow, absentmindedly feeding them to him while his eyes were closed, making him guess the flavour.
He brought her patterns, patterns for dresses and clothes from Agreste.
She knit him hats with animal ears, in black and the same green as his eyes. He wore them October through April.
A red and white polka dot umbrella, that made her blush.
Chocolate eclairs. And berry tarts. And quiche.
A pink paper peony the size of a human head that had been the decoration of the Agreste spring show.
Belgian chocolates on a daily basis.
And cheese buns. A lot of cheese buns.
Then there were the inside jokes. Or everyone presumed they were inside jokes because no one else understood what they were saying.
“Oh please, your self-control goes as far as a laser pointer.”
“You will never let that go, will you?” Adrian hissed as she burst out laughing.
“No. Neither the knitting basket.”
“Mari, may I bug you for a second, ouch that hurt!”
“If you don’t behave, you are getting nothing but camembert for Christmas.”
He plopped down next to her. “Your shoulder angel just ran off with my shoulder devil.”
“They will be back.”
“You goddam furry.” She groaned into her hands.
“At least I stay within the classification of mammal, you hypocrite.”
They unleashed the pet names.
He called her princess, precious, beautiful. Shouted it across crowded hallways and school assemblies to get her attention.
Sugar and spice and everything nice. was usually accompanied by him nuzzling her hair that smelled like fresh baked goods.
“Ma moitié." My other half. He announced her when they present a group project.
“Ma moitié”. She replied, referring to him.
"You need a catnap, kitty? She asked, his head in her lap, fingers in his curls, as they once again sprawled on the grass in the courtyard.
“Pretty boy.” She singsongs at him, as she saunters past.
“Pretty boy.” She growled and he knew he was in trouble.
“Pretty boy.” She murmurs, watching him blush.
Pretty boy here, pretty boy there, pretty boy everywhere.
Nino tried calling him pretty boy and earned a punch in the arm.
The entire world knows the boy is beyond pretty, and yet he only wants to hear it from her.
“Hey tiger.” She purred instead of the usual Bonjour.
“What are your preening for, little lion?” she said as she ran her fingers through his hair, making it pouf up.
“My little green-eyed monster.” She fondly called him and back into line, when he and Kim had a short disagreement after the other boy dare to take the seat next to her.
And the flirting. Oh god the flirting.
He could turn on the oozing charm, laying it thicker than syrup on waffles and she doesn't even blink, she laughs at him, smacks him on the back of the head, rolls her eyes and groans.
He could spot a new handmade dress on her from a mile away, inspect it from top to bottom, every seam and button and tell her she is talented, and she would smile and blush for the rest of the day.
She could tell him he looks gorgeous today and he would smile and return the compliment with the blink of an eye.
She could sidle up to him, drawl innuendos or drop cheesy pick-up lines and the boy turns into red faced stammering mush.
It starts of innocent enough, until there is too many green and blue heated stares and too much tension in the room for anyone to be comfortable.
He proposed to her in the break between geography and math, mouth full of crumbs.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, will you marry me?” The entire class suffered from whiplash as they turned to stare.
“You only want me for my croissants!” Marinette wailed and dramatically draped herself over her chair. “You are nothing but a scoundrel.”
She brought two croissants extra the next day.
She proposed to him two weeks later, on one knee, with a paper clip ring.
“You don’t love me, you witch. You just want front row seats to the ball gown show next week!” he pouted, and wore the ring that day fourth.
He pulled some strings and got her not only a seat but a backstage pass too.
And then it got downright filthy.
He commented on her flexibility in gym class, she just bit her lip and suggestively smirked and showed the entire class how flexible she really is. The resulting red faces didn’t necessarily stem from all the exertion.
She threatened to find him something better to do with his mouth than telling horrible puns and he stared right at her as he purred his indecent response: “Please do, princess.” Never mind they were in the middle of giving a presentation.
He traced the seams of her new dress, one by one, carefully running over the stitching. The bodice was tightly fitted, had eight seams in total, cleavage to waist. No one knew where to look.
She was making the costumes for the school play, half the class is standing around in various state of undress and fitting. Cinderella meant a lot of petticoats and laces and wigs. She was kneeling in front of him, hemming the seam of his coat, arguing with Ayla over the colour of her dress.
(“Orange is a very good colour on you.”
“People will mistake me for the pumpkin carriage.”
“Not when I am done they won’t!”)
“You are wearing blue?” he interrupted their bickering.
“Yes.” She mumbled through a mouthful of pins.
“Why?”
“I am told it matches my eyes.”
Ayla pounced. “Why, what would you prefer her in?
“Red or nothing.” he purred at Marinette. "What do you think, princess?"
She looked up at him from where she is kneeling, with eyes that belong in a bedroom.
“Black leather.” she drawled. “And a collar. Definitely a collar.”
Ayla could only stand there, fanning herself with her orange prop fan, looking the picture of scandalised.
Somehow their awkward little shuffle dance around each other had turned into an R-rated Tango Argentina overnight.
The class couldn’t decide what to do with the whole situation.