Chapter Text
Adrien almost crumpled the letter in his hand in a poor attempt to hide it when he heard a voice behind him ask, “What’s that?” He hurriedly stuffed it into his jacket pocket and crossed his arms over his chest before turning to see who’d been spying on him. Nino was giving him the most amused grin.
“That was so smooth, bro,” he said. “Totally not suspicious, at all. Now I have to see it.”
Adrien slumped with relief. “Nino. I thought you might be my father.”
“Dude,” Nino said, with a look of disgust that Adrien couldn’t help but laugh at. “Your dad and I sound nothing alike. Besides,” he added, pretending to shiver at the thought, “he’s still in the back, fitting that new client. We’re safe for a while.”
“You mean you’re safe,” Adrien said. He glanced around; the shop was mostly empty, just a couple customers, and Rose and Chloe were already helping them. “If father catches you hanging out on the floor instead of packing for deliveries-”
“Adrien,” Nino interrupted, “this is an old and boring argument, and you’re evading my question.” He made a grab for Adrien’s jacket pocket, but Adrien twisted away. Nino smirked. “What are you hiding?”
“It’s nothing,” Adrien insisted, but he couldn’t stop the happy grin from spreading across his face. “It’s private. It’s… it’s just a letter.”
“A letter? From who?” Nino asked. “Did you win something?”
“No, it’s from….” Adrien’s voice trailed off. He tried to think of a believable enough lie, but nothing came to him. “A friend,” he finally said. “Her name is Ladybug.”
Nino’s eyebrows shot up. “’Her’?”
Adrien’s face betrayed him with a grin again.
“Dude.” Nino’s eyes were wide. “You have a secret girlfriend?”
“No I don’t!” Adrien hissed, his cheeks red. Across the shop a woman glanced their way and Adrien flashed her an apologetic smile, but soon she became distracted by Chloe’s animated sales pitch again. Adrien grabbed his friend’s arm and dragged him closer to the back wall. “I mean,” he continued in a lower voice, “no, she’s not my girlfriend. We just write letters to each other.”
“Who writes letters to someone unless they’re in love?” Nino asked in a sing-song. Adrien groaned. He knew telling Nino about this was a bad idea.
The bell over the shop door chimed, and they both looked up. An older man, one of their regulars. Juleka was already on her way to help him. Nino turned back to Adrien.“So what kind of name is ‘Ladybug’ anyways?”
Adrien sighed. “That’s not her real name, of course. It’s her screen name.” He turned to the rack of ribbons they were standing by, and started to adjust them, trying to look busy. “I don’t… know what her real name is.”
“You don’t – oh my god.” Nino turned to help him, shaking his head the whole time. “I don’t even know where to begin, Adrien. Do you mean to tell me you’re writing letters,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “to a girl you met on the internet?”
Adrien nodded mutely. He was not going to offer up the rest of the information on how he and Ladybug met. It would be too embarrassing.
Nino kept shaking his head. “You are hooked, my dude. How do you know this isn’t some weirdo catfishing you?”
“No,” Adrien said. “She’s too… genuine. She’s not flirting with me, we just talk about… school, and music, and… and video games.”
They worked, or pretended to, in silence for a minute. The door opened again for a leaving customer, and behind them Adrien could hear Alya and Rose chatting by the register. Finally, Nino asked, “Does she at least know your name, or does she call you by a screen name too?”
This, at least, was a question Adrien wasn’t embarrassed to answer. “My screen name,” he said. “It’s Chat Noir.”
“…Dude. That’s so lame.”
Adrien shoved an elbow into Nino’s ribs and they both started laughing. “Is not,” he said between breaths, “black cats are cool and mysterious. And girls love cats.”
“And I thought she wasn’t your girlfriend,” Nino pointed out.
“She’s not,” Adrien said again. He coughed nervously. “Not yet, at least.”
“God, I knew it,” Nino said. He grinned and started to say something else when a door further down the back wall opened and out walked Mr. Agreste, escorting his new client out of the shop. Adrien and Nino both stood up straighter and busied themselves with re-straightening the display. All quiet conversation in the front of the shop ceased as well.
“Thank you for coming to see us today,” Mr. Agreste intoned to his customer, promising him to finish the tailoring within the week. The shop was silent except for their short polite conversation, then the customer left, and Adrien could tell without looking that his father was disdainfully checking over each of his employees.
The cash register beeped and sound seemed to return all at once. “Nino,” Mr. Agreste said over the chime of another customer entering the shop. He walked briskly over to the two boys in the back. “What are you doing out on the salesfloor?”
Behind his father’s back, Adrien could see the other clerks sigh in relief that they’d been overlooked. “J-just bringing Adrien some ribbon to refill this shelf,” Nino said quickly.
Mr. Agreste stood a moment longer, considering. “Very well,” he finally said, “but it should not have taken this long. Get back to work.”
Nino ducked his head and scurried off, leaving Adrien alone with his father. He was probably going to chew Adrien out for talking to his friend during working hours again. Not like they got to see each other much outside of working hours. Either that, or he’s just disappear into his office again without a word.
Instead, Mr. Agreste asked, “How did you like those new notions boxes that arrived this morning?”
Adrien blinked at his father in surprise. “What?” he said. For a moment he didn’t remember what his father was talking about. Notions boxes? New?
“The notions boxes. You didn’t see them? I thought you would like them.”
Mr. Agreste led his son over to the display and Adrien followed, dumbstruck. He vaguely remembered walking past this display when he came in that afternoon, but he hadn’t paid it any attention. Too distracted by the letter in his pocket, frankly. But his father had thought he might like them? When had Mr. Agreste considered his sons feelings on a subject… ever?
“So, what do you think?” Adrien’s father asked. He took a box off the shelf and handed it over. It was wooden, instead of the usual plastic or fabric, with imitation leather glued on to accent. Not his usual style for products. “Go ahead,” he added. “Open it.”
Adrien lifted the lid on the box and instantly music filled the air. It was a light tinkling melody, soft and sweet, and something about it intimately familiar. Adrien furrowed his brows, trying to remember, but his father supplied the answer.
“Your mother’s favorite tune,” he said. “She used to sing it to you when you were an infant.”
Now Adrien remembered. Not being an infant, but he remembered hearing it, growing up, hummed in a silent house. He remembered watching his mother working in her garden, thinking she was alone, singing the words into the wind. He’d almost forgotten about it. This was his mother’s song.
Sold in a box in his father’s sewing shop.
His nose crinkled in distaste. “I think it’s a bad idea,” he said. His father’s expression dropped and Adrien hurried to find a good explanation. “I mean,” he added, “it’s nice, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to sell. Not many people know this song, and who wants to open a music box every time you need a bobbin or the scissors? And it doesn’t match our branding, and...”
Adrien couldn’t think of anything else to say, not under his father’s intense glare. He looked away to avoid his eyes, and Mr. Agreste heaved a sigh. “Well,” he said. “That’s disappointing.”
He turned and walked away before Adrien could decide if he should apologize or not.
“Well,” someone said, and Adrien turned to see Chloe examining her nails disdainfully. “I thought the boxes were pretty.”
Adrien chuckled. “A little old fashioned, maybe,” she added with a wave of her hand, “but pretty.” She glanced sideways at her friend, and smirked.
“With you on the case I’m sure we’ll sell hundreds,” Adrien said. At that they both started giggling.
They stopped when a customer approached asking for help. Juleka to help the woman find what she needed, and when the pair walked off, Chloe sighed. “I didn’t realize that was your mom’s song,” she said in a quieter voice. “That… sucks.”
“Yeah,” Adrien agreed. “I’d almost forgotten about it. I haven’t heard it since… well before she left.”
“I’m sorry…” Chloe said uncomfortably. The door chimed open once more, a younger woman this time, and Adrien stepped forward. He needed the distraction.
“Thanks,” he told Chloe. “I got this one.”
The woman, who looked like she was probably a university student too, stood stock still just in the doorway. She stared around the shop with the obvious curiosity of someone who had never been inside before. She was ogling the sewing machines when Adrien sidling up to her and asked, “Need any help?”
She hadn’t noticed him, and jumped slightly in surprise. “No – yes!” she said quickly. She smiled nervously.
Adrien smiled back. “We have a special on our sewing machines right now – buy one and get a set of thread half off.”
“Oh no,” the woman said, “I couldn’t – I don’t need a sewing machine right now.”
“Then do you want to hear about our sales? Fabric is half off – you have to buy through the catalog but we have samples to get the feel of them.”
“Thank you, no, I’m not looking for fabric right now,” she said.
Adrien tried to keep the annoyance out of his expression. It wasn’t her fault, his sales pitch was usually better than this, but in his defense it had been a very weird half hour. “Then what can I help you find?” he asked.
“Actually,” the woman said, “I was wondering if I could speak to Mr. Agreste.”
“Uh.” Adrien said, thrown off guard. “He’s in his office. He’s, uh, very busy. It might take a while.”
“I can wait.”
Adrien frowned. “Are you sure there isn’t something I can help you with?”
The woman shook her head. “I should really speak to Mr. Agreste personally. I can wait, until he’s free. It’s no problem.”
If Adrien was going to be completely honest, he really didn’t want to confront his father again, especially not so soon after that weird box incident. He glanced back at the office door, and wondered if Chloe wouldn’t mind being sent to deliver a message. She was always so much better at dealing with adults, anyways.
“Alright,” Adrien said. “Can I at least get your name, and what you want to speak with him about?”
“My name’s Marinette,” the woman said. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And I wanted to talk with him about a job.”
Internally Adrien sighed with relief. Juleka had only been working at the shop for two weeks – there was no way his father would hire another clerk so soon. Which meant there was no reason to go bug his father again. “If it’s just a job then I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” he told the woman. “We’ve done all our winter hiring, and we won’t be doing any more until the new year. My father’s very strict about that.”
“Your father?”
“Oh. Yes.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I’m Adrien Agreste. Not even I could convince my father to change his mind.”
“Well, maybe if I spoke with him directly, I could,” Marinette said. “I’m a very hard worker – I’ve worked in customer service since high school – and I’m an exceptionally skilled seamstress. I make all my own clothes, I’m even going to school to be a fashion designer, so I know this industry inside-”
“That’s all very impressive,” Adrien quickly interrupted, “but I’m afraid my father isn’t going to change his mind. I can put your name at the top of the list when a job does open up-”
“But I need a job now!”
The bell above the door announced another customer, and Adrien and Marinette instantly realized how heated their conversation had become. Adrien stepped down an aisle out of the way and Marinette sheepishly followed suit. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “But isn’t there any way I could speak to Mr. Agreste?”
Adrien definitely didn’t want to bother his father now that he knew the whole thing was pointless. “I’m sorry,” he started to say, but as he spoke he glanced over at his father’s office door, just in time to see Chloe poking her head in. “That meddling…” he muttered to himself.
A moment later his father appeared in the doorway. Adrien turned back to the woman in front of him. “Good luck,” he said. “it seems you’re going to get your audience after all.
The moment she noticed the store manager coming towards her, Marinette, like so many before her in this situation, stood up straighter. “Mr. Agreste!” she squeaked.
“I heard I was being asked for,” he said. He smiled politely, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What can I help you with.”
“She wants a job,” Adrien said, before the woman could hurt her chances any further.
Mr. Agreste’s smile disappeared. “I’m afraid we’re not doing any-”
“I’m a very hard worker!” Marinette interrupted. It was all Adrien could do not to shake his head at her, give her the kill signal, tell her out loud to just stop. His father would definitely notice, and likely her pit was already dug anyways. “And I know this industry inside and out! I’m taking classes in fashion design and I’ve worked-”
“I’m sorry,” Adrien’s father cut her off, “but there are no openings right now. We can look a your resume when a position opens, but until then, you’re out of luck.”
For a moment it looked like Marinette might fight him some more, but then he gave a dismissive nod, and she deflated. She backed away with her shoulders slumped. Adrien was just about to reach out to her, to apologize for his father and wish her luck, but his father leaned over and hissed, “Can’t you deal with these sorts of things without needing to call for help every time?”
“S-sorry, father,” Adrien muttered. He hated how his father could make him feel like he was five years old all over again.
From the corner of his eye Adrien saw Alya and Rose wince. They must have overheard the entire conversation. It would have been hard not to.
Marinette had wandered back to the main aisle but seemed reluctant to leave. His father must have noticed too; he walked three steps back towards his office, then stopped, and turned to watch the woman with an interested eye. It took a second for Adrien to realize she was standing my the musical notions boxes, looking them over.
Mr. Agreste plastered on another fake smile, and approached her.
“Charming, aren’t they?” he asked.
Marinette jumped in surprise. She seemed pretty skittish. “What? Oh! Yes!” She smiled nervously. Adrien didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away. “They’re very… antique. I-in a good way.”
“Go ahead and open one,” Mr. Agreste went on. “There’s a surprise inside. My son thinks they were a bad idea,” he added, and Marinette glanced up at him over the aisle. “I’m curious to hear what you think.”
When the music started playing Marinette actually gasped in surprise. “Oh!” she said. “That’s so pretty!”
Pretty was… about the right word to describe it, Adrien thought. That still didn’t make it a good idea. He frowned, just as his father caught his eye. “Pretty?”
“A-and, sophisticated.” Marinette wilted under Mr. Agreste’s gaze, but held her ground. “I think music boxes are so romantic, and to have one playing while you work? And it holds your tools, too, so it’s functional. And….” She glanced around the shop and her eyes landed on Adrien. “And I think it will sell,” she added, with a defiant look.
Now Adrien knew he had to leave. He was on this girl’s side as long as she was just another stranger his father was looking down on. But now it was him his father was looking down at, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Romantic,” he echoed thoughtfully. “You know what, Ms.… what did you say your name was?”
“Dupain-Cheng. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
Adrien turned to put some distance between himself and this scene. “Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” his father said, behind his back. “I think we might have a job opening after all. Follow me to my office. I’ll have my assistant Nathalie draw up the paperwork.”
They passed him on their way to the back, Marinette all but glowing. “Thank you, Mr. Agreste! You won’t regret it!” She turned mid-step to flash Adrien a smirk, then they disappeared into the office, leaving Adrien gaping.
Whatever had just happened, Adrien was definitely in trouble.
“She seemed nice,” Rose said quietly after a moment’s silence.
“She seemed smart,” Alya amended. “I like her style. Adrien – you had better watch out for that one.”