Chapter Text
Adrien has imagined heaven a time or two before. He hasn’t taken time to imagine it often, but the images of soft colors and impossibly green meadows and kind smiles have flitted through his mind when the subject came up, rare as it was. But suddenly, he wonders not what heaven looks like, but what heaven smells like. With the scent currently luring him towards a girl with dark hair carrying a basket of her family’s baked goods, he’s suddenly convinced that heaven must smell like bread.
He tries not to drool as the girl hands him the basket, attempting to commit the warm, light, slightly sweet scent to mind. The urge to uncover the contents and indulge seizes him, so to avoid making a further fool of himself, he wrenches his gaze away from the basket and looks directly into the girl’s big, blue eyes.
They’re quite pretty and distracting, framed by thick black lashes and full of warmth. But they’re also glinting with amusement, and when he focuses on her face he realizes she’s smirking. Silently laughing at him. She releases the basket and steps back as he flushes at being caught, but he manages to stammer out a, “Thank you!” before she nods and turns away.
Once she’s out of sight, he looks down at the basket in his hands and inhales the heavenly scent once again, and he forgets about the girl and her teasing grin for now. He takes the food inside, handing it off to someone who can distribute it around the prison while he returns back to his post.
But when she returns the next day, he’s struck with memories of the day before, and suddenly he feels the need to prove himself to the pretty delivery girl. He puts on his most charming smile and politest “Thank you” as he takes the food, and she responds with a sweet smile, but she’s gone in a moment without any words, and he feels horribly disappointed.
The third day, he makes sure he’s there when she comes to deliver. He has a plan. He’ll compliment the baking, ask her who makes everything, explain that he isn’t a total idiot and was just overcome by the wonderful scent the first time, and then she will respond and smile and they will talk for a few minutes. Easy.
As she approaches he waves at her, smiling and as friendly as ever. He’s going to make her speak today. “Thank you for the delivery,” he starts off, easily. She smiles and hands him the basket, a small smile settling on her lips. And maybe it’s the color in her cheeks or the way the sun settles on her face and reflects in her hair, but suddenly he’s tongue tied. His conversation starters die on his tongue and catch in his throat and all he can do is take the food from her and finally close his mouth, having achieved exactly nothing. She hesitates for a moment and then smiles again and turns to leave.
The daily deliveries become the highlight of his day very quickly. Guarding the Bastille is, more often than not, boring. Previously, the only sources of excitement that made it into the day have been the reports of the unrest spreading through the country, and that is not the kind of excitement he wants in his life. He does his best to ignore it. But the way his heart speeds up when he sees a figure approaching with a basket of baked goods on her hip is not entirely unpleasant, even if he makes a fool of himself every time.
After his initial failures, he determined that he was going to introduce himself, but every time he opens his mouth, his heart crawls up his throat and he has to close it again for fear for his life. The girl always just responds with an airy giggle or a sweet smile, and his eyes are drawn to the ever-present color in her cheeks, but then she’s gone and he has to wait for the next day.
Adrien doesn’t understand. He’s never had so much trouble talking to girls, even if they werebringing him delicious food.
After ten days of teasing looks and sunny smiles, he doesn’t even think of the food anymore. (Well, not as much, at least.) He’s much too consumed by the anticipation of seeing her again, of getting her to smile or laugh again, of maybe, finally, hearing her voice. The desire to hear her speak had grown into a need, but he has yet to overcome his own inability to form coherent thoughts in front of her, much less engage her in a conversation.
He sees her coming and feels the nervous energy immediately entering his limbs, which tense as if he wants to run. Towards her or away, he’s unsure. So he stays still, and waits for her to make it to him.
His eyes sweep over her again, and his hopelessly romantic side calls her the sky. A sky that travels down from the dark midnight in her hair to the blue of a cloudless summer day in her eyes then rounds itself off with starbursts freckling her cheeks and the light of the sun held in the warmth of her smile.
And if she is the sky, it’s no wonder he’s having trouble reaching her, and falling harder every time he tries.
The realization does not help him in talking to her at all.
She’s gone before he can even manage to stutter out his customary thanks, and he thinks he might just melt into the ground.
Two days later, having gotten only three and a half words and a few embarrassing squeaks past his lips, he’s given up hope. He’ll work up the nerve to speak to her one day, and maybe she will grace him with her own voice, but that time is not any time soon.
He just hopes his post isn’t changed, because even though he can’t speak to her, he can still see her. And he’s gotten very good at that. He doesn’t want to give it up.
But it’s really not enough, no matter what he tries to tell himself.
Waiting for her two weeks after their initial encounter, Adrien leans against the building and stares down the street she usually comes down, as if watching could make her come faster. She’s usually very timely, and there’s still about ten minutes until she should be showing up, but he’s restless nonetheless.
“Plagg,” he sighs dramatically, looking down at the stray cat curling himself around Adrien’s feet. “I used to be better at girls.” The cat looks up at him, unimpressed. “I was!” he defends.
The cat slinks off to the side, sitting and looking disinterestedly off into space.
Adrien does not take the cat’s boredom as a reason to stop talking. “But she’s- she’s really cute, okay?” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know her name but she’s pretty and nice and has a cute laugh and always smells like bread and sometimes she laughs at me and I don’t know why but I actually really like it when she does that and I don’t even know her name.”
Plagg meows and runs off.
Adrien sighs, giving up on the cat. He isn’t very supportive, even though Adrien had all but adopted him. If the cat were willing, he would have taken him home already. But their short encounters usually ended with the cat taking whatever food Adrien offered and running off. Sometimes Adrien tried to use him as a sounding board, but the cat was patently unhelpful.
Adrien leans back against the building, returning to staring dreamily down the road while he waits for the delivery girl to arrive.
As she does arrive though, a very familiar cat is winding his way around her ankles.
“Plagg,” he calls out to the cat. The cat ignores him and continues circling the girl, who blinks at him in surprise. “Plagg, you’re underfoot. You’re going to trip her.”
Adrien has always thought there was something weird about this cat, but when the cat closes one eye at him before stopping and stretching directly in front of the girl, he’s suddenly wondering whether cats can actually wink.
He doesn’t have time to think too much about that, of course, because she doesn’t see the cat stopping, and within seconds Adrien has an armful of pretty delivery girl.
A pretty delivery girl who is turning redder by the second as she stares up at him, but he’s frozen, free-falling in the sky of her eyes again. Logic tells him he should let go of her and make sure she’s okay, but logic has been pushed to the side for the softness of her in his arms, for the closest view of the spray of her freckles he’s ever gotten, for the way she’s staring at him, wide-eyed, just as trapped as he is.
But then Plagg sneezes, and the spell is broken.
Adrien pulls back, setting her upright and looking her over to make sure she’s alright. His hand is trailing down her arm, causing her to let out a small whimper and his gaze snaps to hers, the bright red of her cheeks contrasting the blue of her eyes nicely. But then he realizes that he’s being way too handsy for a girl he barely knows, and he snaps his hands back to his side with his own embarrassed noise.
“Sorry!” she squeaks out, and he shakes his head, holding up his hands placatingly.
“No, no. I just- I wanted to make sure you were okay! Are you okay? Plagg is a troublemaker, I’m sorry.”
She nods, glancing down at the cat who is now rubbing against her legs, the picture of innocence. She meets his gaze again, a soft smile gracing her lips. “His name is Plagg?”
“Ah, well. He’s a stray. That’s just what I call him. He really seems to like you, though.”
She giggles, and the sound sets Adrien’s heart racing again. She looks down at Plagg and wiggles her fingers at him. He stands up and bats at her hand. “I think he just wants food.”
Adrien stares at her in awestruck silence for a moment as she plays with Plagg. “Oh- right! Is your basket okay?”
The girl looks back at him once the cat gets bored and wanders away again. “Sorry, did you say something?”
Adrien chuckles before he gestures at the basket. He has no idea how he’s surviving this conversation, but Plagg seems to have broken the ice. He’ll be sure to slip him some cheese later. “Did everything survive the fall?”
She glances down into the basket, pursing her lips as she looks through the goods.
Cute.
“I think a couple of things were squashed, but everything else is good,” she finally concludes, smiling up at him again.
“Oh. Good. That’s good.” He pauses, fishing for something else to say. Anything to extend this conversation. “They’re delicious!” he blurts. She grins up at him, holding back a laugh, and all he can do is push forward. “I mean- even flat, they’ll be a big hit, because they’re so good.”
“Thank you,” she says, amusement glinting in her eyes as she hands the basket over. He takes it, deflating slightly, because this is usually where their conversation ends.
But she surprises him when she continues after only a pause. “My father runs the bakery. I’ll be sure to pass along your praise.”
“Please do!” he enthuses. “You probably saw me the first time, right? I think I was drooling!” Adrien mentally smacks himself for bringing up that embarrassment. But then she laughs again, and he decides it was worth it.
“Maybe not quite drooling,” she says teasingly. But then she glances behind her and looks back at him guiltily. “I have to go now, there are other deliveries to be made.”
“Oh, of course! I’m sorry. I’ll try to control Plagg next time. Tomorrow, right?”
“Yes. Tomorrow. Goodbye!” She turns to go, and Adrien realizes he still doesn’t have her name. He’s scared that if he doesn’t ask now, he’ll never get another chance.
“Oh wait!” he calls. She doesn’t turn around, so he takes a chance, running after her and catching her by the shoulder. She turns to him with surprise evident in her face. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your name. I-” Adrien swallows down the embarrassment at having chased her down just for introductions, but it’s too late now. “I’m Adrien.”
She looks up at him through her lashes before she smiles. “My name’s Marinette.” She offers her hand for a handshake.
Something seizes him, he’s really not sure what, but he takes her hand and raises it to his lips, ghosting a kiss over her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally know your name.”
She blinks at him a few times before she pulls her hand back, giggling at his antics. But there’s a blush blooming in her cheeks again, and Adrien can’t stop the goofy smile coming over his face. “You too, soldier.” She salutes at him then, and turns to walk away. “See you around.”
He lets her go this time, releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah. See you, Marinette.” Saying her name sends a thrill through him, so he repeats it again, just because he can. “Marinette.” His grin widens.
A meow breaks through his thoughts, and he looks down at Plagg, sitting beneath him expectantly. He bends down, scratching the cat behind his ears. “Okay, thank you. You did well.” Plagg meows again, and Adrien rolls his eyes, reaching into the basket and giving Plagg a small treat. “You’re still ungrateful, though.”
The next day, Adrien is outside and pacing back and forth, not straying too far from where he’s supposed to wait, but unable to quell the nervous energy coursing through his body. He wants to run around and yell, “Her name is Marinette! I’m waiting for the baker’s daughter, Marinette! And I have no idea what to say to her! Help, I have no idea what to say to her!” and maybe devolve into nervous and slightly hysterical laughter, but he has an image to maintain, and so he contents himself with pacing.
His legs lock up the moment he sees her approaching, nervous energy fleeing and being replaced with terror. Well, at least she won’t see him pacing around like an idiot. Instead he’ll be standing completely still like an idiot.
She smiles as she gets closer, and Adrien’s limbs move on their own, his hand flying up to wave at her in a tiny, halting movement. He’s mortified at his own inability to be a normal person, but his own lamentations are forgotten the second she opens her mouth.
“Good morning, Adrien.”
He melts.
She’s still too far for him to reach, but her voice carries easily over the open space, and Adrien basks in the feeling of hearing his name in her voice for a moment before he replies, “Good morning, Marinette.”
He can’t help the smile that spreads over his face at finally getting to say her name, and by the knowing look on her face, she doesn’t miss it.
“I hope you’re having a good morning, monsieur.”
“It’s better now that you’re here,” he says before his brain can stop him. She raises one eyebrow, and he stumbles to cover himself. “Because bread! Ahah, oh yes, love that bread. And those baked goods. They really… brighten my morning.”
She stops directly in front of him and hands him the basket, a put out look settling on her features. “And that’s it?”
“…The baker’s daughter might be a small, little, kind of huge factor. Maybe. Just…. A bit.” He can’t meet her eyes as he gives the confession, but he chances a look at her face and she meets his eyes with a warm smile and a happy blush.
“The baker’s daughter is a lucky girl to get the attentions of the cute soldier, then,” she says, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.
Adrien wants to explode. “Really?”
“Maybe. Just a bit,” she parrots, and he laughs. His entire body feels light because she’s brilliant and she’s blushing but she’s talking and laughing with him. He’s still falling but she might be right alongside him, and he feels so much better about it with that thought.
A sudden idea bursts into his head, and his smile grows even more. “What’s your parents’ bakery called?”
“The Dupain Boulangerie… Why?”
“No reason.” He tucks the basket against his side and gives her the most innocent smile in his arsenal.
She eyes him for a few moments before sighing and looking behind her. She turns back to him with a hard look in her eyes. “You are being very suspicious, but I don’t have time to investigate this.”
“Have a nice day, Marinette. Tomorrow, then?”
“…Tomorrow.”
Adrien watches her go, his plan already taking form.
“Good morning!” Adrien calls with a wave to Marinette. She returns with a wave of her own, less exuberant than his. He doesn’t notice in his own excitement.
“Good morning,” she greets him distractedly as she hands the basket of goods over.
Rocking back on his heels, Adrien asks slyly, “Anything interesting happen yesterday?”
Marinette’s expression crumbles, and Adrien panics, his own thoughts being forgotten in a moment in the face of her distress. “I… got into an argument with my parents.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to say to that. He barely knows this girl, and this is obviously something personal, not to mention his own struggles with a relationship with his father.
Still, she doesn’t seem to need any prompting. “My parents refused to help people who vocally declared their intent to work against the king. They got angry and it didn’t end well.”
“Your parents support the king?” Adrien couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. Although technically he works for the king, he heavily sympathizes with the revolutionary ideas being thrown around, and finds it surprising when anyone other than the extremely rich and important disagree.
“They… just want to be left out of it. Revolution is violent and messy and they don’t like it. And this group of people just proved their point.” Marinette huffs, kicking the ground lightly. “I disagreed, though. I wanted to help them. I want to help them.”
“And you argued?” Adrien asks. There’s almost awe in his voice, respect for the girl who did what he would never dare to do.
She nods. “My parents mean everything to me, and I hate the violence as much as they do, but it doesn’t scare me. I want to support the causes I believe in. Is that so wrong?”
“I don’t think I can really comment on that.” Adrien’s tone is self-deprecating, but he pairs it with a wry smile to try to lighten the comment.
Marinette laughs, but the sound is sour. “My parents are so scared they barely let me out of the house today. They won’t let me even think of doing anything more. They think I’m just a little girl, and shouldn’t get involved in politics. But I’m an adult, and I can make my own decisions.”
“So you’re going to leave home?” Adrien asks hesitantly.
At the question, she crumbles again. Her shoulders slump, her eyes drop, and her lips curl into a frown. Adrien wants no more than to reach out and hold her close. “I can’t leave them. They need me to take care of them, but they think that by keeping me restrained they’re returning the favor.”
“At least you’re not going against what you believe,” he offers as consolation. It was a line that he hoped she never had to cross.
Marinette’s eyes widen when he says this, and Adrien knows he’s been too transparent. He glances around and then back to the blue eyes curiously asking for more, and he can’t say no. “My father wants nothing more than to maintain his status. I… I don’t like the way things are, but I can’t speak up about it around him. I can’t see him disappointed in me. Not again… So instead, I’m here.”
His heartbeat is loud in his ears as he confesses this for the first time out loud. He’s kept it inside for so long that it’s terrifying to let those thoughts see the light of day, but telling her, it somehow feels okay. As she nods in understanding, he feels lighter, and he allows himself a small smile. She quietly returns the smile, which only makes his grow wider.
“I’m sorry the situation sucks. For both of us,” she finally says, shaking her head.
“All we can do is our best. Try to stay out of it and keep living our lives.”
Marinette looks dissatisfied for a moment before she finally nods, though it’s reluctant. “I guess.”
She stands there silently stewing in her own thoughts before Adrien remembers his own from this morning. He feels horribly awkward bringing it up, especially after that heavy conversation, but he feels the need to lift the oppressive atmosphere slowly suffocating them. “Do you want to know why I asked about your parent’s bakery yesterday?”
She looks at him carefully for a moment before she accepts the change of subject, nodding slowly.
“I wanted to send flowers. I just didn’t know how terrible the timing would be.”
“Oh! No, I did get those! They were lovely, but I was just so distracted with everything that happened…”
“No problem. I’ll just have to send more.”
A shy smile creeps onto her face. “More?”
“Of course! A gentleman can’t court a lady without flowers.”
“…Court?”
He smiles. “Does the lady object?”
She shakes her head.
He beams. “A spot of color in a dark time, then.”
“Are you talking about yourself or the flowers?”
“Why not both?” he replies with a laugh.
She hits him lightly but she’s smiling, and that’s all he needs. He ignores the tinge of something else in the smile. It’s easier.
“You’ve become my spot of color, in any case, Marinette,” he admits easily. “Can’t we be each other’s oasis?”
His confession makes her smile again, but at the next sentence she frowns just a little bit. “I would like that…” she says, but he hears a but at the end of the sentence. He’s confused for a moment before she shakes it off and smiles at him again, just a little forced. “I should get home before my parents decide to revoke my ability to leave the house completely.”
“Tomorrow, then?” he asks, just a little anxious.
But her expression smooths into a natural smile as she replies, “Of course. Tomorrow.”
He sends her flowers every day, trying to vary the colors and types to guess her favorites. He catalogues her smiles as she greets him the next day, and tries to sort which ones are happiest, but he usually gets lost in daydreams before he gets too far.
He does notice that her smile is more excited when Plagg is with him, and that is both adorable and slightly annoying.
Plagg curls around her legs as she scratches behind his ears. It was cute as first, but now Adrien feels left out. The delivered goods sit forgotten on the ground, and Adrien tries again to get Marinette’s attention.
“I think Plagg likes you more than he likes me.”
The sentence is met with silence, and he sighs and reaches down to pick up the basket, trying his best not to pout because he is an adult and adults don’t get jealous over cats.
She looks up at this movement, eyes wide and innocent. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
Adrien laughs playfully. “You’re not the best listener, are you?”
“Not at all,” she returns with a carefully steady voice. “I can’t listen at all, considering I can’t hear.”
Adrien blinks as she gives him a look that’s half scared, half challenging. He’s silent for a few long moments before finally his mouth jumps ahead of his brain. “Wow, that explains a lot actually.”
She bursts into giggles as he slaps a hand over his own mouth, but it doesn’t stop him from rambling, “Was that insensitive? Am I being rude? Do you hate me now?”
She pins him with a stare that carries that power she sometimes lets through, and he shuts up. “M. Agreste, if you change the way you treat me now, I will never forgive you.”
“How could I never have noticed?”
“I can read lips and speak more or less normally, so many people don’t notice, not just you.”
“Yes, but-” Adrien cuts himself off before he finishes that sentence, because it ends with a confession of how much he watches her and thinks about her and how he should have realized with all the attention he gives her. But he’s not going to say that to her, because he doesn’t really want to implode from embarrassment.
“But?”
“Nothing! Don’t worry about it. Let’s change the subject- You should have told me! I would have at least been better about getting your attention when I’m speaking to you.”
Marinette looks at him for a few moments, but she allows the subject change to stick. “Well, you can now.”
“Do you use sign language?”
“Whenever I can, yes.”
Adrien looks thoughtful for a moment, and Marinette waves her hands. “You don’t have to learn it of course, I can read lips just fine!” She blinks as he gives her a surprised look and continues, “N-Not that I was assuming you’d try to do that! I mean, you probably weren’t even thinking about it, but I just wanted to- to get that information out there. Yes. Right. Okay. Would you look at the time? I have to get going. It was nice talking to you, goodbye!”
She turns on her heel and starts to leave, and Adrien is about to call out to her before he remembers his new information. So he grabs her hand instead, and she turns around to look at him with wide eyes and a red face.
“Goodbye, Marinette,” he says once she’s turned around. “I hope you know this doesn’t change anything.”
Her face softens a bit, and she nods. “Tomorrow, right?”
Adrien beams. “Tomorrow.”