Mermaid AU - One Night
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Mademoiselle Cesaire took to Marinette immediately. She was fire, and the heat of the sun in contrast to Marinette's cool seas, and Adrien caught Nino staring after her like she was his very own mermaid. Like looking into a mirror, the entranced, faraway look Nino wore as he watched Alya, as she insisted on being called, was more than merely reminiscent of Adrien's own expressions these past few weeks.
“We are both bewitched by Sirens,” Nino murmured, as Alya took Marinette's arm and gaily introduced herself. Adrien, perhaps wisely, made no comment in reply, though he could see what Nino had meant. That Alya had never seen Marinette before didn't faze her. That Marinette was visibly unsure of the customs of greeting went by without comment. Alya took every foible and display of nerves from Marinette in her stride, sweeping her up in a more pedestrian magic than Marinette herself used.
Their booth in the theatre was secluded and private, the view over the stage undisturbed by the backs of other's heads. It was, Adrien thought, as he took a seat next to Marinette and watched her examine the eyeglasses provided with curiosity, worth the extra expense. France's theatres were the best in the world, and French plays better than any others. Adrien had seen the works of Shakespeare performed, but the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet left an ache in his chest he didn't wish to share with Marinette. Instead, he had brought her to see Molière's Scapin, a comedy which ended with a happily ever after for the lovers the title character takes under his wing. That was the mood Adrien wished for the evening, and laughter along the way was a more pleasant prospect than tears.
The necklace from Papillon hung heavy in his pocket. A weight that threatened to drag his mood down with it. Nino had advised against its use. With the insight Adrien expected of someone that wasn't caught up in the emotion of the decision, he'd asked how Adrien had known he could trust Papillon. They knew so little of Papillon, after all. What he'd told Adrien could merely have been lies to soothe him into doing as Papillon wished. Adrien had been forced to accept the truth of his words, and the value of his advice. Still, it had not resolved the question of what he should do next.
The curtain raised as the play began, and Adrien found himself watching Marinette as much as the actors. She watched, one moment rapt, and the next laughing gaily with the crowd. Her laughter made Adrien's heart soar, and it was impossible not to join her. She glanced at him as he laughed too, her eyes sparkling in the light, and the red of her dress burning in his mind's eye. For a moment the play was a distant concern. Adrien's throat was dry, and the only thing he could think of was the blue of Marinette's eyes, and the red of her dress. She was a world of colour in which he could happily drown.
Marinette took his hand, and Adrien felt a ripple along his skin so similar to her magic that he wondered for a second if she was indeed using it. The urge to lean forward and press his lips to hers was overwhelming. Marinette's cheeks flushed, and she turned back to watching the stage, her bottom lip held between her teeth.
Adrien leaned back, feeling Alya and Nino watching him, unaware that he'd got so close to Marinette. His own cheeks grew warm as he turned to watch the stage, but his hand stayed with Marinette's, his fingertips exploring the space between her fingers gently for the rest of the play.
They left the theatre with soaring hearts, and Marinette's arm looped around Adrien's own made it difficult for Adrien to think of anything but the pressure of her touch, and the closeness of her body. He wanted this feeling to last the rest of his life, but for now at least, tonight was all he had, and Adrien was determined to memorise every breath, and word, and step they took together.
Their next destination promised refreshments and the opportunity for dancing. Adrien felt the eyes of every man in the room alight on Marinette as they entered, though Marinette seemed oblivious. “I don't really know how to dance,” she admitted, her cheeks pink and eyes sparkling with the laughter of the evening.
Adrien smiled at her, taking her hand in his and feeling that thrill at the contact of her fingertips sliding against his palm, and how delicate her hand was under his fingers. “Then,” he said, holding her gaze and feeling her presence drown out the world around him, “this is my opportunity to cast my spell over you, my lady.”
Marinette looked up at him, cheeks pink and eyes blue. “You think you haven't already?” She asked.
There was no time to reply as the music began, and Adrien, heart thudding triumphantly in his throat, led her in a dance. She'd never danced before, of course, and her footwork was little short of clumsy, but it didn't matter because for the duration of that song Adrien's eyes were locked with hers and nothing in the world existed for him but the tempo of the music, and the press of her skin. She improved as the dance continued, learning first the beat, and then the melody.
The first song finished, and the next began, and still they danced, sweeping across the dancefloor in gentle but increasing arcs as Marinette grew in confidence, and learned to dance with him instead of worrying about getting the steps right.
“You learn quickly,” he told her, halfway through the third piece.
“I have a good teacher,” she said, and twirled away from him as he extended his arm, to twirl back gracefully towards him safe in his embrace, the vivid red of her dress making it impossible not to watch her.
“You've danced before,” he said, with a smile that she returned with extra humour.
“Never with feet,” she replied, “but the principle seems to be the same.”
Adrien tried not to let sadness creep into his smile, or jealousy into his tone when he asked, “Who do you dance with?”
Marinette stepped away, and back, following the movement of the dance before she answered, “With the waves, and the fish,” and her smile contained a hint of sadness before she added, “and my father, when I was little.”
The weight of guilt landed heavy on Adrien's shoulders, replacing the jealous apprehension he'd been trying to fend off. “I'm sorry,” he said.
Marinette shook her head, though her smile was sad. “Don't be,” she said, “I had to leave them behind, to keep them safe.”
Adrien took the time to digest this information before he repeated, “I'm sorry, still.”
“I'll see them again when he's gone,” Marinette said.
The music ended once more, and Adrien led Marinette from the dancefloor and towards their waiting companions. “I'll do what I can to make that moment come sooner,” he said, quietly. In his pocket, the necklace from Papillon tripled its weight in his awareness. Consequences be damned, he'd throw the wretched thing overboard and fight Papillon every step of the way if it meant he never had to see Marinette's sadness again. She'd tried to hide it, he knew, but she hadn't hidden it well. He couldn't take her away from her parents forever, no matter how safe she would be. Not when it made her look like that.
“Staying safe is the best way you can help me,” Marinette replied, throwing another smile at him that lifted Adrien's heart if not his spirit.
“May I?” Nino asked, as they drew within earshot. He extended his arm towards Marinette. “I'm a novice too,” he explained, with a slightly awkward smile, “so I apologise if I step on your toes, mademoiselle.”
Marinette laughed, sweetly, and gave Adrien a brief look to reassure him that she was okay, despite their conversation, before she took Nino's arm, and he escorted her back to the dancefloor.
Adrien watched her go, keeping his smile in place until Marinette's back was turned, and then he sighed. His shoulders sagged.
“If Monsieur Bourgeois finds out you're here, you'll have good reason to look like that.” Adrien turned to Alya, who folded her arms and looked out to where Nino was dancing, inexpertly, with Marinette. “Though his wrath will be nought compared to his daughter's.”
Adrien frowned, and watched Marinette display more grace than Nino as they turned together. “You think me dishonourable?” He asked.
“Honour shmonour,” Alya replied. “I'm being courted by a pirate, I don't care about honour, but she's a good girl, and she doesn't know about any arrangements regarding you and Chloe, does she?”
Adrien frowned. “No.”
“I thought not.” Alya stepped around, so that she was in Adrien's field of vision. “Bourgeois will give you wealth, influence, and legitimacy. What will she give you?”
Adrien looked from Alya, to Marinette giggling at Nino's wincing apology, and back. “Happiness,” he answered. “Regardless of what Monsieur Bourgeois promises, Marinette is what I want.”
The strains of the music filled the silence, but Adrien felt a hit of nerves, as if he was awaiting the result of some examination. Nino was right, he thought, they were both bewitched by Sirens, but where Marinette's magic made him feel joy, Alya's made him feel the nerves of a child before their parent.
When Alya nodded in satisfaction, Adrien released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. “Good,” she said. “I think you should tell Chloe that.”
