Dance with Me, Chaton - 14
Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net
Written for @ladynoirjuly2019
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14. Sick Day.
It didn’t work. All the luck that Ladybug had sent his way must have stuck somewhere in the internet traffic because the next morning Adrien woke up with a pulsating headache, stuffy nose, and a sore throat. He groaned, shifting in his bed and threw his cover off. Too hot. Water. Thirsty. He needed some water stat, or he would die.
Adrien sat up. His head spun; a pained moan escaped lips. The clock showed… nine?
Shit.
Struggling to stand up, Adrien picked up the phone. There was a missed call from his father’s secretary and a few from Plagg. Adrien opened his messages. Ladybug has sent a few, wishing him a good morning and telling him about her plans for the day. Same stuff they’ve been exchanging for weeks now. He smiled. She was an amazing girl. He always looked forward to her messages. Unlike Plagg’s.
Plagg: Congratulations! You’ve won an extended session for the price of one. I’ll see you at my studio at seven in the evening. Next time you won’t pick up, you’re out.
Adrien groaned and flopped back onto the bed. The way he felt now, there was no way he could handle any session of Plagg’s, less an extended one. Maybe he should quit? Or maybe he could tell Plagg that he was sick? Surely even Plagg had a heart. Most likely he did. At least a physical one he certainly had.
Adrien: Can I get a rain check on that? I don't feel too stellar.
Plagg replied immediately.
Plagg: I'm not a convenience store to give out rainchecks. Seven or never.
Adrien groaned.
Adrien: At least make it a regular one.
Plagg: The only thing I can make it is a double-priced one. Would you like that?
Adrien pouted. Not that he couldn't afford Plagg’s fees. He could, but for Plagg’s attitude to him, Adrien refused to support the glutton further other than what they’d agreed upon.
Plagg: What are you a baby? Can’t handle some dancing?
Adrien scoffed. He called it dancing? He hadn’t danced a single step yet, pointlessly repeating exercises and moves Plagg ordered him as a broken record. He even stopped going to the gym. There was no need. Plagg worked him thrice as much as his personal trainer did, all while offering Adrien to quit at any given opportunity. Adrien growled. No way! Not after everything this arrogant glutton had put him through! Adrien couldn’t let him win. He’d go to that session and rock it.
Adrien: I’ll be there at seven.
Plagg: :thumbs-up:
Turning his phone off, Adrien shuffled to the kitchen. If he were to endure one of Plagg’s lessons this evening, he needed to get better. That meant rest, nutrition, and medicine. He lacked two: food because he was too tired to shop for it yesterday, and medicine because Adrien didn’t get sick often, so whatever he had was long expired. Trip to the store it was, and since he already was late for work, he might call in sick and skip it altogether. There is always a first time for everything, right?
Adrien changed and dialled his father. Gabriel wasn’t ecstatic, but he let it go, telling Adrien to get back as soon as he could. Glad that at least his father wasn’t heartless, Adrien went out to pick up food and medicine. He grabbed breakfast at a nearby café and focused on getting better upon returning, which meant hot bath, relaxing on a couch, and chatting with Ladybug. He kept his illness to himself, though. Ladybug had just gone through hell because of him. He had no right to get her sympathy.
Closer to the evening, Adrien ordered Tom and Sabine’s pastries to be delivered. After Marinette introduced him to the wonderful world of her parent’s bakery, Adrien couldn’t help but stop by every day after work. Today, however, he didn’t work, and he had to conserve energy for the torture session, so ordering in it was. Half an hour later someone knocked on a door.
“Marinette?” His eyes widened, followed by a lopsided smile on his lips. What a nice surprise.
“Hi.” She shyly waved at him from the hallway. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting. Papa asked me to deliver this to you.”
“Thanks.” Adrien motioned Marinette to come inside. “Did something happen?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, entering.
"It's five. Usually, you'd still be at work at this time."
“Ah, so the boss would scold me for leaving the work an hour early to attend to a sick father?”
Adrien chuckled. “The boss may do that. I’m not him, however. What’s with Tom? He looked healthy yesterday.”
“Nothing serious.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “Dad caught a man cold and is being a baby about it. But of course, he didn’t tell me that when he called my work. I thought he was dying and raced over only to find out he has a slight fever and cough.”
Adrien laughed. “Tell him I said Hello and hope he gets better soon.”
“Thank you. I will.” She smiled. “His colds rarely last more than a few days. You, on the other hand, don’t look so well.”
Adrien rubbing the back of his neck, shrugging. “Cold. A regular one, though. Not the one your father has.”
“I hope you feel better soon,” Marinette said, passing him the box in her hands. “I believe these are yours.”
“With these, I definitely will.” Adrien grinned, opening the box. Once the lid was off, he frowned. “Um. I think someone made a mistake. Was Tom the one assembling it?”
Marinette leaned over to look inside the box. “Did he give you the wrong items in his feverish state? Although, I think it was Maman who packed this. Papa’s dying in his bed.”
Adrien shook his head. “Oh no. I have everything I asked for. Double the amount.”
Marinette frowned, glaring to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her following grin was way too tense for Adrien’s liking. “They must have put it for you as get well wishes. Mama loves to spoil their regular customers.”
“I’m not that regular yet,” Adrien said. “I've only started going there after you told me about them a few weeks ago.”
“Really?” Marinette mumbled, still avoiding looking at him. “The way they talk about it, it seems much longer. In any case, enjoy and I’ll go. I have some scolding to do.”
She turned around to leave when a genius idea hit Adrien.
“Hey, Marinette?”
She paused, her body tensing. “Yes?”
“If you have some free time, do you want to come in for a cup of coffee? I mean only if you’re free because I’ve been kind of locked in here all day by myself and wouldn’t mind some company, even for a little while. And I have double the pastry, so… Please? If you want, of course. I don’t insist. I mean if you have free time… and not afraid to catch my cold.”
What was going on with him? Adrien could practically feel his cheeks burning. Why was it so hard to invite a friend for a cup of coffee? It’s not like he was asking her on a date or anything! Geez, Agreste! Compose yourself.
Marinette failed to suppress a chuckle. “I think I’ve already caught all the cold germs I could from Papa,” she said, the most endearing expression on her face he’d seen. “I have an hour to spare.”
Adrien glanced at the clock. It was five. He had to leave anywhere between six and six-fifteen. Perfect.
“Yes, please.” He grinned and prompted her to follow him into the kitchen. His heart full; he could hardly contain his excitement. How lucky was he to get Marinette all to himself for the whole hour? The perfect treat before he had to face Plagg The Tyrant.
Marinette was nice. She was fantastic. She reminded him more and more of Ladybug the longer they’d talked. She was smart and witty and funny and beautiful and everything in between. They had a lot in common, and even chatting about nothing was an experience Adrien would never forget. She made him feel so great; he’d cherish it forever. Somehow, Adrien didn’t notice where the time rushed to off, but when Marinette thanked him for the meal and stood up to leave, the clock showed thirty minutes to seven.
“Don’t be too grumpy about your butt camp,” she said gathering her things. “One of my best friends told me once that moving is the best way to get over a cold. It gets oxygen into your body and helps your blood to expel the germs out of your system faster, so even though it’ll be hard, it’ll help you.”
“Well, yes, mild exercise does. Whatever that glutton puts me through isn't remotely mild.”
Marinette shrugged with a smirk on her face. “Fake a fainting spell when it gets too much? I’m sure he’d let you go if you faint.”
Adrien laughed. “I’ll be sure to follow your advice when the insatiable desire to strangle my coach will kick in.”
Marinette laughed. “Didn’t peg you for a violent person.”
“I’m not. Or rather I wasn’t. Not until I signed up for that cursed course. Now, I’m just praying all the anger won’t spill over, so having someone like you to talk to and relax really helps. Thank you.”
Marinette blushed and standing on her toes, kissed his cheek. “Thank you for the meal.”
Adrien gasped. Her lips were so soft. Warm. Gentle. “Thank you for the company,” he mumbled back, awkwardly waving.
A moment later, she left. Adrien rushed to the bedroom to change. He had twenty minutes left before his lesson.
***
“You’re late.”
“By five seconds?”
“By two minutes and thirty-five seconds.”
Adrien groaned. “Plagg really? I show up here sick, and you lecture me about being two minutes late?”
“Two minutes and thirty-five seconds.”
Adrien closed his eyes trying to breathe evenly.
“And no Camembert that I can see.”
“That’s it,” Adrien snapped. “If you’re going to lecture me about being late and forgetting your damn, stinky cheese for once, then I have the right to ask you when will you start teaching me to dance?”
“What are you talking about?” Plagg stretched innocently, lounging on his throne. “I’ve been teaching you dancing this whole time. What do you think we have been doing here?”
“Pardon me for not noticing,” Adrien snarled. “Or do you call that pointless, excessive repetition of the exercises and moves you make me do dancing?”
Plagg smirked, looking at Adrien. “You’re finally asking questions. Good.”
“I’m glad you’re amused by my curiosity, but can you answer me while you are at it?”
“Feisty, aren’t we?” In one smooth move, Plagg leapt from his throne and walked towards him.
“What did you expect?” Adrien barked. “I’m sick and tired of your crap, and it’s time I finally told you.”
“I didn’t drag you,” Plagg said. “You ran here yourself.”
“As if you left me any choice.”
“There is always a choice,” Plagg said. “But congratulations. Your shell has finally cracked. All we have to do now is to pull you out.”
“What are you talking about?”
Plagg said nothing, stopping behind Adrien.
Adrien turned to face him. When Plagg remained silent instead of answering, Adrien bitterly puffed. “Spectacular avoidance of answering me. You truly are a Master. Only I’m not sure I want to study your craft anymore.”
“Tell me, Adrien,” Plagg said, looking him straight into his eyes. “What is dancing?”
Adrien frowned. “Movement to the music?”
“Wrong.”
“Relaxing?”
“Try again.”
“Exercise.”
Plagg laughed before leaning closer and whispering, “Dancing, Adrien, is storytelling.”
“Storytelling?”
“Exactly,” Plagg said and strolled back to his throne. “People express themselves in a dance just like they do with verbal stories. Moving to the music, they can tell you how their day went, how much they’ve missed something, how much they hate someone. People can tell you their whole story through dance. Now imagine this: you put on music, and you hear the beat, and your mind decides on a move, but BAM! before you can do it the music moved on and the beat has changed. What do you do?”
“You move on and decide on the next one—”
“Only for the same thing to happen again.” Plagg plopped into his throne and added, “A true master never allows his mind to decide their moves for them. He lets his body and the music to become one, unity in the beat, and tell the story without stammering. But, for your body to do that, the moves have to become reflexes.”
Adrien stared at Plagg in a dumbfounded stupor. “So, all this time you’ve been—”
“Implementing new reflexes into you, so you can sing your song, not stutter it out,” Plagg finished for him. “Kid, it’s like learning a language. You must learn to write letters before you can imprint a poem on a blank sheet of paper. Now, stop questioning my methods and take this.” He pulled a small, plastic packet out of his pocket and threw it to Adrien.
Adrien twisted in his hand. “Is this weed?”
Plagg snorted. “No, seriously? Who do you take me for? It’s cold medicine.”
“Are you sure?” Adrien frowned, inspecting the content of the packet. “It looks suspicious.”
“You’re my main Camembert supplier at the moment. Why would I want to poison you?”
Adrien huffed. “I never know what’s on your mind, so don’t blame me for checking.”
Plagg laughed. “I love the level of trust we share, kid. But, seriously. This is some ancient Chinese crap. My doctor makes it himself. It does miracles, though, so you’re lucky I’m sharing because you can’t buy this shit in stores. Make some tea with it and drink before bed. You’ll be brand new in the morning.”
“I guess, thank you?” Adrien said hesitantly.
“Don’t mention it.” Plagg shrugged. “Now get out of my sight before you contaminate this whole place.”
Adrien frowned in disbelief. “What about—”
“You didn’t bring me my cheese. Why should I teach you for free?” Plagg huffed. “Get out and come back tomorrow evening. Oh, wait.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll be busy tomorrow. I’ll call you for time and date later. Now, go. Don’t spread your germs here.”
Adrien stood in his place frozen. A tiny smile sneaked onto his face as he nodded. “Thank you, Plagg. I didn’t expect you to be so—”
“Ugh, geez, kid,” Plagg groaned. “Get out of here before I smack you for being sappy. Just go! Au revoir! See you later. Do svidaniya. Sayōnara. Adiós. What other language do I need to repeat it in?”
“Got it.” Adrien chuckled and headed for the exit. “Thanks for the medicine. I’ll see you later.”
He closed the doors to loud music starting behind him, the smile on his lips not vanishing until he reached home. Who would’ve guessed? Plagg actually cared.
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