Return to Sender - Ch. 1
Some interconnected ML drabbles for Lukanette February
Read on Ao3
Tags: Delivery Service AU, Sort of a Coffee Shop AU?, no miraculous, Personal Stylist! Marinette, Delivery Boy! Luka, Aged Up
Summary: Personal Stylist Marinette Dupain-Cheng gets dragged into a last minute trip with one of her clients and ends up back in Paris, France, after working in China for four years. A series of fateful encounters brings her face to face with Luka Couffaine, Paris's most popular and well known delivery boy with a talent for music.
Chapter 1: Mine
The soft patter of rain against the cobblestone alley was music to Marinette’s ears as she stepped out of her back door. Since she had moved, no matter what she tried, the apartment always felt too confining and stiff. Which, honestly, it was, compared to the cool and rainy air of Chengdu, and her tiny flat there. Four years of working in southwest China had made her forget about how dry and bland Paris could feel at times.
That wasn’t a problem, exactly, but she did miss the climate of the place she now thought of as home. It was humid, but usually not too hot. That wasn’t even bringing up the lifestyle there either. It was city life without the pressure of an over-expensive and over-saturated market built on tourism. Fashion was part of everyday life, and she could eat at a dingy food stand one night and an aesthetic cafè the next. The best part was that people were always looking for the next interesting thing, and her commissions had taken off because of that.
But now she was back in Paris, staying in a borrowed apartment for the month, all for some event that she had been volunteered for at the last second. Was it an excellent opportunity? Of course. Did she still wish she had never left China? Undoubtedly.
It was a little uncomfortable, but she was still trying to make the best of it. Her parents had been ecstatic when she finally told them she would be in Paris for a whole month. They had even offered her her old room for the month, which she had quickly declined, not wanting to step back into her old life that much. Even with the awkwardness, she was still a little happy to be in the city she had grown up in, and she had plans to catch up with some old family and friends over the month. Plus, her schedule for the event kept her busy enough that she hopefully wouldn’t get too bored for the month.
It was only the morning of her second day, after she had crashed immediately upon landing the day before. She hardly even remembered leaving the airport, let alone getting to her apartment, but she had woken up in a strange bed and reminded herself where she was. After a cup of green tea hadn’t quite woken her up, she had dragged herself through the process of getting ready.
It was only as she looked in the mirror that she had the thought that Chengdu street style was much more adventurous than Parisian, and she hadn’t really packed anything that would fit in. The girl she had been before she left Paris would have been terrified at that, but this version of Marinette took pride in it, and stepped into the alley way with experienced charisma. She was even happier when she noticed the rain, just light enough to not need an umbrella, which was good considering she hadn’t actually packed one. She popped the collar of her blazer and stepped out of the doorway completely. A gust of wind shivered down the alleyway and she pulled the jacket tighter around herself and shaking her scarf loose in the process. She unwrapped it and pulled it off the rest of the way so that she could readjust it, but another strong breeze barrelled into her and knocked it out of her hand. The pale pink fabric fluttered down the alleyway, coming to a stop for just a moment only to be picked up by another wind current. She started after it, lightly jogging to catch up to the scarf and almost wrapping her hand around it before it was carried away again. Giving it a look, as if to say ‘really?’, she sped up behind it. Preoccupied with her annoyance, she didn’t notice the person stepping into the alleyway until they reached out and snagged the scarf from the air and she skidded to a halt in front of them.
“Oh! Uh, sorry, that’s mine,” she apologized quickly, holding her hand out for it. “The wind just kind of swept it up.”
The man smiled slightly and nodded, gently handing it to her. She curled her hands around the now damp scarf, shaking her head.
“Well, uhm, thank you! For catching it, I mean,” she stuttered awkwardly and doing her best to give him a polite smile in return. He didn’t seem to be the talkative type, which wasn’t a problem by any means at all, but it was something contradictory to his look at least. He looked every bit like some kind of alternative rock star, ripped black jeans and a jean jacket covered in patches from a variety of bands. His hair was just a little too long and just a little too messy, with teal dyed tips.
“No worries,” he finally replied and her heart jumped inside her chest. He had what might be the kindest voice she had ever heard, and that was even more startling when paired with his edgy aesthetic. He gave her one last smile and started to turn around and she could feel herself staring awkwardly without any willpower to stop herself. Then, just as he started to walk, she managed to find her voice.
“Wait!” She called a little too loudly, quickly fumbling with her purse. By some miracle, she managed to find a business card and slide it out, holding it out to him. “Sorry. I’m Marinette. That scarf is actually, I guess important, sort of? So thank you, again. If I can repay you in any way, give me a call.”
He raised a brow at her and she flushed, quickly holding her hands up and shaking her head.”I swear I’m not flirting with you, I would never, well I mean, not never, you’re obviously attractive but I mean that totally professionally, I think. Oh, what am I saying, I soun-”
In the middle of her rambling, he burst into laughter and she froze, eyes wide and face as red as a tomato. It took him an embarrassingly long time to finish laughing at her, and Marinette was just about ready to pass out.
“Sorry, sorry, that was just… cute. And, thanks for the compliment, I think. I’m Luka.” He took the business card and gave her one last smile before walking away, leaving her standing there like an idiot with the dorkiest grin on her face. After a long minute, she shook herself out of it and hurried back into her apartment, closing the door and falling back into it.
“Oh. My. God. I am such an idiot.”