"That's IT. My father will hear about this!"

Adrien winced as the door to the studio slammed shut, yet again. A bout of silence had permeated the room. Most of the other dancers had quiet frowns, a small few with open mouths, never having been a first-hand witness to the fury that is Chloe Borgouis.

Madam Bustier was having none of it. Call it one tantrum too many, but Adrien had only seen that look in the choreographer's eyes one other time, and it had ended with at least five of the corpsgirls in tears.

"She wants to be a little princess…fine!" she adjusted the shawl on her shoulders and motioned to her assistant. "Reassign Chloe as 'The Princess' for the show."

Adrien's eyes widened. The assistant sputtered, clearly uncomfortable. "But! Madam Bustier, that's a minor role! She's only present in three scenes! Chloe will—

"I know, but my ballet has no place for a diva."

"But who will dance the—

"There is an understudy, you know."

With this, Madame Bustier turned towards the throng of ballet girls hanging by the barres.

"Marinette, if you will."

There was a squeak, and then a thin, dark-haired girl slowly stood up from the floor. Her hair was wrapped in a simple bun, with some stubborn locks that framed her face.

"P-present!"

"Goodness gracious, girl, we're not in class." Madam Bustier's voice was harsh, but her eyes had since softened.

"Uh, yes ma'am I MEAN Madame!"

Adrien had seen the girl before—he noted that she often stayed behind after rehearsal, just to practice the steps one more time. He had to admire that kind of dedication. However, he (as well as the rest of the company) had no idea that she was Chloe's understudy—or even that Chloe HAD an understudy, for that matter. Still, now the fact that he saw the Madame helping Marinette long after rehearsal made a lot of sense.

"Good. Anyways, I'm assigning you as 'The Red Lady,' starting immediately."

"So that means I'll dance with…" her voice trailed off, staring at Adrien with something close to wonder.

He tried to return with a smile that he hoped came off as sincere. Someone in awe wasn't new. Without sounding like a narcissist, he was used to it. As Gabriel Agreste's son, he had joined the Royale Ballet as a soloist at the young age of seventeen, being promoted to Principal by nineteen. A true child prodigy, even if dancing wasn't his father's first choice of how Adrien would succeed the Agreste legacy.

Gabriel had grumbled when he first joined the company about how composing would have to wait. "You can…move while you're young, Adrien." He had sternly spit out at dinner one night. "…but when you are older, then you will master how to create."

His father had compounded that last word with a neat, but precise slice of his fillet mignon. Adrien understood the implication.

Madam Bustier's pointed look towards him commanded his attention back to the present. "Yes, with Adrien. From the top of the scene, if you will."

She gestured a delicate hand to the pianist, who immediately began playing the starting tones of Gabriel Agreste's newest innovative ballet piece. "Le Chat Noir," in which Adrien was cast as the titular character, concerned a black cat that was in love with a princess and goes on an adventure to rescue her. On the way, he meets a guardian-angel sort of character, "Le Dame en Rouge," who guides him to defeat the warlock villain.

Without a second thought, he turned a hand towards the girl (Marinette, was it?) to prepare for their first pas de deux.

Her hesitation was obvious. "Come on, you wouldn't be the understudy if Madame Bustier thought ill of you…Marinette."

The girl's hand felt a bit shaky, but fit nicely within his palm when she took it anyway.

"And a five, six, seven, eight…"

As soon as their cue hit Marinette burst to life. If he hadn't drilled the moves into his bones when practicing with Chloe earlier, he might've been stunned. Every footfall was on point, every extension of her arm strong and not what he expected. In the mirror there was an odd determination in her blue, blue eyes.

Suddenly, she broke away from him. The music told him that this was the part where he stood back and let her do her fouettés. This was the toughest piece of choreography for this scene; Chloe struggled with the tight turns, and it was her fifth stumble that made her rage out of the studio just minutes prior.
The contrast could not be more obvious as Marinette began her rotations. Her thin practice skirt swirled around her leotard as she completed another set of double fouettés, her extra-hours practice evident. He crossed over downstage, never taking his eyes off of her. She was—

"Breathtaking!" exclaimed their choreographer as she clapped her hands, silencing the piano.

The ebony-haired girl swayed to a stop, and even she seemed to notice the eerie sense of awe that pierced the room. Her cheeks suddenly swelled with a rosy color, brought on by both physical output and embarrassment. Madame Bustier didn't seem to notice.

"I didn't think you had picked up the steps so well! I was going to go slow with the two of you for the pas de deux, but I wanted to see where this little firecracker went!" She went to go pat Marinette softly on the shoulders, and then resumed her seat in front of the mirrors. "Alright, I want to start from the top again. Adrien, pay mind to your expression. You look like a fish, not a cat."

Adrien snapped his jaw shut at the comment and tried not to pick up on the giggles that echoed around the dance room.

They practiced for another two hours, mostly on the pas de deux. Finally, the rehearsal session switched over to the full company dances. Adrien was glad for the break and met up with his new partner at the water fountain.

"Hi," he offered as he waited for her water bottle to fill. Her back straightened. "Oh, hey." She smiled a bit awkwardly as the water sloshed out of her polka-dotted bottle. "Um, I don't think I properly introduced myself earlier…"

"With dancing like yours, I'm not sure an introduction is needed." He sent her a cheeky smile, but he meant every word. Who would have known that the corps held such a talent?

"Oh, uh—that was just because Ma'am I mean Madame Bustier helped me so much after class! She's a great teacher." "Agreed." There was a moment when the two of them held eye contact until he bent down to grab his own fill of refreshing water.

His drink was almost spoiled by a shriek from across the room. "What do you mean I've been reassigned?" He sighed. Chloe had returned.

Making his way quickly to his bag, he packed up his shoes and practically ran out of the studio. The crisp spring air met his face as he finally made it outside of the dark building. The sun had already set.
Picking up a Royale with Cheese from the fast food joint right on the corner, he walked a few extra minutes to his apartment. Having a famous father had a few perks, one of them being a nice one bedroom place right in the middle of Paris (and conveniently close to the ballet).

"Hiya Plagg." He bent down to scratch the chin of his cat, a stray he found on his balcony one evening that stuck with him ever since. The bending brought attention to the strain in his thighs, a product of one too many jumps. The role of Chat Noir was nearly acrobatic, a task that required a lot of endurance training. He groaned and made his way to the bedroom.

Once he had neatly collapsed on his bed, he remembered to check his phone. A missed phone call from Chloe, with a voice mail he didn't have the current patience for. A text message from Nino, with the generic "How u been." No other new messages, but that was normal.

He must've been more tired than he thought. Sleep overcame him like a well-welcomed blanket.

He dreamt of blue.

Adrien felt the buzz from his phone through the mattress.

He twisted over and was granted a quick moment of peace when the buzzing stopped, only for it to start again a few seconds later.

Cracking his eyes open, Adrien quickly looked for the source of his early wake up call.

He reached over to find his best friend's name and picture staring back at him. Of course.

"Hey," he offered meekly.

"Yo Adrien! What's up? Are we still on for lunch?"

It took a second to remember that it was a Saturday, which meant he didn't have to show up at work until six for the company's performance of Giselle that night.

"Yeah, just give me a second. What time is it?"

"Already 11, dude. You okay? You sound exhausted."

Adrien grimaced, and stretched a sore muscle in his calves. "What's new?"

With a promise to meet up in an hour for some late brunch, the blonde got up slowly to find that his cat had gotten into last night's forgotten cheeseburger.

"Aw Plagg! You know that stuff isn't good for you."

The cheeseburger was whisked away amidst a protest of soft mewls. Luckily, his faithful pet quieted down after Adrien cracked open a can of cat food.

His stomach growled as he clambered around his meager kitchen for a clean glass. "You have a bigger appetite than me, my friend."

The kitchen, like the rest of the place, was void of decorations. A black coffee maker he had gotten last Christmas. A small table, with two folding chairs. The floor was clean enough, and having Plagg around meant that he never saw a cockroach. To be honest, his apartment was only a place to eat, bathe, and sleep.

Finding a mug in the back of a cabinet, he quickly filled it with water to quench his parched throat. Plagg continued to ravish his cat food. He thought about how nice it would be to skip a show just for the night. He was only part of the ensemble in this show, and an understudy to the male lead. Surely someone else could fill in his few scenes of standing in front of the village set with a smile comfortably plastered on his face.

He squashed this daydream quickly and refilled his mug. Work nowadays in not what he had once envisioned it to be. His earliest memories were sitting at the corner of two wall mirrors, absentmindingly coloring in a picture as his Maman twirled with her dance partner, practically floating around the floor.

People still talked about his late mother's grace, both on and off the stage. She was the one who every ballerina in the company aspired to be, the one who handed out candy canes to the children after every Nutcracker performance, chest still heaving from the performance. When Adrien was young, he would go to ecolé and then get picked up by the Agreste bodyguard, who then drove him over to the studio. Back then, his dad was still an up-and-coming composer, and would sit in on the rehearsals to play the practice music himself. He remembered his parents smiling a lot.

It was only natural that Adrien wanted to join in on their secret game of ballet. Maman taught him every position, and soon enough he joined the Junior Company. The rest was history.

If his parents were not who they were, would he have ended up dancing? It was a question that seemed to come up in his mind a lot lately, annoying him like a piece of meat between your teeth that you can't quite dig out.

The steps, he could do them. The long hours, he had gotten used to. Everything pointed to the perfect child star.

And yet.

His cat had finished his food, and made sure Adrien knew it. He bent down to scratch the black cat's head. Plagg made a sound of want.

"Yeah, me too."

"Anything new lately?"

Adrien finished his mouthful of croissant. A "nothing," rolled on his tongue, until he remembered something.

"Chloe was reassigned in the new show."

Nino's brown eyes widened. "Wow! I can't believe it. That prima donna?"

"Yeah, I know. She's fine of course, but I guess Madame Bustier just had enough."

His friend chuckled. "Fine? Chloe's been dancing almost as long as you have. Who's good enough to replace her, attitude check or not?"

Black hair and a twirling skirt flashed through his mind. "There's this girl from the corps that's my new partner. She's pretty good."

This woke up his companion even more. "A new girl huh? Is she cute?"

"Nino."

"What? Just wondering."

Adrien paused. "She's nice, I guess. Nice smile."

Nino peered at his friend a little bit too long. He nodded. "So she's cute?"

They both laughed.

"I guess so."

"Cold man." Nino took another rough bite of his baguette. "…Just cold! I can't wait to meet the girl that somehow catches your eye."

His parents flashed through his mind. "It's not going to be anyone at the studio, that's for sure. When do you have to leave?"

"Don't worry, my call time is in an hour and a half. I have time."

"What about costume?"

Nino smirked and waved his hand in front of his chest. "This IS the costume."

Now that he mentioned it, Adrien noticed that his friend's attire was a bit less colorful than what he usually wore.

"You know you're not supposed to take that out of the theatre. The shop manager's going to freak."

"Ah, don't worry, she's got a sweet spot for me. Speaking of cute girls…" Nino trailed off, making an hourglass shape with his hands.

"You're going to make me lose my appetite."

"Your father would be so proud to see that you're keeping your diet."

Adrien glared as Nino started laughing once again.

"And a one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight."

Footfalls fell into one another as Adrien tried to keep up with the beat. This particular solo for Chat Noir was frantic, while keeping with the same energetic steps that characterized the animalistic role.

At his next break, he glanced at Marinette on the other side of the room, blocking out some positions with the choreographer. The director of the ballet was also there that day, checking in on the rehearsal progress. Both older adults looked pleased.

"What are you looking at, Adri-honey?"

He suppressed his initial cringe with practiced endurance.

"Nothing, Chloe. How are you?"

"Upset. And angry. How dare they think a little…cricket like her can take up the lead role when the show's just a few weeks away? Unbelievable." Her miffed eyes glared towards Marinette's direction.

He wanted to say how Marinette had been her understudy from the beginning, but Adrien was not the sort of person to make waves. He settled for a half-hearted nod.

"Adrien! Come over here, we'd like to go over the first pas de deux again."

Without another word, his tired limbs trudged over to his partner's side. After a brief hello all around, the music began.

Things flowed as well as they had a few nights prior. His feet did as he commanded, and Marinette was…she was…

Fire. Passion. Honestly a bit distracting.

And it wasn't long before Bustier called him out on it.

"Stop the music." The piano died down.

The choreographer closed her eyes for a second, then snapped them open. "This music of your father's," Adrien felt a twinge, "it's very lively, no? The interaction between Chat Noir and Le Dame en Rouge is supposed to be dynamic. Flexible. They both balance and support one another throughout the performance, especially at the end."

"I want to see that between you; the audience should be able to as well. You both have the moves down pretty well, but you need to work on complementing."

"A character study. That's what you two need. Adrien, what does Chat Noir do when he first meets the Lady?"

His mind raced back to the rehearsed steps. "He circles her for three counts and then bows low—

"Not the blocking. Here, show me what he does." She motioned her palms forward as Adrien stumbled on what to do. He turned to his partner. She echoed his confused stare for a second, but nonetheless popped up into third position, her hands gracefully curved in an oval in front of her.

Chat Noir. Chat Noir. What would a black cat do at this moment?

His mind turned to his furry friend at home. Of course!

He started his circling, his eyes not straight ahead like normal but trained on his partner, assessing her every move. He lunged onto the floor, a cat's playful bow, but something compelled him to take his Lady's hands and bow his face onto them, half a nuzzle and half a pantomimed kiss. His rise was slow, and languid; Cats do everything on their own time, after all.

The director was the one to speak this time. "Great! Exactly the sort of mood we want for the show." He patted Madame Bustier on the shoulder. "I knew we couldn't have gone wrong with casting Adrien."

Chat Noir himself tried not to grin too wide.

The rest of practice went smoothly.

"Good job tonight, Marinette."

Her face flew up from her towel, looking almost startled that he was talking to her.

"O-oh of course! I mean, thanks! You did great too…well you always do great, um…"

She trailed off. Must be left-over endorphins from all the dance practice.

"I mean it though. You got the essence of the Red Lady down super quickly. I wish I was as good at you when it comes to that."

He meant it. Her already controlled dancing was accompanied tonight with a style of power and confidence. She had this sort of smile, a certain sideways glance that Adrien hoped would translate onto the audience in the same way it affected him up close. At least his demeanor tonight was starting to match up with hers.

She must've taken a mind-reading class in between rehearsals. "Well, try to keep up, handsome boy." Her eyebrows may or may not have waggled.

He blinked, then felt his stomach buckle as he laughed, really laughed, for the first time in a few weeks. He watched in delight as Marinette's cheeks pinked.

"W-what?"

"Getting a bit too much into character, I see?"

"You could use some of it, I feel," she challenged back.

"Oh?" His feet took a step forward before he knew it, forcing her to lean back into the barre. Her big blue eyes careened up at his face.

From this close up, he could see a smattering of freckles across her nose, her black hair sticking to the underside of her jawline due to perspiration. All of her sharp edges when she was dancing as his Lady were dulled here.

His lips were suddenly very, very dry. He held back the urge to lick them.

"So I didn't make enough of a good im-purr-ession?"

She giggled again, but her blush intensified. "That was pretty horrible, kitty."

At that point, someone called for Marinette's name and he was left alone with a wave. His spine snapped up. Perhaps all the stuff the choreographer had said that day was really getting into his head. Talk about a character study.

For some reason, Nino's face came up in his mind as he watched Marinette fiddle with the buttons on her coat before she stepped to leave the dance room. Her face wrinkled, maybe a bit averse to the idea of the brisk night air.

Yeah, she was kind of cute.