Cheesecake

It had all begun due to Adrien Agreste—as his crime-fighting alter-ego, Chat Noir—making yet another failed attempt to woo his mysterious, black-spot clad partner Ladybug. Such a feat that Adrien had been struggling to accomplish for almost ten years. Ten full years of running on rooftops, chasing down butterflies, staying lookout even in some of the most romantic places in the alleged city of love, Paris, and yet, the blond boy had never so much as scraped the surface when it came to charming the woman of his affections.

The bell of the bakery jingled upon his entrance in such a way that irritated the Agreste boy, for the chiming of the bell was much too cheerful a sound for him to hear today. There's a faint shuffling to be heard in the back of the shop, the culprit as to which was revealed to be a short bluenette carrying several boxes of baked goods, several of the aforementioned boxes being balanced on her head.

"Apologies, Monsieur," speaks the girl, aimed in the direction of Adrien. The boy had his hood covering the entirety of his shoulders and head, concealing both his hair and face from view. He sighed faintly in acknowledgement that the girl was speaking without looking up to see her. "Monsieur—you see, you can't be in here, we're about to shut for the night."

He grimaced, then pushes the hood of his jacket down from his head and down his neck. "Look, can I please get a cheesecake?"

The bluenette doesn't register what had been said, for she recognises the boy—man—before her. Much older, still, but with the looming features of the teenage Agreste, it we definitely him. That, and the girl had been seeing his face plastered around the city for the last decade. "Adrien, honestly, I remember you had more manners than that."

It is the first time Adrien looks at the woman waiting on him, and he instantly identifies her to be that of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

"Mari," he faintly breathes the old nickname with the slight tenderness of a once fond memory, "Please, can you get me a cheesecake?"

"Of course, Monsieur Agreste."

She disappears for a brief moment into the back, and then re-emerges with a plate of cheesecake in hand. She places it in front of him, allowing her hand to linger from placing it down as she awaits a response.

"Mercí, Mari," he finally says after several moments.

For most, it would be left at just that. However, Marinette couldn't help but see the looming emptiness in his eyes, almost like the playful nature of the boy of yesteryears had shrivelled away into the bitter man she sees here—but no, that's impossible. He's Adrien Agreste.

"What are you doing here, Adrien?" she asks him, grabbing a cloth from the sink and beginning to wipe down the tables of the bakery. Adrien exhales in slight exasperation, "I wanted to drink my body weight in liquor but I realised that would be damaging to my reputation. I can see the headlines now: 'Model Adrien Agreste Dies From Alcohol Poisoning, Father Sees It As A Minor Setback'."

Marinette momentarily stops her motion of cleaning tables, "Since when did you become so cynical? Clearly, a lot has changed since high school—"

"Have you ever felt so completely and utterly tormented by love that you can't take it anymore?" he reveals in a sudden outburst.

Marinette contemplates on what exactly was said for a moment, and then another. "Love trouble?"

Adrien snickers, like he had just discovered the most remarkable joke, "Lady trouble."

To that, he receives the raise of an eyebrow. Adrien was arguably the most handsome man in Paris, not to mention astoundingly rich. Marinette would assume that there would be several girls lining up for a chance with him. "But you're Adrien Agreste."

"See, this lady of mine doesn't know that, nor will she ever know that. The only person she knows is me, as myself, not as a model, not as the son of Gabriel Agreste, simply as me."

Marinette doesn't know how it could be that the girl, his 'lady', somehow didn't realise who he was. Instead, she focuses on something else, "How long have you been pining for this girl?"

Adrien breathes a sigh of deep regret, "Okay, but don't laugh," he warns her. She shrugs at the very thought of it, "What is there to laugh at?"

"I'm pathetic," he attempts to explain, though the 'loser' effect really is shattered by perfection of him. "Ten years."

"Ten years?" Marinette almost exclaims at the revelation. "That's a long time to like someone."

"I don't just 'like' her, Mari," the tenderness of the nickname returning to his voice, "I love her."

Marinette suddenly realises the cliché that is this moment: Adrien Agreste, pouring his heart out to a stranger a counter as they clean. The only difference between this and the expected is that, in the expectation, Adrien would have consumed more alcohol then he should have.

Adrien finishes his cheesecake, somehow considerably cheered up by the food. He brushes away non-existent crumbs from his shirt and wipes cream from his mouth. The hood of his jacket is re-adjusted to his head to once again conceal his identity, and he holds out a handful of money to Marinette.

"Thirty euros?" the bluenette mentally counts the money in his palm, "The cheesecake's only five—"

"Thanks for letting me… whatever that was… vent?" Adrien doesn't let her protest, instead forcing the money into her hand. "Take it. Please, I've got more than I need."

Reluctantly, Marinette closes her hands over the money, and with that, the much-too-cheerful sound of the bell rings once more, this time no longer too cheerful.

author's note: it is to be kept in mind that i randomly came up with this idea and decided to write it at four in the morning. i'll probably be making this into either a two shot or a three shot? i'm not particularly sure but this won't be a long story, mostly because i already have another reveal fic in the works.