Dearly Despised, (I love you)

Pinned

A/N: Marinette receives some delightful news about the next hour

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"It's a chance for you guys to make up!"

"Hilarious." Marinette held up a blushed silk to herself, judging the shade to the almost-dress she'd been working on. "Hawk Moth will get his grimy hands on my earrings before that ever happens."

"I think Miss Bustier's right! There's potential for you guys!"

"Tikki—" She sighed, pinching her forehead. "You've been talking non-stop about me being friends with Adrien ever since my principal turned into a Batman rip-off. What's up? Is it the pretending-to-be-in-a-relationship thing? You know that's not a big deal."

The kwami folded her leg-looking things, floating as she said with gentle candour, "You have couples' therapy today,Marinette."

"Today?! What? That's like—" Her arms and legs flailed, panic seeping deep in her chest. With Marinette's relationship with organisation, her brazen body language and chipped fingernails latching her dark hair was nothing out of the ordinary. "—That's like today! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I told you yesterday!"

"That's not enough warning!"

After the pigeon akuma (again), Marinette was rapt by some ditsy fantasy, believing she had gotten lucky enough to get an extended lunch wherein she could complete her latest formal dinner outfit –a cowl topped and tule skirted dress, and in need of some hemming. But that had to wait.

Now fighting for an imaginary inhaler, she realised she had brittle hours until being seated beside Asshole Agreste as they lied about how much they didn't want to rip each other's heads off.

"Marinette, just calm down, it's okay!"

"I have until the end of the day to prepare what I'm going to say!" The loose, blushed fabric from the dress's hoop sprayed out and formed rivulets as she spun, motiveless, grappling her drawings and sewing gear and likely messing up the workstation more than packing it away. A thimble bounced off the desk and hit the toe of her slipper.

"But..." Tikki started with that tone you just know means bad news, "didn't she pen you in after lunch since you both have a spare lesson?"

Her footing was lost. Marinette slipped over the thimble and beseeched the heavens with a hoopla of woes. The tedious dress caught her fall but pricked a pin or two in her arm. Teeth pressed, she reached to the lip of the table where a tissue box peaked. Once it toppled, she cloaked the small portion of her arm before the pink dress could turn red.

"This is the worst...."

"Marinette!" Sabine, the under-worried voice of her mother, called from the staircase. "Are you alright? Someone's waiting to see you!"

Alya, she thought, hiking the layers of fabric to her waist so she could stand. She'd mentioned she might come to bag a pastry for some extra lunch and could now help whatever seven situations she'd gotten herself into. The relief unlaced the tightness in her chest. Maybe her luck wasn't too bad after all.

"Yeah I'm fine! Just send them up!"

Tikki shot into thin air as Marinette gathered her dignity in shell-pink bunches, her loose hair falling from behind her ears so she couldn't see her feet, Alya's steps resounding not too far off. Since the pins had readjusted themselves, the skirts' layers were peeling and made its wearer's balance ever the more delicate. The trapdoor unlatched.

Beneath her bangs toed the ends of orange converse.

"Gah!"

That danged thimble. Her head careened forward, hitting a solid, slightly rigid surface as two grips attempted to stable her during the fall, but both bodies were too far angled. When they hit the padded rug, the unnerving lack of pain caused her to blink three times at the face still grimacing—