Dearly Despised, (I love you)

Kagami

So all things considered, having Ladybug slap him into sense before he let a few screws loose was duly needed.

Point was, he and Marinette had uprooted their game to torturous territories, and Adrien was feverish to begin. It was a game of chicken in public and wit in private; of suffocating pride, because of course it was about pride. It was about who could act better and who could corner the other into a worser state uncomfortability.

Jokes on Marinette, he'd been acting comfortable with his life for as long as he could remember.

"Hmm..." He touched his lip and pondered. "I prefer the name, 'babe', and seeing how your bland face scrunches up after you've said it."

Ice ran over her features. "Don't test yourself."

"But we're alone, sweetheart..." he crooned.

She pushed him away so he couldn't get any closer, then extended her finger to a blurry picture of Ladybug on his locker and dragged it down. "Careful who you're calling sweetheart, your imaginary girlfriend is listening."

"Great, so she can already do more than my fake girlfriend."

As her nail dragged a straight tear down the well-lit photo he'd printed from the Ladyblog, she feigned a gasp at what she'd done. "Oops! I hope Ladybug's cure can fix that for you, since it hasn't done much for the rest of your broken humour."

His brow lowered watching her turn on her heel and slam the locker shut on the way. "Kiss my ass!"

"Maybe later where people can see us!"

Speaking of their game, he was definitely looking forward to their first match.

-

"En garde! Pret, allez!"

It came sooner than expected, but not in the way he had thought.

"Go on Marinette," he lifted his sabre mask, a crude, mocking insinuation on his lips, "you're supposed to touch me."

He couldn't see her roll her eyes but he was sure she did. "I know you'd like that too much."

Impatient with her lack of serve, he flicked the mask back over and readied his professional stance. "Then hurry and prove to me how much I'd like it."

For someone who had never fenced Marinette was – he was going to say good, then remembered the paradox of her associated with that word, and decided on alright.

When he'd seen that Marinette was attempting to join D'Argentcourt Academy – and was paired with him no less – he didn't even bother to rub his blade down with steel wool to remove any burrs since he didn't think there'd be much of a game. He didn't feel the need to explain the rules of sabre fencing to her either, like how the attacker doesn't necessarily win the point if he touches his opponent first. Thus, when Marinette took the 'initiative' after he'd struck her, he didn't mention that since she had priority and he could only pair her riposte, she had won the point. But she would've figured it out sooner or later, he supposed.

But she didn't.

Only because someone attempting to enter the class took over the premise, clad in dangerous red, back and shoulders straight and their mask doing little to overshadow their confidence as they requested to duel the best fencer there to gain dramatic entry into the club.

His classmates pushed Adrien forward.

Red Fencer were better than anyone he'd ever duelled; quick, unhesitant, lashing their sabre at his target areas and pushing him up their stairs of François Dupont's courtyard as he dodged and aimed the button of his blade back. It was attack after remise after lunge after riposte, their lethality taking Adrien aback in both senses of the word.