Harbored

Clothing

"Lose the goofy grin and tell me your name, Sugar Lips," Marinette informally pronounced in a hushed tone, just in case a guard or two was lingering. The unsuspected term of endearment only threw him more off balance hormonally. 

They both still remained in the unlit corner, Adrien mentally hashing out what the hell just occurred between the two of them. He had to find a way to relax, or else he sensed disaster would strike upon him. If she had any knowledge of just what her kiss had done to him and his seemingly deep fried brain, he would never hear the end of it.

Going off her reaction, he assumed that she was quite indifferent to the whole situation, and didn't think twice about it. He longed to feel that way, no matter how desperately hard he tried, Adrien knew he would never forget how he felt during that one incredible moment.

Leaving her question open to the wind, he simply shrugged his shoulders before saying, "Oh gee, sorry. My name is Adrien Agreste." Like that of a nervous tick, he rubbed the front of his throat. 

With a simple gesture, she navigated him by the hand once more, silently creeping further down the hallway. Marinette looked over her shoulder at him, the blue surrounding her pupil flashing brightly, despite the dark setting. Adrien feebly attempted to play it cool, and tried to swallow his love sickness and appear disconnected. Continuing her path down a place he had no clue how to maneuver, his embarrassment steadied some, a lingering pinch of an unnameable emotion remained stagnant in the deepest pit of his stomach.

Adrien was never one to actively start conversations, no matter who his audience was. He sure as hell was not going to admit his feelings to a girl he met briefly for maybe a half hour before hand. Many unpleasant realizations soaked and clung to his entirety like that of a damp blanket. 

While being an avid fan of quiet time, Adrien wished Marinette would say something about her private display of, what he desired to be, affection. Even a mere grunt of acknowledgement would be welcomed with open arms. Indeed, there were worse things than being blindly lead by a midnight beauty. One of those things being nonreciprocated feelings of devotion.

Marinette brought one slender finger to her glossed lips to indicate mandatory muteness. He watched as she nimbly ripped a piece of elegant wallpaper to reveal a thin wooden door. Adrien's Adam's apple wobbled as he took a thick gulp. 

"Tada!" she whisper yelled to him. Not knowing what else to do, he followed her, once again for the up-teenth time, into an unknown location.

Apprehension settled into his system as a multitude of questions bubbled in his mind. "First order of business is a costume change," she blandly said. The two found an oil lamp and watched as it flickered on. Once they discovered a massive pile of colorful clothes, and they comfortably flopped down on a nearby bench, taking in everything. 

Adrien seized the opportunity by asking, "Start from the beginning and tell me how on earth you ended up here." Marinette's eyes drifted about the room, unconsciously picking her next words.

"Whoa, backstories later, Sunny Boy. I am assuming you have yet to eat supper, so we need new clothing so we can feed that growing body of yours," she smirked. Her words verbally abused him as Marinette blatantly ignored his serious question. 

If it was one thing he hated, it was being left to wander in the dark without so much as a flashlight.

"I am to be an adult in one years time, one would think I have fully physically matured," Adrien irritatedly growled. The melodic laughter that slipped through her precious lips made him dazedly stare at her seemingly unshapely glamor. It's not that Marinette wasn't attractive, mainly because, hot damn, she was, but it was as if Adrien was the only person in the whole world who could recognize it properly.

After taking a mental innovatory of the spacious closet, Marinette gathered up a pinstriped ensemble in her delicate arms, and haphazardly shooed him behind the hanging divider. Upon yanking on the old fashioned suit, Adrien smoothed out the wrinkles by the sweaty palm of his hand. Starting a staring contest with his reflection in the full body mirror, he did his best to give a tranquilizing pep talk in his own head. 

"Is the coast all clear?" he asked, assuming she was also changing.

"Aye aye, Captain!"

His gentle fingers slowly peeled the curtain back. No amount of calming, inspirational speeches could have ever prepared his heart enough for the sight bestowed in front of him.

Marinette was entombed in a velvety deep emerald fabric that complimented her ashen skin wondrously. The gown was entirely backless and her skirt fetchingly pooled around her, exquisitely draping her petite figure. Ebony hair was alluringly tied up by glittering charms. Her last dress was pretty but by goodness if this one wasn't so visually appealing.

It would have been ordained merciful if someone had ripped his heart out plum of his chest.

Shit.

Languidly, Marinette spun all the way around, facing Adrien. He desperately squandered the thought of acting on his newly acquired feelings. Half of it was due to being raised as a true gentleman, the other half was credited to not knowing how she felt about him. Surely, Adrien was not about to embarrass himself yet again in the short time they had known each other.

Marinette crossed the space between them before she set her delicate hand on his flushed cheek. Thoughtfully looking into his eyes, Adrien's heart liquified into gelatinous goo. Abruptly, she practically slapped on what he thought to be a false mustache to his reddened face.

"Loose the stunned look and you might actually look decent," she sing-songed. "Y-You look beautiful," Adrien shamefully stuttered. 

Just when he thought he had experienced enough flusteredness for the rest of his lifetime, fate had other ideas. Sticking her tongue out at the gown, she replied, "If I had the equipment I would alter this drab to be modernly slim to fit. I mean it's either this hunk of junk, or a bright yellow atrocity from the last century."

"I am uncertain, Marinette. You might have me convinced you could pull off a disgusting brown nightmare," Adrien stated as he subtly tried to swoon her. Her slender eyebrow raised at his frank and audacious comment. "Not that I think you would wear such an outfit but if you did, you would still look nice," he said, only making Marinette that much more smug.

"Listen here, Doll Face, I am in no need of a confidence boost any time soon but... your nervousness was kind of entertaining to watch. So I thank you," she duly noted aloud. 

"Glad you find enjoyment out of my misery, Marinette," he glowered.

Before she could respond, Adrien's stomach agitatedly released a series of noises that could have easily been heard two countries away. He could also feel his teeth practically shake with want, pain pulsing and stinging his gums. "Ah hah! Someone is hungry after all! Hurry along, Butterscotch. I know just the place," Marinette announced odiously.

For the millionth time, he found a tinge of weirdness in traipsing behind her once again. Only this time, Adrien minded it much less, as he laid gaze above the bared lower dimples of her back, where a freckled birthmark could be blatantly spotted.