Harbored

Caviar

Adrien wondered how he had never stopped to ponder how Marinette knew each passage in the palace like it was natural and instinctual. She never once had to pause before proceeding. Marinette just clipped along at a nice pace with no care in the world. 

It was as though she had grown up here, as this monstrosity of a castle could not be easily navigated. It really wasn't an impossible thought; Marinette could be the daughter of a staff member or one herself. If so, then how did she manage to snag a desired job such as that?

Whether on accident or purposeful, Adrien did not know, as Marinette gave his hand a firm squeeze. This, in turn, shattered his current thoughts as Adrien solely focused on the comfort of her soft hand. And with that, she let his arm drop by his side, untangling their fingers. 

Disappointment, in its rawest form, flooded over his body.

However, she ushered him to what he assumed was the back door of the kitchen. Marinette gently cracked the door to see just how many workers she had to first get rid of. She pulled a concentrated look on her face as she mentally mulled over what the best method was.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Everyone here will see me and automatically know something is up. I do not think they have seen your wanted posters yet, so I need you to go in there and act like you own the place."

Adrien's eyes widened at the thought of tricking innocent people all for one measly meal. How long could he curb his hunger? 

And when did his actions ever warrant the hanging of wanted posters with his picture attached?

"Adrien! Listen to me. Relax. I will help guide you through this, I just need you to appear like you are taking the lead here," she comforted hushedly as she placed her hand on his shoulder gingerly. 

"And just how are you going to do that? Are you not forgetting that I'm the only one with fake facial hair? And how do these people know you?" he hysterically whined. The amount of childlike tantrums he threw really ought to be embarrassing. "Oh how you underestimate me, my Dear Lamb Chop," she sassed. Marinette, he decided, had undiagnosed selective hearing.

Adrien watched in disbelief as she scooped up her billowing skirt to reveal a small satchel of sorts, tantalizingly strapped to her thigh. "What are you doing!?" he screeched. Calloused palms covered his closed eyes as to give her proper privacy, despite the fact that she was the one who decided to bare her toned legs in all their glittering glory.

"Quit being a six year old. I need you to unclip that bag, my hands are full of dress," Marinette informally stated. Leisurely, Adrien removed his hands from his face and tried his absolute hardest to be objective and not creepily marvel at the damn wonder of her legs.

He swallowed absentmindedly before resting on his knees, desperately placing his mind elsewhere. Sworn as loud as he might, Adrien knew with no doubt he saw her skin prickle at his fleeting, fluttery touch, no matter what she would later say otherwise.

Upon opening up the small bag, Marinette yanked out a red ball of hair, which was neatly brushed through with her thin fingers to reveal a wig. She cautiously sat the long, false hair on the crown of her head, taking careful time to adjust the sweeping forehead bangs to her elongated eyelashes. Turning toward the mirror hanging in the hallowed hall, Marinette glanced at her head, making sure the fake hair looked natural.

Not for the first time that half hour did Adrien value her utter beauty. Once fully turned around, Marinette caught his longing glance. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked. "My previous comment about you wearing dreadful clothing still stands," he whispered as they cross back over to the kitchen doors. "Flattery gets you nowhere. Now I need you to focus and lie through your teeth like no other. Understand?" she commanded. Adrien sighed and nodded, quickly slowing his hastening heartbeat down as his social anxieties were laying it down thick.

Marinette once again peeped the door slightly ajar before Adrien shimmed through, making a riot of a show by dragging a nimble finger along the countertop, then rubbing his thumb and index finger together, to check the dust. 

He thoughtfully expressed boredom with a slight frown, appearing disappointed. Marinette trailed behind him, looking uncharacteristically nervous as her shoulders pulled forward more than normal. Dragging a stool to the center of the kitchen, Adrien snagged a glass and butter knife and clanged them together, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Here is the deal. Most of you have no idea who I am. My name is Duke DuBois and am of pertinent council to the King's Cabinet. Half of this wait staff have sadly fallen suddenly ill and since I see that most of the food is already prepared, I must usher everyone to grab a tray of champagne or platter of cheeses and serve them to our dancing guests. We simply cannot keep them waiting or hungry any longer. Does any man have a question or have I made myself perfectly clear?" Adrien paused for dramatic affect, slightly pulling his head back and glancing out of the corners of his eyes. 

He hoped to the highest of heavens they would believe every piece of ludicrousy that fell from his mouth.

The entire kitchen paused, almost evaluating this random man's authority. In a swirling uproar, the staff snagged one tray each before quickly traipsing through the double doors that led out into the ballroom.

By the time the last person left, Adrien and Marinette celebrated their victory by desperately grasping the other's hands and skipping around in a dizzying manner. Every once in a while, Adrien would rest both of his hands on the contour of her waist to dip her backwards before bringing her up. Surprisingly, neither of them had two left feet, besides the rather lopsided Paso Doble they were swept up in. 

He hummed an unknown tune for added dramatics.

"I cannot believe how easily you lied! And I mean, that was you up there, right? You do not have a secret evil falsehood telling twin?" Marinette quizzed through her spacey panting. "It was all me, Baby," he confidently spun her into his chest, catching the slightest whiff of her sweet perfume. 

Adrien held her like that with his arms encasing hers for some time, allowing her sudden familiarity to lull him into a conscious coma of sorts. The tips of his fingers skimmed her upper arms nonchalantly, as if it was an everyday occurrence.

He felt her shift the angle of her head, inspecting his profile. Vibrations could be felt from her sternum as she hummed, her enticingly warm breath drifting over to his face. Subtly, she lightly pressed her lips to his smooth cheek, both relishing in admiration for the other.

Eventually, they settled down and broke apart, restoring their previously paced breath. Once completely calm, and feeling rather awkward at that, they looked at each other at the same time, relinquishing a giddy, seemingly drunken, laugh.

"Watcha got a taste for, Kiddo?" Marinette questioned as she hopped up onto the counter, sitting down on the slick limestone. "Your finest caviar, Good Madam," Adrien snickered.

"No way am I waiting long enough for that inevitable disaster. Let us just raid the refrigerator, shall we?"

"Gladly."