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coolfuffles · 6 years

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Warning: AGE GAP

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1339

Summary: A visit from Hawkmoth at her home has Marinette in a snit, but she gives as good as she gets and Gabriel thinks he might need to reassert his affect on her.

Merde, she was a heady concoction! ... A low, familiar voice which provoked and pleased wormed its way into her ear from behind her and stopped her breath. [Mode: Panic, activated]

Last night when she'd come home and he'd been waiting, she'd been startled.. She'd tried to guess how he'd entered, why he might be there, how she might defend herself if he attacked. There had been some fear there, too. Good. He wasn't planning to assault her, but he needed her to be unsure of his intentions- at least initially. It might keep her from doing something very stupid.

He'd offered her an apprenticeship with him. He may have been waffling about a personal relationship, but he couldn't let those skills she'd demonstrated by entering his home go to waste, nor the leadership, creativity, and force of will that he'd observed in his recent visits to her workplace and over the course of their acquaintanceship. Watching the switch from nervous young woman with a strange man in her home to calculating wariness at his proposition, the gears whirring in her head, was fascinating. He thought she might want some days to consider it, to weigh the benefits, but she had rejected it in short order. She was perceptibly annoyed at the prospect of it. That was unexpected.

Was she worried about what her upstanding beau would think of her late night pilfering hobby if he found out? Her response had been... mixed. Oh, that had been interesting! Her words were limited on the matter, but her posture and face had communicated so much! Mild concern about... something, but she was not worried about his thinly veiled threat. Rather than put more space between them or maintain her distance, she approached him, slowly, stalking, never breaking eye contact, and entered his personal space. She was predatory. Daring him. The look on her face reminded him of the day he'd heard her threaten some unknown soul with death. And she was confident that she had some vital piece of information that he didn't have in this interchange. “Really?” She'd fairly sung it, slowly tilting her head to the side. Her tone was so sweet, like he could have been sucking on a chewy, sweet treat only to impale himself with the disguised, hard, candied sour stake within.

Merde, she was a heady concoction! He hadn't felt that way since Ladybug had grabbed him when he'd taunted her, and she hadn't even touched him! She was just in his space. She was only assaulting him with her nearness and beguiling, dulcet tones. He was going to need to get some of his power back.

>!< >!< >!< >!< >!< >!< >!<

She was going to kill him. She was going to invest in a giant pinboard and start a butterfly collection comprised of Hawkmoth and- that was it. Just him. She was sure she could find a giant pin to attach him and then hang him on her wall to ward off other Purple Butterfly Dickheads. She slammed a fist down on the stapler. The staple didn't clear the papers and instead mangled. He'd been in her apartment when she'd gotten home. He was just sitting there, comfortable as you please in her living room in her chair by the little lamp that she always left on. She hadn't even noticed he was there at first. Why should she? It was her home, not Ladybug's. No one from that life had ever set foot there. She didn't keep anything that could connect them in that apartment. But he had managed to get to the fifth floor unnoticed and hack her encoded and passcoded door lock. Of course he had. He was Hawkmoth. He didn't seem to realize who she was when he was there. That was one favor. He was apparently just there to terrorize poor Marinette, whom he had made listen to the very embarrassing message she'd left while he sat there, watching her, before he had sent her on her way while he- she didn't know what. She hadn't heard of anything missing from the Agreste estate.

Her entry to the Agreste mansion and her cool head had impressed him, apparently. He claimed to be there with an offer to further her training, to let her come in to Akuma as his protege. Her! His protege! Like Ladybug would ever... okay, maybe in the beginning of her career before she'd known what he was doing to people at the time... But he'd broken into her home! Brought that part of her life across her doorstep! And then he'd figuratively tweaked her nose about her crush on Gabriel Agreste! (She would have punched him in his newly healed nose if he'd actually tweaked her nose). At least the lights were low and her concealer game is strong, or he might have seen the bruises on her jaw that hadn't fully dissipated yet. It was like his presence made them ache more. Marinette glared daggers at the offending office tool and the disfigured staple as though her ire could conjure the man and make him the staple.

“Hello; petit chou?” A low, familiar voice which provoked and pleased wormed its way into her ear from behind her and stopped her breath. [Mode: Panic, activated] She screeched and flailed, nearly falling from her chair except that a masculine arm caught her mid-tilt and cradled her gently as its owner placed a container from a local patisserie on the desk with his other, un-Marinette-filled hand. She turned her head to face her attacker savior. Platinum blond hair slicked back in his signature coif, his face was close. So close. His sparkling pale blue eyes, crinkled at the corners in amusement met hers, wide and bright blue. His breath was warm against her cheek. She dared a glance at his lips. Her cheeks and tips of her ears bloomed pink as his lips parted lightly and the corners raised. “Petit chou?” His breath fairly danced on her lips as he spoke.

[Marinette.exe is not responding]

[C:\system\restore\Marinette.exe]

[Searching...]

[ERROR: cannot complete]

[Run C:\program\backup\responses\Fantasy232.exe]

[Searching...]

[Running Fantasy232.exe]

“Yes, mon mignon?” she sighed.

He chuckled and righted her in her seat now that she was more stable, stepping around her to her side and gesturing to the box on her desk with a wink “I was impressed with what you managed to accomplish for this coming issue's collaboration with Gabriel, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. Do you care for cream puffs?”

She craned her neck to look up at him, then over at the filigreed box on her desk, on the stack of papers with the previously offending staple. “Cream puffs?”

He leaned back against the desk and reached over to open the container. “Cream puffs. I suppose I should have checked with the secretary about what you like. I can get you something else.” He flashed an apologetic smile. “Forgive me?”

“N-no. I like cream puffs. Th-thank you!” She managed to squeak and smile at him. “You really didn't have to.” She reached in the box and pulled out a pastry, biting into it to illustrate that she really did like them. There was no need to feign her enjoyment. She closed her eyes to savor it. It was delicious! It was similar to what her parents had made when they had had the patisserie in Paris before they'd moved to Italy to take care of family. “Mmmmm!”

“I rarely do things I don't wish to do. I believe we've been acquainted long enough that you know that by now, however I am pleased that you like my little present,” he smiled.

She blushed some more. “Yes, thank you, M'sieur. I hope it will be a success.”

He stood to take his leave. “With you, Miss Fortune, how could it be otherwise? But we will see soon enough. Good day.”

Her eyes followed him as he left, she managed to mumble a farewell. Smooth, Marinette. At least he was wearing dark slacks. She turned herself to the desk top again. The box was prettily painted with silvery lavender butterflies dancing around the edges.

Her fingers lightly pressed the still tender places along her jaw. Stupid butterflies.

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