The car trip toward the Agreste manor was silent at most. Adrien and Marinette sat next to each other on the backseat, keeping as much distance as was humanly possible despite the handcuffs. Remnants of their respective blushes adorned both of their faces, and every single time their eyes met, a brand new layer of red to their cheeks.

The Gorilla put an end to their misery soon enough, pulling up in front of the mansion. Marinette let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as she slid from the seat, following Adrien out of the car, hopeful she'd manage to calm her upset heart down.

She couldn't stop thinking about the way his hands had felt familiarly amazing on her hips as he held her against the wall, and the pleasant tingle of his breath on her neck. When he had gently took her fingers into his, whispering gentle encouraging words to her despite their audience, she had felt her heart clench in a familiar, yet wonderful way. For a moment there, she had felt as if she and Adrien had belonged together, as if they were if they were in their own private bubble, and the feeling had been truly amazing.

She looked at him, one of her very best friends, climbing the steps of the mansion besides her, doing his best to walk at a pace comfortable for her. He was watching her too she could see now, from the corner of his eyes, and when blue met green a kind smile crept on his lips. "Ready to enter the dragon's den?"

Marinette chuckled, her fingers lacing through his out of their own accord. "Can't be that bad, right? I mean, it's not like you tied yourself to me on purpose."

"If I had known it would get you to be comfortable with me at long last," Adrien answered cheekily, "I might have."

It took her a solid ten seconds or so to regain her bearings, taken aback by his smug smile as he held the door open for her. She followed him inside his house, still reeling from his last comment, and was about to finally try what she hoped was a witty comeback when a stern and cold voice startled her.

"Adrien."

The young man beside her stiffened beside her, his hand clenching almost painfully around hers. "Hello Father. Do you remember Marinette? She won a few of your contests."

"Ah, yes. Mlle Dupain-Cheng. I must say it's a relief that out of all the teenage girls you could have ended up stuck with, fate chose this one. At least she has a good head on her shoulders, Adrien, and won't be a bad influence on you, unlike your usual acquaintances."

Marinette felt anger pool in her gut, her fists clenching beside her. Adrien winced under the unexpected pressure on his fingers, but was too focused on keeping his own temper in check. Nothing good would come out of telling his father off, he had learned that the hard way growing up. Only once after his mother's death did standing up for himself had been successful, and it had mostly been all due to Nathalie stepping up and reorganizing his schedule so he could attend public school without compromising Gabriel's precious plans.

Before either of them could speak, Gabriel came down the stairs in slow, measured steps that sent shots of dread through both teenagers. Each step resonated loudly in the mostly empty hall of the mansion, accentuating the feeling of doom hanging above their heads. The fashion mogul closed the distance between him and the two frightened teens, his arms linked in his back and his usual stern expression carefully schooled on his face. "The change of thematic for that photoshoot was an unfortunate bother, but I see it turned out for the best. Those outfits are decent."

Marinette huffed, stopping herself a few seconds short from blurting out in front of Gabriel Agreste himself just exactly how much she was affected by the sight of his only son clad in black leather and combat boots. If Adrien sensed the obvious shift into his friend's mood, he didn't comment on the matter, instead choosing to ignore his father's tepid appreciation.

"We were planning on playing videogames in my room until dinner time, Father," he said in a subdued, timid tone that had nothing to do in a seventeen-year-old mouth and made Marinette sick to her stomach. "Will that be alright?"

"Of course," Gabriel answered without the faintest hint of warmth or fatherly love. "First I'd like to get a closer look on your ... predicament. How are you both faring so far?"

The unexpected question took Adrien by surprise, and he just stood there wordlessly, staring blankly at his father as the older man took both of their hands with long cold fingers. He closely inspected the tender skin of their arms, the barest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. "Good, the metal didn't leave any marks. That would've been a real pain to Photoshop out of the pictures."

There it was, the whiplash Adrien had been expecting the second his father had shown any concern for his well-being. Apparently, Gabriel wasn't done with his emotional rollercoaster seeing as he pulled out two strips of velvety fabric sewn into a tube, approximately the size of a wrist. "Here, Adrien. We can't let you get a chaffed wrist from that unfortunate situation, so I had a protective cuff made for you. You are expected to wear it underneath the handcuffs at all times from now on and up until they get lock picked, to ensure you won't end up with ugly friction marks on your wrist for your incoming photoshoots."

Adrien held out his free hand, taking the fabric cuffs from his father. Puzzled, he contemplated the two tubes of velvet resting in his open palm. "Father, why are there two cuffs?"

"Once cut, the fabric itself was useless. Rather than waste it, I thought your friend would, at least, appreciate the opportunity to remain blemish free as well. Or should I not have bothered being considerate?"

Marinette tried her best to ignore her friend's sharp intake of breath, picking one of the cuffs and sliding it on his bound wrist. Her fingers tingled pleasantly as they brushed the creamy skin of his inner arm, gently tugging the fabric underneath the cold metal of the handcuffs. He returned the gesture with shaky fingers, and she hated every ounce of hurt she could read behind the kind green eyes. She gulped, trying to keep her mouth from saying the words her heart really wanted to say to the man she had idolized for so long but was losing more and more shine the more she got to know his son. Instead, she bit back on her anger and said quietly, "It's really thoughtful of you, M. Agreste, thank you."

Before his father could answer, Adrien said quickly, "Thank you Father, now would you excuse us? I'm really looking forward to changing back into my regular clothes."

"Very well," Gabriel answered shortly before turning his back on them, ascending the stairs in the same slow, measured step that had spooked them earlier.

Marinette followed Adrien to his room wordlessly, fury and an unshakable sense of wrongness boiling under her skin. As soon as his bedroom door closed behind them, he took in her tensed shoulders, her lips stretched into a thin line. He grabbed her impaired hand again, the habit already having sunk in deep into their relationship, and gently brushed her free arm with the back of his other hand. "Hey, you alright?"

"Is ... is that a normal thing? Is he always like that?" she asked with a broken voice.

"Like what?"

"You know, so formal and indifferent?" The words rolled unpleasantly from her tongue, what they implied upsetting her to no end.

Adrien shrugged, leading her gently to her duffel bag so she could pull out her civilian clothes and the shirts she had altered for him. "Don't worry about it. You get used to it after a while."

Marinette gaped at him, the same feeling of inner wrongness tugging uncomfortably at her heartstrings. "What a horrible thing to get used to. This... This isn't okay, Adrien, I—"

"Don't mind it, okay? It's alright, really."

Marinette sighed, absentmindedly rubbing her arm as Adrien turned his back on her as much as the handcuffs allowed him to, scavenging through his closet to pull out a clean pair of sweatpants. "You're right," she said, "it's not my place to judge. I'm sorry."

He smiled at her, clean clothes of his own in hands, and handed her a scarf that was all too familiar to her. Two years later, she still didn't have a clue about how the mix-up on his birthday could've happened, but it was yet another testimony of how little the man cared for his only offspring. "Oh, you still have that scarf?" she blurted out despite herself.

"Well, yes, why?" Adrien seemed a little puzzled by her question. "It's my favorite."

Her throat tight, she took the offending scarf from his hands without a word and tied it around her head to cover her eyes. Her arm followed his as he quickly stripped out of his photoshoot clothes and into his jogging pants.

The rustle of fabric came to a stop, and Adrien's hands came to untie the scarf. His fingers gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and he smiled at her softly. "You worry too much, Marinette. I'll be fine. Your turn to change."

She only managed to nod, the image of Adrien Agreste clad in black jogging pants and a form-fitting dark gray t-shirt burned into her mind. As soon as his sight was completely blocked, she changed back into her sundress, unaware of her friend's inner turmoil.

On his part, Adrien was putting those precious seconds of calm to try and organize his thoughts. Spending so much time in close quarters with Marinette, having her finally getting at ease with him and showing him her true self was unnerving, to say the least. He never would have expected to see anything other than a friend in Marinette, but the more time he spent with her, the more he had to admit he liked the brand new Marinette he was now allowed to see, and his heart seemed to have gotten the habit of skipping a beat or two whenever they brushed against each other, which, given their situation, was quite often.

Somehow, he felt like he should feel guilty. He had sworn to love and cherish his lady, his partner, two years ago, but he hadn't made any progress on that front. He still loved her dearly and would still protect her from harm at all costs, but if he was entirely honest with himself, it was undeniable that Marinette had inched her way into his heart and settled herself there quite comfortably over the course of this experience.

And that he was already too far gone to back out.

Her voice pulled him out of his musings. "I'm good, you can look."

Hoping that she wouldn't notice the blush he could feel spreading on his cheeks, Adrien chuckled awkwardly. Had she always been that adorable in a dress? She was looking at him from underneath long, dark lashes, her bottom lip caught in her teeth, and he felt weak to his knees. "I, um, what game did you want to play?"

"Anything's fine," she answered, "Actually, would you happen to have anything to snack on? I'm a bit hungry."

He wandered as far as he could from her to turn on his gaming system, "There should be fruits and in the mini-fridge. Help yourself—oh. You can't. Wait a second."

He powered on the console and the television, and they both moved toward said mini-fridge, Marinette wondering if Tikki would agree to eat anything other than pastries for a day. A quick glance into her purse while Adrien was rummaging into the appliance reassured her, as the little kwami mouthed discreetly "I'll be fine, don't worry" to her charge.

Minutes later, all worries of how she would manage to feed her little friend inconspicuously were long forgotten as she lost herself into a death match of Mario Kart against Adrien. They played for about an hour, competing feverishly against each other up until Nathalie loudly cleared her throat behind them, an amused smile dancing on her lips.

"Dinner is served, Adrien," she told them sternly, her tone not matching her expression.

Marinette stiffened noticeably beside him, and he instantly picked up on it and the reasons behind it. "Don't worry, Mari. He never eats with me, it'll be just us."

She nodded, lacing her fingers through his and let him lead her through the mansion's corridors to the dining room. He pushed the heavy wooden door with an encouraging smile...

... and froze on the threshold.

"Evening, Adrien. Mlle Dupain-Cheng," greeted the cold and impersonal voice of Gabriel Agreste.

Then followed the most awkward dinner Marinette had ever had.

She and Adrien were sitting side by side at the far end of the table, both of them eating in an awkward silence. Gabriel was at the other end of the long dining table, absorbed in something he was reading on his tablet.

After a while, his stern, austere voice rose, his eyes still trained on the digital screen, "I believe you understand, Adrien, that given the poor use you've made of the free time I allowed you, I'm going to have to cut back on your leisure time."

Adrien's fork paused midway from his plate to his mouth, and he stammered meekly, "I-I'm sorry?"

"Evidently, you need something constructive to keep you out of trouble on weekends. So I've asked Nathalie to schedule you an additional photoshoot per week, as well as violin classes."

Not once as he spoke did Gabriel bother to lift his gaze toward his only son.

If he had, he might have noticed the way Marinette's fingers had clenched around her fork, knuckles turning white, and the way her shoulders had tensed, alarming her friend.

"We were in a " she snarled through clenched teeth.

That effectively startled the man out of whatever it was he was reading, and he landed a questioning glance on the young woman. "Pardon me?"

"I'd understand if Adrien was getting punished for, say, vandalism, stealing, or anything stupid, sir," she said, trying desperately to even out her voice, "but we were in a . Adrien did nothing wrong to warrant such an unfair punishment."

There was a moment of silence, in which Adrien couldn't do anything but stare at his friend, dumbfounded. There was something in the way she sustained his father's gaze, in the way she kept her shoulders straight and her chin proudly high, refusing to back down, that struck him with an uncanny familiarity.

Finally regaining his bearings after such an affront, Gabriel deposited his fork on his plate and linked his fingers together in front of him on the table, staring at the young woman. "I believe I'm perfectly capable of judging what's fair or not when it comes to disciplining my son, Mlle Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette sprung on her feet so fast that Adrien didn't have time to react. She slammed both of her hands on the table, hard, and the unexpected motion coupled with all the frustration she was trying to convey made what followed next inevitable. Both of her hands landed on the edge of her plate, while Adrien's handcuffed hand landed on his, flipping both meals over and effectively covering Adrien and her with the remnants of their dinner.

Pieces of food in her hair, trembling from head to toe, Marinette stared Gabriel Agreste down with so much fire in her eyes that Adrien could swear he saw his father wince in his seat.

"With all due respect, sir ," she seethed, "Adrien is the most hard-working person I know. Not only does he have his modeling job to do on top of school, he also has an insane amount of extracurricular activities somehow manages to in everything he does. He is top of our class, and despite being busier than a bee, he always makes time to help his classmates out."

"And save Paris three or four times a week," Adrien thought to himself before gently tugging on Marinette's dress, trying to calm her down, to no avail.

"You should be proud of your son," she went on, ignoring the sharp intake of breath on her right, "instead of punishing him for something he had absolutely no control over. This," she added, holding both of their bound hands high, "is the result of the honest mistake of a seven-year-old child. A little girl Adrien offered to help keep an eye on out of sheer kindness. And if you aren't proud of him, it doesn't matter. Because I know I am. All of his friends are."

There was another pause, in which you could have heard a pin drop. Marinette seemed to realize what she had just done, sinking down into her seat and stubbornly refusing to meet Adrien's eyes. Gabriel was staring blankly at both of them, an unreadable expression schooled on his face.