Dearly Despised, (I love you)

Kagami

A/N What's a game without multiple players?

Also y'all crack me up you're like on some pure high whenever you go through and add comments with your live reactions like it's genuinely my favourite thing 

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The air was tight in the corridors the next day.

Adrien knew Marinette hadn't fumbled the drink over his jeans on purpose, though she had every reason to, and he knew she didn't palm the paper towels on his crotch on purpose, though he wouldn't blame her for wanting t— okay no, no, no more thinking of that. This was Marinette, sheesh. Just because he acted impulsively did not mean he could think as such if it meant imagining that moment over in a different setting.

See unlike the ponytailed, high-strung, merciless she-devil, Adrien could differentiate malintent from innocent-yet-compromising circumstances. You know, he was sure if someone looked like they had put gum on his seat—just as a random example—that by their stammering, doe-eyed and naive ensemble that perhaps they actually didn't do such a thing! Perhaps, if that situation were to ever happen, he'd give them a chance to explain themselves and their virtuous intentions instead of hanging him—uh, the random scenario person—by association to someone with a bad reputation. Just a thought. So he could be the bigger person and see the spill wasn't on purpose.

But Adrien would never confess—as with many, many other things—that if it weren't for Luka, he would've taken the spilt orange juice that left his thighs sticky as another crafty intention of Marinette's.

Yeah. About him. Don't think he hadn't crossed his mind.

Luka. Pfft, what was so distracting about him?

She'd glanced at the slender, shadowed figure faintly touched by the coloured stage lights a good handful of times. Too many times, Adrien reckoned, and as she glanced behind her shoulder to hand her "boyfriend" orange juice while knowing he preferred apple (they'd broken into a fight before about the now-sensitive subject), her clumsiness took charge and she missed passing the cup into his hand. So in some direct, distant way, his soiled designer jeans were the guitarist's fault, and Adrien decided just at that thought, the revelation justified whatever confusing anger he had towards Luka and his blue-tipped hair.

That's what he decided on the way to school, anyway, before seeing her again.

Adrien didn't know how to greet the spitfire when sharpened eyes fluttered up at him besides their lockers. It was good he had Ladybug tapped all over his (despite how Marinette shamelessly taunted him for it) because it was as if she were there beside him, reminding him that heroes didn't necessarily need to comment on villain's flaws in the morning or start a full-blown dispute about something minor – which, this morning, he felt in the mood to do.

In public, acting like a "couple" (which was more just acting like they didn't want to rip the others' throat out) meant their pent-up animosity could possibly explode during moments alone – depending on when the last argument was, thus having the saviour of Paris visibly beside him, fuelling imagined encouragement in his mind, helped his snark stay in check.

And that morning, he really needed to hear Ladybug's voice at that moment–

"Hey, asshole."

–Because of last night; because of Marinette's distraction with Luka; because she jeopardised their time to be shooting quiet jabs at the other and most importantly, appearing as a couple for the few classmates there, while instead she was off making eyes with the emo guitarist, who Adrien was mad at because– because he somewhat contributed to his sticky jeans!