She also promptly almost lost the entire next day upon her parent’s discovery she’d snuck in. Apparently they’d wisened up to her process at some point recently and started waiting at the door. Just because they fell asleep waiting, something Marinette was quick to pounce on, wasn’t enough to sway them.

It was disappointing, mainly because she couldn’t admire Kory wearing her designs. Or Adrien! That was the real tragedy, since he was only going to be on set for a day due to child labor laws. Marinette clenched her tiny fists in irritation. Curse those silly laws that protected children from exploitation, and more importantly Adrien from Marinette!

She wasn’t planning on exploiting him though, just finding lots of excuses for him to change outfits. Privately! Of course! Marinette would never encourage anything untoward! It was just, well, if he got some of Kory’s body confidence via osmosis then that was just Marinette trying to provide an opportunity for him to grow out of the shadow of his overbearing father. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?

So it was simply vital that Marinette was at the shoot today. And her parents might not be aware she was MDC, rising star in the fashion world (they weren’t really very aware of the fashion world either, beyond enthusiastic and blind support for whatever Marinette did in it) but her parents were aware she had a job. So, reluctantly, very reluctantly, they let her go with strict instructions about when to return.

Marinette solemnly swore to be back no later than however long it took for public transit to get her back from the shoot. The only thing she fudged was how far away it was (and, of course, her role once there), which was really less of a lie and more bending the truth. Bending, in the same way that Kory bent to look at the MDC logo on the back of her jeans and gosh that was really a mental image that would never leave Marinette’s mind wasn’t it?

She snapped herself out of it as the tram came to a stop, spinning around in a series of guardian fu moves against the air. The net result was her arm getting stuck somehow in the strap she’d been holding onto and the doors of the tram at her stop signaling she had only a short amount of time to get out before missing her stop.

The dark haired man (everything about him rejected the term boy) standing opposite her let out a light laugh as he stepped up and helped her free.

“This is your stop?”

His accent wasn’t Parisian.

“Yes! Thank you!” Marinette beamed as she hustled out, the man keeping pace beside her.

Marinette knew she could move quickly, particularly when affected by the combination of nerves and lateness she was currently battling. So she was a little surprised when the man kept pace with her easily, his tall stride keeping up without a concern. With a light smile on his face, he struck up a friendly conversation.

“I’m not a native, any chance you know where the Bourgeois Fashion House is from here? My girlfriend told me this was the stop, but she tends to give directions from a bird’s eye view and skips those little details like street names.”

Marinette skidded to a halt, the man bemusedly pausing with her. “Oh, I suppose it’s not well known? I can always find a street map or something.”

“No!” Marinette cautioned as she halted herself in a sudden windmill of limbs and things that left a lot of the things on the ground and a lot of the limbs in the man’s face. “It’s actually just that I’m actually going there now and you can come with me!”

“Thanks! It’s a good thing we ran into each other then, my girlfriend was practically flying this morning she was so excited. I don’t want to let her down by being late.”

“Why was she so excited?”

The man bent down and picked up her sketchbook, not trying to look or hold it away from her. It was a new feeling, considering the person usually bothering to “help” her these days was Lila. Gratefully, Marinette clutched it to her chest and stared up at the man with wide eyes.

“I don’t really understand it, but I guess there’s some designer she’s looking forward to meeting, or seeing, or something?”

Ah, so it wasn’t MDC, not if the girlfriend was meeting them. That was a relief, Marinette had enough trouble at the thought of Kory Anders and Adrien in the same room, she didn’t need to add this man to the mix. He had the tall, dark, and handsome look down so well it was highly probable he was the original inspiration for the expression. And if Kory was a hint of wild power, this man was controlled grace.

If Marinette had wicked dreams about giving Kory a miraculous to see her in a skintight suit then her current train of thought had to be described as some kind of cruel nightmare, because this man looked like he would fill something like that out. And by fill, Marinette meant fill. He had the casually muscled body of a gymnast, where every single part of him looked exceptionally functional.

And Marinette had to wonder if that exceptional functionality extended to parts she couldn’t see…

Like his feet! Since he would be walking through the city with her!

It was very unfair that men like this chose to wear outfits that didn’t conceal enough. Who told this gorgeous thing to wear dark wash jeans and a sweater with the sleeves rolled up? Because whoever that was, Marinette had a problem with them. If it was his girlfriend (the hot spike of disappointment that came with the word was purely due to the fact that he evidently already had someone to dress him) then there was no doubt that he was telling the truth about her being involved in the fashion world.

“Hello?” he said, breaking her from her stupor (life around pretty people was dangerous, Marinette was discovering).

“Sorry! Distracted!”

They were going to be late(r)! Marinette grabbed him by the upper arm (oh my that was solid) and began dragging him toward the Fashion House as he bemusedly allowed it.

“Are you doing alright? I didn’t mean to burden you with my need for directions, it’s seriously no trouble and you seem like you’re in a hurry.”

Marinette skidded to a halt, spinning around to face the man.

“I’m already late, so it’s fine! And don’t worry, nobody is waiting for me.”

He frowned. “But you’re a kid. Shouldn’t someone be waiting?”

Waving her free hand in his face, Marinette hurriedly reassured the beautiful man before the frown marred his features any further, “Nonono! It’s just that everyone is busy and I’m only the assistant to the assistant to the assistant something or whatever so nobody is counting on me to be there on time is all I meant!”

The man threw back his head, letting his black hair fall back in a dark waterfall that Marinette was dangerously close to drowning in. Gently teasing, he asked, “Something or whatever? Is that an official job title?”

Technically, yes, since Marinette wrote her own job title. And while it started as a convenient joke several shoots ago, now it was a convenient way to keep her identity hidden. If she were trying harder, she’d probably have some up with something that sounded more real, but on the other hand hiding herself in almost-plain sight worked. Most people that cared enough to investigate immediately dismissed her title as a sign she was some kid using her connections to get a spot on set. And if they dug any further, technically the title was just a fit of pique some impatient designer gave the intern after she brought her the exact right kind of coffee one day and they decided losing a talent like that was unacceptable.

“Kinda?”

A smile warred with his lips as he tried to keep it from lighting up his face. The sight of his lips trying to stay pursed was inordinately interesting. It conjured up thoughts of what it might be like to wrestle with those lips, and if they were as casually functional as the rest of him.

Marinette forced her body to begin moving, because having a meltdown in the middle of the street was a little much even for her. It wasn’t her fault she did so slowly.

“Okay so miss kinda something or whatever, how do we actually get to the Fashion House? Because at this pace it’ll be nighttime before we manage it.”

At that point, Marinette realized she hadn’t even given this man her name. How rude!

“It’s not far, only another minute! Also, I’m Marinette, it’s nice to meet you!”

She stuck out her hand and blushed upon seeing his smile finally win out. She’d need to shake down Tikki later, because nobody was lucky enough to casually meet people this attractive twice in two days. On top of Adrien being at the modeling shoot, it was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

“I’m Dick.”

Yes, yes he was (seriously, it didn’t even make sense anymore something was definitely wrong with Marinette).

“Dick Grayson.”

He said the name like it was supposed to mean something, which left Marinette confused. But then again, something about his easy confidence was magnetic. He had a pull, every part of him the kind of thing you could just get lost in if you weren’t careful.

If you told Marinette that Dick Grayson was one of the Earth’s magnetic poles, she’d believe you. Not because he was cold, actually he was rather invitingly warm, but because it was just obvious that everything came to (and for (Marinette banished that thought)) him.

It was the little things. The usual street crowd that loitered, or worked, around the Fashion House normally didn’t give Marinette a second glance but with Dick walking with her she suddenly found eyes following them. They lingered as the pair passed by, dropping lower but not quite leaving until they were off in the distance. Normally, people were much more subtle with their attention. In Marinette’s limited experience, men and women alike didn’t just blatantly do a double take and stare as someone pretty walked down the street. And, while she’d never been that girl that pulled in eyes she got the distinct impression that Dick Grayson wasn’t just used to pulling in eyes but that he was somehow capable of enhancing the effect without needing to overtly try.

Maybe it was the way he ran his fingers through his hair, slowing down as he went as if encountering resistance from the thick black locks? Or the way he bit his lip while gazing off in the distance, a serious expression on his face that one couldn’t help but want to decipher. Or how the arch of his wild hair swayed (mysteriously) in the nonexistent breeze making her fingers itch with the desire to tame (and be tamed by) it. And then his hand dropped to his side, releasing the spell on the entire area as a woman down the street took in a recovery breath after a few unsteady steps.

It was ridiculous, Marinette had experience with real magic. Miraculous magic! And yet somehow Dick’s body could cast a spell more intense than anything she’d ever known. Hawkmoth should be jealous, this man had more magic in his body than any of the frivolous seeming trinkets in the miracle box.

Marinette came back to her senses with a pinch from Tikki, who was giving her the stink eye from her bag. Her expression conveyed exactly how aware she was of Marinette’s thought process. She decided not to think too much about how the kwami had managed to phase through her bag and pants without getting seen, instead focusing on guiding the wrought piece of metal masquerading as a man to Paris’ most interesting fashion house.

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She had a sudden desire to see what would happen if she put a piece of metal, nothing large, on Dick’s body. Would it stick? His physique resembled some of the bronze statues she’d seen when touring the Louvre before. Like a man hammered half out of the stone and rock, completely nude but nothing explicit visible because the bottom half was still (sadly) unforged. The statue-man caught wrestling free from the material underneath. Mid-motion, muscles tensed and put to work to match the expression of brazen defiance cut across his unmoving face as he gazed up at some unknowable God.

Someone like that, he could definitely be magnetized. Rather, he was magnetic already. Marinette just wanted to confirm it was all. Her desire to run hard, metallic, things up across his flesh to see if how it would react was purely scientific curiosity. Particularly because his forged body created a strong contrast with his welcoming and friendly demeanor, one that implied a whole lot of possibilities.

For clothing! Nothing else!

Marinette could envision Dick wearing a suit that implied the heavy metal visage of a knight in flame-blackened steel, something that implied and suggested the planes of his body. Although, something about him seemed almost a hair young for that look. Maybe in a few years? When he had an aura of deeper maturity, but for now Dick was a freshly graduated squire. Still wearing the armor of a knight, but with a bit more youthful flair and fire to it, more color perhaps on the plates.

He could pull off informal looks as well, she was certain. There were almost more possibilities there, and as they crossed the lobby, Marinette realized that her interest was spiraling into another bout of inspiration. This man, wearing a confident and inviting smile with an old iron sledgehammer slung over his bare shoulder wearing a pair of deep blue jeans…

Oh my, Marinette realized she’d forgotten to imagine him with a shirt. Tragic.

It was, of course, just the simple fact that her look would be better if there wasn’t anything distracting pulling attention away from the pants. Like other clothing, because there was nothing else about that mental image that was distracting except the possibility of him getting cold. And Marinette could rectify that with her hands…

By creating appropriate clothing and putting him in it! Obviously!

He was a little shorter than Kory, but he could probably fit into the purple button up if she hemmed it strategically. Maybe she could get both of them into a shoot at the same time, wearing the same jeans and button combo, standing against the mirror frame while Kory looked in and Dick looked out. Something to highlight the dual nature of her designs and the inherent contrast between Kory’s bright disposition and this man’s darker appeal.

And unlike Kory, he wouldn’t need to fasten any of the buttons. Honestly, fastening buttons should be illegal for someone who looked like him.

Like, if Marinette ever brought together her and Chat’s miraculous her second wish (maybe third, her first was obviously Adrien related and while this man was molten hot he wasn’t Kory) would be to outlaw the use of buttons on men that had such blatant abs. If even a sweater couldn’t hide them then it was simply too much, the female (and other interested parties) population deserved full exposure. Of course, if she did ask for something so audacious the backlash would be severe, but probably worth it. Probably.

As they arrived at the doors to the Fashion House, Dick bent over to pick up a spare piece of trash lying near a can and throw it away, his sweater getting caught on a piece of plastic sticking off the can and riding up as he did. For a few seconds (arguably the longest of Marinette’s life) the V that ran from his hips down to… below his waistline was fully exposed.

It looked like someone took a chisel and hammered them into his body like aqueducts from the mountains above to the city below. Just like the water would rush south along those lines, Marinette’s eyes flooded downward, where his jeans were slung a little lower than they were supposed to be from the motion.

And that settled that question, it would be worth it.

“Haha, whoops,” he said with a light laugh that entirely underscored the seriousness of the last several seconds. “I’ll have to be more careful, the bins are designed differently in Gotham.”

“You’re from Gotham?”

Marinette had Thoughts about Gotham. Design related ones, obviously!

It was the city of inspiration, the whole aesthetic of darkness and overdone gothic architecture spoiled by years of neglect creating a unique blend of modernity and antiquity all under the cover of a near-perpetual rain and dark clouds. Gotham was the result of certain localized weather patterns found nowhere else on the planet, raining and subject to storm clouds more often than any other city in the world. And where else could you find hand-sculpted gargoyles covered in half washed-off graffiti art? Nowhere, plain and simple. If Marinette was going to move anywhere for inspiration Gotham would be first on the list because the whole city was so fundamentally distinct from everywhere else.

In Europe, she could stumble across ancient ruins next to a parking lot, but both would be clearly marked and separated. Old and new coexisted, but they didn’t often co-mingle haphazardly, Europeans cared too deeply about their history to let it fall into disrespect. Gotham was too poor, too crime ridden, too old money, too new world to let either side win out. Gang tags, graffiti, extraordinarily expensive architectural features, villainous excess, abandoned megastructures, mega-corp offices, and restoration projects all warred in an endless struggle that made Gotham a hive of inspiration for anyone daring enough to look.

There was a reason the city hadn’t died despite years of exploitation by the mob, the gangs, the villains, and (depending on who you asked) the bats. Gotham was the runt of the litter among all the old (well, not compared to Europe) American cities that simply refused to die out of sheer stubbornness and inane stupidity. Anyone with sense would move out, but nobody who cared about something as boring as simply living lived in Gotham. It was a city for romantics, crusaders, and insane asylum rejects (until the bats caught you).

“I spend a little time in Bludhaven, and occasionally New York but yeah I was raised in Gotham.”

“Not born?”

“Nope,” he replied with an easy, toothy, grin that infected Marinette and had her mimicking his expression unconsciously. “Just raised.”

Now wasn’t that interesting?

“Okay!”

But it was something Marinette could deal with later, when she wasn’t dealing with the sheer magnetic attraction coming off the walking hunk of hammered metal in waves next to her.

Right now she had to navigate the arduous process of separating herself from the magnetic field surrounding this man. As far as she could tell, it would take a whole lot of force that she wasn’t sure she could muster. Well, she could muster it, the real question was whether or not she could muster herself to muster it. Seriously, it was only the thought of Adrien and Kory combined that was drawing her slightly closer toward sanity and away from his orbit.

Speaking of getting away from his orbit, why were they still walking next to each other? She’d gone up several flights of stairs since entering the lobby, and the area for the shoot was just a couple turns away. Dick was either being considerate and walking her all the way to her destination or just blindly following her.

“Um, you don’t have to walk me all the way,” she said, trying to contain her inner turmoil at being the one to finally initiate a conversation with this man.

“Oh I know,” the easy way he agreed underscored the fact that he was still walking next to her, “this is where I’m supposed to be going too. Actually I was about to mention, you don’t need to walk me all the way there? You seemed a little distracted when we were talking to the receptionist, but she gave me directions.”

Marinette was more than a little distracted, as was the receptionist, not that Dick commented on it. The smile warring around the edges of his mouth made it clear, however, that he wasn’t particularly serious about his offer to separate. He seemed to have realized the same thing as Marinette, that they were both headed to the same place.

This raised a potentially serious issue for Marinette, after all she didn’t have a real job on set. Unless you counted ogling Adrien and Kory, which she certainly did (strictly for inspirational purposes, obviously). But Dick might not feel the same way, considering how kind he’d been so far. It seemed almost inevitable that he would try to ensure she met with her “supervisor,” or some other similarly chivalric act.

“This is my stop, actually! I’ll stop here, and you can keep walking wherever you’re walking,” Marinette proclaimed as she found a random doorway several lengths away from her actual destination.

“The janitor’s closet?”

Marinette might have miscalculated, slightly. Solemnly, she said, “I am very far down the organizational chart.”

“Evidently. But still, if you’re a janitor’s assistant then why are you wearing open-toed shoes to work?”

Her sandals were comfy. “I keep my work shoes in the storage locker.”

“And why did the receptionist greet you as, ‘the permanent-intern?’”

“I exist in the limbo between full time employment and unpaid interning.”

He very obviously did not believe her.

“So then where’s your boss? The assistant to the assistant something or whatever.”

“Um, probably off working already, since I’m late!”

Marinette was definitely getting better at this lying thing, improving with each one she told. Lila was apparently good for something, because clearly, lying was one of those abilities you could pick up by osmosis. Now if Marinette was lucky, staggeringly absurd hotness worked the same way.

“Seems irresponsible. Also, why do they have janitors working during the day and in the morning? Doesn’t that interfere with the other work going on?”

“My bosses are inefficient and poor at scheduling?”

“Honestly that was the most believable one yet,” Dick replied with a light smile. “But it seems like you’ve got your reasons for being evasive, so I won’t pry. If you need me I’ll be standing around acting as an accessory in the other room. Probably conscripted to loiter and hold things, so if you need a hand with anything menial I’ll be well practiced and in desperate need of an escape in an hour or so.”

The thought of using Dick as a human accessory made Marinette giggle a little. It also made her flip a little, or a lot, inside but that wasn’t something she externalized.

His smile widened at the sight as he added, “Seriously, I’m in your debt for the directions. And if you do actually have a job to be doing right now feel free to pin the blame for being late on me, I’ll be happy to take whatever lecture you get in your place. It’ll spice up my day.”

“I won’t get lectured!” Marinette reassured him hastily, “my boss is very friendly and laid back! She’s never worked up! Very drama-free!”

Considering Marinette was her own boss, she was currently giving Lila a run for her title as the best liar of the class.

Particularly because Dick didn’t seem to pick up on this particular fib, although she could feel Tikki giving her another stern look from her bag indicating she was in for another concerned lecture on not overworking herself later. He simply nodded and said his goodbye with a promise to mention her name to one of the people in the shoot, since she was clearly very dedicated to fashion if she was willing to take an internship that consisted of janitorial work and she’d been extremely helpful.

And then he turned around and walked away.

And oh my, Marinette had thought the sight of Kory twisting to see the MDC logo on the back of her jeans was unbelievably hot. Dick somehow made Kory look only a normal level of attractive, and not otherworldly by comparison. Marinette had never understood the whole notion of dropping a pen on the ground in front of a girl, but all of a sudden it was taking mental strength honed by years of repressing her emotions while fighting Hawkmoth not to throw her sketchbook down the hall in the vain half hope he might bend over to retrieve it for her.

And then she mentally slapped herself, because those kinds of actions were sexist and wrong and not the kind of thing someone should do. But. Butt.

Yes, a very eloquent protest coming from the significant portion of her brain rendered absolutely non-functional at the sight of Dick’s behind. It was slightly ridiculous how well his pants fit, and how much they didn’t hide despite covering everything. The worst part was, it was her own damn fault! She could see that traitorous MDC logo stitched with her own hands on the back, and a part of her felt very strongly that she should rush over, abandon her secret identity, and insist he let her “fix” some tiny issue with it that she’d only just noticed.

The fact that he would, of course, need to remove the jeans for her to fix them didn’t even enter into consideration for her, nope, not one bit. Also, now that she was finally looking, that sweater was extremely familiar as well. She couldn’t recall what commission it was from, but she had a sinking suspicion that looking on the inside of the collar would reveal a familiar but hidden signature.

Still, there were more important things to think about. Like wondering how the material of his jeans would feel when imbued with his body heat.

Bad thoughts!

Marinette did the sensible thing and restricted her thinking to the design properties of her work. It was gratifying to see the fine stitchwork held up so well, and she’d managed to find such a compromise between fit and freedom of movement. Because Dick didn’t seem inconvenienced by how… closely… she’d adhered to his measurements at all. She got the feeling that if she dumped a bucket of water on him, letting the material cling to his skin, it wouldn’t change a thing about his backside.

Marinette wanted to reach out and smack it. Exclusively for the purpose of finding out how much was muscle!

Because, while all evidence from her contact with his arm earlier suggested he had a whole lot of muscle, it was simple logic that some part of him had to be body fat. For health reasons! And Marinette would simply be doing her best to locate that healthy body fat to ensure he wasn’t in danger, that was all. So if she wanted to give it a healthy pat (healthy in the sense of investigating on behalf of health, clearly) that was just her being a good person who looked out for others and ensured their wellbeing. Nothing, absolutely nothing, more.

She would, obviously, need to follow it up with a sharp swat, to verify her findings. Maybe a light squeeze too, just to be thorough. And, in the name of academic rigor, she’d need to do it to both cheeks. Probably with both hands, to ensure there wasn’t any bias introduced by her handedness.

Marinette slumped against the wall, her hands on her red-as-ladybug cheeks as she slowly sunk into a puddle on the floor. Dick didn’t notice, having already entered the photoshoot set and closed the door behind him. Behind.

Staring at the door he’d just gone through, Marinette realized she had a problem.

And then she remembered that Kory Anders and Adrien were also on the other side of that door.

Her butt hit the floor, sending a jolt through her body that manifested in a tiny whimper.

Marinette had a serious problem.