Marinette freezes in her spot behind the counter. Busy replenishing the tins of loose leaf tea for the more popular brews, she hadn’t heard the delicate chime at the front door. She turns in slow-motion to the shop floor, watching as the new customer starts chatting with the blond standing by the shelves. She hadn’t heard the front door chime, which means it’s too late-
“Oh, I have no uncertainteas about finding the right blend for you.”
It’s too late, and Adrien has taken center stage.
The customer, a woman around forty or so, giggles behind her hand and bats her eyelashes at him. Gross.
And it’s not like Marinette can blame her, really: the only thing Adrien has more of than looks is charm, and both are abundant. When the bright-eyed boy with a voice that toed the line between silk and sin had clocked in on the first day, Marinette herself had experienced a good swoon. She’d even made the mistake of mentioning her handsome new co-worker to Alya, resulting in a one-woman warpath dead set on getting the two of them together. Normally, Marinette would appreciate the enthusiasm, were it not for the one glaring, unfortunate, and utterly unavoidable problem:
“Well, I’ll leaf you to browse the rest of our selection,” Adrien says. The grin is quick to his lips, lips that would otherwise be very kissable were they not the purveyors of such unholy atrocities.
Given the way he swings that grin to light on her the moment that the customer looks away, Marinette is sure he’s doing it on purpose.