Chapter Text
It should be romantic.
The air is heavy with birdsong, and golden with the setting sun. A cool breeze stirs the tree branches above, casting dappled light down skin and path alike. The hand in hers is firm. Everything about his touch is familiar: the curl of his fingers, the pattern of callouses on his palms, the warmth of his grip. Her pulse echoes in her ears, and her stomach fills with a giddy, twisting heat.
It should be romantic. But if it were romantic, her mouth wouldn’t feel so tacky, and Marinette wouldn’t feel like screaming. If it were romantic, she’d be able to turn around and face the boy behind her, the boy whose smirk she can feel burning into her back. She knows the heft of that smile like the spots on her suit, and can almost hear Chat’s - Adrien’s? - unspoken quip. You think I’m pretty? The nerve.
She loses track of how long they march down the path. It’s long enough for the shadows of the trees to start casting deep shadows, for gold light to take on purple tones. Adrien says nothing as she drags him along; he simply keeps up.
From further down the path comes the sound of muffled voices. Marinette recognizes Tikki’s soft trill, and the answering words, obvious in their sarcasm even from a distance, must be Plagg. She picks up the pace, judging that they must be just beyond a curve the path takes a few yards ahead.
“-figure it out on their own,” Tikki says.
“They’re idiots,” Plagg responds, voice flat.
Marinette and Adrien clear the curve, and Tikki and Plagg pull in sight.
“Plagg!” Tikki scolds. Her little limbs settle on her hips. Plagg rolls his large, green eyes and continues before Tikki can.
“Come on, don’t try and deny it. Has it ever taken another Ladybug and Chat Noir this long to plod through their feelings for each other? Not even close. They’ve been going at this for almost four years, now. They’re idiots.”
“They're in love!” Tikki exclaims.
She stops short. A moment later Adrien, perhaps as distracted by the kwami's conversation as she was, bumps into her from behind. The choice words she’d been building up for Plagg get swallowed when she hears Adrien’s sharp inhale. She looks up to the boy at her shoulder.
He’s staring down at her with an expression akin to wonder. The evening light brings his features into rosiness, softening the planes of his angular face, yet making him no less handsome. She's seen Chat look like that before, and thought nothing of it, but with Tikki’s final word still hanging in the air, it takes on a new charge. She feels like she’s being accused of a crime she's pretty sure she committed, yet never knew the name for.
“Speaking of idiots!”
They whip back around to the kwamis. Tikki wears an expression Marinette is familiar with, equal parts frustration and embarrassment, while Plagg grins at them all. Looking at the black cat kwami, it’s so easy to see where Chat - Adrien - gets his rougish temperament. She gets the feeling that Plagg was aware of their approach the entire time, if the glint in his green eyes is anything to go by. Plagg does a spinning flip through the air and whizzes over towards them.
“Have you two kissed and made it better yet?” he says.
“Plagg!”
This time it’s Tikki and Adrien in sync. Adrien swats gently at Plagg, but he zips to the other side of Adrien’s head with a laugh. Marinette fights the urge to look straight at the ground and never look up again. Plagg’s voice dips down into an unintelligible whisper, and a moment later, Adrien replies, just as quiet.
Tikki's weight settles on her shoulder, a welcome comfort. Her soft, almost peach-fuzz smooth skin nuzzles against Marinette’s neck.
“Ignore Plagg,” she says in a low voice, “He’s a trickster but he means well. It may not seem like it, but he and Adrien balance each other out better than I've seen in a Chat Noir-Miraculous wielder duo in a while.”
“Are you implying that the Chat Noirs before him were even more… ridiculous?”
“Mhm.”
She shakes her head the best she can without dislodging Tikki.
“Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.”
Tikki floats up and pats her cheek.
“Did you two talk it out yet?”
Marinette bites her bottom lip and looks away. To be honest, she hadn't wanted to talk to Adrien about anything; she’d *wanted* to curl up into a tiny ball and find a nice pile of leaves to die under.
She'd reacted terribly in the car. There had been no need for confirmation after seeing both kwamis in the cooler, but it had been impossible to bottle her disbelief or stifle the rising tide of anger in her chest. Who she'd been angry at, it was impossible to tell: herself, for not seeing it sooner; Tikki, for obviously knowing and not telling her; or Adrien, for somehow managing to make her think he was perfect this whole time.
“What’s there to talk about?” she mutters.
Tikki sighs.
For years, Adrien, through no fault of his own, had convinced Marinette that he was perfect. He’d somehow also tricked her into thinking he wasn't perfect for her. So of course, the moment those feelings she’d swallowed had started creeping back in, the boy that she’d fought to convince herself wasn't for her had turned out to be her best friend, her partner, the one person who’d held onto the biggest secret of her life.
She didn't know if she wanted to kiss him, or strangle him.
“Marinette, this might seem scary right now, but it was going to happen eventually. You two should make the best of it! Besides, can you think of anyone else you’d rather Chat be?”
Shuffling back and forth, Marinette resists the answer that leaps to her lips. It's an obvious one, one she can't deny, but to speak it out loud is to turn it from theory to fact. She dares a glance in his direction. Plagg hovers at his ear, speaking quickly as Adrien listens. Every few moments, Adrien shakes his head at whatever Plagg says. His lips are drawn tight, expression severe. Much like his ridiculous, wild grin, it’s a look Marinette has only seen on Chat’s face.
She can't think of a single person in the world who she’d rather have at her side. Finally, she shakes her head to Tikki’s question.
“See!” Tikki says, no longer in a whisper, “You'll be fine!”
Adrien and Plagg both turn to them. With his full attention back on her, Marinette feels the small bit of resolve Tikki had started building up in her falter. His green eyes bore into her.
She can't do it. It’s a coward’s way out, and she knows it, but she can't discuss this with him, not now, not when Marinette can't guarantee what will come out of her mouth. For not the first time that day, she feels fifteen and a blundering mess.
“We should talk,” Adrien says.
Marinette turns and faces towards the path they came down.
“We should head back to camp - Alya and Nino are probably done, and it’s getting dark.”
It’s as firm of a shut down as she can manage, and she knows Adrien would respect it. Chat, however-
“We really shouldn't wait,” he insists, “This is too important to the both of us. We need to talk.”
“What’s there to talk about?” she says again, “I'm Ladybug and you're Chat Noir.”
His eyes narrow, displeased.
“There's more to it than that, and you know it. Now that we know who the other is… We need to figure out schedules, how we’re going to keep our identities safe and not slip up, where we stand… as partners, or…”
It amazes her, how well they understand each other, that Adrien can leave unsaid so many things and yet she’ll still know exactly what he means. That alone should be enough to let her give into his implications. Still, her spinning head and the wave of shock rolling over her body win out.
“We’ll talk about it when we get back to Paris,” she says.
“Marinette, that’s days from now,” Adrien protests, “What are we supposed to do until then, ignore this?”
She dislikes how easy it is to hear what he doesn’t say: Ignore this? Ignore us?
“We can’t very well go around talking about it. Do you want to hash all of this out in front of Nino? In front of Alya? I don’t know about you, but I don’t like my odds if Alya finds out about Ladybug and Chat Noir while we’re in the middle of a forest, miles away from civilization or a witness protection agency.”
Adrien blanches at that, but he recovers from the ploy fast enough. With a shake of his head, he fixes her with a stare.
“I can’t do it, Bug-” he stops and sighs, throwing his hands up. “See? I’m not going to be able to not think about it, and I know it will be the exact same way for you. I’m not saying that we have to go up to Alya and Nino and chuck our Miraculous in their face, but the least we can do is have this out between ourselves, like friends. Like partners.”
There’s no polish to his words, voice cracking at ‘partners’. Staring at him, Marinette feels as though she’s looking at one of those old-fashioned 3-D pictures. Adrien and Chat overlap each other, not quite centered, and she doesn’t have the magical goggles to make them one. The boy with the coiffed hair and neat glasses and her wild-eyed magnet for mayhem were one and the same, but could not be less alike in her mind.
Even as she thinks it, Adrien hits her with a look so soft, so sad, so desperate and out of place on any face other than Chat’s. It’s like the ground is yanked out from under her. Her head pounds.
“I’m sorry, Adrien, I promise we’ll talk it all out - I'm just exhausted, and so overwhelmed. This is a lot for me to process and I just…” she trails off, uncertain of how to finish. ‘Sorry, I’m just really confused because it turns out I turned you down for years because I liked you? or ‘I just can’t bring myself to see you as the same person because I have crushes on you both and if I combine them what happens then?’ It all sounds ridiculous in her own head; no doubt it would sound even more so out loud.
Adrien sighs and pushes up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“I get it, really. This is all totally unexpected and, regardless of what Plagg thinks, not the best way or time to find this out. But how do you think I feel?”
He pauses and pulls a hand through his hair. Worries at his bottom lip with his teeth. Won't quite meet her eyes.
“How do you think I feel,” he says again, “Knowing that I'd finally gotten over Ladybug, and was so excited to have these feelings for an incredible girl who I’d known for years and been too wrapped up in my impossible crush to see, and… And…”
Adrien’s face takes on a bright flush as his words fail him. In contrast, Marinette feels as though all of the blood has drained from her face and sunk right to her stomach, making it riotous with tension.
“And that I was so excited to go on this trip and spend time with her, because I was planning on asking this girl out… only to find out that she’s Ladybug, the very same person to support and encourage me to make a move in the first place.”
He takes one look at her and falters. Neither can meet the other’s gaze, though from the corner of her eye, she sees his face fall.
“I- I’m sorry,” he starts, “That was too much, I didn't mean to- that was too forward-”
It’s too much for her, to see his face crumpled in distress, to watch the anxiousness pinch at his lips.
She was Ladybug, protector of Paris, famous hero, and partner to Chat Noir. She was eighteen, no longer in collége, and she wasn't going to let her own immaturity hurt the boy who also happened to be her best friend. The boy who had just confessed his feelings for the person on both sides of the mask.
“No,” she says, voice low but firm, “Don’t - you don't need to apologize. I… I should apologize. You've done nothing wrong, I've just reacted terribly and…”
Adrien stands stock-still and waits. The fear is obvious on his face. She's turned him down as Ladybug plenty of times, though he’d often brought it up in jest. It never seemed as high-stakes as it does now. Marinette has to be honest. She takes a deep breath.
“And… I had the biggest crush on you, Adrien, in collége. It was so bad I couldn't even string a sentence together around you. But with Chat, everything was so effortless. I… I was just an idiot, for turning you down to try to be with you. I got over my crush, I thought, but then recently…”
To watch Adrien’s face transform in the dusk is to remember that magic is real. The grin that parts his lips is dazzling, stretching up to his eyes and soothing the creases in his forehead. He takes a step towards her.
“That explains so much,” he says, “I thought you hated me when we were younger, or, or something... It’s obvious, now, but back then I just had no clue.”
Marinette is flooded with warmth. Adrien stills her with a look she can't even pretend isn't adoring, and takes her hand in his.
“By the time I actually opened my eyes and saw what was right there in front of me, you and Nathanael were already pretty serious,” Adrien continues, “And Kalil… Would you believe I'd actually considered wrangling him as Chat Noir and abandoning him on the highest platform of the Eiffel Tower?”
She giggles at that, but it goes a shade hysterical as she processes his words. Adrien had liked her for months, maybe even almost a year? As Marinette? A warm weight settles in her gut; her pulse sounds in her ears.
“You would have had my full permission,” she says with a smile.
Something shifts. Adrien is still looking at her, fondness playing at his lips. Maybe it’s the steadily dimming sky - they really should get back to camp - but his eyes seem to darken behind his glasses. His head tilts down, and the loose hold on her hand tightens. The distance between them goes from comfortable to charged as Adrien steps in and Marinette leans forward. They’ve been this close before, closer even: Ladybug and Chat have found themselves entwined as they used his baton to get a better view of the city, or pressed into cramped spaces at the hands of an akuma. But this, this is unlike any proximity she’s felt before.
“And if I asked now, would I have your full permission to…?”
It’s Adrien staring down at her, but the voice is all Chat. Marinette’s lips part, a surprised exhale escaping her. He places his other hand on her waist.
“To…?” she echoes.
His nose brushes hers. She tilts her head up, body knowing what to do even as her mind falls blank. Adrien’s eyes are mint, deep, numbing green, with a bite she can already taste on her tongue.
“Adrien! Marinette!”
Lightning strikes and they stumble apart, frazzled by the sudden change. Nino’s voice reverberates through the trees, followed moments later by Alya’s. Tikki and Plagg duck into their hiding spots.
“Look, I don't know what kind of kinky stuff you guys are up to,” she shouts, “But I, for one, am not rescuing you two from wolves if you’re not wearing clothes.”
They appear on the path a few seconds after. Both Adrien and Marinette are too dumbstruck to respond at first. The darkness on the path is a blessing; Marinette knows they’re both red in the face. Alya stops.
“You guys… Okay?” she asks, all teasing dropped from her voice.
Thankfully, Adrien recovers first.
“Yeah,” he says, pulling in heavy breaths in an exaggerated pant, “Sorry! We went way further down the path than we thought, and started running to get back before nightfall.”
If Alya is dubious of his excuse - and given the way her attention slides to Marinette, she is - she doesn't voice it.
“Ooookay,” she says, rolling her eyes, “Whatever you say. Glad you're not dead. Let’s get back to camp. We started dinner while you two were busy… Getting lost, or whatever.”
Alya and Nino take the lead, and Adrien and Marinette follow. She can feel every time Adrien glances at her, trying to catch her attention, but Marinette stares straight ahead and prays her blush will have faded by the time they get by the campfire.
…
Dinner is a strained affair. Marinette helps Alya pull out dishes and divvy up the rice, beans, and sausage cooking over the fire, while Nino and Adrien unfold the cloth camping chairs. From Nino’s harsh whispers and frustrated groans, Marinette can tell that he’s getting as little information out of Adrien as Alya is out of her.
“Seriously,” Alya huffs, “What happened? If you two are going to be like this for the entire trip, we’re going to have an issue.”
Alya pulls a baguette out of one of their food containers and brandishes it with a flourish. Rolling her eyes, Marinette yanks the baguette out of her hands and begins pulling off large hunks for each bowl.
“Everything is fine,” she says.
It’s not a lie, it just isn’t totally accurate. Adrien and Marinette are fine with each other, maybe even more than fine. They just can’t seem to meet eyes or get out a sentence around each other without devolving into tense blushing.
“Well, if this is fine, you guys had better be on the train to Greatsville by tomorrow morning.”
Alya grabs two of the bowls and walks over to Nino, leaving Marinette with the other two. There’s a free chair on either side of Nino, and of course, Alya plops into the one on the end, leaving Marinette with the choice of sitting next to Adrien, or sitting next to Adrien. Alya hands Nino his bowl and shoots Marinette a pointed look.
Adrien is just coming back down the path leading to the small cluster of bathrooms shared by the various campsites in the park. He wipes his hands on his pants, looks at the seating arrangements by the campfire, and stops.
“Adrien, come get some grub!” Alya calls. She’s still glaring at Marinette, even as she waves Adrien over.
“Yeah, bro, we got a long day tomorrow, chow down!”
Marinette turns, breaking her staring contest with Alya, and picks up the bowls of food. Squaring her shoulders, she makes her way over to the chairs, sits down on Nino’s other side, and looks over at Adrien.
“Food?” she asks, lifting Adrien’s bowl in offering, “It probably won’t kill you.”
“Hey!” Alya protests, “Rude! My cooking is great. Nino, I can’t reach her, get revenge for me!”
Nino offers Marinette an apologetic shrug before giving her shoulder a gentle shove. She manages to keep both bowls of food upright, and turns to stick her tongue out at the couple. The weight in her hand changes. When she looks back, Adrien freezes, hands wrapped around his bowl.
“Thanks,” he breathes.
The simple motion of passing food shouldn't knock the air from her lungs, but it does.
He lifts the bowl and settles into the seat next to her. She knows, and she knows that he knows, that no amount of campfire glow could make him look that red.
It’s going to be an interesting three days.
…
“Nino, come on, you've got to convince her to change her mind.”
It’s hard to tell in the bleached light of the bright lantern placed between them, but Adrien is pretty sure Nino goes pale. He shakes his head and dunks his bowl into the tub of soap and water they’d prepared for cleaning.
“Nuh-uh, no way, no can do. You know that! If I could change her mind, ever, do you think we'd be out here camping right now? No, we’d be on a boat in the Canary Islands, preferably with some of those fruity drinks that have the little umbrellas in them.”
Nino scrubs his dish with a little more force than necessary and shakes his head again.
“Neither of us were even remotely prepared for this,” Adrien says. He follows suit with his own bowl and the serving spoon they'd used.
“Okay, well, I don't know about Marinette, but you and I both know that’s not even remotely true for you, bro.”
Nino fixes him with a look he must have picked up from Alya: the perfect blend of exasperation and affection. Adrien squirms a little and takes to the vigorous scrubbing of the dinner pot.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” he says, as neutral as possible.
Nino flicks his bowl, splashing Adrien’s hands and arms with the soapy water.
“Bro. Bro. I helped you finish packing your bag. How you were expecting to get with Marinette if you and me are chillin’ together in Fort Dude all weekend, I don't know, but I can tell you, this way is much simpler. And probably more hygienic.”
Adrien chokes on an inhale, dropping the pot in his hands back into the water and splashing them both. Nino's complaints are laced with amusement as he fumbles for a towel to dry himself off with.
They finish the rest of the dishes to the tune of Adrien’s wheezing gasps for air and Nino’s occasional, “Just sayin’, dude.”
The girls still aren't back from getting changed in the bathrooms when Adrien and Nino start drying the dishes. Adrien catches his breath enough to speak again.
“What about Marinette though?” he asks, “Did anyone bother checking to see if she was okay with the whole arrangement?”
Even he’s not certain how Marinette is feelings about sharing a tent, and he was the one seconds away from kissing her. If their relationship was a theme park, then Marinette’s reaction was a roller coaster, and Adrien’s been left feeling a little like he’s not sure which way is up.
Happy was not the word he’d use to describe her initial response, though Marinette hadn't seemed opposed to their closeness on the path. The admittance of her feelings had come as more relief than surprise for him; before discovering the two kwamis in the cooler, he’d been confident that she was picking up what he was putting down.
Him being Chat Noir and her being Ladybug should have made everything easier. Nonetheless, Adrien should have realized from the beginning that nothing about this trip was going to be easy.
“Adrien, seriously? Girl’s been head over heels for you since we were fourteen. She is not going to have a problem sharing a tent with you.”
Adrien shakes his head, not even wanting to ask how long Nino’s known something he’s just discovered. He won't lie and say it doesn't give him a thrill, to hear Marinette - Ladybug - had a crush on him. He’s just not willing to let himself wish too hard that that’s still the case; the last thing he needs is a heart full of hopes met with a handful of his classic bad luck.
“It’s still not cool just to shove her into this situation,” he says.
Whatever Nino is about to say is cut off by the sounds of laughter coming from the other side of the camp. The girls emerge from the forest, Alya with a towel draped around her shoulders, and Marinette with her backpack slung over one arm. They’ve both changed into their pajamas.
The shorts were bad enough, but this? This is torture. Adrien swings back around to Nino, eyes wide.
“Change. Her. Mind.” he hisses.
Nino looks past him to the girls, and his lips curl into a grin. The look on his face is full appreciation for the truly-too-lacey-for-camping tank top and sleep short combination his girlfriend sports, and with sinking stomach, Adrien knows he faces a losing battle. He has to try at least one more time.
“Nino. Yoga pants, Nino. I can’t do this.”
It doesn’t matter that there’s more skin covered than there was before. The dark fabric of Marinette’s bottoms cling to every curve of her backside and every line of muscle in her legs. The well-fitting pink tank top gives an even better view of her built arms and back. He’s going to have an impossible time sharing a tent with her.
Nino turns his attention to Marinette and gives him a sympathetic cluck. He puts a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and starts leading him to the middle of the campsite.
“Let’s go get you changed. And maybe a cold shower.”
…
Adrien passes on the shower, but does spend a good two minutes splashing cold water on his face as Nino changes in one of the stalls.
“This is what you wanted, Adrien, stop being all weird about it,” Nino says.
“I know,” he groans, “I know, but all of a sudden it’s just? She’s right there, and we’re sharing a tent, and… what if I mess something up and she doesn’t want anything to do with me?”
He shoves another handful of water in his face. It stings a little as he blinks the water away, but it’s grounding.
“Stop whigging out and just be yourself.”
That’s the worst possible advice Nino could unknowingly give, and Adrien has to bite back another groan. Because who was he when he was himself? And who did Marinette like? Chat, or Adrien?
Nino steps out of the changing stall, dressed in a large t-shirt and comfortable looking sweatpants. He eyes Adrien’s sweaty t-shirt and hiking pants.
“Are you… planning on changing?”
“No…”
Heat surges up his neck.
“And… why not?”
He hangs his head, hands fidgeting at his sides.
“Adrien… Dude, no. Don’t tell me… Adrien, you’re not seriously that dumb.”
Adrien shrugs, unable to deny it. He glances up at his best friend. Nino’s cheeks puff out as he tries not to laugh.
He fails.
“You-” Nino gasps between guffaws, “Are the most hopeless person I have ever met.”
…
Marinette and Alya lounge by the fire, sipping wine from plastic cups as they enjoy the soft sounds of the forest around them. Propping her feet up on one of the stones around the fire ring, Marinette leans back and gazes up through a clear spot in the trees to admire the stars.
Dinner and a much-needed shower have settled most of her nerves, and the wine isn’t hurting. The long day catches up with her as she reclines, exhaustion settling in her muscles. Too much had happened in one day. Marinette needs her sleeping bag, a tent, and a long, long rest.
The boys crash back into the campsite, Adrien swearing under his breath as Nino laughs and thumps him on the back. Both girls sit up in their chairs.
Adrien. And to think, she’d managed not to think about him for a good fifteen minutes. He dominates her stare now as he regains his footing and gives Nino a playful shove.
Nino tries to retaliate, but Adrien ducks out of his way, Chat Noir reflexes all-too-obvious now that she’s looking. Throwing his hands up in the air, Nino gives up on pursuing Adrien and walks over to the campfire. He drapes his arms around Alya’s neck and kisses her temple.
“Baaaabe, I’m tired,” he says. Nino slumps, weight pushing Alya half out of her chair. With a startled laugh, Alya tries to push him back, but Nino goes deadweight.
“Let’s go to beeeeed.”
Alya rolls her eyes and manages to maneuver his weight without falling out of her chair.
“At least let me finish my wine, first,” she grumbles.
She downs the rest of her wine as Nino pretends to snore against her back.
“What a baby.”
Nino straightens as he feels Alya shift under him, letting her escape the camp chair and stand. He wraps an arm around her waist and starts to tug her towards the tent.
“Alright, alright, I get it,” she says, “Goodnight, Marinette. Goodnight, Adrien!”
Marinette tenses.
She’d forgotten.
Her eyes search the campsite for Adrien, and when she spots him, kneeled over his backpack by the tent, she can see he’s frozen too.
“Alya, are you sure-?” she starts.
“Nope, sorry, Mari, not getting out of this one.”
“But-”
The sound of a tent flap being unzipped fills the night air.
“Goodnight, Marinette.”
And then, like before, it’s just the two of them.
Marinette chugs what’s left of her wine and stands up. Slowly, she makes her way towards the tent. The tent she would be sharing with Adrien. Their tent.
Adrien looks up as she approaches.
“So…” she starts.
“Ithinkishouldsleepoutside,” Adrien spews.
Marinette blinks, taken aback.
“Wait, what?”
“Of the tent,” he says, voice less than an inch more composed than before, “I should sleep outside. You. You can have the tent.”
Before Marinette can respond, Adrien is unzipping the tent flap and pulling his sleeping bag out. She sidesteps to avoid getting hit by the unfurling fabric.
“Adrien, no, you don’t have to-”
“Really, it’s fine, it’s a small tent, and you shouldn’t be uncomfortable and-”
He looks frantic as he continues rolling out the sleeping bag on the ground. Plagg, the barest of dark shadows, floats up from Adrien’s side and over to Marinette.
“I think he’s lost his mind,” the little kwami says.
Marinette isn’t paying attention to Plagg, though. Any calm she’d found that evening vanishes, replaced by a buzzing tension that goes straight to her spine. All of that awkwardness comes back too, in fuller force than ever.
“No, no-” she says. She bends over and starts to pull her own sleeping bag out. “No, you shouldn’t have to- if anyone is going to sleep outside, it should be me-”
“Marinette, no, sleep in the tent-”
“You sleep inside, you’re a model, I'm used to camping outdoors!”
“No way, I’ll sleep out here.”
“No! Sleep in the tent!”
When it happens, she’s not sure, but their sleeping bags are both unrolled at perpendicular angles on the ground and they’re practically nose-to-nose, scowling at one another. Were it not for the crunch of leaves and the grit of dirt beneath her knees, she might think they were on a roof, in Paris, arguing over whose turn it was to buy patrol coffee (Chat always insisted it was his; Ladybug always had to race him to it).
“Don’t be stubborn. Sleep in the tent.”
“*You* sleep in the tent, I’m sleeping out here.”
“You can do whatever you want, Buginette, I’m not sleeping in the tent.”
“Fine then,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m sleeping outside, Chaton.”
“Well, so am I.”
Marinette turns with a harumph and starts to wiggle into her sleeping bag. From the slide and crinkle of nylon, she can only assume that he is doing the same.
Plagg’s voice pipes up from somewhere inside the tent.
“I guess that leaves this whole tent to us, Tikki.”
Tikki giggles, and then everything falls silent.
Despite the quiet of the night, despite the fact that the fire has died down to little more than embers, making it impossible to see much of the campsite, Marinette knows that Adrien is just as wide-awake as she is. In fact, she’s not sure if sleep is even a possibility at this point.
She hears him rustling in his sleeping bag, and a moment later feels his feet bump hers.
“Good night, Marinette,” he whispers.
“Good night, Adrien.”
…
Marinette does get to sleep.
When she wakes up the next morning, it’s to birdsong and a sore back. Her joints crackle unhappily as she sits up.
A moment later, her chorus of groaning yawns are joined in low harmony by the boy at her feet. Adrien sits up, face red and mottled from the hard ground. A bit of twig has gotten buried in his hair. Marinette’s arms itch with swelling bug bites.
The two stare at each other, mirror reflections in their disarray. Adrien’s hair has been whipped up into a frenzy, and his sleepy, slow blinks are just as adorable without the mask as they are with.
A laugh starts under her ribs and works its way up. Adrien looks confused at first, but a few moments later - after he runs a hand through his hair and encounters foliage - he begins to laugh as well.
“We’re idiots,” she says, before dissolving back into giggles.
He’s laughing so hard, he can’t even reply, but his nod is enough.