Chapter Text
An hour and a half later she was still looking at the water, streetlit instead of sunlit and starting to chill the air. It wasn’t even clear why she was looking at it, really. Water was water. Normal. Damp. Technically changing, sure, but not in a meaningful way; it was still going to be the river if she kept looking all night.
To her surprise she realized she was waiting for Ladybug to come back. Which was so completely embarrassing, she thought, hunching forward into her knees. It was exactly the kind of thing she should know not to expect anymore, and not only because she’d told her to go, though obviously that was the largest part of it.
“Okay,” she muttered to herself. “That’s enough.” She felt strangely angry, impulsive, ready to do something terrible. “Plagg, claws in.” The flash of green light again, and he floated in front of her, one eyebrow raised.
“I want you to look again,” she muttered at the ground.
“What’s that?” Plagg said. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“You—” She smacked her hand on the ground and stood. “I want you to do it again! Finding the transformation! I want to be Chat Noir the way I was Ladybug, and I know you know what I mean. I waited! Afterward, I waited for you to show me. Isn’t that your job? I thought I would be different now. That it would help. But you didn’t help me! Maybe you weren’t even watching!” Plagg was just looking at her. “What, you can’t do it? It’s only because I was vacationing as Ladybug, and if I’m my real self, if I’m Chat, then I can’t— then I have to be—” Her fists were clenched. Her breath came in little clawing bursts out of her throat.
“Chat Noir’s not ‘your real self’, kitten,” he said, kind. She snarled. “It’s not that I didn’t see what Tikki did, okay? But after the first time, you have to ask. That’s all. But I needed you to ask.” He held out a limb, impatient.
Adrien burst into tears. Oh, she thought. There’s the terrible thing. That’s what I was going to do.
Plagg waited with her. He didn’t speak.
Finally she was done, though she stayed there, looking at how she’d soaked the cuffs of her shirt. What her father would say, if he knew about the shirt! The same thing he said to every model who spoiled a piece of clothing: “It wasn’t enough for you just to wear it?”
“All right,” she said. She held her hand out, like he’d wanted. “Claws out.”
Adrien had always thought that her memory of her first transformation had been altered by emotion, intensified, made strange. The details had been exactly the same, and yet the first time was magnified, like she wasn’t just taking in the powers Plagg gave her, but something even beyond. That, she figured, was just the shock of discovering she could do something important, instead of being a mannequin to smear with Giorgio Armani Luminous Silk Foundation #3 for the rest of her natural life.
She was wrong, actually. The first time becoming Chat had been greater, and stranger, than the rest. Like this time, as Plagg helped her change, the way she’d always wanted to.
The costume, she thought critically, hadn’t changed much; Marinette might, for inscrutable reasons of her own, want an incredibly long braid, but Adrien was pretty fond of the tail. Chat Noir was a great look, if she said so herself, and she always had. This was definitely more her than the Ladybug outfit, for instance; she felt more armored, more ready to block a hit, not delicate or exposed. The shoulder padding was slimmed down only subtly, the belt circled her waist instead of her hips. Her hair— she could feel when she turned— swished, a high ponytail like Chloé’s. She’d always been jealous of Chloé’s hair, really, now that she thought about it; she’d assumed it was purely professional admiration. One year, for Chloé’s birthday, Adrien had spent nearly four full days buying hair accessories: combs, tiaras, a jeweled chain to braid into it like an elf princess. Adrien didn’t usually have that much patience for shopping, but she’d thought maybe she was just especially grateful for Chloé’s friendship that year. It had been so surprisingly easy to spend hours thinking about ways to arrange long blonde hair.
Despite this setback, Adrien felt confident that her observational skills were only going to improve going forward.
It was demoralizing that Ladybug landed on the roof immediately after that thought, but things could still improve.
“Somehow, I thought you might still be here,” she said.
“You don’t have to.” Adrien felt all the ease leave her again. She felt quiet and stupid, more Adrien than Chat, more herself than either.
“I’m sorry I did this to you,” Adrien said. “Learning your identity. You never wanted that.”
“I didn’t want it, sure,” she said. “It was safer, and I was scared. But I don’t regret you getting to know me, you know. If you’d tried on purpose, that would be wrong. That would hurt. But I know you wouldn’t try to do that. And it might not be quite as safe, but…” She frowned. “This already isn’t a very safe thing for us to be doing. I was unconscious for an hour today. What if you’d needed to take me to a hospital? It might be safer in some ways to be secret, but having someone know can help too.”
Adrien felt almost dazed. She’d known, of course, how much braver Ladybug was than anyone else; how brave Marinette was, how willing to stand up for herself, for anyone who needed it. But this was something else. Her lady didn’t have to decide to be over it in an hour. It wasn’t right.
“I want you to know,” Adrien started, “when I told you I wanted to be just like you, that was only partially an excuse about the uh. The transformation. I’ve always admired you, and just as much now, knowing you’re Marinette. You’re—“ She coughed. “Uh, sorry. I shouldn’t be too specific, but. Even just from what I know about Marinette as Chat, I admire you a lot. But I know that this means more than ever that you wouldn’t be interested in me. And that I couldn’t come out as my civilian self anyway, because it would make it too obvious, and you deserve to keep these parts of our lives separate just as much as I do. You shouldn’t have to rearrange your life as Marinette around my— problems. So I want you to know I won’t do anything to make it harder.”
“Tell me, then,” she said. “It’s more strategically important to keep my identity secret than yours, anyway. And it’s more important to me to give you what freedom I can than to—”
“It’s not more important,” Adrien said, “and besides, it’s not— I don’t want you to feel any more obligated toward me that I’ve already forced you to be. You don’t need to keep any more of my secrets.”
“I do,” Ladybug said. “I owe you just as much as you owe me. We made a choice to protect each other, and it’s worthwhile to me to honor that, no matter what. But I’ll let you think about it, if you’re not ready.”
Ladybug reached out to take her hand, and squeezed it.
“And for the record,” Ladybug— giggled, which Adrien had never heard before. Or, no, she’d heard it all the time, from Marinette. Ladybug put her head down and laughed. Then she straightened up.
“I have to. Uh. Kitten.” Ladybug put her hands on Adrien’s shoulders. Then moved one hand to Adrien’s hair. Adrien could feel her wind her fingers into it.
“It doesn’t make me less interested in you. That you’re a girl. It, ah. It really…” Her voice trailed off. Adrien couldn’t think of anything to do besides be very, very still, in case she reminded Ladybug of something else they needed to be doing right now.
“Tell me if you don’t want me to, okay?” Ladybug leaned in. Adrien felt her press her face to the side of Adrien’s throat. Adrien turned her face to Ladybug’s, not able to think. Not ready to guess.
“Please,” she whispered.
Ladybug kissed her.
A week later, Adrien caught Alya at the door to the classroom. She raised an eyebrow and waited while Adrien wrung her hands, did a little silent pantomime of anxiety, and then squared her shoulders, to feel determined. She nodded firmly, to really emphasize how determined she definitely was now. Alya raised the other eyebrow.
“Alya, can you switch desks with me for today? I need to ask Marinette something.”
Alya— bounced. Which was fine! Alya could bounce in response to things Adrien said, if she wanted. That seemed within the bounds of reasonable behavior. Okay, it didn’t, but Adrien couldn’t make a strong case for her own understanding of what was normal to do.
“Is that a yes!” she yelped. Oops. Not enough shoulder-squaring, possibly.
“Yes that’s a yes!” Alya whispered and screamed at the same time, which was also great. Adrien was so glad to be there, having this regular conversation with her good friend Alya. What a fun, special time they were having together.
“You’re in luck, too, she’s here early. Go talk to her, Adrien, go, go, go—” Alya physically pushed her into the classroom. Which was useful! Great helping. Alya… loved to help? Alya loved to help. Oh, hey, she thought, it’s Marinette. Marinette was at her desk! Where Adrien was also going to sit! Hahaha! Hahahahaha—
Adrien sat down next to Marinette. She flushed and looked down at the desk. “Can— c-can I— Hi!” she said, not making eye contact. “Hi. Adrien. Hi.”
Oh, right. It was Marinette. Adrien honestly kind of enjoyed being the more conversationally functional person for a change. It was reassuring, like when someone else also spills water down the front of their shirt at dinner. Their multi-layered secret identity shirt.
“Hi, Marinette. Can we go to your house for lunch? I need to talk about something personal, and I…” She giggled a little, and dropped her voice to a whisper. This was fun, actually. Knowing something good, for once. Being ready to tip her hand. “I just have this really, really strong feeling that you’re good at keeping secrets.”
Marinette looked at her, straight on, and started to smile.