Chapter Text
Three months after Hawkmoth’s defeat, Adrien’s life settles into a…routine, of sorts.
Every morning, he wakes up early to join Tom and Sabine in the kitchen.
The Dupain-Cheng bakery is warm and alive, nothing like the Agreste mansion, which is—was—cold and lifeless, a dull imitation of a home.
Every time Adrien wakes up, he is grateful for this home that has accepted him so easily into its fold.
Even at five in the morning, the Dupain-Cheng household is awake and bustling with activity, with two thirds—now three fourths—of its members already preparing for the day.
He didn’t used to enjoy waking up early, not after staying out until the early hours of the morning with Ladybug. Now that they live in the same apartment, though, their late-night patrols have been significantly reduced. Tom has been teaching him how to bake, and—it’s great! Kneading dough is cathartic, even though stopping Plagg from eating all the cheese bread might just give him an ulcer at fourteen.
He wants to become a baker in the future. It beats being a model, right?
Today, as Adrien pounds a piece of dough into the counter, he resolutely does not think about F—Hawkmoth’s upcoming trial, or how Mother’s condition still has not improved. Master Fu is researching a way to heal victims of damaged miraculous, but he doesn’t seem optimistic that he’ll find anything soon. He isn’t happy Marinette offered Adrien her home out of the goodness of her heart either, seeming to think living under the same roof will make them discover each other’s identity sooner or later. Well, the joke’s on him—
What is he doing? He just decided he wasn’t thinking about Father or Mother or any miraculous business, but now—
“Hey, son.”
Adrien blinks, knocked out of his thoughts. He looks up, “Tom?”
The man moves next to Adrien and dumps a piece of dough the size of Tom’s torso onto the counter. They stand side by side, kneading their doughs in silence, until Tom begins hesitantly.
“Adrien, you know that Sabine and I consider you part of this family, right?”
Adrien blinks. “…yeah?”
“Well, we were discussing, and I know Marinette won’t mind—how about we make this official?”
Adrien’s brain screeches to a halt. His muscles freeze up despite being buried wrist-deep in dough. That can’t—he can’t be—
He chokes out, “What?”
Tom raises his hand to rub the back of his head, pauses when he remembers it is covered in dough, and lowers his hand with a frown. “Your emancipation process has been slow-going.” He recalls. “So—but you don’t have to become a legal adult right away, Adrien. You—we—”
He takes a deep breath. “Sabine and I would be more than happy to adopt you.”
What!?
“What—I—we—”
“That’s just a suggestion, you know that right?” Tom hastily adds at Adrien’s expression. “If you don’t want to—or if you need more time to think about this—there’s no deadline to our offer—”
Adrien takes a deep breath, and squeezes the dough like an edible stress ball.
He—this—
Part of Adrien wants to accept this. He has lived in the Dupain-Cheng household for merely three months, but already Tom and Sabine have acted more like what people online dub parental than Father—or even Mother—ever have.
Adrien Dupain-Cheng has a nice ring to it.
But—
Tom and Sabine aren’t the only members of this household. There is also Marinette, also known as Ladybug, the love of his life, and if he agrees to this—his sister.
…there is more than one way to become Adrien Dupain-Cheng.
“Thank you for your offer, Tom.” Adrien mutters, holding onto the piece of dough like his life depends on it. Is this why Tom decided to spring this question here and now? “But—”
Tom awaits his answer quietly, giving Adrien time to gather his thoughts.
“I…don’t want to be your son.” He finally decides.
Tom smiles. He looks sad. “That’s okay. I under—”
“I—I want to be your son-in-law.”
Tom’s eyes widen.
To tell the truth, Adrien has no idea what he’s doing. Lady—Marinette has rebuffed his suggestions to go on a date multiple times; it’s clear she harbours zero romantic interests towards him. Even if he asks again…why would things change this time? Because they know each other’s secret identities now? Or because he’s a hopeless romantic who doesn’t know when to quit?
“You want to—you want to date Marinette?” Tom breathes, eyes wide as an owl.
“…yeah?” Adrien winces. Will Tom give him the real-life version of a shovel talk now? Will he kick Adrien out of the house so he won’t get to live with the girl he loves? Will this destroy the beautiful bond between Adrien and Tom and Sabine?
“Wel—Well.” Tom laughs awkwardly. “I can’t say I expected that. But—you’re a good young man, Adrien. If I—if Sabine and I are willing to entrust you with our family, we should be willing to entrust you with our daughter too.”
Adrien’s eyes widen. Inside the pocket of his apron, he can feel Plagg squirm.
“But!” Tom quickly adds. “You don’t get to sleep in the same bed until you’re both 18, you hear me? If you go into each other’s rooms, you must leave the door open and not do anything you won’t do in front of us. Otherwise, I will be very, very disappointed.”
Adrien blushes. “Marinette didn’t even agree to date me yet.” He argues.
Tom laughs, as if the idea that Marinette will ever reject Adrien does not even register in his mind. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that, son. Marinette is already smitten with you.”
Adrien sincerely doubts that.
In the locker room, Marinette stuffs her gym bag into the locker, and turns around.
She pauses, and stares.
Seven pairs of eyes glare back at her.
Alya, Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Alix, Sabrina and Chloe. In other words, every single girl in her class. The seven girls surrounding Marinette in a semicircle, blocking her escape paths.
“What?” Marinette frowns. This feels an awful lot like being cornered by a street gang. How did she not hear them coming?
She gets the distinct feeling the vestiges are grabbing popcorn, the unsympathetic jerks.
“Marinette.” Alya marches forward, clasping her hands on Marinette’s shoulder. “Are you finally dating Adrien?”
What. Marinette blinks. “No? Is that what this is about? You could’ve just asked me during lunch break, you know.”
“When you and lover boy go to the bakery together to eat?” Alix rolls her eyes. What is she even doing here? Alix isn’t even interested in romance.
Chloe sniffs, examining her nails. “You literally live with him, Dupain-Cheng. How are you not dating yet?”
“…I didn’t—it didn’t seem like an appropriate topic to bring up after Hawkmoth was arrested. Plus, Adrien was getting used to his new life. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable where he lived.”
Besides, Marinette doesn’t want Adrien to think she’s only dating him now that she knows his identity. Which she would be—but—it sounds so terrible when she puts it that way—
“Oh, for the love of—” Chloe throws up her arms. “It’s been three months! Three! Adrikins’ been pining after you for three months! And I know you’ve been pining after him for even longer, don’t even bother denying it. It was so painful to watch. Gods. For the sanity of everyone in this room, just suck it up and kiss him, Dupain-Cheng.”
“I.” Marinette blinks. Her brain can’t seem to compute. “Don’t you like-like Adrien? Are you sure it’s—”
Chloe rolls her eyes. “I have a girlfriend.”
“Wait.” Alya turns to Chloe, curiosity burning in her eyes. “When did this happen?” She demands. “You—”
“Don’t change the topic, Cesaire.” Chloe scowls. “And you, Dupain-Cheng. Get your shit together and start dating Adrikins, or I’m gonna tell him about your feelings for you.”
Marinette blinks. “…I don’t think you’re allowed to do that, Chloe.”
“Then just do your job. How hard can it be?”
That evening, Ladybug and Chat Noir end up on the roof, at what used to be their rendezvous point, sprawled out with a box of leftover pastries between them.
It’s somewhat nostalgic of their patrols before Hawkmoth’s defeat, when Chat would eagerly await the opportunity to spend time with his Lady. Their patrols have lessened significantly ever since that day, though Ladybug still insists on keeping up with his training.
Today though, the atmosphere on the roof feels…tense.
The sunset catches Marinette’s hair, lighting it red and yellow and orange. The evening wind plays with Marinette’s hair, her pigtails swaying in the spring wind.
Adrien should feel light with joy at this picturesque moment. Instead, he swallows, a lead-like weight sitting in his stomach.
They—he and Tom and Sabine—have come to an agreement. Adrien will try one last time to ask Marinette out. If she says yes, Adrien will be with the love of his life. If not, he will allow Tom and Sabine to sign the adoption papers. No matter what Ladybug’s choice is, Adrien will still be a part of her family.
Either way, tonight will bring the end of a story. Whether it’s one with an ending he prefers…
Well.
Marinette turns to him, a slight smile on her mouth. Adrien tries to return that smile, but…
He can’t.
His lips feel frozen as he tries to open his mouth. He can’t seem to force words past his throat. How is discovering Hawkmoth’s identity easier than this?
“Chaton. Adrien.” Marinette’s hands ghost over his own. Her eyes seem to glow like stars under the dimming sunlight. “I—”
“Will you be my boyfriend?”
He.
What.
Adrien’s thought processes screeches to a halt. He stares, his mouth agape, as Marinette continues with an earnest but nervous smile.
“Adrien, I’ve had a crush on you—civilian you—since that first day of school, when you offered me your umbrella. When you flirted with me as Chat, I thought—expected—you to be joking, the way Denki made flirting a part of his hero persona. And when I realized you were being genuine, I became in denial because I thought I was already in love with another person, and didn’t want to break your heart. But now—the boy I love was in front of me all along, and I was too blind to see it.” She takes a deep breath. “So, Adrien, will you be my boyfriend, and become my partner in more ways than one?”
“I—you—” Adrien stammers. “you’re—wait. The umbrella—you’ve had a crush on me since the first day of school?”
Marinette blushes.
“Oh. Oh my kwamis.” Laughter bursts out of his lungs, bubbly and light. The previous apprehension evaporates into thin air, as if it was never there. “This is ridiculous. We’ve been pining after each other for so long, and—it’s been months! I can’t—we’re so stupid.”
“We are.” Marinette’s mouth twitches. Her face is still red. “But…ah. Let’s be stupid together?”
“Yes.” Adrien breathes. He feels like tiny fireworks are going off inside his chest, which probably isn’t a healthy feeling, but who cares? “Kwamis, yes.”
He leans over and presses his lips against Marinette’s, tasting butter and cinnamon. This isn’t Marinette’s first kiss—he isn’t even her first love—but those thoughts are washed away when Marinette curls her fingers in his hair, the way he has imagined over and over, and presses him deeper into the kiss.
This is as much of a happy ending as someone can get in real life, Adrien thinks. He’s so lucky.