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Marinette knew the first time Chat Noir had knocked on her trapdoor that this was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea even after the late night cuddling sessions, even after long talks staring up to the stars, even after Chat had kissed her on the forehead the last time he’d left.
Marinette knew it was a bad idea letting Chat come over once, twice, thrice, then every day, of every week, of every month… she’d lost count. She knew it’d been a bad idea, yet she let him stay. He would come just after sunset, they’d talk into the night, and if they were really having a nice night Chat would hide in her bathroom when his transformation wore off and she would deliver him whatever cheese she could find. He’d stay until his ring began to beep again, and he’d look at her apologetically, murmuring to God how he wished he could stay, then he'd run off into the night, and Marinette would watch him until he disappeared behind a tall building, thinking how much this was a bad idea.
And now, pushed up against the wall, a shiver running down her spine as Chat kissed her silly, she knew why it was a bad idea. At some point among Chat’s overused pickup lines, endless flirtation and hidden dorkiness, with his tail lashing softly back and forth, ears flattened as he chased the laser Marinette was controlling (while trying to control her laughter too) – at some point among all this, Marinette had fallen for this beautiful black cat.