Chapter Text
Chat Noir may be a dumbass, but he’s a graceful dumbass, anyone in Paris could tell you. He moves like he has absolute control over every muscle in his body, and though he may be flamboyant he rarely wastes a single motion. No matter how far he’s thrown, or how undignified his fall, there’s a good chance he’s going to land on his feet, already springing back up and into a four-legged sprint. He may not be as graceful or acrobatic as his partner, sure, but he’s still an athlete beyond the capabilities of an Olympian. His balance is unassailable, his posture perfect, his—
Most Parisians have not seen Chat Noir outside of very specific circumstances. If they had, they might hold a very different opinion of his athletic abilities.
Chat slams face-first into the second-floor window of the Agreste Mansion, rebounding like a particularly confused bird onto the balcony. He stares at the glass, offended, as if to say you were supposed to let me through.
The glass, of course, does not answer. It is glass.
He attempts to roll to his feet, bashes his forehead agains the rail with a muffled curse, stumbles upwards, and staggers toward the window which he’d ACTUALLY left open, which is about three panes to the left of the one he’d thrown himself at. He reaches for it absently, not even realizing his hand hasn’t grabbed it before he leaps, catching his foot on the bottom of the windowpane and sprawling ungracefully into his bedroom, flopping faceup onto the floor.
“Plagg,” he croaks, “claws in.”
A shimmer of green ejects the cat god outwards, flinging him, skittering, across the floor until he thumps against the wall under the bed. “Hey!” he yelps. “Watch it, Kid!”
Adrien doesn’t answer, simply lying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t blink.
Plagg zips over to him, poking him in the cheek. “Hey,” he says. “You okay?”
Adrien’s eyelid twitches. “Marinette,” he croaks. “She’s… Marinette.”
Plagg’s eyes widen. “Oh,” he says. The encroaching field of green around his sockets seems to make the entire rest of his head grow smaller.
Adrien’s head flops to the side, staring at the base of his computer desk. “I don’t…” he begins. Trails off. “She’s…?”
Plagg settles down onto his stomach, lying down like a loaf of cat. “Try for a complete sentence,” he snarks. “Just one.”
Adrien picks up his head, cranes his neck down to stare at his Kwami. “Plagg,” he says. “Ladybug said—she said she was…” He trails off, blinks. “Her crush. The guy who sits in front of her.”
“Mhmm?”
“That’s—that’s me,” Adrien says. “I sit in front of her.”
“Yup.” Plagg holds out one paw and begins to lick it.
“I’m the guy Ladybug has a crush on.”
“Yup.”
Adrien can’t hold his head up anymore, and it drops back to the floor with a dull thunk. “What am I supposed to do?”
Plagg shrugs. “Tell her?”
Adrien’s heart leaps. He could, couldn’t he—he could tell her his name, his identity, confess his love to her with the face she loves, and then dates, and kissing, and—he blinks, squeezes his eyes a few times. Shakes his head. “She… doesn’t want to know,” he says, unable to keep the petulance form his voice.
Plagg grins. “You could always ask her out as Marinette,” he says.
“How, though?” Adrien says. “I don’t… she’s Marinette. How am I even supposed to…” He rolls onto his hands, pushing himself upward and back onto his haunches. “She’s so… so cool, Plagg. She’s incredible. And I’m just…” He spreads his arms, gestures down at himself. The motion throws off his balance, and before he can do anything he’s on his ass.
Plagg snickers. “You sure are,” he says. Then he reaches out and pats Adrien on the knee. “But you’re also a hero, you know.”
Adrien feels his chest getting warm at the compliment, and smiles for a moment. Then, suddenly, his eyes widen.
“You know…” he says, pressing a finger to the side of his chin. “You’re right. I am a hero.”
Plagg stares at him, then his eyes widen again, and he begins to back up, shaking his head. “No, no, no, no, this is a bad idea,” he says. “Not gonna be part of this, not going to—”
“An entire wheel,” Adrien says. “This weekend.”
Plagg’s eyelid twitches. “I shouldn’t.”
“Two wheels.”
“Alright!” Plagg wails at the ceiling. “We can go visit her.”
Adrien grins. “Why, thank you, Plagg,” he says. “Claws out!”