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Adrien can feel Plagg's gaze burning a hole in him even through the fabric of his bag.
It's not like he doesn't understand why his kwami is concerned—despite his promise that he wouldn't give the possibility of Ladybug being a classmate any more thought, he figures that Plagg knows him well enough to know that it will remain in the background noise of his mind for a good long while. But hey, he's not actively doing any deep thinking on it, so that counts as putting it out of his mind, right? Besides, while his lady maintains the starring role in his thoughts, she's facing stiff competition today.
No, he's now way more preoccupied with Marinette's little unintentional surprise on top of the TVi studio roof.
The initial surprise—and disappointment—that Marinette wasn't his lady, was in fact running around as their mouse-y savior for the day, had long since worn off. It's not like he didn't already know that she had it in her to be a hero—he'd been the one to give her her class nickname, after all. Things had gone so fast, though, that he couldn't actually enjoy the fact that he'd been fighting alongside one of the coolest girls he knows, and with her reveal, he won't get the chance to in the future thanks to that stupid rule.
He understands why they have the reveal rule, he does. No matter how much he doesn't like it. It's their last line of defense against Hawkmoth targeting them or their families directly—it doesn't mean he can't resent that it means Marinette won't be joining them in the field again.
It's hard not to pout over it all the way through his afternoon activities, but he knows what kind of lecture that would earn him from Nathalie, so he holds it in until he's reached the sanctity of his room after dinner. Plagg has already ditched the bag to rush to his cheese stash, but he's not too distracted to give Adrien's long, gusty, overdone sigh a deeply unimpressed look. “Laying it on a little thick there, aren't you?”
“Can you blame me?” Adrien huffs back, flopping down onto his bed. “I'm mourning the loss of what could have been if it weren't for these secret identity rules.”
“...she went out on one mission, and you're talking about 'loss'?”
“But it was one awesome mission, did you see how she handled herself with basically no help from me or Ladybug? She just dove in with a convoluted plan and she pulled it off perfectly! Come to think of it, it kind of sucks that she can't come back, she and Ladybug seem to think a lot alike-”
“Whoa, whoa,” Plagg cuts in, flitting up to hover over his face. “Remember what we said about not questioning similarities between Ladybug and people you know?”
“I wasn't,” he huffed. “I know they're not the same person, they were standing right next to each other. I'm just saying, they're pretty similar in how they can pull off difficult plans. If we got Marinette back out there, I bet Hawkmoth wouldn't stand a chance! Maybe I should try bringing up the idea to Ladybug?”
Plagg shrugs, content that they'd strayed back out of dangerous waters. “I don't know, kid, she may not be all that eager to bring Marinette back in so soon after a mistake like that. It was pretty irresponsible of Pigtails to just drop her transformation out in the open like that.”
“But I was the only one there! It's not like she just outed herself in front of Hawkmoth or anything,” Adrien grumbles.
“Yeah, but you know what a stickler Fu and Bug are about it. Breaking that rule isn't something she can easily come back from.”
Adrien bites his lip against the angry retort he wants to give that. He does not blame his Lady for not being able to give him as much information as Fu gives her. He is trying to be cool about it, he is.
...he really, really is trying.
“Feel up for a run?” Adrien says instead, standing up for a stretch. “Nathalie's not going to check in on me this late, and I'm feeling restless.” 'Trying' for him usually involves distraction, and he needs it right now.
“Restless to see your girlfriend, maybe...”
“Claws Out!”
The whip of the wind against his face is enough to cool his heated cheeks by the time he touches down on the balcony railing. Plagg and his stupid jokes...
He can hear Marinette puttering around through the cracked skylight, a lo-fi playlist cutting in and out between the hammering of her sewing machine. Part of him wonders if maybe he should just let her be; Marinette's not mean about it or anything, but he doesn't like pulling her out when she's really in the zone. It's not uncommon for him to just sit and watch while she lets her creative flow take over some nights. He likes the secondhand rush of energy that comes off her in waves.
The choice is made for him, however, when Marinette's head suddenly swivels to look straight at him. He blinks hard—she does that sometimes when he comes to visit, it's like she has a sixth sense for when he's at her door. He's questioned it before, because as far as he knows Marinette is a normal, if not amazing girl, but there's so much weird shit that goes on in Paris on the daily that it honestly wouldn't surprise him anymore if she did have some kind of special ability like that. The smile she gives him as she beckons him inside certainly feels anything but ordinary.
“And here I thought you'd be taking advantage of the nice weather, Chat,” she says lightly, beginning the process of clearing away her work. “Shouldn't you be parkouring your way across Paris right now?”
“Ah, but that would deprive me of your wonderful company, Princess,” he chirps back. Her chaise lounge dips invitingly under him as he takes his seat, and he can already tell that it's going to be a struggle not to curl up and nap away the rest of the afternoon here. “The rooftops will still be there tomorrow.”
“Plus the fact that those rooftops won't feed you half as well as I can.”
He snickers. She knows his appetite too well.
“Not that I'm one to turn down food, like, ever, but I actually didn't come to be fed today.”
“Oh?”
“Although if you are offering-”
“Back to your point, kitty cat?”
He bites his lip; of course she won't let him dance around it. “Today was... quite a spectacle.”
Her wry smile slips away, and she can't quite meet his eyes anymore. “O-oh. Yeah, that. It was. It was something, alright.”
The discomfort is interesting. He figured she would still be riding the high of using a Miraculous and saving both heroes of Paris, but that maybe requires a kind of mild ego that he can't see Marinette possessing.
“I think 'something' would be putting it mildly, Mari,” he chuckles. “You really pulled through for me and Milady today, y'know.”
“What?! No, no!” She's frantically waving her hands in front of her, expression trying for some weird mix of panicked and nonchalant and succeeding at neither. “That was- I didn't-!” He doesn't speak, letting her anxious energy burn itself out until she's making an effort to take slow, deep breaths. “What I did, it wasn't anything- anything special, or something. It was just what needed to be done, and Ladybug- Ladybug asked me to do it, so I did.”
She seems to have calmed down, so he shakes his head with a fond smile. “I'm not letting you downplay this, Mari. It was what needed to be done, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't special. It was- It was downright miraculous.”
He couldn't resist, okay. His Lady already gets the brunt of his punning and it's not something he can let loose in public as Adrien all that often, so Marinette and her judgy looks are just gonna have to deal.
“Okay, first? That was bad and you should feel bad.”
“Don't count on it.”
“And second,” her voice goes a little softer, a little warmer, and that shy smile pulling at the corner of her mouth is doing really interesting things to his stomach. “Coming from you, that means a lot to me. So... thank you. For putting your faith in me like that.”
“O-of course,” he says with a grin, resolutely ignoring the way his heartbeat stutters out of rhythm. “Anytime an irate ghostbuster knockoff vaccums up my kwami, you'll be the first person I turn to.”
Her smile spreads, but turns a little sad at the edges. “That's sweet. But I don't think you should be so decided about that. Ladybug's not going to give me another chance, not after the way I messed up at the end.”
He huffs, dropping down to stretch himself fully on the chaise and crosses his arms against his chest. “I still think Milady was being too harsh. I mean, it wasn't even that bad—I've messed up tons of times!”
“Yeah, but you make things right in the end. Even when it takes a while.” He flicks a black ear dismissively at the teasing note in her voice. “And at the end of the day, Chat Noir is needed out there, every time. Multimouse isn't.”
“I could talk to her.” He turns his head to stare at her directly, all joking gone from his demeanor. “Milady is strict about identities, and she needs to be, but she's not unreasonable. I'd do my best to convince her that you making one small mistake, in front of only me, doesn't suddenly make you unreliable or reckless. You would be incredible out in the field with us, Marinette, I know you would.”
Her eyes grow wider with every sentence out of his mouth, and a stunned silence stretches out between them once he's through. It gives him just enough time to regret opening his mouth at all—she may not even want to go back out and fight, it would put her in danger, he shouldn't make assumptions like that—before she stands and makes her way across the room to him. Her expression is just blank enough to get him nervous, until she sinks to her knees onto the lounge next to him, and he braces himself.
A pair of small, soft hands thread themselves through his hair, gently pulling his head up to meet his temple with an even softer pair of lips.
She pulls away after a moment, and he can't quite remember how breathing is supposed to work.
There's a glimmer gathering on her lashline that kind of makes a part of his blue-screened brain want to panic, but it's wiped away by the sheer warmth that radiates from her beaming smile. “You never cease to amaze me, Chat.”
Chat.EXE is still rebooting, please wait.
“I'm happy that you think that highly of me, I am. But I also know that just because I pulled it off once, doesn't mean I'm meant to be part of the fight every time.”
His mouth opens, ready to refute every bit of that sentence, but her fingers sliding up to rest at the back of his leather cat ears draw his focus. Blunt nails scratching at the place where they meet his scalp, and his arguments dissolve into the melted abyss that is his brain, the only thing coming from his throat a contented purr. Her amused chuckle floats to his ears, but it feels too nice for him to care about how obviously she owns his ass right now.
“I think my effort is better spent by trying to help people in everyday life,” she murmurs. “You and Ladybug handle the big, flashy battles against Hawkmoth, and I'll cut him off at the knees by trying to stop akumatizations before he can create them. We can still work together, even if it's not obvious to anyone else.”
He's sunk down, draped half over her lap and looking at her lazily from the corner of his eye. A pigtail dangles just over his face, strands brushing the tip of his nose, and it's a mild struggle to keep from batting at it with his claws. Her smile is more like a smirk at this point, like she knows exactly what he's trying not to do. She's always one step ahead, it seems. It's why part of his blissed-out brain still wants to press the idea of petitioning his Lady—she'd just be so good on their team.
But he's a gentlecat, and Marinette's made her stance very clearly. Contrary to what certain fansite message boards have to say about him, he can take no for an answer.
So he heaves a sigh, and smiles back up at her. “Very well, Princess. I still think you'd make an a-mouse-ing heroine-”
“You're not even trying to be clever anymore, are you-”
“-but I see your point. We can always use more feet on the ground, running interference.” He lets his expression slide into something a little more like a pout. “I can't help but be a little disappointed, though. You make a very cute mouse, Princess.”
The pillow he gets to the face and the battle that ensues keeps him elated long after he leaves for home. His little mission might have failed, but the memory Marinette's soft, affectionate smile soothes away any lingering discontent. It's not the worst thing in the world that his favorite mouse will remain his alone, after all.