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Adrien never thought a girl’s bedroom would be his downfall, yet here he was.
In front of him, Marinette led him up the stairs to his room and it took every ounce of his control not to start sweating profusely. Luckily her back was to him, or she might have had questions as to why his jaw was locked so tightly.
Hindsight was a horrible thing, as this was not a problem he’d foreseen when he’d first kissed her as Chat Noir. The idea he would be in her room as Adrien, pretending like he didn’t know every single spot where they’d made out, simply hadn’t crossed his otherwise preoccupied mind. Now he was paying for that oversight.
“I really worked hard on this one, so I can’t wait to show you!” Marinette chirped, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the doorway.
“Oh? I bet you say that to all your commissioners,” Adrien tried bantering back, despite his mouth feeling like sandpaper. She didn’t know he’d already seen it once before, the night he brought her back here after her near-drowning experience.
The night they’d confessed their love to each other.
Marinette turned around, beaming, and it was like an arrow cut straight through his heart. Squeezing his hand once, she let it go and waved her arms similarly to how a magician might reveal his final act.
“I don’t actually. Mainly because I haven’t had such a fun commission before!” she replied, poking out her tongue.
Oh god her tongue. I know that tongue. Oh my god stop thinking of the word tongue! Adrien’s head screamed at him. Images from their previous escapades flicked through his mind and he found himself wanting nothing better than to melt through the floor.
“We-eell I’m honoured,” he half-laughed, half-wheezed.
Marinette nodded approvingly as she stepped backwards towards her mannequin. A sheet covered the outfit so Adrien couldn’t see the contents below it until Marinette decided on the big reveal. “Good! You should be. I haven’t been able to take as many commissions due to how much studying and making stuff for my university has swallowed my schedule. So it was nice to let off some steam but also did you know that-”
Her foot snagged on the edge of the rug and she tumbled backwards. Without thinking, Adrien swooped in to catch her, his arm wrapped around her waist. For a moment, they both froze, and Adrien saw a flicker of a memory pass across Marinette’s eyes, the same one he shared.
Pulling herself to her feet, much more quickly than she had done when he’d been Chat Noir, Marinette slipped out of his embrace with a shy, slightly embarrassed “thanks.” She turned her back to him, the back of her neck tinged pink and she played with her green ribbons.
Adrien stared at the ground with no small degree of guilt. This wasn’t fair to her, was it? It was like he was tricking her into loving him. But how could he confess to her when Ladybug didn’t even know his identity?
He’d always thought he would tell Ladybug his identity first. She’d been the only one, at least in his mind, that had any right to ask him and vice versa.
But that was before they’d defeated Hawkmoth, before Ladybug had almost died because of his family.
He had no idea what to do now.
“Are you ready?”
The words snapped him out of his melancholy thoughts and Adrien looked up to see Marinette on the opposite side on the mannequin, fingers twisted into the fitted sheet much like they’d been twisted in her bedsheets the night when-
SHUT UP, STOP IT, STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. YOU ARE A GENTLEMAN AND YOU WILL NOT THINK ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW, his mind began screaming at him again. He turned his gaze away from Marinette’s fingers and stared into her eyes instead. It was safer, but not by much.
“Nope!” he replied honestly, with a smile that hopefully came across as genuine rather than pained. His heart hammered in his throat.
Marinette laughed, rolling her eyes at him and completely unaware that his response was a truth with many layers of deception. Like a lasagne of lies.
I am going to hell right? Yeah. Yep. Going to hell. This is fine.
With a great flourish, Marinette pulled the sheet from the mannequin to reveal the cosplay he’d commissioned from her. She tossed the sheet to one side, stepping into a high-lunge and sticking her arms out towards the mannequin with a squeak of delight. “Here he is! Squall!”
And finally Adrien had something to preoccupy his mind other than his lover standing right next to him. Yes it was true he’d seen the outfit once before, but his thoughts and feelings had been in such a turmoil that night, he hadn’t really taken it in. Now he was free to survey it top to bottom, mouth open in awe at every intricate detail.
“Wow,” he gasped, the geek side of his brain taking the wheel, “This is insane, Marinette! A perfect replica.”
And he wasn’t just saying that because he loved her. It really was damn good. As he’d stated, it was a perfect replica of the Final Fantasy character he wanted to cosplay. At the Gaming Club’s encouragement, he’d been convinced to go to the next Comic Con with the rest of them. They usually all decided on themes for a group cosplay. Last year the theme had been action-adventure games, this year it was JRPGs which was far more of Adrien’s wheelhouse.
“Well?” Marinette wiggled, a pleased grin on her face at his reaction, and Adrien wanted nothing more than to kiss her right then. “Don’t you want to try it on?”
“OH HECK YEAH!” he cried excitedly, a sudden outburst for his civilian self. Stepping back with a sheepish look, Adrien scratched the back of his head. “Sorry. But yeah, I would love to try it on.”
Marinette blinked at him. Some emotion flitted across her face, but it was gone before Adrien could recognise it. Turning her back to him, she began to undress the mannequin and put the clothes gently to one side.
So that he didn’t completely lose himself in the idea of her fingers undressing him, or worse become jealous of a freaking mannequin, Adrien turned to stare at her room instead. On the wall above her desk was a board full to the brim with photos. Old school friends, a very young looking Marinette with her arms wrapped around with a puppy-faced Alya, a much scrawnier Nino in an oversized shirt playing what was probably his first deck, and a bunch of other faces he didn’t recognise.
It warmed him to see images of her growing up in a loving, supportive environment. A part of him wished he’d been there, had been her age, gone to her school, made friends with all of those happy faces instead of spending so many years alone. Would all the people in her class photo have liked him? He didn’t know. But it was the missed opportunities that hurt him the most. At the Gaming Club, when people would talk about their school days with laughter, Adrien remained silent.
A shift in the air, and Marinette was standing beside him looking at the photos too.
“You ok?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Adrien half-shook himself out of his reverie. “Oh yeah, I was just thinking about what it would’ve been like if I went to school. I mean, I totally get why I was homeschooled now, what with everything that happened to my mother. But I still feel like I missed out on a lot.”
A warm weight settled against his arm. Marinette pressed a hand against him in comfort. Her touch was a sliver of moonlight touching a cold, dark forest. Without thinking, he reached up and gave her hand a squeeze, feeling reassurance.
“I try not to think about it too much or I get sad,” he sighed.
“I think it’s ok to think about stuff that upset you, or hurt you in the past, without trivialising it,” Marinette replied. “It’s also ok to talk about it too. I know I sometimes feel bad about my missed opportunities. I had… a lot of responsibilities growing up. Some were thrust upon me, others I chose for myself, but it left me with not a lot of free time. Occasionally I wonder what it would have been like if I’d let myself be a bit freer. We all have regrets.”
There was something missing between her words, some unspoken secrets lingering in the gaps. Like lemon juice poured on a secret message, but the invisible ink had yet to reveal itself. Yet, no matter how curious he was, Adrien wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t seek out the secrets himself. He got the feeling that that was the extent of what she wanted to say and he was honoured enough that she’d trusted him with a little piece of her past not just Chat Noir.
“The good memories are easier to talk about though, right?” he said and Marinette nodded in agreement.
Adrien gave her a warm smile. Returning the gesture, Marinette gently slipped her hand away from his arm and he found himself missing the comforting weight of it instantly. She picked up his commissioned outfit and held it out to him, placing it into his arms with such care that she might as well have been placing a baby into his arms.
“Try it on!” she cried out excitedly, changing the ever-so-slightly sombre mood from before to one of excitement. “I’ll be downstairs making some snacks, come down when it’s on and we can see if it fits properly!”
It was hard not to get caught up in her excitement, so Adrien didn’t fight it. “Sure thing!” he chirped and, placing the outfit onto a chair, Adrien began to unbutton his shirt on instinct. It was only when Marinette’s eyes widened that he halted, mortified. “Sorry, sorry! Model habits! I’m just used to getting changed in front of fitters and stuff.”
“Oh, yeah, no, it’s totally fine,” Marinette replied, already in the process of leaving. “Will just get the shirt- I mean- snacks. See you in a bit!”
She left, or rather fled, the scene, nearly impaling herself on the doorknob as she did so.
Adrien ran a hand down his reddening face, wishing he had any sense of self preservation, and that his brain didn’t turn into a puddle of mush around her for once. His only boon was the fact that Plagg was currently napping in his bag, else he’d never hear the end of it.
Just try and forget that ever happened. EVER, he thought as he changed from Adrien’s civilian clothes and into the Squall cosplay he’d commissioned.
Every inch of it felt like it was crafted with finesse, with a care Adrien didn’t really feel as much. Yes the quality of the fabric wasn’t the best he’d ever felt, but that didn’t matter to him. If he’d wanted a commission made from the purest real leather, or actual fur, he’d have commissioned the litany of designers at his fathers company. They would have spared no expense for the son of Gabriel Agreste.
But Adrien hadn’t wanted that. He was just lucky enough that Marinette had had the time to complete the commission for him.
He wanted something he could feel proud to stand in. This was something his friend had made for him. He’d never had such a luxury before. And yes, as Chat Noir, she was something other than a friend, more like a lover.
No matter what though, Marinette had always been his friend first. Now he was wearing something she made for him. That meant more to Adrien than any world-famous designer or wealthy costumers clothes ever would. Standing there, in the childhood bedroom of a baker's daughter, wearing the clothes she alone (no teams, no assistants, just her) had researched, resourced and made, Adrien had never felt so rich.
Eventually he stopped standing at the mirror, ogling at how amazing the cosplay looked, and decided to go and show Marinette her handiwork.
She was in the middle of pouring apple juice into a glass when he traipsed downstairs. Glancing up, her jaw dropped. “Woah! Monsieur Agreste! That outfit really suits you!”
The apple juice overflowed, spilled onto the counter and then off the edge. Marinette jumped back with a squeak and hurried to mop it up, her face flushed with embarrassment.
“Well it’s all you!” Adrien encouraged, “the fit is absolutely spot on.”
Marinette spluttered an awkward thanks at the turn of phrase and Adrien couldn’t help but be endeared. Surely she was used to getting compliments by now?
Once she’d recovered from the apple-juice spill and the apparent shock of Adrien’s compliment, Marinette approached her handiwork. Her eyes narrowed in a scrutinising way as she searched for any errors in her work.
“Does it feel ok though? Can you move your shoulders and arms up and down freely?” she asked.
“Feels like I’m moving through a cloud!” Adrien replied, demonstrating by rolling his shoulders back one at a time. As he did, Marinette zoned in on the place just above his left shoulder.
“Aha! I knew I’d missed something! Come with me.” Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs. Adrien barely had time to panic about the contact before they were back in her room.
“Can you sit for me? This shouldn’t take too long to do and it’ll be easier to do it on you rather than the mannequin, but you’re kind of tall you know?” she chuckled gesturing to her chaise whilst she rooted around for her hand sewing equipment.
Adrien obeyed her commands, once again trying to ignore the fact that he had made out with Marinette in the very place he was currently sitting. She’d been straddling his lap and- if you start thinking down this path you are going to die so STOP.
Gathering some white thread in a needle, Marinette approached the faux fur on his shoulder. “I was going to just finish securing this side of the fur. It’s fully attached to the jacket, but I didn’t want it flapping about too much so I thought I’d hand sew the last bit. I’ve done one side but I… something came up and now it looks a tiny bit uneven.”
“Right, of course,” Adrien replied, thinking about the reason why she’d been distracted. In a way, he was glad she wasn’t telling him why. Ladybug and Chat Noir liked to keep the news of the wayward akumas out of the way of the public and only got the police involved if the akuma was particularly dangerous. The general public tended to panic about wayward akumas, often thinking that Hawkmoth had come back to wreak havoc a second time.
Although, in the turmoil of the night where Marinette had to deal with the latest wayward akuma, the night she and Chat Noir had confessed their love, he hadn’t had time to discuss discretion with her. He was glad that Marinette was on the same page as he and Ladybug were. Either that or Ladybug had told her to keep it quiet before she’d had to leave town and have Chat Noir step in to help Marinette. They did know each other, though the extent of that acquaintanceship, Adrien wasn’t sure.
He was interrupted from his musings when Marinette’s chest almost hit him in the face.
It was a strange thing, to have two impulses so at war with each other that they completely cancel the other one out. On the one hand, Adrien’s impulse was to throw himself backwards, away from her chest and probably head-over-heels off the chaise.
The other impulse was a lot more damning, and involved moving forwards.
Neither option was good, so Adrien sat there, frozen, his eyes glazed over, his lips pressed together and his fingers digging so hard into the underside of the chaise that he was sure he could hear the fabric ripping.
Then, blessedly, Marinette shifted and her chest was no longer in front of him. She was so into her work that she hadn’t noticed his suffering, which Adrien was hugely grateful for.
“I’m almost done,” she said, shifting the collar. Her fingers brushed against his neck and Adrien let out a tiny, involuntary whine.
“S-sorry,” he stammered, trying to keep still and calm himself down, “ticklish.”
“Oh!” Marinette giggled, before dropping her voice teasingly as she continued her work. “Well don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
You are KILLING ME HERE, Princess.
Although Marinette was true to her word, and it really only took a few minutes for her to finish, hours went past for Adrien. When she finally cut the last bit of thread and turned away from him with a happy “There, all done!” Adrien felt himself almost collapse forwards with relief. “Ok, now let’s get a good look!”
Adrien stood on admittedly shaking legs and went back to the mirror. Once again he distracted himself with how amazing the commission had turned out. “This is absolutely incredible, Marinette,” he said sincerely. “You have a real gift.”
“Ah well,” she shrugged, but looked pleased with his praise. She flexed her bicep. “Genius is 1% talent, 99% work after all.”
“Not sure I’d agree with those statistics,” Adrien replied, spinning away from his mirror. “Would have to conduct a proper and fair test first.”
“Ok Monsieur Space Science,” Marinette rolled her eyes and approached him, bopping him on the nose. Adrien loved moments like this, rare that they were, where he could simply relax around her, tease her as his civilian self and have her respond in kind. The good kind of butterflies fluttered through his stomach.
“Shall we take some photos? I feel like an outfit this good has to be shared with the world, right?” Adrien asked, twisting into a few practice model poses and exaggerating them enough to make her laugh. He beamed.
“Maybe, but we shouldn’t share them right now I don’t think,” she said walking back towards her desk and leaning against it. “Your face and social media comes with a lot of clout. If we post stuff online, I’ll get a lot of attention which I don’t really want at the moment, especially with my studies. But once the convention arrives, all my studies should have died down and I’ll be able to handle the inevitable flood of people to my socials. Also I don’t want you to think any of us are taking advantage of you because of your social media following. You know that’s not why I took your commission...right?”
“Of course I do!” Adrien reassured. “You haven’t got an underhanded bone in your body.”
A shadow crossed over Marinette’s face but she turned to look at her wall of photographs and Adrien couldn’t analyse it further. When she next spoke, however, her tone gave no indication there was a problem, so maybe Adrien had imagined it?
“Ok so no socials now but I could put it on my wall! I just realised I don’t have any pictures of you up there yet! We have to fix that!”
Grabbing her phone, Marinette flipped it to selfie mode and stood beside Adrien. “Ready?”
Adrien stood by her side, angling himself to get as much of her outfit in the shot as possible. Due to their height difference, he crouched a tiny amount so he could fit more into frame (but subtly enough as to not potentially offend her). His heart was glowing.
Yes, it was true, his civilian self was restricted. He couldn’t hold her, kiss her, touch her and flirt with her the way he could when he was Chat Noir.
But he was still going up on her wall of photos, and that was enough for now.
“Ready,” he confirmed, mirroring her peace sign.
The camera went off, and Adrien smiled.