Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Pound it!”

Chat Noir grinned, thankful for the akuma breaking up his boring day. His schedule as Adrien was monotonous; school, fencing, Mandarin, tutoring… it was enough to make anyone go crazy.

“What do you say we do another patrol of the neighbourhood? Y’know, just to make sure everything is back to normal?” Chat suggested, grinning at his partner. He wasn’t willing to give up the freedom of being Chat Noir just yet.

“The Miraculous Ladybugs do that for us, kitty,” Ladybug replied, waving at nearby civilians. “Besides, we don’t have long until we de-transform.” As if on cue, her earrings gave a warning beep.

“Better get going then,” Chat said, trying to hide his disappointment.

Ladybug gave him a calculating look at the tone of his voice, searching his face for signs of sadness. Chat forced a smirk onto his face.

She reached up and patted his head before swinging her yo-yo towards the rooftops. “Bug out!” she yelled, swinging past him.

Chat sighed, grabbing his staff and taking off to an opposite rooftop. He crouched behind a chimney and let his transformation fall. Adrien’s head thumped back against the bricks as he looked up at the dimming sky.

“Mmm, cheese,” his kwami said appreciatively as Adrien tossed a piece in the air.

“Charge up Plagg, Chat Noir is not quite done yet.”

Plagg groaned. “Not again. You haven’t even eaten supper Adrien.”

“I’m not hungry,” Adrien said dismissively. It wasn’t true; his fencing lesson had run late, and the akuma attack stopped him from eating when he got home. But he couldn’t stand the thought of sitting at the long dinner table all by himself again.

Freshly transformed, Chat Noir bounded over the rooftops of Paris. The cold November wind bit his face as he vaulted over chimneys and zig zagged over telephone lines. He scanned streets and alleyways for any sign of trouble, but it was a quiet evening. Everyone had gone back to their families for the night.

A savory smell caught the cat’s attention. His stomach growled; the exercise from his escapades had only made him hungrier. He followed the smell unconsciously, getting down on all fours and let his eyes fall half-shut, letting his nose guide him across the cold rooftops. He jumped down onto a railing, then onto a terrace, he was getting so close, it smelled so good…

“Uh, Chat Noir?”

Chat’s eyes snapped open as he jumped back, onto his feet. He stared at Marinette, who stood with a freshly baked lime macaron in her hand. She looked at him with wide eyes, just as confused as him as to how he ended up here. He glanced around, noticing a deck chair, flowerpots, a trapdoor… he had crawled all the way to Marinette’s balcony.

Chat scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Sorry, Marinette. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, still in shock.

“Um… I don’t know,” Chat replied, looking around, as if the answer was hidden on her small terrace. “I don’t know how I got here.”

Marinette considered him carefully. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

“No!” Chat said quickly. “I mean, not really, I wouldn’t want to bother you…”

“It’s no bother,” Marinette said softly. “One moment.”

She disappeared into her trapdoor, leaving Chat to gather his bearings. She had strung fairy lights across her roof, illuminating the small space. He glanced at the book lying open on the deck chair; The Great Gatsby, the book assigned to their English class. He grinned, thinking of his identical copy at home, that he should be reading right now.

The trapdoor opened again, and a plate of baked goods rose from it, quickly followed by Marinette. “Here,” she said, extending the plate towards him with one hand while holding onto the ladder with another. He jumped to take the plate from her hands, tilting dangerously with the amount of croissants, cookies, and macarons on it. He set it down on the ledge to prevent any spilling.

“One more thing,” she said, reaching back down into her room. She climbed up onto the terrace a moment later with a tall glass of milk. Chat stared at her. She flushed under his scrutiny.

“I thought, um, cats drink milk,” she said, holding it out to him.

“Milk actually isn’t good for cats,” Chat replied automatically, staring incomprehensibly at the glass. She had done all this, for a practical stranger who landed on her roof?

Marinette paled at his words, and tried to retract her arm, but Chat caught her wrist. “Lucky for you, my stomach is fully human, and loves milk,” he grinned.

Marinette smiled back, relieved, as he took the glass from her. She leaned on the ledge next to the plate of pastries. She was in her pajamas; she obviously hadn’t expected to see anyone that night, much less have company. Nonetheless, she gestured for him to come over and sit.

Chat’s mouth watered at the sight of the food as he approached her cautiously. “Are you sure this is okay?” he asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Chat,” Marinette commanded. “Sit. Eat.”

“If you say so, Princess,” Chat replied, picking out the chocolate croissant that had caught his attention and taking a bite. He moaned as the chocolatey goodness melted in his mouth. He heard a slight noise come from Marinette, and he opened one eye to see her face flushed red. It must be the nickname, he thought to himself happily. Chat sure seemed to be able to charm the ladies. He finished the croissant and reached for another one, devouring it just as quickly. Marinette eyed him while nibbling on a macaron.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Chat, but when is the last time you ate?”

“Oh, us superheroes don’t have time for such trivial things,” Chat replied through a mouthful of pastry. “I get my sustenance from the satisfaction of ensuring that Paris is safe from evil.”

“How about the sustenance of protein? Or carbs?” Marinette frowned at him. “Paris can’t be saved if their hero is passed out on a roof somewhere.”

“That’s what Ladybug is for,” Chat said dismissively. “She always knows how to clean up my messes.”

Marinette mumbled something under her breath that Chat couldn’t quite catch; he couldn’t bring himself to care either as a key lime macaron caught his eye. It tasted like a slice of heaven. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of visiting Marinette sooner. Great company, and even greater food; this was the best idea he’d had all year.

“I see you’re reading Gatsby,” Chat commented, attempting to fill the dead air.

“I am,” Marinette acknowledged. “You’ve read it too?”

“I have. I’m a pretty literate kitty. Get it? Litter-ate?” Marinette rolled her eyes, but Chat could see a little smile in the corners of her mouth. “Pretty romantic book huh?”

“Romantic?” Marinette looked at him in shock. “If your idea of romance is greed, vanity and naivety, then yeah, I guess you can say it’s romantic.”

“Aw, cut old Gatsby some slack. I love her, and that’s the beginning and end of everything,” Chat quoted. “You have to admit, that’s a pretty good line.”

“If only it wasn’t spoken by a man in love with a narcissist,” Marinette retorted.

“If the line rings true, it rings true,” Chat said, shrugging. “Context can only do so much.”

“And it rings true with you, does it kitty?” Marinette teased.

Chat didn’t reply, looking down at his feet. He tried not to think of a certain spotted girl who had made her feelings for him very clear. It was silent for a moment, until he felt a hand reach out and tentatively touch his, where it was resting on the ledge.

“They’re a rotten crowd. You’re worth the whole damn bunch of them put together,” Marinette said softly. The corner of Chat’s mouth quirked up as he recognized the quote. “Nick said it to Gatsby. That’s the quote that I like.”

“That’s a good quote,” Chat said appreciatively.

“Thanks,” Marinette said, smiling back.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, staring out over the twinkling lights of the city. Chat sneaked a glance at Marinette, her face bathed golden from her fairy lights. Her face looked open, real, confident. Their conversation was easy, even though they had only met a few times before. Not at all like the girl who stuttered and tripped and ran from him at every opportunity. He wished he could see this side of her in school more often.

Chat pushed himself up and dusted off his hands. “Speaking of, I should let you get back to your book. Thank you for the delicious pastries and lovely conversation, Princess. My compliments to the chef,” he said with a bow and a flourish.

Marinette giggled. “The baker can’t know I had a boy drop on my balcony in the middle of the night. So unfortunately, he won’t hear your compliments.”

“And my compliments to the lady on her conversation skills?”

“They are being considered,” Marinette teased. Chat sent her a quick wink before letting his staff propel him over her roof and into the shadows.

***

Since that night, Adrien dreamt of returning to Marinette’s terrace. He had tried to translate their new friendship into their civilian lives, but it never seemed to go right. No matter what he said to her in school, she just turned red and spoke gibberish. He couldn’t comprehend why she hated talking to the real him. But, it didn’t deter him from wanting to visit as Chat. He frequently found himself taking detours on solo patrols to glance at the bakery, scan her terrace, maybe peek at her window from afar to see what she was up to. It was like a magnetic pull, every day, toward the little bakery, where he could see her smiling eyes again.

Finally, after four whole days, Adrien couldn’t take it anymore. After another supper eaten alone, he was transformed and out his window before he even realized he had made the choice. He scaled the Paris rooftops in record time, sprinting through the darkness, reaching endlessly towards her balcony where she had decorated for Christmas with fairy lights of green and red. He landed gently on her terrace, careful not to make too much noise lest her parents hear. The light was on in her bedroom window, softly illuminating the pink interior. He could see her dark blue head hunched over her desk, working very intently on something. He knocked on the trapdoor.

“Chat Noir?” asked Marinette, popping her head out quizzically. “Come in, you must be freezing.”

Chat gladly hopped down onto her bed, immediately being hit by a wave of warmth. Marinette climbed down the ladder, and Chat took the opportunity to scan the room. It was cute, cozy and bright, and so very Marinette. Her walls were littered with posters and pictures of fashion and friends. Every aspect of the room was personalized with her special touch. Chat thought of his room, of how it always seemed cold and unwelcoming, even to him.

“So, are you stopping in for a snack?” Marinette asked, looking up at him from where she stood in the middle of her room.

“Not really,” Chat replied, swinging his feet off the edge of her bed. “I just came to say hi.”

“Oh,” said Marinette, surprised. “Well, hi.”

“Hi,” Chat grinned back.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? I was going to get a croissant anyway.”

“Well, if you insist,” he conceded with a smile.

Marinette disappeared downstairs as Chat turned to the pictures by her bed. Adrien was featured in quite a few of them, with hearts pinned around. Huh. Maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Even if she was just interested in fashion, she wouldn’t put the face of someone she hated right next to her bed, right?

Chat hopped down from the bed, and his eye caught on her desk. She seemed to have been knitting something, but the shape had not taken form enough to know what it was. The wool was a subtle ombre of purple into pink.

“What are you making?” Chat asked as Marinette hoisted herself into her room.

“Mittens, for my mom,” she replied, setting the plate of goodies down next to them on the desk. “She needs a warm one for deliveries in the winter.”

“They’re really nice,” Chat said appreciatively, feeling the fabric. “Very soft.”

“Thanks,” said Marinette with a smile. She picked up the bundle of wool to show him how it was coming together. “They’ll have grips on them for handling boxes, here, see,” she ran her finger along the palm. “… and I was thinking of making a flap for her fingers, so she can handle money if they give her a tip.”

Chat watched how she handled the wool with care, how focused she was as she spoke of her design. “You’re really thoughtful Marinette,” he said admiringly.

Marinette shrugged. “My mom would do the same for me.” She pushed the plate of pastries towards him slightly, encouraging him to take one.

He picked up a matcha macaron, still focused on the gloves. “You know,” he said suggestively. “If you keep feeding me like this, I won’t be able to stay away."

“I never knew chocolate croissants and macarons were the way to your heart,” Marinette teased.

“Only when they come from pretty girls,” Chat replied, putting his face close to hers and wiggling his eyebrows. She pushed his face away lightly, but not before he saw a blush dust her cheeks.

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, a smile in her voice.

“It’s all part of the charm,” Chat said, leaning against the desk and finally biting into his croissant.

“What’s it like?” asked Marinette. “Being the charming prince of Paris?”

Chat laughed. “Not as glamorous as one might think. It’s a lot of getting beat up by Hawkmoth’s victims. Some damsels in distress,” he winked at Marinette. “And… it can be a lot of fun, having freedom, and special powers. But what’s freedom without people to share it with, y’know?”

Marinette studied his face. Chat suddenly felt vulnerable, realizing he might be sharing too much information with the girl he’d only had a handful of conversations with. Luckily, she didn’t seem to mind. “You have Ladybug,” she said softly.

Chat tried a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Ladybug’s mostly business. She has a life outside the mask, and she always needs to get back. I guess I’m not as attached to my civilian life.”

“Sounds like you need more civilian friends,” suggested Marinette.

“It’s not my friends. I actually have great friends,” Chat’s face lightened up as he thought about them. “It’s… my family life. It’s not ideal.”

Marinette chewed her lip, seemingly lost in thought. Chat regretted bringing it up; he shouldn’t be burdening her with his personal business. He meant to come cheer her up, not make her sad by talking about his problems.

“Sometimes,” Marinette said softly. “We can’t count on our families to make us happy. We have to find the people we can count on, and keep them close.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Chat sighed. “It’s just hard, y’know, to look at my… my family, and see how broken it all is. We used to be happy. Now birthdays and Christmas and Mother’s Day… it all feels so hollow.” He paused, feeling a lump rise in his throat.

He felt Marinette’s hand cover his. “I’m so sorry Chat. I wish I could help. If you ever want a family game night, you can always stop by the bakery. My parents would love to have you.”

“Thanks Marinette,” Chat replied, eyes trained on his feet. “Just talking about it makes me feel better.” He paused for a moment, wondering if he should share more or just let it go. But something about her curious, caring eyes made him blurt out all his thoughts. “I feel like I can’t show my feelings too much in my civilian life, so it’s nice to have a safe space to talk.”

“Of course,” Marinette said. “Anytime. But,” she added cautiously, as if she was scared of overstepping. “You shouldn’t need a mask to be able to talk about your feelings. I’m sure those great friends of yours have would be more than happy to listen to your problems. You’re not being a burden or a downer by showing your emotions. Your cheerfulness is not what makes you likeable.” Marinette paused. “Does that make sense?”

Chat stared at her in disbelief. This girl had effortlessly cracked open his grey sky and let the sun beam through. “Yeah. That makes perfect sense,” he said, awe-stricken.

“Good,” Marinette smiled at him, then glanced down to avoid his piercing gaze. The apples of her cheeks were a bit redder than before as she picked up a croissant and bit in. They sat in silence, Chat pondering the new revelations that she had given him. Finishing his croissant, he straightened up and faced Marinette.

“You’re a wise little lady,” he said, taking her hand and bowing to give it a kiss. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Of course,” Marinette smiled at him. “Come back anytime.”

With a flick of the tail, Chat had disappeared out the trapdoor, back into the shadows of the night.

***

“Pound it?” Ladybug asked halfheartedly. They had just finished one of the longest akuma attacks they had ever had. A multi-layered protective forcefield had wound its way around Protecto and their victims, resulting in the need for multiple cataclysms. This attack was hot off the heels of a late night attack the night before, plus a full day of school and bakery duty.

“Pound it,” Chat Noir replied, stifling a yawn. He looked exhausted; the multiple cataclysms certainly hadn’t done him any good. He looked pale under his mask, his normally sparkling green eyes hooded. Ladybug yawned in response.

 “Looks like its hibernation time for the ladybug,” Chat teased.

 “And cat nap time for you, kitty,” Ladybug shot back.

 “Maybe not yet,” Chat said with a small smile and a faraway look in his eyes.

Oh no. Is he planning on coming over? “You need sleep, Chat. I’ve never seen your tail droop so low.” Ladybug pointed at the black tail, dragging on the ground.

 “Don’t worry about me, my Lady,” Chat replied with a halfhearted smirk, twirling his staff. “Chat Noir’s got it under control.” He vaulted up towards the rooftops, in the exact direction of the bakery. 

Ladybug swore, then quickly clapped her hand over her mouth and made sure no one heard her. She unleashed her yoyo and shot off towards home. She stopped in the alleyway before her house, de-transforming before entering through the bakery doors. She scooted past her mom, busy with customers, picked up a tray of croissants and made her way up the stairs without detection. She had just taken a seat at on her lounge chair and picked up her book when she heard a knock at the trapdoor. 

“Come in,” she shouted wearily.

A mass of black dropped down from her ceiling, settling in a heap on her bed. 

“Hi Chat,” she said, trying to insert some pep into her voice. She got a groan in return.

She walked up to her loft bed and peeked over the side. Chat was curled up in a ball, his shock of blonde hair the only visible part of his face. “Long day?” she asked slyly.

She got another groan in return. “Chat Noir is not here at the moment. Leave a message.”

“You’re not going to come down and get a croissant?” Marinette asked. Chat didn’t twitch, instead closing his eyes and letting his breathing even out.

“You know that’s my bed?” Marinette asked, annoyed. “Who says I’m not tired too?”

“I’m not just tired. I’m cat-atonic.” His eye opened to gauge her reaction to the joke. Marinette huffed.

“Besides, Princess, there’s plenty of room up here for two,” Chat said suggestively. 

“Or, you take the lounge chair, I take the bed,” Marinette countered. Chat let out a pretend snore in response.

Marinette stood in the middle of her room, contemplating. She was exhausted, all she wanted to do was lie down. And she did not want to take the stiff lounge chair. She looked at Chat, all huddled up on her bed. There was enough room for two…

With a sigh, Marinette climbed the ladder to her bed and flopped down beside Chat. She realized her mistake when Chat’s eyes snapped open. In a flash Chat rolled over so his head was tucked in beneath her chin, his body pressed up against her side. He threw his arm around her middle and sighed contentedly.

“Happy?” Marinette asked, slightly breathless. Her body was tensed up; she’d only been so close to Chat in battle situations before.

“Very,” Chat replied. “I didn’t think you’d actually come up.”

“Well, you were in my bed,” Marinette said defensively. “I was tired.”

Chat just hummed in response, wiggling in a little closer. Marinette let her eyes shut, sliding a hand into Chat’s hair. It smelled like fresh shampoo and the cold Paris night, and something deeper, something distinctly Chat. The hand around her waist was subtly clenching and unclenching, like a kitten kneading.

“You’re a cuddly kitty, aren’t you?” Marinette murmured, her tiredness getting the better of her as she relaxed into his embrace.

“Not with everyone,” Chat replied, just as sleepily, taking advantage of her pliant body to pull her closer. She rested her cheek on his soft head of hair and allowed herself to rest, feeling his quiet breaths on her neck. She must have drifted off, because she had no idea how long it had been before his ring woke her up.

“You’re beeping,” Marinette said sleepily. Chat groaned in response and rubbed his face into the crook of her neck.

“Chat,” she said, as sternly as she could muster. “You’re going to de-transform.”

“Marinette,” Chat returned in the same stern tone. “Five more minutes.”

“You don’t have five minutes, silly kitty.” 

“And how would you know that?” Chat asked. Marinette froze, wondering if she had given herself away. But Chat seemed too tired to compute what he had said, instead groaning as he stretched out. Marinette gave a small, involuntary sound when he sat up, taking his warmth with him. Chat looked over his shoulder at her. His hair was mussed beyond repair from her hands; his eyes were half-lidded as he considered her. She suddenly felt vulnerable, curled up in her bed with Chat Noir looking at her intently.

“I don’t want to leave,” he said finally.

I don’t want you to go, got stuck in her throat. “You can always come back,” she said instead.

“Oh, I plan on it,” Chat replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Princess.” With that, he reached up to the trap door and hoisted himself out, leaving only a cold breeze and a warm imprint in his wake.

Chapter Text

“Hi Alya, hi Marinette,” Adrien waved as he walked in the classroom.

“Hey Adrien!” said Alya. Marinette just squeaked, throat closing up as she looked into his eyes.

“Marinette, I heard you’ll be in the assembly today,” said Adrien, stopping to stand by her desk.

Marinette stared. Adrien. He looked so good today, his hair falling perfectly across his forehead, his smile as charming and genuine as ever. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and Marinette followed his strong, tan hands with her eyes. She felt a jab in her side.

Oh. Right. Speaking. “Uh, yeah, I think I will! I mean, I know I will, they told me I will, and I brought maracas, I MEAN, macarons, from the bakery, my family’s bakery, my dad is a baker…” she trailed off, having no idea how to end this train wreck of a sentence.

Adrien just smiled. “Yeah, I know. Well, good luck!” He sat down at his desk.

Marinette shut her eyes, praying that that didn’t just happen. But Alya stifling her laugh beside her was proof enough.

***

Marinette stood backstage, her hands sweaty around her box of macarons. She was usually fine in front of people, fine with public speaking. But the auditorium was filling with students, and it felt like a pool filling slowly with water, coming up around her neck, suffocating and drowning her. Knowing Adrien was one of them, having already wished her luck, just tightened her throat further.

Focus. What was the principal saying?

“Now, we move on to an initiative started by one of our very own students…”

Hearing her cue, Marinette walked onstage, approaching the podium where the principal was speaking. His voice faltered as she walked, clutching her box of macarons. She smiled tentatively at the crowd, before looking back at the principal, who had completely stopped talking. The assembly was deadly silent. She felt her stomach give out as she realized something was very, very wrong.

“Oh! Marina, yes, your baking project, well, I was actually referring to the new computer program Max was designing for our younger students, but I suppose we can talk about your project.”

Marinette felt her face light up like a Christmas tree. The stage lights pounded down onto her head, her back, sweat forming as she realized her dire mistake. She walked out at the wrong time.

The principal cleared his throat. “Marina has started a program, Macarons for Medical Workers, where she gives out free baked goods to hospital workers. She is looking for volunteers both for the baking and distribution process.”

Marinette could hear nothing over the blood rushing to her face and the refrain of kill me kill me please god strike me dead playing over and over in her head. Her smile felt painful as she stared out over everyone’s heads, feet glued in place in the very middle of the stage.

“You can go now, Marina,” cut through her train of thought, and she scurried off stage. Before she could get to the wings, she tripped over a microphone cord, sending her macarons flying and her face-first onto the stage.

Laughs erupted in the auditorium as Marinette stared at her beautiful macarons scattered across the stage. Tears pricked at her eyes as she abandoned them, walking offstage and immediately out the auditorium doors. She could hear Alya calling to her, but she didn’t look back as she walked all the way home.

***

Chat leapt and bounded over the rooftops, not bothering to fake a patrol while making a beeline towards the bakery. Marinette needed him tonight. She had come back to class after lunch, but she wasn’t talking, and wasn’t nearly as animated, even after the entire class signed up for her program (even Chloe; he’d made sure of it). Maybe Marinette wouldn’t open up to him as himself, but he knew someone she would talk to.

He saw her from a distance, pacing on her terrace, muttering to herself. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, and he put on his signature Chat smile before dropping in.

“Puuurincess,” Chat landed gracefully on the balcony. “Your knight has arrived.”

Marinette rounded on him, her hair released from the pigtails they were eternally trapped in, strands flying around her face. Her eyes had a crazy glint to them as she laughed at the sight of him.

“Great! Perfect! Here you are!” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air. “The great hero of Paris, Chat Noir, here to laugh at MY MISERY –”

Chat jumped towards her and clapped a hand over her mouth. She immediately licked it.

“What are you, eight years old?” Chat demanded, looking down at her wide blue eyes. “I thought I was supposed to be the cat here!”

Whatever Marinette attempted to say was muffled behind his gloved hand. She narrowed her eyes at him. Somehow her sadness had shifted into manic energy in the five hours since he’d last seen her

“If I let you go, you can’t shout, okay?” he said seriously. “This is a secret. I’m not supposed to be here. Compris?”

Marinette sighed, rolling her eyes, then gave a little nod. Slowly, Chat extracted his hand from her. She took a deep breath. Then she screamed.

“OH MY GOD IT’S CHAT NOOOOIII-“

Chat’s hand was back over her mouth in a second, quickly pushing her into the wall in shadows of her balcony. He pressed his body into hers, ensuring she couldn’t squirm away as she laughed hysterically behind his hand, seemingly very proud of herself at her little prank. She let her head drop to his shoulder as her laughter died down slowly, tears creating little wet patches on his suit.

Chat patted her back. “Having fun?” he drawled.

Marinette nodded against him.

“Anything wrong?” he asked.

Marinette laughed hollowly against his shoulder. “I embarrassed myself in front of my crush today. Like, major. Atomic. Cat-astrophic!” She peeked up at him on that last pun, waiting for his reaction.

Chat snorted. “That’s all?”

“That’s all?” Marinette shrieked. “Chat, it was awful!”

“Why don’t we go inside, huh?” Chat asked. “That way all of Paris won’t know the extent of your embarrassment.”

Marinette grumbled something as she undid her hatch and dropped down onto her bed, Chat following close behind. She hopped down onto her floor while Chat found his way to her spinny desk chair.

“I was… it was… oh god, I don’t even want to think about it,” Marinette groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Chat did not need the details. He remembered her face, lit up in shame, in front of the whole school. He found it endearing. But obviously, he couldn’t tell her that. “It can’t have been that bad,” he reassured her.

“Oh, it was,” Marinette said, her hysterical laughter coming back. “I don’t think anyone at school will forget it for the rest of their lives.”

“Luckily, cats have nine,” Chat teased, trying to lighten the mood. His mind kept circling back to what she had said earlier. “So, this crush… is a boy from school?” he changed the subject, somewhat innocently.

“Yes,” said Marinette. “And it would be fine, if he didn’t already think I was a complete imbecile. This is just the icing on the cake!”

“I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” Chat replied, smiling slightly at the bakery pun. His mind was reeling, analyzing the boys in the school, wondering which lucky fellow had caught the princess’ attention.

“I can’t even look him in the eye, Chat!” She threw her hands in the air. “As soon as I do, I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I just stare. Then by the time I come back to earth, I’ve been babbling nonsense. I’m hopeless.” She dropped to the floor, hunched over, face in her hands.

Chat pushed the wheely chair over to pat the top of her head encouragingly. “Are there ever times where you do feel like you can talk to him?”

Marinette raised her head and bit her lip, deep in thought. He let his fingers card through her bangs, fixing where they had gotten mussed. “Sometimes,” she replied. “When there’s an akuma attack, or when I’m focused on something else. Basically, I’m fine if I don’t look at him.”

“So, you need to distract yourself while talking to him,” Chat said logically.

“What am I supposed to do? Wear a blindfold?” Marinette scoffed.

“Hey, I’m just spitballing,” said Chat, putting his hands up in surrender. “If anything, I have the opposite problem. I can’t seem to know when to stop declaring my love.”

Marinette’s face softened. “At least you’re honest,” she muttered.

Chat let out a laugh. “Princess, I lie constantly. I just can’t lie about my feelings.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, suddenly interested. She looked up at him, blue eyes wide. “How do you feel about me?”

Chat blinked, surprised. She had a determined, almost fiery look about her. “About you?” he asked tentatively.

“You heard me,” she said, smirking slightly.

“Okay,” Chat replied, gearing up for the challenge. She thought she had him nervous, huh? We’ll see.

He wheeled closer to her, leaning his forearms on his knees as he brought his face right up over hers. He could see the flecks of grey floating in her fiercely determined eyes as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. She only faltered slightly as he got inches away from her face.

“Marinette,” he said quietly. She nodded slightly. “You are…” the words died in his throat as he looked at her. Her eyelashes were long and dark, fluttering as she stared up at him. Her loose hair brushed her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. Her breaths were escaping from her slightly opened pink lips. He saw everything all at once, her cheeks, her chin, her little nose, her wide, fierce, vulnerable eyes. His breath caught, and all jokingness vanished as they stared at each other.

He had a thought. He had something he was supposed to say. Marinette, you are… Beautiful. Passionate. Effervescent. Those were the only words popping into his head. How did he end up in this mess? All thoughts left his mind as he saw her swallow, her eyes softening as she stared at him, so, so close to him. He wanted to touch her cheek, see if it was as soft as it seemed. Run his thumb along her pink bottom lip. Oh, god, why hadn’t he done that before? He’d had his hand right over her mouth. Her mouth, that was moving, that was saying something.

“Chat?” she asked timidly.

Chat’s eyes snapped back to hers, and he could feel a flush gathering beneath his mask. He cleared his throat, searching desperately for something to say.

“You are… purr-fect?” he said, attempting a joke and praying she didn’t notice that he wasn’t breathing.

He saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes before she looked down, chuckling. “That was a bad one,” she said.

“Not my best work,” he whispered back, scanning her expression. But all traces of the moment they had disappeared by the time she looked back up at him.

“You’ll have to do better next time,” she said with a wane smile. She stood up and stretched. Chat’s eyes trained on the skin of her stomach, exposed as she stretched her arms above her head. She had a freckle on her left hipbone. Where else did she have freckles? “Anyway,” Chat’s eyes jumped guiltily back up to her face. “I should get started on my physics assignment.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” said Chat, his mouth dry. This was clearly an invitation to leave, but Chat didn’t want to go. He wanted to curl up next to Marinette’s warmth and listen to her soothing voice, all night long. He wanted to see if she’d stretch again, and if he could catch more than a glimpse of her bare skin.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, hopeful he could stay. “You know, about the incident today?”

“Yep! Much better,” she replied, scratching him lightly behind his ears. “Everyone will have forgotten by tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Chat said reluctantly as Marinette took her hand away from his hair. He stood up and gave her a bow. “Until next time, Princess.”

She smiled. “Until next time, kitty.”

Chat gave one last salute, before he was gone.

***

“Hey Marinette.”

Marinette’s eyes snapped up to meet Adrien’s bright green eyes. His hair was a bit messy today, but his smile was genuine. And disarming, as always. “Oh, uh, hi Adrien, how are going? I mean, how’s it you?” Marinette stuttered out.

“Uh… I is good?” Adrien replied, slightly confused.

“Ha ha, good, that’s good that you… is good. Great.” Marinette walked to her desk and flopped down, as Alya stifled her giggles next to her. One sentence, just one normal sentence. Is that too much to ask?

Marinette rifled in her bag, taking out her physics assignment to pick up where she left off the night before. She chewed on her lip as she considered an elevator tension problem.

“Is that the Physics assignment?”

“Yep,” Marinette replied, writing out her equations and unknowns.

“What did you do for question four? I couldn’t figure out how to calculate friction without the normal force.”

“Oh, yeah, give me a second.” Marinette flipped over her assignment to the blank back and quickly drew out the problem: a weighted box on an inclined plane. “So, we’re given the mass of the box, and we need to multiply it by gravity to get the normal force, in Newtons. But, since it’s on an incline, we need to multiply that by cosine theta, with theta being the angle of the incline. You plug that in to get the friction.” Marinette looked up to see Adrien leaned over her desk, examining her work. His hair was inches away, shiny, golden, and perfect, and smelling of summer’s breeze. He glanced up at her, his green eyes focused and thoughtful. She swallowed nervously. “Does… does that make sense?” she asked, feeling the heat rising to her face.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But, I don’t see where they gave the angle of the incline in the problem.”

Marinette looked down at her page, focusing on her drawing instead of his eyes. “Well, they actually gave the angle beside the inclination, but you can just subtract it from 90 degrees.”

He considered her drawing for another moment, biting his lip adorably. Then he looked up at her and smiled. “That makes sense. Thanks Mari.” He turned back in his seat while Marinette stared, slack-jawed, at the back of his head. He called her Mari.

She felt an elbow in her ribs. “Good job, girl! That was a totally normal conversation!” Alya practically squealed.

Marinette smiled, a little embarrassed and a little proud, and looked down at her assignment. Maybe Chat Noir’s idea wasn’t so crazy after all.

Chapter Text

Since the Physics question triumph, Marinette brought her sketchbook to class every day. She drew fashion designs, trees, zoo animals, fruit, pretty much anything she could think of. She focused on her sketches, instead of Adrien and his pretty face, and let her brain talk on autopilot. And she had successful conversations with Adrien every day.

“Hey, Mari,” Adrien said, putting his backpack down and walking to her seat. He put his hands on her desk and leaned over the sketchbook, his face next to hers. “What designs do we have today?”

Marinette felt a flush rise to her cheeks at the nickname. It seemed to have stuck since that first day, and it never failed to make butterflies erupt in her stomach. Focus, she thought.

“It’s a crop top-jacket combination,” she said, gesturing at the two-part design. “I want to attach little fabric flowers to both, to make a textured design. But I don’t want too many flowers, you know? Then it will overwhelm the silhouette.”

Adrien hummed as he considered the sketch. “I see what you mean.” He let his finger trail over the neckline of the top. “What if you just put the flowers as a trim on the shirt? And leave the rest of it plain.”

Marinette considered it, then nodded. “That’s a great idea. Thanks Adrien,” she said, smiling at him.

Adrien shrugged, seemingly a little embarrassed. “My modelling career has to count for something, right?” he said, scratching the back of his head.

Marinette just grinned, noticing his awkwardness. He grinned back.

“Settle down class. Adrien, in your seat,” Madame Bustier admonished. Adrien turned away from Marinette regrettably and sat. Marinette glowed inside. Another win.

***

Chat took a bite of his lime macaron. Marinette was on the deck chair, knitting with practised skill, replying to all his questions while twirling wool like an expert. It was pretty impressive. And very cute, watching how her brows furrowed in concentration as she neared the end of a row. Ever since the night of the assembly, Chat was noticing all the endearing things about Marinette. Which was a shame, considering she had already revealed to him that she had a crush on someone else.

“So, did you take any of my advice?” asked Chat Noir, leaning against the rail of her balcony.

“Advice?” asked Marinette, distracted.

“Yeah, about your little…” Chat paused for dramatic effect. “…crush.”

He was rewarded for his theatrics as Marinette faltered on her stitch, her ears turning an endearing shade of pink. “Of a sort,” she replied elusively. “I tweaked your methods a bit.”

“And is it working?” Chat asked, somehow both anticipating and dreading the answer.

“Yeah,” Marinette said excitedly. “So well. I’ve talked to him completely normally this week. I can’t believe it.”

A weight settled in Chat’s stomach. “That’s great,” he forced out, the key lime macaron turning to dust in his mouth.

“It is! He’s really starting to notice me. It feels like everything is falling into place,” she sighed happily. Her face was so open, so bright. Whoever this boy was, he was making her very happy.

“I’m glad,” Chat replied flatly. Marinette looked up at him, concerned.

“Hey,” she said softly, putting a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

He shook her off, shooting her a half-hearted smirk. “Never better, Princess.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He avoided her gaze by looking out over Paris, at the twinkling green and red of a city preparing for Christmas. He shouldn’t feel this way; he was still in love with Ladybug after all. He had no right to be disappointed. He just couldn't bear to see the happiness in the eyes of yet another girl who is in love with someone else.

“I know what will make you feel better,” she declared suddenly. “Stay here.”

She disappeared into the trap door and emerged moments later with something small and black in her hands. She picked up her knitting as well and brought it over to him. She placed the bundles gently in his hands.

“You seemed very interested in my gift for my mom,” Marinette said, a little shyly. “And, when you came to see me the first night, your hands were ice cold. So, I thought I’d make you some gloves of your own. You obviously can’t wear them in battle, but maybe they’d be nice for patrol?”

Chat let his fingers run over the thick wool fabric. “You made these gloves for me?” he asked, awestruck. One was completely finished, with a small green paw charm stitched onto the wrist, while the other was still a bundle. The seams were sewn using bright green thread.

“Yes,” said Marinette. “But, uh,” she looked down, almost nervously. “I like to call them mittens, cause it rhymes.”

“It rhymes?” Chat asked, still entranced with her delicate stitching.

“Yeah. Mittens for my kitten.”

Chat looked up at that, jaw dropping. Marinette laughed.

“Yes, I know, it’s lame, it’s just that phrase kept running through my mind the whole time I was making them.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at his dazed expression. They locked eyes as he stared at the most incredible girl he'd ever met, who was making him the most thoughtful gift he has ever received. He was struck by the sudden urge to drop the gloves, cup her face in his hands and kiss her.

He cleared his throat and looked down, not trusting what he might do if he kept staring at her. “Are these grips on the palm?” he asked, his voice slightly rough.

“Yep!” Marinette said, oblivious to the shift in demeanour. “They go all the way up your fingers in case you need to climb. And I left little holes in the top for your claws. Like I said, you couldn’t use them in battle, and they’re probably too big, cause I don’t know your size…”

“Marinette,” Chat interrupted her babbling. “They’re perfect.”

Marinette blushed happily. “Good. They’re not done though; you can’t have them yet.”

“Aw, really?,” Chat whined.

“They’ll be ready in time for Christmas,” Marinette said, tugging them away from his grabbing hands. “And they’re supposed to be a surprise, so shhh.” She put a finger over her mouth to emphasize the secret nature of the gloves.

“My lips are sealed Princess,” Chat replied, zipping his lips. She grinned at him.

“Good. Now it’s time for bed, kitty,” Marinette said.

“Is that an invitation?” Chat asked, only half joking.

Marinette laughed as she took a step back. “You wish.” She gave him a little curtsy. “Until next time, Chat.”

He bowed in return. “Until next time, Princess.” He felt her eyes on him as he leapt up into the shadows once again.

***

"Hey, Mari,” Adrien said, turning in his seat and leaning his forearms on her desk. He poked a spot of flour on her forehead. “Busy morning at the bakery?”

Marinette huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely. Last minute wedding cake disaster! Turns out the mother of the bride was gluten free. Don’t you think they’d tell us before the day of the wedding?”

Adrien shook his head, smiling slightly while imagining the chaotic morning in the Dupain-Cheng residence. “Are you still required to fill out the orders if they change them last minute?”

“Technically, no,” Marinette said, her pencil flying across her sketchbook. “But you know my parents. My dad teared up at the very idea that they would go without a wedding cake.”

Adrien chucked. “That sounds about right.” He watched her for a moment, the fierce concentration in her eyes, her tongue poking out of her mouth slightly. He could feel himself smiling stupidly, looking at the girl who had taken over his days and nights. He couldn’t wait to see her again, to talk and joke and laugh with her, without the sketchbook in the way, her eyes focused on him instead of her drawings. He always felt more alive, somehow, when she looked at him. Like she filled him with light. He looked down to see which sketch was taking so much of her attention today. His eyes skimmed over a black silhouette, with shocking blonde hair, green eyes and, wait, was that a tail?

“Is that… are you drawing Cat Noir?” Adrien asked in disbelief, tilting his head around to get a better look at her sketch from her view.

Marinette stopped, and her hand flew over her mouth in shock. “Oh, uh, yeah, I guess I am. I hadn’t even noticed.”

Adrien looked from the page to Marinette’s face, then back at the page. A slight pink blush had spread across her cheeks, and she ducked her head under his scrutiny. He realized she hadn’t blushed like that around him for awhile. Her sentences were better too, almost always coherent. She was talking to him like she talked to Chat, like she talked to Alya and Nino. And she had been the one initiating conversation, every day for the past…

Adrien could feel his face break out a huge grin as he added up the days. She had started drawing in class the day after her conversation with Chat. He looked up from the sketch, as she forced herself to meet his eyes. Her blush deepened and her mouth opened slightly as she stared at his expression of glee.

“It’s a really cool drawing Marinette,” Adrien said, suddenly filled with Chat-like confidence. He could hear the excitement brimming in his voice. He leaned over further onto her desk, bringing his face close to hers. “Mind if I held onto it?”

Marinette nodded wordlessly, eyes wide as saucers. She watched him carefully tear it out of the book, fold it up and put it in his chest pocket.

“Right next to my heart,” he said, throwing her a wink before turning to face the front of the class. He heard Alya let out a loud cough while Marinette spluttered, but he could hardly hear it, his whole being focused on the drawing in his pocket and his newfound revelations.

He couldn't keep the wide grin from his face for the rest of the day. The picture was burning in his pocket, begging to be opened, examined, worshipped, framed. He waited until he got in his car to finally open it, scanning over every tiny stoke of the pencil. She had gotten so many details right: the zipper, the angle of the bell, the middle part in his hair, the softness of the ears. His expression, though unfinished, was a mischievous smirk, a combination of daring and kind. The only pop of colour was his green eyes, twinkling up at him. He sighed happily. It must mean something that she drew Chat while talking to him, right? She hadn’t drawn any other people before. She had to be making a connection between them, however unconscious it may be. And now he knew that he was her crush… the possibilities were endless.

***

“Well you seem much happier,” Marinette observed as Chat Noir touched down on her terrace. “You look like you’ve swallowed a mouse.”

Chat let out a full belly laugh. “Clever,” he said appreciatively, looking directly at Marinette. He felt warmed from the inside out, just seeing her.

“I learned from the best,” she quipped back. Chat leaned on the railing across from her, noting her bright eyes, and her copy of Gatsby resting on the ledge beside her. She had the sweets already laid out for him; she was expecting him, as always.

“So,” he asked mischievously. “How’s your little crush operation going?”

He knew he probably shouldn’t press for information from Marinette now that he knew the object of her affections, but he couldn’t help himself. Especially when he saw the blush run down her neck and chest at the mere mention of him. He could hardly contain his glee.

“It’s going really well,” Marinette said softly. “It feels like he really… notices me. And he’s so easy to talk to, I can’t believe I had such a hard time before now.” She huffed out a laugh. “Actually, I take that back, I do know why. I don’t know how it’s possible for a human to be that perfect.”

A thrill ran down his spine at her words, but he stifled his reaction, focusing on acting normal. “What about exhibit A, Princess?” Chat gestured down at himself.

Marinette laughed. “You’re a superhero! It’s different.”

“I’m still a normal person under all this,” Chat replied, a little annoyed. “A leather suit and a mask can only do so much.”

Marinette nodded. “I just mean, you’re a famous hero, defender of Paris, rescuer of damsels, maidens and ladies alike. Good looks just come as part of the package.”

Chat’s mind reeled. No way was he getting all this good information in one day. “So you’re saying,” he said slowly, walking towards her until her back was pressed up against the ledge. “That I am perfect and handsome, just like your little crush, but the only difference is my day job?”

Marinette looked down, blushing slightly. “Yeah, I mean, it’s easier to talk to you cause I know there’s no chance of, y’know.” She gestured between the two of them.

Chat was shocked. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re Chat Noir!” Marinette exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Saviour of Paris, equal only to Ladybug. You have hordes of fans across the world. You have a duty to the city, and to keep your identity a secret. There’s no way you’d want a civilian baker’s daughter girlfriend. You’re… unattainable,” she finished, blushing slightly as she looked down.

Chat’s mind was reeling. He wasn’t sure if he should feel hurt by the implication that he thinks he’s better than her, or deeply saddened that she thinks of herself so lowly.

“Besides, you said it yourself. You’re in love with Ladybug. That makes sense.” Marinette said resolutely, staring into his eyes.

Chat almost laughed. How could she not see how wrong she was?

“Marinette,” he said emphatically, hoping to convey himself as clearly as possible. “I’m not in love with Ladybug because she’s a miraculous holder. I’m not in love with her because she saves Paris, or is famous, or is somehow…” he struggled with the words. “..on my level.“

“You’re not?” Marinette asked, eyes wide.

“Who do you think I am?” Chat asked incredulously. “Of course not! I love her because she is one of the kindest, most fiercely caring people I’ve ever met. She sees the good in every person. She is creative, resilient, witty and smart. She’s and loyal to a fault. Honestly… she’s one of my best friends. She’s also impulsive, snappy, headstrong and sometimes selfish,” Chat added thoughtfully. “Oh, and she has anger issues. Sometimes I swear I can see her ready to explode,” he laughed. “I love those parts of her too. Her imperfections make her… Ladybug.” He sighed, feeling his eyes glaze over as he thought of his partner. He looked down, suddenly realizing who he was talking to. Marinette was staring up at him, jaw nearly on the floor.

“Sorry,” Chat said sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to dump that on you. The point is, I don’t discern who I date based on power.” He leans in a little, feeling her puffs of air on his face. “And frankly, I’m a little disappointed you even thought that.”

Marinette’s mouth seemed to be trying to form words, but all she got out was a squeak. Chat grinned at her attempt to form a sentence. A wisp of hair blew into her eyes, and he lifted a hand to gently tuck it behind her ear.

“Are-“ she cleared her throat and tried again. “Are you still in love with Ladybug?”

“Yeah, I am,” Chat admitted. “But she’s made it clear she wants to be nothing more than friends, and I’m trying to respect that. So, I’m moving on. And honestly, I’ve had an easier time forgetting about her the more I hang around a certain civilian baker’s daughter,” he winked at her.

She didn’t even seem to notice. She was staring at him like she had never seen him before. Her eyes roamed his face, his hair, down his suit then back up again. He shifted slightly, uncomfortable at the scrutiny.

“Um, Marinette?” he asked. As if in a trance, her hand came to rest on his chest. Both of their eyes followed her hand as it pressed up towards his broad shoulders, then grazed up his neck. It slipped up into the hair behind his ear, then pulled his face down for a kiss.

Chat froze as her soft lips pressed against his, her hands gentle in his hair. Comprehension dawned as he responded instinctively, his hands flying to her hips, fingers digging in as he pulled her into him. She shifted up on her tiptoes to press even closer, her tongue running tentatively across his lips. Chat groaned as he let her in, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He felt like he was free falling as he clutched onto her, breathing in her scent, feeling her body under his hands. She gave a small gasp as he pushed her back against the wall. Her hand scraped his scalp, twisting the strands to bring his face closer to hers. Chat felt the heat emanating from her, felt the gasp of her breaths against his chest, tasted the sweetness of her mouth. He breathed her in, and all he could think of was more, more, more.

Marinette brought one of her hands down to his cheek, and he could feel it shaking. He broke away quickly, covering her hand with his own, pressing it against his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

She nodded, the desire shining in her eyes. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her cheek, and couldn’t help a laugh bubbling up in his chest.

“What are you laughing at, silly kitty?” she asked breathlessly. Her hands were back in his hair, urging him closer as he brushed his lips to jaw.

“I can’t figure you out,” he murmured against her neck. She gasped at the sensation, tilting her head back.

“Neither can I,” she breathed as Chat pressed soft kisses to her neck, nipping lightly at the juncture of her shoulder before trailing kisses up her jaw and covering her mouth with his.

Chapter Text

“Marinette?” Tikki asked cautiously. Marinette did not move from where she was curled up in the fetal position on her bed. Tikki flew up near her face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Marinette groaned. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

Chat had left just minutes before, spurred on by his beeping ring, kissing her chastely on the cheek and giving her a big smile before bounding out over the rooftops. Marinette’s smile had lasted all of thirty seconds, until Chat was out of sight, when her rationality came crashing down. Like a bucket of cold water.

“I had JUST made progress with Adrien!” Marinette shouted suddenly, bolting upright. Tikki flew back, narrowly avoiding her shoulder. “TEN HOURS AGO he was looking at me like… like I was special. Like he was truly seeing me. He WINKED at me!” She rounded on Tikki, almost threateningly. “Oh boy did he wink! He winked and smirked and KEPT my drawing of Chat… oh my god it was a drawing of Chat.” She buried her face in her hands, closing her eyes against the memory. Bright green eyes flashed back at her behind her eyelids.

“It’s not so bad Marinette,” said Tikki. “It seems like you and Chat like each other!”

“But Adrien,” she moaned.

“You can always tell Chat it was a mistake,” Tikki suggested, helpfully.

A mistake. The word echoed in Marinette’s head as her hands slid into her hair. It couldn’t possibly describe what had just happened. The electricity that surged though her body, pulling her towards Chat, pressing her into him and wishing she could climb inside his suit to be impossibly closer to him. Wanting his breaths, his gasps, his strangled moans, his hazy eyes and pink lips as he pulled away. No way could that be a mistake.

“But… you must have had a reason for kissing Chat,” Tikki said slyly.

She thought back to before the kiss, trying to figure out the catalyst for the boldest decision of her life. Chat had been pouring his heart out over Ladybug. His eyes shone and glazed over as he went through all the traits, good and bad, that made him fall in love with her. It was so much more than a playful flirtation, more than the adoration that came with being a miraculous holder, more than the attraction that came with being thrown together on a team so often. He was raw and vulnerable, laying it all out for Marinette to see. Before Marinette had known what she was doing, she had pulled him in for a kiss.

Marinette glared at Tikki, realizing it was her questions that were leading her down these trains of thought. “Whose side are you on?” she accused.

Tikki just giggled, flying away.

Marinette sighed as her eyes fell on the picture of Adrien on her bulletin board. “How will I face him tomorrow?” she asked wistfully.

“The way you always have! Don’t worry, he’s so used to your stuttering and blushing, he won’t even notice anything is wrong!”

Tikki quickly dodged the pillow Marinette threw at her.

***

“Plagg, claws in,” Adrien said once he’d flown in his bedroom window. He hardly noticed as he gave his kwami a little scratch and threw him a piece of cheese. His mind was far, far away. Or maybe not too far; a couple blocks away, on a balcony above a bakery.

He flopped back on his bed, sighing contentedly. Marinette. The way she’d looked at him, almost pleading him to come closer, to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. He had felt himself falling deeper and deeper into her, not knowing when or how to stop, and knowing he didn’t want to. Her messy hair, her eternally blushing cheeks, the fire and fierceness in her eyes…

She had kissed Chat. But she was crushing on Adrien. Oh, what a wonderful problem to have.

But he had to make it right. He had confused her, by coming onto her in both forms. He had to take a step back and let her decide which side of him she would want. At least until he could talk to Ladybug and convince her that a significant other who is in love with both sides of him is a necessary call for an identity reveal. Especially since it’s Marinette; she would never betray him! But he couldn’t do anything without consulting Ladybug, as his friend, partner and miraculous guardian.

Ladybug. It would be hard to see her again. He couldn’t lie and say he never thought of her, never saw her in Marinette’s mannerisms, in her fierceness, her passion, her creativity. But he pushed those thoughts away, guiltily. Ladybug wanted nothing more than friendship, and Marinette didn’t deserve constant comparison. Marinette had filled what he believed to be an endless chasm in his heart, and then some. She’d seen and loved both sides of him, when he didn’t feel like he deserved any love. With her, he felt like he could finally be completely himself. He could finally rest. That thought might have been a figment of his tired mind, but it made him happy all the same as he drifted off to sleep.

***

Adrien had a plan the next morning at school: be normal. It wasn’t a sophisticated plan, but that had never been his strong suit. Nevertheless, it proved to be a difficult plan as his heart raced just sitting at his desk, waiting for the girl he had just kissed senseless hours before. He could tell Nino noticed how his head perked up with every new person that entered the classroom, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Finally, Marinette burst through the door, as she always seemed to do. She looked disheveled and exhausted, as if she had just rolled out of bed. Her bookbag was half open, her hair in a messy bun. Adrien took a breath to calm himself. No flirting with her today, no making her nervous. Just be a friend.

“Hey Marinette!” he said, controlling his voice to sound nonchalant. He gave her an easy smile.

“Adrien!” Marinette looked like a deer in headlights. She stared for a moment before scurrying to her seat. She made herself busy rummaging through her backpack.

“Slept in again, did you?” he asked, turning around in his seat.

“Oh! I, uh…” Marinette was looking around her desk frantically. “Yes! I mean no! I mean, I barely slept at all…” Her hands were flapping in the way they used to, and he realized she was looking for something to draw with. She must have forgotten her sketchbook at home.

Adrien reached over instinctively and stilled her hands with his. She looked down at their entwined hands, then up at him, blue eyes wide as the sky. Adrien gave her a reassuring smile, but quickly realized this method was not helping, as it looked like she had stopped breathing.

“Here,” he said, reaching back to his desk and handing her his pen. She grabbed it, thankfully, but now the task was… what to draw on. He could see her eyes scanning her desk, her bag, then over to Alya’s notes…

“You can draw on my hand,” Adrien suggested softly. Marinette swallowed as he put his hand on the desk, palm down.

He saw Marinette’s hand twitch as she surveyed her canvas. “Are you sure?” she asked tentatively.

Instead of answering, he moved his hand closer. She placed her pen lightly on the center of his hand, dragging it along gently, as if he was fragile and breakable. She drew lines in circular formation, then added some floral detailing, creating the beginnings of a mosaic.

Once her breathing evened out, Adrien tried again. “You said you hardly slept?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Marinette breathed out. “So many thoughts in my head. I can’t get them straight. Every time I think I do, everything breaks apart again.” Her pen stilled, as if she was stopping herself from saying more.

“Sounds like you need a break,” Adrien suggested. “How about we go for a walk at lunch?”

Marinette stared down at his hand, refusing to look at him. Oh no. This was not part of the plan. It was just so difficult, having Marinette be so close yet so far. He just wanted to wrap her up in a hug and never let her go, to make her smile and feel better. But confusing her was certainly not going to help.

“I—” Marinette said, shutting her eyes tightly. “I can’t. I’m going to lunch with Alya.”

“Okay,” Adrien said, letting his voice stay light. “Some other time then.”

“Some other time,” Marinette repeated, as if in a trance. The pen had completely dropped off his hand, resting on the desk. Adrien extracted his hand slowly from hers before turning back to the front. He felt Nino’s eyes on him as he let his fingertips trace the design circling the flat of his hand.

“What?” Adrien said absently.

“Since when did the world turn upside down?” Nino asked incredulously.

***

That night, Marinette went crazy. She tried sewing, and she pricked her finger. She tried baking, and her father kicked her out of the kitchen after she nearly took out a cookie sheet with her bare hands. She tried drawing, and her hands kept sketching a tall boy, with blond hair, piercing green eyes, and a disarming smile, and she didn’t want to finish the drawing to see who it would be. She crumpled up the paper and threw it at the wall, letting out a small scream.

“TIKKI, SPOTS – “

“Marinette!” Tikki cried. “You can’t escape your problems by turning into Ladybug!”

Marinette sagged onto her desk, laying her head in her arms. “You’re right.”

“Anyway, Chat Noir will probably be here soon!”

She perked up slightly, not knowing if her heart was stopping from anxiety or excitement. “You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Tikki rested on the desk in front of her.

“Because he probably hates me!”

“Who hates you?” asked a distinctively not-Tikki voice. Marinette let out a scream, grabbing a knitting needle and pointing it at the intruder. Chat Noir landed gracefully on her floor in a crouch, before putting his hands up in surrender.

“Please, Princess, I swear I’ll be good,” he pleaded teasingly, his eyes glimmering.

“What are you doing here?” Marinette asked, keeping the needle pointed at him.

“Um, well, I was waiting on the balcony, but, it was getting cold, and I’m going to be honest my uh, my suit is not insulated. So, I saw you through the window and thought… maybe…” One of his hands went to scratch the back of his neck as he realized, dropping into a girl’s room unannounced is definitely not a normal thing to do.

Marinette relaxed as she saw him struggle to finish his sentence. He seemed nervous, and flustered, for one of the first times since she’s met him. A glow of pride stirred in her chest as she considered how it was her making him feel this way.

“You’re right,” she said, lowering her knitting needle. A small lifted the corner of Chat’s mouth.

“About what?” he asked.

“We should talk,” Marinette replied, leaning against her desk.

“About what?” Chat repeated, teasingly. But his words were weighed down with understanding of the conversation to be had. His eyes seemed to burn as he looked at her, pinning her in place and taking her breath away. She forced herself to glance away from him and willed her heart to slow as she prepared her little speech.

“I – “ Marinette took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. Last night. You were vulnerable, you were talking about Ladybug… I don’t know why I did it.” She looked down at her sock feet, to not betray herself. She actually knew exactly why, but she couldn’t tell him that. “And… I still have a crush on the boy from school.”

There was a heavy pause, Chat standing so still that she would have thought he had left the room. “Do you regret it?” she heard him ask quietly.

“I regret confusing you, and myself. But… no.” She peeked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t.”

Chat let out a breath he’d been holding. She saw the tension leave his shoulders as a as he looked straight at her. “So, you kissed me, and you don’t regret it…” A slow, dangerous smile broke out across his face. “What’s the problem?”

Marinette looked up, shocked. “You were in the middle of confessing your love for Ladybug! Clearly you were not in a good place for… for kissing.” She fought off a blush at the thought of what they had been doing just 24 hours before.

“Marinette,” Chat huffed out a laugh, shaking his blonde head slightly. He approached her slowly, waiting for any sign of her wanting him to stop. “If you had listened,” he reached her, and put a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. “You would have heard me saying that I’ve hardly thought about Ladybug since I started seeing you.”

Marinette gasped. “You are the only one on my mind,” he continued, placing her hand over his heart. “You see me for all that I am, and you love every side of me.”

Marinette could hardly hear beyond the pounding of her heart. Love every side of me. That didn’t make sense; she didn’t know his civilian self. But she couldn’t focus on that thought because he was leaning in, closer, and the smell of fresh laundry and the cold nights and something distinctly Chat was closing in around her, intoxicating her. Warmth spread through her body, and she could feel herself being pulled towards him. His nose brushed hers as he tilted his head, and he was so close, but so far, too far…

“Is this okay?” he asked huskily, an underlying hunger present in his voice.

Marinette stilled, wanting to make sure he understood. “You heard me say I still like Adrien, right?” she asked, her voice strained.

Chat groaned, and suddenly, she was being kissed within an inch of her life. He pushed her back up against the desk, letting the weight of his body trap her and press her close to him. Marinette’s hands jump to his strong shoulders, clutching on tightly, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth. Her body felt like it’s come alive, straining needily towards Chat. Her hands slip down to glide across the planes of his chest, scratching lightly down his back, letting herself feel the strong muscle concealed within the suit. She propped herself on her desk, wrapping her legs around the back of his, pushing herself closer into him. Her breath became laboured as his hands played with the hem of her shirt, letting his thumb press against her bare side.

A harsh beeping noise tore Marinette out of her reverie. Chat made no indication of having heard it, his mouth continuing its god-given job of driving her crazy.

“Chat,” she said, surprised at how breathy her voice had become.

Chat trailed his kisses up her neck, over to her ear. “Yes, Princess?” he whispered.

“You – oh – you know what I’m going to say,” her words were interrupted by Chat’s hands, getting ever more confident as they explored up her back.

He raised his head to look at her, his hair marvellously dishevelled, his green eyes under the mask blown out. “You can keep your eyes closed,” Chat responded.

Marinette gasped at the thought. Chat Noir, de-transformed, in his civilian clothes. She would be able to feel something other than the spandex of his suit, than his cold gloved hands. Her hands tightened involuntarily in his hair.

“I don’t trust myself,” Marinette admit, her hands running down Chat’s shoulders and down his back despite her words. Suddenly, she had an idea.

“One moment,” she said, reluctantly letting go and slipping past him. She reached up to her bed to grab her pink sleep mask. She tried not to blush as she turned around to face Chat. His face lit up as he understood.

“Does that say Beauty Sleep?” Chat asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Shut up,” Marinette grumbled, sliding the mask on over her head.

The cool cloth of the mask covered her eyelids as she waited, standing in the middle of the room, for Chat. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a quiet “claws in,” and the subtle sound of a kwami zipping around, that she wouldn’t have recognized if not for her own. She heard some rustling, and she shifted her weight. The thought of a de-transformed Chat loose in her bedroom made her feel so exposed, so vulnerable. She heard tentative footsteps approach her, and suddenly, warm hands were cupping her face. She gasped at the feeling of Chat’s bare hands on her skin. She felt the harsh cold of his ring against her cheek, another reminder that this boy in front of her, about to kiss her, was Chat Noir.

Her heart beat out of her chest as she sensed him coming closer, his breaths hitting her face as he leaned in. His lips touched hers tentatively, and she surged up, rolling up onto her tip toes to respond to the kiss. Her arms went around his neck and hands bunched into the back of his shirt – was he wearing a flannel? – enjoying the freeness of his civilian clothes. Chat groaned and fell into her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in even closer than before. It wasn’t long before his hands danced heir way under the hem of her shirt again, as if he couldn’t help himself. His strong hands circled her waist, sending shivers and goosebumps up her spine. She responded by slipping her hand under his collar, feeling his shoulders and the muscles of his back, something she’d only ever dreamed of experiencing. She felt herself being walked backwards, until her legs hit the side of her lounge chair.

Chat’s hands guided her to lie back on the chair. Her body was on fire as he laid on her, covering her body with his weight. She felt his forearms on either side of her head, propping himself up. One of his hands stroked her hair gently, and she felt his breaths against her face. She wanted nothing more than to rip off her blindfold and see the boy who was apparently staring down at her.

His hand clutched gently at her hair, tilting her head to one side so he could kiss her cheek. The kisses started softly, gently, then slowly became heavier, mouth opening as he explored the shell of her ear and back down her neck. Her body was moving of its own accord, squirming as she pressed up into him, begging him for more. He moaned lowly against her neck, his teeth nipping lightly as she grabbed handfuls of his shirt. She could hear his breaths, ragged as her own, as he brought his mouth back up to kiss hers. His kisses became desperate, searching, wanting. She let out a whimper, filled with an immense longing that nearly terrified her. But he slowed in response, breaking away to kiss her cheek gently again.

“Chat,” she whispered, pleadingly. “Please.”

His hand clenched in her hair, his body tensing as he heard her words. She could feel his breaths against her neck, his body instinctively pressing down into hers.

“Marinette,” he ground out, his voice gravelly and deep. She shivered. “We can’t… we should stop for tonight. You don’t even know my identity.”

The rational part of Marinette’s brain agreed with him; technically, they weren’t even dating. Every other part of Marinette screamed against this assertion, needing more, never wanting this to end.

“Okay,” she said, forcing her body to relax down, her hands loosening their grip.

“Okay,” he repeated, his breathing heavy. He pushed himself up slowly, and Marinette whimpered at the loss of contact. Her blindfold was hot against her face, and she itched to remove it, to see if Chat was as affected as her.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, grabbing his hand as he stood. She took a deep breath, her fingers fiddling with his miraculous to calm herself down. She pressed her thumb into the face of the cold ring to ground herself.

“So this is… like, a regular thing?” she asked timidly. She felt her face burn as she said it. But she needed a clear answer from him.

She felt him kneel down in front of her, the hand suddenly much closer to her, resting on her lap as she played with his ring. “Marinette,” she heard him say, with an intensity to his voice she hadn’t heard before. “I know you have a crush on someone else, and that doesn’t bother me. If anything, I understand more than anyone. You don’t need to have the answers to your feelings. I will keep visiting for as long as you’ll have me, in any way you want me. And hopefully – if you’ll have me – we can truly date, in my civilian form, the way you deserve.” He paused. “Does that make sense?”

“You’ll… you would reveal your identity to me?” Marinette asked, shocked.

“I have to talk to Ladybug,” he admit. “We need to decide together. But I have hope,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

She nodded, not believing her luck. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “Good night, Princess,” he whispered.

His warmth left her once again, and she sat up as she heard his transformation wash over him. By the time she had removed her blindfold, the trapdoor was snapping shut, leaving her to once again ponder how she had gotten here.

Chapter Text

She had to tell Chat. At this point, she had very little choice. It felt dishonest to continue with… whatever they were doing, without telling him the truth. If he somehow found out before she could tell him, it would completely break his trust.

But what even were they were doing? Soothing their broken hearts through each other? Friends who kissed only in the shadows of the night? It certainly wasn’t the recipe for a healthy relationship. Was she simply a distraction from Ladybug? But that couldn’t be; Chat made his feelings for her clear, even though she couldn’t give him the same. Even if he still loved Ladybug, she was Ladybug, so it shouldn’t be a problem; right?

Her heart was split. She felt guilty no matter what she did. She couldn’t help but be completely, totally smitten with both boys. It was unfair for them, and unfair for herself. But what could she do? A relationship isn’t something you can make a pros and cons list about (she’d tried; Tikki said no). She had to let her emotions guide her. And hopefully, the only heart she would break would be her own.

“Hey Mari,” she heard distantly. Her head shot up. Adrien was turned around in his seat, smiling at her with his eternally green eyes. She shut hers instinctively against them, not allowing herself to fall in. She couldn’t let her emotions guide her that much.

“Hey, Adrien,” she replied, putting her head down so her closed eyes wouldn’t be too conspicuous. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

“No sketchbook again today? Oh well, you’ll just have to finish my design.” Adrien’s hand came to rest in front of her on her desk, palm down.

Marinette’s fingers jumped at the thought of drawing, and her pen was in her hand before she could think. She picked up where she left off, finishing off the centre spiral and tracing designs up towards his long fingers.

“Thanks,” she said gratefully, hoping her voice wasn’t too strained. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“An original Marinette Dupain-Cheng design, on my own hand? Are you kidding?” Adrien joked lightly. “This will sell for millions one day.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Marinette replied wryly.

They were silent for a moment, both watching Marinette’s quick and steady work. She established a ring at the base of his thumb, then moved up to the pointer finger.

“Rough night again?” Adrien asked. How could he always tell how she was feeling? Even Alya wasn’t so perceptive.

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed. “I wish my brain would just shut up. Half the time it feels like it’s working against me.” She drew vines, climbing, twirling around his fingers.

“It seems like you get pretty focused while designing,” he said. “Maybe focus on your creative work? I find playing the piano helps calm my mind.”

“That’s true,” Marinette commented, drawing leaves up his ring finger. That advice was really similar to the advice Chat had given her, just a few weeks before, on how to talk to Adrien. Her pen hit the cold, hard metal of his ring.

She let her pen fall lightly out of her hands as she considered his ring. She hadn’t really looked at it before; she’d always assumed it was a family heirloom. Without thinking, she picked up his hand and traced her design, allowing her fingers to ghost over the spiral, up the knuckles, then follow the vines all the way up to the ring. Her fingertips brushed up against the steep, thick sides, before pressing her thumb flat into the face of the ring. It fit perfectly.

Marinette stilled. No, no, no no no.

“Marinette?” she heard faintly, as if someone was talking to her while she was in the bottom of the ocean. Her thumb was still pressed on the flat face of the silver ring. The silver ring. Shock numbed her from the inside out. She could hardly breathe, hardly think, hardly reconcile the truth that was right in front of her. Right in front of her. This whole time.

She looked up and locked eyes with Adrien. He looked guiltily back at her. Guilty, shocked, and a little scared. Good. He should be scared. Everyone should be scared.

“Alright class, open your textbooks to page 82,” Mme Bustier said, entering the class.

Relief passed over Adrien’s face. “Let’s talk later, okay?” he whispered, attempting to turn around and face the front. Marinette’s grip tightened on his hand as he gently tried to extract himself. Let’s talk about this later. He knew, he knew. How long has he known? How long had she been talking to Adrien Agreste about Adrien Agreste? Her mind was whirling, going over every embarrassing, humiliating thing she’d ever said to Chat, every moment she fawned over Adrien, every time she had kissed Chat, oh my god –

“Mari?” Adrien whispered tentatively. Marinette exploded from her chair.

“I NEED TO TALK TO ADRIEN AGRESTE!” Marinette yelled. The class fell deadly silent. She tightened her grip on the hand she was holding hostage and dragged Adrien out of his seat. She could faintly hear gasps, whispers, maybe a giggle (Alya), and Mme Bustier speaking, but they were all muffled, distant, drowned out by the blood rushing in her head. She couldn’t compute the words, she couldn’t think, she just dragged Adrien out the door, down the hall, down the stairs…

“Marinette, I –”

“Not. Here,” she gritted out. Adrien, thankfully, seemed to know when to shut up. Marinette threw open the dark green door to a supply closet, pulling him in with her.

She realized at the last second that a small closet might not have been the best idea, because now there was nowhere to go, nowhere to look, nowhere to pace or draw or knit or sew, just her and Adrien Agreste, his goddamn green eyes glowing at her in the faint light, and the fear she had seen in the classroom was written on his face as he scratched the back of his head nervously and opened his mouth to speak again. She clapped her hand over his mouth.

“No,” Marinette said threateningly. Suddenly, she got déjà vu from just weeks before on her terrace. She dropped her hand as if it had been burned. She shared that moment with Chat. And Chat was right here, except he was Adrien.

She let out a frustrated half-scream and turned around, pacing back to the door. Chat is Adrien and Adrien is Chat. They are not two different people. Every time Chat has dropped on my balcony, it has been Adrien Agreste in a catsuit. Good god. And that’s not even considering his relationship with Ladybug. She mentally blocked that train of thought; she couldn’t even begin to fathom that.

“I – you – ugghh,” Marinette put her hands in her hair and pulled in frustration, trying to bring herself back to earth, wondering if this was all just a dream. She felt… betrayed. Had this all been one big joke to him? Making her fall in love with one version of him wasn’t enough?

She rounded on Adrien, anger rising within her as she took in his slumped shoulders, his dejected face. How dare he feel this way, when she was the one going through a crisis.

“Why me?” she demanded.

Adrien opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water.

“WHY. ME,” Marinette yelled, the words tearing painfully out of her throat. “Of all the girls in Paris, why did you drop on MY terrace and form a friendship with ME? Are you so determined to embarrass me? Is this some sick, sadistic torture? ‘Oh poor Marinette, she can hardly function around me in real life, might as well make her fall in love with my alter ego and confess all her secrets to HIM’ -- ”

“Marinette, it’s not like that at all –” Adrien pleaded.

“Did you know all along?” she shouted. “This whole time I’ve been gushing about my crush, you’ve been giving me advice, on how to talk to you–“ the embarrassment hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her, and she felt tears prick in her eyes as she turned away.

“I didn’t know,” Adrien said quickly. “I had no idea you liked me. Not until… you drew Chat in class.”

I drew Chat. Oh, god, she must have looked so pathetic, drawing Chat Noir in class like a little lovesick fangirl, while Adrien knew all along that she was falling for the hero. That she couldn’t help falling for him in any form he came.

She put her head in her hands, unable to look at him, to see the pain and sympathy in his eyes. “So, you figured out I was crushing on you, and instead of, oh, I don’t know, never mentioning it again, you come to my bedroom, and you kiss me –”

“You kissed me,” Adrien corrected.

Marinette looked up in shock. “Because you confessed your feelings for Ladybug!”

“So, what, you were jealous?” Adrien asked, meeting her glare with a glare of his own.

“JEALOUS?” Marinette screeched. “JEALOUS? I – TIKKI, SPOTS ON!”

****

Adrien watched in confusion as the transformation washed over Marinette in a sea of pink. Suddenly, Ladybug was in front of him, spots and yoyo and all. He hadn’t seen Ladybug in so long. Ladybug…

He approached cautiously as Ladybug’s chest heaved from the yelling. He hardly noticed as his hand come up to cup her cheek, to look fully at her face, to see the scared Marinette behind the mask. Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged, her hair reverted back to their sleek ponytails. He saw the light freckles dotting her cheeks around her mask. Ladybug, his Ladybug…

Adrien smiled as his other hand came up to cup her face. “Marinette?” he asked in awe.

The anger was draining slowly from Ladybug’s eyes as she stared back up at him, but he could see the seeds of stubbornness had planted their roots. She wasn’t willing to give up the fight. He laughed; how could he have possibly thought these were two different people?

“I – you’re still not off the hook,” Ladybug said stubbornly, her bottom lip protruding in an angry pout.

“I never thought I was,” Adrien said, grinning. “But you have to admit, I also have the right to be angry.”

Ladybug’s jaw dropped. “At me? Why?” she sputtered.

“You got me to confess all my feelings for Ladybug to you,” he replied, love and warmth filling his voice. “Poor, lonely, vulnerable Chat Noir, trying to move on from his Lady,” he teased, a finger dragging its way over her freckles and her nose. “Confessing his deepest feelings to the pretty baker’s daughter, not knowing…” his finger stopped on the tip of her nose. “That is was her all along.”

“I…” He saw the comprehension dawn in her eyes. She looked up at him. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “Chat – I mean, you, have always been so open about your love for Ladybug, I didn’t think…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien whispered, one of his hands moving away from her cheek, into her hair, that felt exactly the way it did the night before, smooth and silky and soft, and the curve of her neck, the tilt of her chin, everything, everything, screamed Marinette, but it also screamed Ladybug, and oh god, Adrien was in heaven. He couldn’t help the face-splitting grin that took over his face as he stared at the girl who had taken over his life since the moment he laid eyes on her.

“You’re not mad?” Ladybug’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Adrien laughed again, joy overflowing in his chest. “Mad? Mari, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. How could I possibly be mad?” He gazed down at her adoringly.

“Oh,” she said softly. Her brain seemed to be short-circuiting again, the way it used to, her mouth dropping open slightly as she raked her eyes across his face, his hair, up to his eyes again. It was so endearing, and Adrien felt so much love, he thought he would explode.

“I’d only be mad if you didn’t let me kiss you right now,” Adrien said teasingly. “But if you’re still angry or confused, we can just talk instead.”

“I’m not… that mad,” she confessed, eyes dropping to Adrien’s lips.

“No?” Adrien asked, stepping forward, bringing his body an inch from her own, feeling the heat radiate off her. He wondered if he’d even be able to stop smiling long enough to kiss her.

She shook her head silently, eyes still fixed on his lips. But she didn’t move, apparently much shyer with Adrien than she was with Chat. The realization that she was intimidated by his civilian self filled Adrien with a warm glow, and a newfound confidence. He put a hand on the small of her back and pulled her in, kissing her gently. Ladybug made a small gasping sound, seemingly surprised despite their conversation. She set her hand tentatively on his shoulder, a far cry from where it had been the night before. He pulled her in closer, tilting his head and kissing her deeply. She responded immediately, sinking one hand into his hair and gripping his shoulder tightly with the other. She held him desperately, as if he would vanish if she loosened her grip.

“Adrien,” Ladybug said breathlessly. “I can’t kiss you if you’re smiling.”

“I can’t help it, my Lady,” he replied, taking advantage of the break to pepper kisses on her cheek. “Anyway, we should go back to class. People are going to wonder where we’ve gone.”

“Class?” Ladybug asked, dazed. Adrien’s grin got impossibly wider.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be over tonight,” he reassured her, stroking his hand over her mussed bangs. He saw his Lady’s brain working overtime at the idea that Adrien would be in her bedroom tonight. He didn’t realize he’d acted so differently as Chat Noir; he was having a much easier time reconciling Marinette and Ladybug as the same person.

“Okay,” she said finally, eyes clearing slightly.

“Okay,” he repeated. They didn’t move.

“Ladybug?” Adrien said softly.

“Yes?”

“You have to let me go first.”

“Oh, sorry,” she released her death grip on him and took a step back. “Spots off,” she whispered, and just as suddenly Marinette was in front of him again, breaking off a piece of a macaron for her kwami.

“Should we leave one at a time, so that people aren’t suspicious?” Marinette asked, fixing her hair.

“I think our exit from the classroom prevented any kind of subtlety,” Adrien replied, smiling at the memory.

“Oh, right,” Marinette blushed, apparently now remembering the uproarious exit she had created. “So, I guess we go together then.”

Adrien smiled, taking her hand. “Together.”

****

Marinette was waiting for him, as always, her Christmas lights shining almost as brightly as her smile. Her eyes had cleared since that afternoon, her messy bun replaced with her classic pigtails. Chat walked over to her as soon as he touched down, detransforming as he went, and pulled her for a kiss. Her hand rested on his chest, right over his heart, which was definitely beating a mile a minute. He distantly heard Plagg mumble about cheese croissants before zipping away. Adrien kept her close as they broke apart, bringing a hand up to her cheek.

“I’ve been waiting to do that all day,” he said softly.

Marinette blushed slightly. “Me too,” she whispered.

Adrien grinned down at her, a Chat-like playfulness overcoming him. “I have two girlfriends.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me, but you haven’t asked either of us to be your girlfriend yet.”

“Technicality,” he said dismissively. His eyes caught on something new in the middle of her balcony. He walked up to it slowly.

“A tree?” he said, confused.

“A Christmas tree,” Marinette corrected. “And I brought some ornaments up from the basement for us to decorate.”

Adrien reached out to touch the pine needles, rolling them between his fingers. It was a real tree, not plastic or pre-decorated. It was small and dark green and slightly lopsided; not at all like the cold, silver trees Nathalie set up around the house.

Marinette opened a shoebox to show an assortment of home-made and store-bought ornaments. She stuttered a little as she told the story behind each one, still keeping her eyes down so she could form complete sentences. Adrien smiled at her shyness as he listened, examining the contents of the shoebox. Some ornaments had pictures of her family, some were knit figurines, some were paper snowflakes that had been crushed one too many times. It was so personal, so intimate, a window into Marinette’s home life. He gingerly picked up an ornament with one of Marinette’s baby pictures in it, seeing the same bright blue eyes stare up at him. He cradled it in his hands, positive that he had never held anything more special.

“I… I haven’t decorated a Christmas tree in a few years,” he admitted, his throat closing up.

Marinette slid her hand in his hair, her confidence growing, and gave him a little scratch. “Then you get to place the first ornament,” she said encouragingly.

He glanced over at her, noting her slight blush as she met his eyes, and smiled. “It definitely has to be this one,” he said, holding up baby Marinette. She groaned, apparently embarrassed at her adorably chubby cheeks, as he hung the ornament in a place of honor in the middle of the tree.

They fell into an easy decorating rhythm, Adrien examining each ornament carefully before fastening them to the branches, Marinette giving him not-so-subtle suggestions about where they should go. He caught her sneakily switching the locations of the ornaments while his back was turned, but he just bit back a smile and said nothing. Marinette opened up slowly as they decorated, looking him in the eye and touching his arm like she would with Chat, even beginning to argue with him.

“See, there are way too many green ornaments on that side now.”

“What’s wrong with green? I love green.”

“It’s just… you know what? Never mind. I love green too,” Marinette declared.

Adrien smiled, staring up at their creation. The ornaments were mismatched and homey, gold tinsel wrapping haphazardly all the way around. He knew Marinette would prefer it neater, but he also knew she was letting him decorate it how he wanted. He felt a small tap on his shoulder.

“Now for the topper,” Marinette said, handing him a silver star.

“Are you sure you don’t want it?”

“I can’t reach anyway,” she said. She nudged him towards the tree.

Adrien reached up and placed it on the top, watching it light up as he flipped the switch. He stared up at the light, so far away, then back down at Marinette. Her smile was warm, loving, bright and carefree as she watched him. He walked over to give her a hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest.

He kissed the top of her head as she hugged him back. “Thank you,” he whispered softly.

Marinette just squeezed him harder. Adrien never felt more loved than in that moment.