Archive of Our Own

Ladybug shivered against Chat’s side. They huddled together against a chimney, braving the crisp autumn winds which tumbled into the bitter gusts of winter. He held her so close he nearly sat on top of her; one of her thighs had gone numb from the weight of him. He’d barely loosened his grip on her waist since they’d landed on the rooftop.

They’d defeated the Akuma an hour ago. Maybe. Ladybug had lost track of the time. The villain’s name had been Electrocutioner. His march through the city had been followed by the screams of Parisians and the smell of burnt flesh.

One blast from Electrocutioner’s baton had come within a hair of striking Ladybug. She’d felt the air crackle beside her as it hissed past.

She’d been propelling down Montparnasse Tower at the time, high enough that she’d have fallen to her death if the blast had hit her, regardless the suit’s protection. Or the electrocution itself might have killed her. Either way, Chat would have been too far away to have done a thing to stop it.

In the heat of battle, the near-hit hadn’t phased her much. Knowing she had a job to do, she recovered quickly once she’d landed, twirling her yo-yo to deflect the Akuma’s next few blows as Chat stumbled to regain his rhythm. But she knew firsthand, from all the hits she’d seen Chat take for her over the years, that it was harder when your partner was the one in danger.

Chat hadn’t said anything since the battle had finished. Not unless choked sobs counted as words, and even those had abated a while back. But despite the cold and the silence, Ladybug didn’t really want to leave.

She relished these moments, where the world was quiet and it was only the two of them. The circumstances made her feel somewhat guilty for feeling that way, but she could have sat there indefinitely, combing her fingers through his hair and breathing in the smell of leather. The smell of safety.

Unfortunately, the Universe had other plans. Another strong wind blew by, leaving her shivering in its wake.

Chat sat up. “You—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “I’m sorry. You’re cold. And I’ve been keeping you here all this—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips. His bloodshot eyes glanced at it, briefly, before flicking back up to her face.

“It’s alright, Chaton. There’s nowhere else I need to be.”

He smiled—a wobbly smile, but one that made her heart speed up nonetheless. She smiled back, but another burst of wind set her teeth to chattering, interrupting the moment.

“M-maybe...m-m-maybe we c-could go somewhere w-w-warmer thougt? G-get some hot ch-chocolate?”

“Whatever the lady wishes. My treat.” His eyes gleamed, a little less distant than before. It always alarmed her how fast he could push down his feelings when he wanted to, but she didn’t want to bring that up now. The day had been hard enough already.

She snorted. “It’s not your tr-treat when nobody l-lets us pay in the s-suits.”

He touched a hand to his chest and looked dramatically to the sky. “It wounds me that you don’t think my offer is sincere, Buginette.”

She burst into giggles and reached over to mess up his hair. He dodged out of the way and leaped to his feet, then offered a hand down to her. She let him pull her up, then almost fell over when she tried to put weight on the leg that had fallen asleep.

He caught her. “Careful, M’lady. We wouldn’t want you falling for me.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove before tossing her yo-yo to swing down to the ground. There was no way she was letting him know that had already happened.

They found a nearby cafe and walked out a few minutes later with two hot chocolates, free of charge as expected. Wordlessly, they made their way to the Seine and strolled along the adjacent walkway.

This had recently become a habit of theirs. They couldn’t meet up as frequently for patrol now that they were in their last year of lycée; their civilian lives kept them too occupied. Instead, they made the most of those nights they did have. For the most part, that meant a night rampant with laughter, but tonight the mood remained somber. Ladybug was too aware of her movements, of the tension in her muscles, as they walked along quietly.

Chat broke the silence. “Have you ever thought about what would happen if...if one day we didn’t…I mean, if one of us gets hit one day, and we don—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t say it.” She took a large gulp of her hot chocolate and almost choked. A few seconds later, she turned to see him watching her, his expression unreadable. She sighed. “Of course I have. But I don’t like to.”

“I know, I know. Me neither…”

She stepped in front of him, cutting him off and meeting his eyes. She crossed her free hand across her chest, fingers digging into her arm. “But?”

“But…how would the people in our lives know what had happened to us?”

Ladybug closed her eyes. A moment later an arm wrapped around her side. She pressed her face into his chest, moving her hot chocolate out of the way as he pulled her in tighter. The shock of cold leather against her cheek almost made her pull back, but his heartbeat soothed her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I just...I need to know. Seeing you almost get hit earlier…” His arm tightened around her. “It just made me think, you know? About the people you might be leaving behind. I wouldn’t know how to find them, and...well, if it happened to me, I think I would feel...I mean, especially if nobody even knew I was dea—”

“Chat. Please.”

“Right. Sorry.” His hand rubbed circles on her back, tickling the ends of her ponytail. “I just mean...there would be things I’d want certain people to know. Things I haven’t had a chance to say yet…”

Ladybug pulled away. “Is this about your mystery girl?” she teased, ignoring the lump that was stubbornly forming in her throat. Part of her comment was a half-ditch effort to change the subject, but part of her wanted to know.

Had he really been thinking about her? Was she that important to him?

There was some girl in Chat’s civilian life that he’d recently developed feelings for. Ladybug knew, because she’d started teasing him about his crush a while back. She’d poked fun at the way he lit up when he talked about her, or at the random smiles that tugged at his lips mid-patrol. He’d gone from insisting she was just a friend to showing up one day and asking, hypothetically, what it meant if you suddenly found yourself tongue-tied in someone’s presence. If you somehow ended up acting like a fool, trying to impress them.

One day he asked if he’d have Ladybug’s permission to tell the girl his identity if he started dating her, and Ladybug had known it was serious.

Apparently, his secret had ruined his last relationship. Ladybug could relate.

She knew was only fair, since Alya knew her identity, that he should be allowed to tell someone, too. She’d have allowed it years ago, but he’d never asked, and...selfishly, she wanted to be the first one he told.

She wasn’t entirely sure why.

Alright, she knew. She just didn’t like to think about it.

“Mmhmm,” he said now. A goofy smile spread over his face for a moment before he shook his head and it melted away. “Well, sort of. But, obviously it’s not just about her.”

Ladybug looked out at the Seine, nodding slowly. “Ok then. A plan wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” In all honesty, they should have thought of that years ago. “Our identities wouldn’t be an issue, I guess. We’d have no reason to keep them a secret, so...” She took a deep breath. “If something happens to me, you have my permission to take off my earrings and find out who I am.”

He nodded slowly. “Thank you, Ladybug. I know that’s no small thing for you, and I want you to know I appreciate it. You have my permission, too, of course. Not that you really need it, as the Guardian.”

“Thank you.”

She turned away and started walking slowly along the river again. When he settled into step beside her, she added, “And, if...Kwamis forbid something does happen…What do you want me to...I mean…”

“I have a note on my phone. Of everything I’d want to say to the people in my life, if…”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Of course you do.” She might be the one with the plans when it came to taking down Akumas, but he was the one who always knew what to say.

He didn’t respond to that, and she started to think they’d finally moved past the topic. She should have known better. It was a couple minutes later when he spoke again, sending another chill through her.

“Have you ever thought about what would happen if something happened to us outside of the suits? How we would know?”

She took a beat to respond. “Yeah.”

Every time he showed up late for an Akuma. Every time he postponed a patrol. Every time she woke up drenched with sweat in the middle of the night, having watched him die in her nightmares, again.

Admittedly, those first two things didn’t happen too often. He was nothing if not reliable, and she understood that things in his civilian life were sometimes out of his own control. But she still wondered, despite her best efforts.

The more she’d gotten to know him, the deeper she’d fallen...she wanted to know everything about who he was under the mask.

She wanted to be a part of his life. To know if his friends properly appreciated his terrible jokes. If they balanced that with keeping his ego in check. If they knew how much physical contact reassured him, even if it was just a soft pat on the shoulder or a quick nudge in the arm.

She wanted to hold his hand without the suits in the way, to see how he laughed without the mask.

But it wasn’t safe, so she did her best to ignore those thoughts.

“I have an idea about that too,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm…” Something in his tone made her suspicious, a feeling that was only reinforced when she turned to see him smirking at her. She narrowed her eyes, but he only laughed, and added, “I think we should get tattoos.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

His grin only widened. “Ok, but hear me out. You get a little black cat tattooed on your—”

“First of all, don’t you dare finish that sentence. Second of all, you’re just trying to trick me into getting a tattoo of you, aren’t you?”

“Come on! I’ll get a Ladybug to match.”

“Chat!”

“Okay, okay. I’m serious though. I actually think it could be a good idea. Then we’d have something on our bodies to signal who we are to each other. And if, Kwamis forbid, something happened...the tattoo would identify us. But nobody else would know.”

“Chaton, unless I’m the one doing the autopsy—and I assure you, I am in no way qualified to do that, nor will I ever be—how would I even find out you had a tattoo?”

He shrugged. “I’ll add a note to my will, so they write it into my obituary. You’ll see it in the headlines.”

Ladybug snorted. “Right, because your civilian death is going to be publicized.”

He gave her an odd look. “You don’t know my life.”

“Chat," she scoffed, "even if I wanted to, I’m not even old enough. There’s no way my parents would agree.”

“In a few months though. I know you’re turning eighteen soon, even if I don’t know exactly when.”

She glared, but...he wasn’t wrong. And...a small small part of her...a part she was trying very hard to bury deep underground, in a sealed bunker that would never be opened, ever…

Well, that part kind of wanted to do it.

It would be something the two of them shared. A physical manifestation of their unbreakable bond. Something nobody else would know the true meaning of.

Take that, Mystery Girl.

She stopped walking again and whirled around on him. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?” He burst into a smile, which had no right to make her insides feel the way they did. No right. “I didn’t actually expect you to agree.”

“I didn’t either,” she muttered. She shook her head, then poked her index finger into his chest. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“I’m listening.”

She knew that, whatever his feelings for were for Mystery Girl, he wasn’t entirely over Ladybug yet, either. Which...was only fair, really. She still harboured some feelings for Adrien, even if she’d given up on the idea of him reciprocating.

Still, she wasn’t sure what possessed her to say what she did next, nor to deliver it the way she did, but she let it happen before she had a chance to talk herself out of it. She leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing her whole hand against his chest, and leaned closer, until her lips were right beside his ear.

“I’ll do it,” she whispered, “but I’m not telling you where I’m getting the tattoo.”

She saw his Adam’s apple bob as she pulled away. His face was dangerously close to the colour of her suit. His mouth had dropped open.

She giggled. “What’s wrong, Chaton? Chat’s got your tongue?”

“I-y-you,” he spluttered.

She threw her yo-yo and flew away before he could come up with a retort.

“Dude, really?” Nino said. They were in the changing rooms at Le Grand Paris, getting ready for the post-graduation pool party Chloé was throwing for their old collège class. And wasn’t that strange? That the former and very irritable Queen Bee would be the one to organize one last class reunion with the people she’d once despised?

“What?” Adrien asked.

He’d just pulled off his shirt, and was now folding it to put back in his bag. If Nino was about to rag him about properly folding his clothes, then Adrien would tell him where to shove it. Not everyone had a mom to do their laundry for them.

While Adrien had no regrets about the fact that he’d moved out into his own place the day of his eighteenth birthday, there were still some consequences of leaving a fully staffed mansion. The spaghetti sauce that was somehow splattered all over his ceiling was nothing if not proof of that. And boy, had Marinette had laughed at him about that when she’d noticed, her eyes gleaming, her cheeks pink, her tongue sticking out at him when he tried to—

“Dude,” was all Nino said in response, shaking Adrien out of his thoughts.

Adrien turned to Nino. “What?!”

“The tattoo, man. I mean, I know you’re a fan of Ladybug, but really?”

Oh. That.

“Um...I was drunk?”

That wasn’t...entirely a lie. The fact that he’d been out drinking with Felix explained the placement of that tattoo, just not the reason he’d gotten it. He was just lucky he hadn’t been drunk enough to tell his cousin why he’d suddenly wanted a ladybug tattooed over his ass.

Nino shook his head sadly. “Well...at least it’s just the insect, and not like...a tattoo of her face or something.”

Adrien felt hot all of a sudden. “Whatever.”

He pulled up his swim shorts and tied them tighter, hiding the evidence. At least he’d gotten the tattoo somewhere he could hide it. Particularly from nosey friends...

”If you say anything to Kim,” Adrien warned, “I’m not having you over for weekend brunch anymore. Snitches don’t get eggs Benedict.” Adrien had acquired that recipe from one of the chefs at the mansion who’d taken pity on him. After all, Adrien had been about to move out without so much as knowing how to boil water. The accompanying six weeks of secret cooking lessons might just have been the nicest present Adrien had ever received under Gabriel’s roof. And the eggs Benedict recipe was unparalleled.

“Harsh, but fair.” Nino clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, bug boy. Let’s go join the others.”

They shoved their things in the locker, and headed up to join their other friends on the rooftop. Most of their old class was gathered in a circle near the entrance, with a few exceptions. Kim was already in the pool, floating on a flamingo floatie and sipping from a pink drink with bendy straw. Marc and Nathaniel were off in the far corner, their lips locked in what they probably thought was a hidden make-out session. Lila, of course, was nowhere to be seen. She was the only old class member not to have gotten an invite.

Adrien scanned the rooftop several times. Also missing, he noted with disappointment, was Marinette.

He felt a nudge on his shoulder, and looked sideways to meet Alya’s knowing gaze. Of course she’d notice him looking.

She smirked. “She’s on her way, lover boy, don’t worry. Just running a little late. You know how she is.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adrien mumbled. He needed a drink. Well, actually...he had two hands, so...he needed two drinks. It was their end of lycée party, so nobody could judge him for that, right?

He excused himself from Alya’s questions and wandered over to the bar, exchanging pleasantries with Jean-Something. (As a kid, Adrien hadn’t known the guy’s full name, because Chloé said something different every time. Now, it had been so long that Adrien was too awkward to ask.) Adrien eventually turned away from the table with a long-island iced tea in each hand.

He scoured the rooftop again, sipping from one of his drinks, searching for one familiar face among his friends. After nearly being taken out by a football Alix and Ivan were tossing back and forth, getting splashed by Kim for daring to walk too close to the pool, and getting stuck in a ten-minute conversation with Rose about some TV-show he’d had never heard of, Adrien had essentially given up on looking. With a sigh, he started towards one of the open deck chairs, only to be halted when he crashed right into a soft shoulder. A little meep escaped its owner, and a jolt shot through Adrien when hands steadied themselves on his abs. He looked down in surprised to see who he’d walked right into.

“Marinette! It’s you! You’re here!” His voice came out a little squeaky.

She dropped her hands, her lips quirking up to one side as amusement swirled in her eyes, and—Oh. He loved that look on her. Well, he loved every look on her, but this was in his top ten. Not that he actually kept a list. That would have been creepy, but...

Oh. Wow. Nevermind the face. Because he’d never seen her in a bikini before, and...Gulp.

Ok. This was inappropriate. He shouldn’t be looking at her like this. Only, she was wearing a Chat Noir bikini, black with little green pawprints all over the fabric and green ties holding it together. She must have made herself, too, because he’d never seen that in a store, and...yep. There was her signature. Right in an area he shouldn’t have been looking. An area he certainly shouldn’t have been looking at that closely, since the stitching was black thread against black fabric, and shouldn’t have been so easy to read.

In his defense, she’d walked right into him.

Ok, no. He’d walked into her, but then she hadn’t moved away.

And that thing. That thing in his chest. The thing that went thump-dee-dump-dee-dump? It was going a little hard on the thump part. And the dee part. And in retrospect, also the dump part.

Oh. Oh God. Oh no.

How was he supposed to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck when he had drinks in both hands?

“-drien? Adrien, are you okay?”

Good! Yes! Purrfect. Cool as a cat. Oh no. He couldn’t be making cat puns when she was wearing that. What on Earth would she think of him? Well, nothing, probably. Since he hadn’t actually managed to speak the words out loud. He should probably work on that.

“For you!” he finally managed, shoving one of the drinks towards her. To his horror, some of it sloshed over the side, onto her chest, and he gulped as one he watched a drip slide slowly past her collarbone. He averted his gaze before it could fall too far, noting that she was still regarding him with concern.

“Are you alright?” she repeated as she took the drink, her fingers brushing his as they wrapped around the top of the glass.

He nodded. “Fine, I just...sorry. I’m uh...overwhelmed, you know? This being our last get-together as a class and all?” Was that an appropriate excuse?

Since his failure as Aspik, there were very few moments when Adrien had wished he could go back five minutes in time, but oh, how he wished he could have a do-over right this second.

Marinette nodded, as if she understood, but she was still eyeing him carefully. “Why don’t we go sit down?”

He nodded, his face burning. She settled a hand on his bicep and guided him to one of the pool chairs. He sat down on the end of it, wondering if he could figure out how to somehow phase through the floor before he managed to embarrass himself further. He could feel her eyes on him, and he purposefully avoided looking back at her.

“Stay here, ok? I’ll get some water.” Marinette was gone before he could think of anything else to say. Probably for the best. He set his drink on the ground and rubbed his face with his hands.

Marinette came back about a minute later and crouched in front him. She rested one hand on his knee to balance herself, and he was all too aware of the contact. She’d exchanged the long island iced tea for two bottles of water. She set one down, and unscrewed the cap from the second.

“Here,” she said softly, and handed him the open bottle. He accepted and took a long sip.

“Thanks, Marinette. I’m sorry, I guess the heat got to me a bit.”

It wasn’t really that hot, which was probably why her worried expression didn’t change. “Are you sure you’re okay, Adrien? You know you can talk to me, right? If you want?”

He smiled. “I know.”

Her offer set him at ease, reminding him of one of the reasons he’d fallen for her in the first place—her kindness. They’d grown a lot closer over the years, a far cry from the awkwardness he recalled from the beginning of their friendship. When they’d graduated from collège with the plans of attending different lycées, he’d known he wanted to keep in touch with her, so he’d made the extra effort when his father finally let him have a little more freedom.

Now, they hung out at each other’s places several times a week. She helped him cook, or kicked his ass playing video games, or sometimes just did homework in his company. Every now and then, she’d come over to his apartment with the intention of accomplishing some particular task, only for them to get so caught up in conversation, about everything and nothing, that they didn’t get a thing done.

Those times were his favourite.

“I promise, Marinette, I’m fine.”

“Ok.” She looked sideways to where he’d set his drink down. A grin spread over her face when she turned back to him. “I’m stealing your long island though. I had to put mine down to fetch you water after all. It’s only fair”

He smiled. “I can agree to those terms.”

“Good, because it wasn’t a negotiation.” She grabbed the glass and took a sip, then her fingertips pressed into his knee as she pushed herself up. “I’m going to go say hi to Alya, okay? I’ll see you later?”

“Sounds good.”

Before she walked away, she turned to the side and raised her glass to take another sip, her arms lifted, revealing the left side of her ribcage.

The side of her ribcage, where a tiny black cat was tattooed.

Adrien was suddenly very glad he had the water. And that she’d decided to leave him here. Because there was no way he could have acted normal around her now.

He’d assumed that Ladybug had only been joking when she’d said she’d get the tattoo. And just because Marinette had gotten a tattoo of a black cat, didn’t mean she was Ladybug. It was probably a pretty common tattoo choice in Paris. But what if...What if...

Marinette might be the current object of his affections, but Ladybug still held a place in his heart. There was something about the adrenaline of saving the world with someone that made getting over them incredibly hard. Or maybe Adrien just wasn’t that good at moving on.

But what if they were, by some miracle, the same person?

It didn’t make sense, and Adrien knew that. After Kwami Buster, that theory had been disproven. But he’d pretended to be in two places at once on some occasions, and he had no doubt that Marinette could have figured out a way to do the same.

Marinette. Ladybug.

The theory just felt so right.

What if he was wrong, though? He shouldn’t get his hopes up. He really shouldn’t. It wasn’t fair to either of the girls he loved.

His thoughts were still spiraling when Alya came to see him some time later. He hadn’t really been keeping track of how long it had been. But when he looked up, Marinette still seemed to be saying hi to everyone, so it couldn’t have been as long as he’d thought. Probably because time had actually stopped to allow him to process this monumental possibility. Relativity, and all that. If his thoughts were racing around that quickly then surely time must have stretched out to accommodate that.

“Hey, Adrien,” Alya said. “Marinette wanted me to check on you. Everything good?”

“Um...yeah. Perfectly swell.”

Alya laughed. “I figured. She was so worried, but of course you’re just smitten. Don’t worry, she’s clueless. Although, I swear, if you’d just tell her how you feel already...”

Adrien absolutely couldn’t do that. Not even if he was dying on the inside. Not until he figured this out. Because if she was Ladybug, then he knew she didn’t like him, didn’t he? And he was almost certain that Marinette didn’t have feelings for Adrien him either, so…

Alya interrupted his spiral by waving a hand in front of his face. She laughed when he looked at her, wide-eyed. “Wow, no wonder she was worried. You really are out of it today.”

“Yeah, well...Alya, when did Marinette get a tattoo?”

Alya’s eyebrows shot up. “She actually did it for him? Damn.” She whistled.

“For him?” Adrien’s heart was doing that aggressive thump-thud-thunking into oblivion thing again. There was no way… “Him who?”

“Sorry, Buttercup. That’s classified. But don’t worry. I’m on your side. I didn’t used to be, but I swear, you’ve won me over.”

“Side? What side, Alya? Who’s the other guy?”

She only laughed as she walked away. And Adrien?

Adrien was screwed.

Marinette shivered and wrapped her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. Night had fallen, and while the summer air was warm, she was still a little wet from her last dip in the pool. She also couldn’t help but feel a little hypersensitive right now.

Because Adrien was staring at her.

She couldn’t see him right now, but she knew. He’d been doing it all night. And while he’d gotten slightly better at hiding it as the party went on, quickly glancing away and interjecting himself into a nearby conversation whenever she caught him, he still wasn’t very subtle.

Alya and Nino had laughed it off when she’d brought it up, but that didn’t make her feel much better. Especially since she hadn’t been able to get a second alone to talk to Adrien since the night had started. Either he ran in the other direction whenever she showed up, or he stationed himself on the opposite side of a large group of people.

He was definitely avoiding her.

The thought didn’t sit well. She’d tried so hard to get closer to him over the years. Getting over the phase where she could hardly even talk to him, and genuinely getting to know him. She’d only fallen for him deeper, at first. But then there had been Chat, and things had gotten complicated, and...well, she knew she wasn’t entirely over Adrien. She definitely couldn’t say that if he, for example, tried to kiss her or something, that she’d complain.

Did she want him to, though? She wasn’t sure.

Things were just...complicated.

But now...now Marinette was drunk. Not so drunk she couldn’t walk straight (as straight as she ever walked), but drunk enough not to take no for an answer when she stormed up to Adrien.

“We need to talk,” burst from her lips.

He tugged up his swimsuit, undoing the laces and tightening them and doing them back up. Strange. She’d never known him to be self-conscious of his body before. Was he not eating enough? She’d thought she was doing enough to help feed him, what with helping him cook when she could, and having him over for dinner with her parents once or twice a week. But was it not enough?

Then again, he looked fine. Perfect, really. He’d pulled on a T-shirt at some point, but the black cotton hugged his frame. She could see his abs press through the fabric. It was unfair, really, that he always managed to look so good.

“Ok,” he whispered eventually. He was staring at her again, but not at her face. It almost looked like he was staring at her boobs, except...his eyes were focused lower than that, at...her tattoo? Weird. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. We should talk.”

Unfortunately, their classmates had other ideas.

“Oi!” Alix shouted, tearing Marinette’s attention away from Adrien. “Everyone gather for ‘Never Have I Ever.”

Adrien gave Marinette a weak smile and shrugged. Then he tried to walk around her in the direction everyone else was heading.

“No way,” Marinette said, grabbing him around the wrist. “You’re sitting next to me. You’ve been avoiding me all night. I’m not letting you run off again.”

He laughed. Probably the first genuine laugh he’d given her all day. “You won’t...let me?”

“Nope.”

“Marinette, you’re tiny. How exactly are you going to stop me?”

She crossed her arms. “You don’t know what I can do.”

His expression changed into something...woah. Intense. Marinette had to suppress a shiver, though not an unwelcome one.

“I don’t doubt that,” he whispered.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, leaving Marinette trying to figure out what the hell was going on as he started pulling her towards their friends. A circle was quickly forming beside the pool, and Marinette settled down next to Adrien. She was suddenly very aware of his thigh pressing into hers. A few seconds later Adrien seemed to realize he was still holding her hand, and he abruptly let go.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his hand along his shorts.

Marinette wrapped her sweater around herself a little tighter. Because...the goosebumps forming on her arms? Those had to be from the cold.

Yeah, just the cold.

“No worries,” she said, studying him carefully.

Their attention was diverted as the game began. Marinette didn’t want to drink too much more, but she didn’t want to sober up either. With the weirdness of this day, the alcohol was a nice shield. So she took care to take small sips every time she had to drink, which thankfully wasn’t too often. Her classmates had done some strange things.

Then it was Adrien’s turn. He turned to look right at her as he asked the question. “Never have I ever said I liked mangoes.”

She wasn’t sure what to think about the intensity of his gaze. Had she ever told him she liked mangoes? Or was her answer just really important to her for some reason? Was she supposed to say yes, or no? What was he looking for?

She took a sip, and he let out a breath, nodding.

Then it was her turn, and her brain was fried, so she just blurted out the first thing that popped into her head, which...staring at his lips, turned out to be…

“Never have I ever kissed Adrien Agreste.”

Nobody drank, but the entire circle laughed. Adrien shifted closer to her.

The game moved on around the circle, but Marinette was hardly listening. She could feel Adrien’s eyes burning a hole in her skull again.

“Can I go again?” he whispered when they were halfway around the circle.

She turned to him, smiling at the eager look in his eyes. “It’s not your turn, yet.”

“I know, but I…” He hesitated, then seemed to come to some decision. He grabbed her hand. “I don’t care about everyone else. I want to know what you answer. Will you play with me?”

“I...okay.” She turned herself around so she could face him, and leaned a little into his space. “Your turn.”

He grinned. “Never have I ever—” he laughed “—stirred a pot of boiling water because I was afraid that it would burn, and then cried when my parents made me back away from the stove.” He shook his head, still smiling. “Must have been adorable,” he added in a whisper.

Marinette shot a suspicious look across the circle at Alya, the only person here she knew she’d told that story to. Had Alya told Adrien? How would that have come up? Of course, she didn’t care if Adrien knew, but...there was only one other person she remembered telling that to, and he wasn’t here right now.

Well, she hadn’t thought he was here, she reflected as she drank. When she lowered her glass, Adrien was still watching her, transfixed.

It was her turn again.

“Um...Never have I ever...kissed Ladybug?” Why were all her questions related to kissing?

He laughed. Then he took a sip, smirking over the edge of his glass.

What?

This was some kind of joke, right? She certainly would have remembered it if she’d kissed Adrien. So...was he trying to test her? Was he trying to impress her in some strange way? It didn’t make sense. Adrien didn’t like lying.

He swirled his glass around. Marinette watched the drink slosh around like the contents of her stomach. His hand tightened on hers, and she looked up to see him watching her with a vulnerable look in his eyes.

He licked his lips. “Never have I ever...fallen out of a tree at five years old because I was trying to catch a butterfly.”

Marinette’s heart stuttered worse than her words used to. She’d never told Alya that story. And she certainly hadn’t told Adrien. She hadn’t told anyone else at school, either.

She’d only told Chat Noir.

He’d thought it was funny. He’d joked that she’d started her training for capturing Akumas back in primaire. His lips had quirked up the same way that Adrien’s were, now.

She took a hesitant sip, then leaned in closer to Adrien, nearly falling into his lap. Marinette was vaguely aware of laughter echoing behind her as her old classmates rearranged the circle to exclude them, continuing the larger game.

She took a deep breath. There was one way to prove this, once and for all. She was pretty sure it was vague enough not to reveal her identity if her hunch was wrong, but...

“Never have I ever gotten a tattoo so that my best friend would know who I was if I...if I…if something happened, and I...”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. She realized too late that she’d played the game wrong, saying something she had done by mistake.

But Adrien drank.

“Chaton?”

“Buginette.” His breath was hot on her face. When had they gotten this close?

His eyes darted down from hers. To her lips. Then back up.

He swallowed. “Never have I ever fallen in love with my best friend. Twice.”

“Damn it,” she whispered. “I can’t compete with Nino.”

He laughed, and she wished she could bottle up that sound. She sat back long enough to down her drink, and his eyes went wide as she set it down and leaned in again. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. She could smell the alcohol that rolled off of his tongue with his words. “But...you’re drunk, and I—”

“I’m not.” He raised an eyebrow. She giggled. “Ok, I am, but I promise I’m not that drunk. I’m a hundred percent aware of what I’m doing, and I really want to kiss you too. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since we were thirteen, and you gave me your umbrella. And then I’ve wanted to kiss you as Chat for...well, not as long, and I’m not really sure since when, but still. I know what I want. But if you want to wait, I totally under—”

He cut her off by placing a hand on her chin, his thumb nudging her lower lip. “I don’t want to wait.”

She leaned toward him slowly. Their noses played bumper cars for a second before they found their respective lanes. Her hands settled on his chest, curling into his T-shirt, while one of his twined in her hair. His other hand cupped her face. A shockwave travelled down her spine as their lips pressed together.

She tasted coca-cola on his tongue and felt promises whispered by the warmth of his breath. The story his fingers told as they wandered through her hair was a familiar tale, of someone searching for a home and finally realizing it had been there all along. His thumb brushed against her collarbone, setting fire to her skin.

When they finally pulled apart, she was at a loss for what to say, so picked up her empty glass and pretended to take a sip.

“What was that for?” He asked, sounding breathless. “I thought you finished your drink.”

“Well, I never drank earlier, when I said I’d never kissed Adrien Agreste. I didn’t realize I was a liar.”

He smirked, then he kissed her again.

Hours later, they were the last two on the roof. Officially, the pool was closed, but since it was Chloé’s hotel, she’d agreed to leave the door unlocked.

“Because it took you idiots four years too long to get together,” she’d said when they’d tried to thank her, “and I’m not going to risk moving you now when the situation is still delicate. I don’t have the patience to wait this out again.”

They laughed as she stormed off, then fell silent when they caught each other’s eyes.

After that, there hadn’t been much talking for a while.

Now they lay there, gazing up at the few stars they could pick out through the light pollution, cuddled up under a blanket and wrapped in each other’s arms.

Marinette was in heaven. The alcohol had worn off a little a while ago, but she was sure the buzz that had settled inside of her would be there for the rest of her life.

There was one thing still bugging her, though.

“Chaton?”

“Mmhmm?”

“You never told where you got your tattoo.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “Well…”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t for him to extract himself from her arms—she whined in protest—stand up, turn around, and pull down his swim trunks a few inches.

“Adrien Agreste, the tattoo you got to commemorate our partnership is right above your ass?!”

He grinned at her over his shoulder. “It’s a nice asset, don’t you think?”

It was a good thing he’d gotten the tattoo after all, because she was going to have to kill him.