Work Text:
Alya saved the file and stretched her arms behind her, yawning. It had taken her longer than anticipated to edit the video, but at least she was finished. Before she could relax properly, there was a knock on her bedroom door.
“Come in!” When she saw who was at the door, Alya gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “Do my eyes deceive me, or is Marinette Dupain-Cheng on time?”
“Shut up!” Marinette laughed, and the sound made something warm pool in Alya’s chest. “I’m not that bad.”
Alya snorted. “Sure you’re not.”
Marinette rolled her eyes, but her poorly suppressed smile told Alya she wasn’t too offended. “Are you done?” she asked, gesturing to the computer.
“All ready for you,” Alya said, moving her chair aside as Marinette dragged over a seat from the other side of the room. Then she settled in to watch Marinette work.
First, Marinette watched the video to ensure the script matched the edited clips. She ran through it in her head, but sometimes Alya could hear snatches of words whispered under her breath. After doing a mic check, Marinette hit record, and soon her voice filled the room.
Not for the first time, Alya marveled at how far they’d come.
They were only 14 when they started their cooking channel, “Lady and the Fox.” Back then, they were just two kids goofing off in their parents’ kitchens. Two and a half years later they were still two kids goofing off in their parents’ kitchens, but they put a lot more time, work, and effort into the channel, which had grown considerably.
Of the two of them, Alya thought Marinette had grown the most. She still remembered when they started adding voice-over to the videos. Alya approached her with the idea, and she agreed to give it a shot. After a few tries, though, Marinette got frustrated.
“I keep stammering and messing it up!” She said, pressing the mic into Alya’s hands. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. You should do it instead—you never mess up your words. You always know what to say.”
Alya shook her head. “I know you can do this.” When her friend still seemed unsure, Alya had an idea. “Why don’t you pretend you’re talking to me?”
"How would that help?” Marinette asked, skeptical.
“When it's just me, you don’t mess up your words. You know what you’re talking about, and you make people want to listen. You have a great voice, Mari. Use it.”
The first time Marinette finished recording without mess-ups, she grinned brightly at Alya. “I was right about one thing. You always know what to say.”
From then, she’d had it in the bag. Her confidence from being “Ladybug” on the channel also seeped into her everyday life. She even freestyled more in the videos, adding anecdotes that made Alya (and their viewers) smile.
Alya was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t realize she’d tuned Marinette out Marinette until she heard her alias.
“...Speaking of Rena, she’s sitting next to me right now, and she’s gorgeous,” Marinette said, a teasing grin on her lips. Alya raised an eyebrow and looked down at her sweats and stained shirt—gorgeous was not the word she’d use to describe herself right now. That didn’t deter Marinette. “You guys should leave her a nice comment; maybe she’ll do the next video, and you can hear her beautiful voice instead of mine.”
Alya glared, but Marinette didn’t seem to notice, her eyes having returned to the screen.
Marinette had been not-so-subtly trying to get her to do a video for the channel, but Alya preferred the behind-the-scenes stuff: filming, promotion, and writing posts for their website. Marinette helped with editing, but mostly her role was the cooking.
The issue wasn't that Alya couldn't cook; she could . It wasn’t that she didn’t like being on camera either. Their channel was anonymous anyway, so her face wouldn’t be shown. She just didn’t cook for the camera. There was a difference.
Alya crossed her arms when Marinette finished. “What was that?” Marinette grinned. “What? I can’t talk about how pretty my best friend is?”
The question made Alya feel a surge of something she could’t quite place, but she stuffed it down.
“First of all, aside from the fact that I definitely don’t look pretty right now—” Marinette tried to speak, but Alya put up a finger to cut her off— “we both know what I’m talking about.”
“Alya .”
“Marinette.”
“Will you at least think about it?” “Baby doll eyes don’t work on me,” Alya reminded her.
“Pleaaaase.”
Alya sighed in defeat.
(She never could resist Marinette, after all.)
“Okay, girl, I’ll—” that’s as far as she got before Marinette tackled her in a hug, and they’re both on the floor, laughing.
“You were wrong, though,” Marinette said when their giggles subsided, her eyes dancing with playfulness.
Alya’s heart rate picked up, which she thought was weird since the rush of falling had already passed. “What?”
“You’re always beautiful.” Marinette winked, and they both laughed again.
The video is uploaded within the next two days, and the comments pour in shortly afterward. Both Alya and Marinette moderate the comments, liking, replying, and, when necessary, deleting them. She’s at her friend Nino's house, hanging out with him and his boyfriend Adrien when she decides to sift through. She sees the normal comments about the video, but a few compliment her as Marinette asked them to do.
ethaninaction- 17 hours ago
I’m a simple man: i see a new Ladybug video, I click.
annacooks - 10 hours ago
Thank you so much for this video! I can’t wait to make this for my moms birthday 😊
OneDylan- 50 minutes ago
Dope vid as always! And looking good Rena Rouge! Can we expect to hear from you next time?
soyjay- 5 hours ago
Okay are we going to ignore how LB spoke about Rena 🥺 they’re so cute
Mina K - 3 hours ago
Pls the way ladybug called her gorgeous. my favorite YouTube couple <3
The last comments made Alya pause. Did people think that she and Marinette were… together?
As she kept scrolling, more comments said the same. Some asked about the nature of their relationship, while others flat out assumed they were in one. Alya couldn’t help it—she laughed.
“What’s so funny Al?” Nino asked curiously from where he and Adrien were cuddled on the couch.
Aside from their families, Nino and Adrien were the only ones who knew about her and Marinette’s channel, so Alya could tell them the truth. “These comments. Some people think Marinette and I are a couple,” she chuckled. “Crazy, right?”
“Well,” Adrien said, “can you blame them?”
Alya looked at him sideways. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I hate to break it to you, dude,” Nino said with a tone that indicated the exact opposite. “But the only people who don’t think you and Marinette are in a relationship are, well, you and Marinette.”
“That’s because we’re not.”
“Yet,” Adrien coughed, his remark barely decipherable.
Alya gave him a look. “Sunshine, if you have something to say, say it.”
“Okay, but real talk Als. Don’t you think that maybe everyone thinking you’re together is a sign?” Nino asked.
“Who’s ‘everyone?’” Alya huffed. “All I see are your opinions and some strangers on the internet. Besides, everyone thinks Marinette and Adrien are in a relationship, and you’re not calling that a sign.”
“That’s different,” Adrien said. “We’re in a queer platonic relationship. I don’t love her romantically.”
“And I do?”
They would have continued arguing, but Nino, ever the voice of reason, interrupted. “Hey, we’re just teasing. If we’re upsetting you, we’ll stop. Right babe?”
Adrien nodded, his expression turning serious. “Of course. Sorry, Alya.”
She sighed. “No, it’s fine. It’s kinda funny. But I don’t like Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
“If you say so,” Adrien sing-songed, a smug grin on his face.
Alya stared at him. “I’m gonna kill you,” she decided.
Adrien’s eyes widened. He was already bracing himself when Alya hopped off her chair and lunged. “Nino, save me!” he cried.
Nino simply sighed at their antics, though he was clearly biting back a grin as he said, “No killing my boyfriend!”
By this time, Alya and Adrien were chasing each other around the room. Their conversation was forgotten—for now.
Thursday was one of Alya’s favorite days of the week: filming day. It was the only day their schedules were free in the afternoon. It also helped that Alya’s siblings' and parents’ schedules were not free, so they had the kitchen all to themselves. Marinette’s kitchen was free most days of the week, but the noise from the bakery made it hard to film sometimes.
Hopefully, the normalcy of filming would help Alya get rid of the weirdness she’d been feeling for the past week since her talk with Nino and Adrien.
Alya was noticing things more. She noticed Marinette more. She was hyperaware of her presence, her touch, the way everything felt when she was around. She noticed something bubble up in her chest when Marinette got excited, or spoke, or did anything, really.
It was a problem because all the noticing she was doing was starting to translate into staring . Alya figured Adrien must have really gotten into her head if it was causing her to act like this.
Because surely that was all it was. Alya had known Marinette forever; they knew each other's greatest strengths and weaknesses, their fears and secrets. If there was something more there, she would have noticed sooner.
(Really, what she felt now wasn't any different from how she felt before; she was just thinking about it too much. Clearly .)
Alya had begun setting up the lights when she heard a shuffling noise from outside her apartment. She opened the door to reveal Marinette struggling to get her key out of her bag. She was armed with various ingredients organized in what Alya swore was the most inefficient way possible, holding a bag in place with her chin and stacked containers that were threatening to fall. A bag of flour was slipping from under Marinette’s arm, and Alya just managed to catch it before it hit the ground.
“Girl, you could have just knocked,” Alya said.
Marinette walked inside and dumped her things on the table. “I knew that!”
“Mhm,” Alya smirked, causing Marinette to shoot her a playful glare. “Anyway, today is dumplings?”
“Yup! Maman gave me a new recipe. There’s enough so we can eat when we’re done, but my parents want the leftovers. Is that okay?”
“Of course.”
As they set up, Alya felt relieved. Just as she’d predicted, the weirdness in her gut melted into something more casual. Soon different smells and sounds filled the air, their mirth-filled voices being the constant. Alya watched Marinette’s skilled hands form and shape the dough. She made sure the camera caught at least a tenth of the magic that was Marinette filling the room.
When all was said and done, they ate their share and cleaned up. Marinette looked content, and something about her expression made Alya grin—then she realized that she still had flour on her cheek.
“You have something on your face.”
Marinette wiped at it with her sleeve several times but somehow kept missing. “Did I get it?”
Alya shook her head and laughed. “No. Here, I got it.” She lightly grabbed Marinette’s arm. The other girl froze as Alya leaned in, resting her other hand on the side of Marinette’s face before brushing at the flour with the underside of her thumb.
Blue filled Alya’s vision as Marinette’s eyes widened, lips parted in surprise. There was red, too. Red that started around Marinette’s cheeks and spread to her ears and neck, so bright Alya swore she could feel the warmth radiating from it.
(Or maybe that was her own cheeks heating up.)
“There.” Alya cleared her throat, dropping her hands. “All gone.”
“Th-thanks.” Marinette flailed a little, her hands going in a zillion different directions at once. “I should probably—” she gestured to the door.
“Yeah, totally,” Alya trailed off. She noticed the leftovers still on the countertop. “Don’t forget the um, stuff for your parents,” Alya called after her.
Marinette gave her a thumbs up and promptly hit her shoulder on the wall. Grabbing the food, she proceeded to bump into at least four more things on her way out, muttering curses under her breath.
The door shut, and Alya stared at it for a while. Then she went to her room, faceplanted onto her bed, and screamed.
“Hey little sis, you eating with us? Or you just gonna lay there all day.”
“Leave me alone,” Alya said, trying to burrow herself further into her pillow.
Like any good big sister, Nora did the exact opposite of what Alya requested and flopped on her bed.
“Agh, Nora, gross! You’re still sweaty from practice!” Alya protested. “Ugh, okay, I’ll come for dinner in a second. Can you just leave?”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” her sister said. “Or who I need to beat up.”
Alya rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to beat anyone up. And nothing’s going on! It’s just… it’s stupid.”
Nora nodded her head in understanding. “So it’s about a crush.” Alya’s answering groan was all the confirmation she needed. “C’mon, tell your big sis about the flyweight who stole your heart.”
“She’s not a flyweight!”
“Aha! It’s a girl!” she exclaimed. “Or not; it’s cool.”
Against her better judgement, Alya decided to indulge Nora. “Yes, she’s a girl,” she confirmed. “Now will you leave me alone?”
“Not until you tell me what’s bothering you.”
Alya considered her options. Either she ignored Nora until she got bored and left (which was unlikely), confided in her, or she ran away.
Honestly, The last option was tempting.
Well… the truth couldn’t hurt, right? So long as she kept Marinette’s name out of it…
“We had a moment,” she said at last. “Me and her. I think.”
“You think?”
“I dunno… I hope?” She buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t even know I liked her. If it wasn’t for the comments and Adrien, this wouldn't have happened. I never want to make dumplings again.”
“...Okay, you lost me.”
“This sucks. She’s my friend, Nora.”
Nora nodded. “Falling for your friends does suck.”
“Wow, thanks. I really needed that,” Alya deadpanned.
“Sorry,” Nora said. “Let me try again. How long have you liked her?”
Alya thought about it. She’d only started noticing this week, but it was probably—
“Longer than I realized,” she admitted.
“And how does your friend feel after the moment you may or may not have had?”
“I don’t know,” Alya grumbled. “We didn’t really talk after.”
“Did she seem upset?” Nora asked.
Alya thought about it. “No. Just… flustered?”
“I think you should talk to her about it,” Nora said. Alya groaned. “Hey, it might not be the advice you wanted to hear, but it’s the best I got. It’ll probably be fine; it only sucks if she doesn’t feel the same way.”
“Okay but how do I know if she feels the same way?” Alya asked. “I don’t wanna screw it up.”
“You won’t know until you try,” Nora said. “Make a move! If she’s really your friend, even if she ends up not feeling the same way, you’ll be fine.”
That… made sense, actually. “Any ideas for how to confess to a girl?”
Nora snorted. “Bold of you to assume I know anything about girls.”
“You literally have a girlfriend.”
“And?”
“Nora.”
“Look, I’m sure whatever you do, Baguette will love it. She loves you! It’ll be fine,” Nora said, ruffling Alya’s hair.
“How many times do I have to tell you to drop that stupid nickname! You’ve known her for years. Just because she lives in a bakery doesn’t—” Alya narrowed her eyes. “Wait. How’d you know it was Marinette?”
“Like I said,” Nora grinned. “She loves you.”
“What do you have to show me?” Marinette asked, tapping the arm of the desk chair with her fingertips. The computer had a video queued up, one that Alya had spent more time on than any others. She’d called Marinette to watch it as soon as she finished. Thankfully, she hadn’t had to field too many questions.
“I don’t know why you want me to check it so badly.” Marinette had said over the phone. “If it’s you, I’m sure it’s perfect.”
(Marinette's tone had been teasing like it always was when she complimented Alya or told her how much she meant to her. For the first time though, Alya could hear the sincerity behind it. She wondered if, maybe, she had a chance with Marinette. If Marinette really did feel the same way, and the teasing had been her way of confessing all along.)
(Or maybe that was wishful thinking.)
“Just press play.” Alya lowered her voice. “Preferably before I lose my nerve.”
She could tell Marinette wanted a better answer, but eventually her excitement won out, and she clicked the mouse. The channel's intro video started, and Alya’s voice came through the speakers.
“You actually did it!” Marinette squealed. “Alya!”
“Shhh! Pay attention,” Alya scolded, but she couldn’t suppress her grin.
The first two minutes were overview, so Alya could relax a little. Then the next part started, and Alya began to get nervous.
“You might be wondering why I chose this meal for my first video. I mean, compared to the other things we’ve done on this channel, spaghetti and meatballs is arguably pretty simple” Alya said in the video. “Well, this has more sentimental value for me. For those of you who don’t know, Ladybug and I have been friends forever. The first time we cooked together was after watching ‘Lady and the Tramp.’ The next day was my parent’s anniversary, and we cooked them spaghetti, like in the movie. When we named our channel, we paid homage to that.”
When Alya peaked out the corner of her eye, she saw a nostalgic smile on Marinette’s face. So far, so good.
“Speaking of Ladybug, I noticed in the comments of the last video—yes, we do read all the comments—that some of you have been under the impression that we’re a couple.”
Alya heard Marinette inhale sharply. It was too late to back out now.
“I’ll admit I was a little surprised at first. But, after talking to some of my (very annoying) friends and family, I realized you guys just might be onto something.”
There was a transition as Alya’s face filled the screen. Video-Alya pushed up her glasses, which was the only indication that she was nervous because her voice rang loud and clear. “Hey, girl. You may have realized this isn’t the actual video. Don’t worry, though; I do have that finished. I thought a lot about how I wanted to do this.” She let out a short laugh. “Here goes nothing, right? Marinette, I love you. In a more than a friend way. Fox out.”
The video ended, and then there was silence.
All of Alyas nervousness disappeared when Marinette turned to face her, cheeks flushed and eyes smiling. She felt a surge of something when Marinette scooted her chair closer, placing a hand on her cheek. Only now could Alya pinpoint what the something she’d been feeling all along was. Butterflies. Fondness.
Love.
“It’s about time,” Marinette teased. “I love you, too.”
Marinette’s hand moved to the back of Alya’s head as they both leaned in her fingers getting tangled in Alya’s hair. Alya could have stayed like that forever, probably, just staring into Marinette’s eyes and getting lost in the blue. Then Marinette’s lips were on hers, and Alya got lost in a whole new sensation.