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Running into Chat Noir had been a mistake. The building was, for the most part, already empty, but Marinette had still rushed through the upper floors in an effort to see that everyone evacuated. She was on the second when he bursts out of a room several yards in front of her and makes her jump.
At the sound of her gasp, Chat turns, his eyes widening in recognition as he saunters over with his ever-confident grin and a dramatic flare of his tail. Princess rolls off his tongue with a purr as he leans on the wall and grins. She wants to scold him, but the concern in his eyes and tightness of his shoulders keeps her irritation to little more than a roll of the eyes. He urges her to hide and take cover and she hesitates.
Right now, the streets aren’t safe and claiming she’ll make a sprint for her house wouldn’t end well. Chat is the type who would follow just to cover her, to see her there safely, and right now, he needs to stall until Ladybug arrives. Something she can’t make happen until he goes.
She promises to retreat to the first floor and tuck away in a corner where she won’t be seen. His hesitation is brief, but he accepts her answer. Marinette, he knows, is strong. She’s proven it to him before, and as clumsy as she can be, stairs won’t be the ones to defeat her. It’s enough to earn a small chuckle in response, and he finally turns away, offering a two-finger salute with a flick of his wrist as he leaps out the window.
By the time the akuma falls, Ladybug is exhausted. Stubbornness is a common trait found in those influenced by the infected butterflies, but today is one of the rare, particularly nasty akuma without any kind of target; their only goal was destruction. She lands beside Chat Noir with a relieved sigh, ready to toss the spotted belt she clutches into the air, but her actions falter as she sees the look on Chat’s face.
His expression is tight, twisted in quiet agony as he stares at the building across the street. It’s in tatters from the fight: windows are shattered with bits of brick and wood littering the road. The two upper floors have collapsed, snapping the middle structure and causing it to cave inward.
At first glance, she thinks little of it. Destruction is an unfortunate part of the job they can’t avoid, but something she has always been able to fix at the flick of a wrist. For a moment, she thinks perhaps he’s forgotten this, but a sense of dread settles in her stomach as she looks back to the rubble. Less than an hour ago, she’d been standing in the hall of the very same building.
The same building Marinette had promised Chat Noir she would seek shelter in.
Ladybug has barely a moment to open her mouth before Chat vaults off their rooftop and lands clumsily in the street. He stumbles and makes her wince, but her cries fall on deaf ears as he begins to dig frantically at the broken rock. She doesn’t waste anymore time and throws the belt into the air, already halfway to the ground as the ever-familiar red wave washes over the city.
“Chat!” As soon as the doors are restored, Chat Noir has already raced inside. Half the building is still falling apart, but she wastes no time in throwing herself through one of the broken windows. She hits the floor harder than intended and scrambles to her feet with a wince as red flash fills the room. Somewhere outside, she can make out the unnaturally frantic footsteps of who she can only assume is Chat Noir, and putting on the best dazed face she can, she stumbles out.
“Princess!” Marinette has no time to think and is nearly knocked over as Chat throws his arms around her middle. She throws her arms out and tries to catch herself, but they still fall to the floor, slowed by Chat’s quick reflexes. His grip on her waist tightens as he buries his face in her shoulder, muttering too quickly under his breath for Marinette to understand.
He’s trembling, and that alone is enough to make her tense. It isn’t like Chat to be afraid, not like this. He’s playful and loud and flirty and, despite it all, a gentleman, but fearful has never been something she has seen him display often. She can feel the uncontrolled vibration of his body and his shaky, uneven breathing against her neck. With all she has learned about Chat Noir over the years, seeing him so terrified over Marinette is a new experience, and all she can decipher from the muddled rush of thoughts is that she wants to help him calm down.
With a soft, gentle hum, Marinette raises her arms and begins to run a hand through his messy blond hair. The tips of her fingers run over his scalp, gently scraping at the roots of his hair just behind his imitation ears in an effort to get him to relax. Her other hand moves up and down his back with slow, circular movements as she offers soft whispers of comfort.
“Marinette… Marinette…” He says her name over and over again, his voice still much higher than she’s used to, but the trembles that shook his body have begun to slow. She thinks -- hopes -- that her ministrations have helped somehow.
“It’s okay, kitty…” she assures gently and lets her cheek fall against his brow. “I’m okay.”
His voice still trembles with every word and murmur of her name. It feels surreal, like she’s disconnected from her body. Chat Noir, she knows, has always been kind and caring. The silly and flirtatious kitty with his heart on his sleeve, who recklessly endangers himself for Ladybug, and throws his entire being into protecting those around him. He’s done so much, seen so much, yet he is here, in Marinette’s arms, clinging as if she is the only thing grounding him.
“Chat…” she starts and feels her words catch as a beep echoes in the empty hall. She tries to look down and catch the face of his ring, but her body can’t twist enough and her pulse begins to flutter. “Chat, your ring…”
The knowledge of his ring is supposed to be secret. She shouldn’t know what those beeps mean, but she hopes if he asks that she can claim it was something she noticed back when Nathanaël was akumatized. It’s a weak defence, but it doesn’t seem as if it will matter. Chat has yet to loosen his grip and Marinette’s pulse increases even more. He’s going to change back; he’s going to change back and she’ll see him -- see everything -- and part of her is ashamed to even acknowledge the small rush that fills her.
“Chat--”
“Marinette…” Chat’s voice is soft and raw. It’s stronger than before, but it still feels like a stab to her chest as Marinette listens. “Marinette, I… I can’t. I don’t--I can’t leave you. Not right now. I…” His eyes are as broken as his tone, and she finds herself quickly losing the will to argue.
Closing her eyes, Marinette inhales deeply and shifts her slowly numbing legs. She can feel Chat stiffen and struggle between tightening and loosing his grip. She knows without a doubt, if she were to pull away, he’d let her. No matter how much it hurt him. With the thought comes clarity, and she lets herself settle on the ground.
The beeping becomes more erratic and she buries her face in his shoulder, letting him return the favour to seek his comfort. It had to have happened sooner or later, she thinks. At some point, be it through an accident or their own choices, it was inevitable that their lives behind the mask would come to light. Stalling it now would only make things worse; risk damaging the partnership they’ve been building for so long.
As his transformation releases, she feels the flash more than she sees it. So much like her own, his sends a warm tingling sensation through her face, tickling her nose and cheeks with the rush. It’s odd to feel it from someone else, and the slick leather turns soft under her fingers as silky strands of hair brush over her ears. All she has to do is pull away and every secret Chat hasn’t told her will be revealed. It didn’t seem fair.
“...Marinette?” She can hear his voice -- the smooth and warm voice of her… her… what? She doesn’t know how to finish, but when she feels hands come to rest against her elbows, Marinette knows she’s made the right choice. In the end, it doesn’t matter who Chat Noir is, what face he carries or name he holds; they’re partners. Even if he doesn’t know it yet. With steeled resolve, Marinette pulls back and opens her eyes, ready to face the boy who looked like his world had crumbled with the building.
She’d always tried to imagine what Chat Noir might look like -- if his eyes were as green as the mask made them, if his smirk was as cunning and devilish as he made it seem, or if he’d make her heart flutter with the same warmth and elation as the boy she’d pined after for so long…
The boy currently looking at her as if she’s the world and still fighting back tears.
“Adri--”
“Marinette,” his hand moves and comes to rest against her cheek; cold and clammy but oh-so-gentle. “Marinette… I’m so glad you’re safe. When I saw the building I…”
“I know.” Her chest is ablaze, heart hammering in her chest as her mind races and stumbles with this new-found discovery, and it’s a miracle she’s still calm. But she’s grateful for whatever driving force allows it and takes the chance to cover Adrien’s hand with her own. “I know, but… You protected me like you always do. ” The confusion on Adrien’s face is apparent, but she leans into his hand and savours the slowly returning warmth as she continues. “I was never in any danger.”
It’s a red flash that bounces off the walls this time, and she watches in a mix of concern and amusement as red seems to spread across Adrien’s cheeks with the same velocity as her suit over her. His mouth moves, silent and unreadable words trying to make themselves heard. “Of course…” he chokes and Marinette -- Ladybug -- isn’t sure if it’s the shock or tears causing it.
“Of course… Only you -- my lady -- would be able to…” his words waver and he tips forward, but Marinette is there to catch him, just as they’ve always done for each other.
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” she whispers, watching as something small and black worms its way out of Adrien’s jacket, only to be promptly tackled by a squealing red blur. “I didn’t even realise…”
“You’re safe.” His voice is stronger than before, and Marinette feels her shoulders relax in relief. “You--you’re safe.” Each time he repeats it seems to pull Adrien back down to himself and Marinette smiles faintly in return. “That’s all that matters… You’re safe, my princess.”
Her heart swells with warmth and relief, but the feeling is cut short much too soon. The sound of footsteps alerts them to the slow arrival of evacuated citizens returning to their restored city. On reflex, Marinette leaps to her feet, ready to move, but Adrien’s sudden gasp draws her attention. He looks hesitant, the fear of before slowly crawling back into his eyes and she feels his fingers curl around her palm. She can understand his concern; their missions have always ended with them parting ways. With or without the mask, he expects that tradition to continue, and she gives his hand a gentle, but firm tug.
“Come on, kitty.” His eyes brighten at the old nickname and Marinette wants to cheer when she sees him relax again. “The bakery isn’t far… I’m sure there’s at least one batch of fresh cookies. We can sneak a plate up to my room and just…” But whatever it is they can do isn’t important. Adrien is smiling again, at her , and she returns it with all the enthusiasm she can.
There’s a lot they need to talk about, a lot that needs to be said and understood, but for now, cookies seem a nice start, and the squeeze of his hand when she pulls him to his feet is assurance enough that he agrees.