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"Next time, I'm wearing pants."
Félix wiggled uncomfortably in the skirt that, modest on the spotted superhero Ladybug, was almost definitely indecently short on him. He tugged at its hem, trying (and failing) to pull it down further, then smoothed it down as best as he could.
He stopped to inspect himself in the floor-length mirror, inadvertently making eye contact with his reflection. Dark circles around his eyes seemed worse than he actually felt, used to the lack of sleep causing them. Beads of sweat framed his blotchy face, but the fuzzy antennae sticking out of his messy hair somehow made the struggles worth it. They jiggled as he turned, checking out his behind.
"I'm definitely wearing pants next time," he muttered to himself. Despite the thick black tights covering up any skin that might otherwise show, he had to admit he looked kind of sexy, the short skirt accentuating his already long legs. The blush on his face grew.
Félix didn't do sexy.
Sexy was reserved for girls like Marinette and boys like Nathan, who dressed up during the end-of-the-school-year theme week, as if their entire social life depended on it, while boys like Félix laid low and blended in.
"I can do this!" he said quietly, clenching his hands into fists. "This is iconique ."
Ladybug's outfit #74, which she had first worn two years ago during their 21st fight against the formidable Dominos that set off a major chain reaction and altered the course of history, fit the theme perfectly. It was as practical as it was stylish and even the superheroine agreed it was one of her best suits. The public, however, seemed to disagree, preferring her skimpier outfits and dresses, which, while elegant, were often reduced to scraps by the end of the fight. No magic could hold them together forever.
"I can do this!" he said, louder this time. He forced a smile. He almost believed his words.
Félix glanced at the clock and, realizing there was no time to waste, put on his black boots, grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He had decided to wear this outfit no matter what. And if he perished because of it, well... There are worse ways to go.
---
I'm the one that chose this. I'm the one that chose this. I'm the one that–
Félix's train of thought broke abruptly, when he felt a small hand on his ass and a soft slap resounded in the silence. The boy jumped in fright, straightening like a caught-off-guard cat before twirling around, hands covering his butt. He came face to face with Marinette who offered him a sheepish smile.
"Marinette!" Her face reddened under his gaze.
"Sorry, I... I couldn't resist!" She averted her eyes. "You're looking rad. Is that..."
"What our lady luck wore on July 28th while battling the forces of evil on the UNESCO-protected banks of la Seine? Why, yes, yes it is," he grinned proudly. "Together with pockets both on the skirt and the jacket."
"We do love pocketses," Marinette agreed, helping herself to the gorgeous red and black jacket, imitating the insect's wings. She slid one hand under the fabric, feeling the inside of the jacket with her fingers. Her eyes widened, as she recognized the stitching. "Are those..."
"More pockets?" Félix grinned, slipping out of the jacket, so she could take a better look. His outfit looked incomplete without the outwear but he could put up with it. "I knew I couldn't hide that from you."
Marinette hummed in response, stroking the lining absentmindedly, wondering how he knew. That small detail was not something that had been made public as far as she remembered, but her memory wasn't infallible.
Félix smiled at her. And it was enough to make her forget.
"You're looking good yourself," he commented, giving her a once-over, as she wordlessly returned the jacket. She was dressed like Chanel Noir, as she teasingly had dubbed him back then. Félix grinned, as he slid the jacket back on. "Could give Chat Noir a run for his money."
She giggled. "Maybe I will." Later, during patrol. She threw her head back, allowing daydreams to steal her away for a moment. Blue skies. Rooftops. Laughter. “Bet that would be a sight to see.”
Félix smiled to himself, not bothering to hide it. This was their game. Pretending.
It wasn't like Ladybug could have been anyone other than his best friend. But it was safer not to talk about these things, to keep the two lives separate as much as it was possible.
“ Pfft , look at that loser!” Félix knew the insult was directed at him before the open juicebox hit his head. He hung his head down instinctively, withdrawing like a turtle into its shell, but was too little too late. He wiped the orange rivulets from his face with the back of his hand, making himself even smaller, when his older brother’s voice boomed even closer to his ear than before. “Who do you think you are? Hey, Marinette!”
The girl squirmed to shift Nathan’s arm off her shoulders. “Ugh, you’re being too mean!”
Nathan ignored the comment, leaning in to kiss her cheeks. Marinette let it happen, her pained grimace telling Félix all about her discomfort. Unable to stand it much longer, Félix picked up the juice box and aimed it at his brother’s head.
“Leave her alone, you knobhead!”
The juice box worked its magic. But so did Nathan’s fist. “Freak.” His gaze was full of contempt for the younger lad. Still, he pulled away. Marinette shot Félix a thankful smile.
“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” Nathan assumed the smile was meant for him. “You better watch your back, fucker.” He kicked the floor in Félix’s direction, making him jump back. Satisfied with the reaction, he moved on.
Out of Nathan’s earshot, Félix sighed. “He never tires.”
“Maybe the only way to get out of this is to treat him like a bear,” Marinette stepped closer to Félix. She wrapped a hand around his arm and gave him a discreet hug. It was comforting. “Play dead and he’ll leave you alone.”
Félix choked on his breath. “Except Nathan’s a black bear and that won’t work.” He turned his head. His lips were millimeters from her hairline and, consumed by a sudden burst of warmth that was not unlike his general feelings for her, he bridged the gap. The kiss was soft and gentle and neither made a fuss out of it. They were friends. Affection was allowed. “Sorry, sugarcube.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she apologized back. “I wish I could do something.” She squeezed his arm tightly, unaware that her nails were digging into his skin. “He infuriates me!”
“I thought you liked guys like him,” he teased, cheeks coloring from the proximity. “Gorgeous. Garish. Galling.”
Marinette flicked him on the nose. “You’ve got it all wrong, silly. It’s grumpy. Gallant. Genuine.”
Their sparkling eyes met and she smiled at him. There was only one person in their friend circle that she’d describe in those specific words.
Kiss me.
Neither knew where that thought came from, but it hung between them, shimmering like specks of dust in sunlight. It was gentle and easy, like the morning of an august day when everyone knows that love is in the air. The last chances before the summer is over and everyone goes back to school.
In the end, why not?
It could hurt us a lot.
Félix cleared his throat and looked away, beet red. “We should probably go to class. The bell will ring soon.”
Marinette’s first instinct was to agree, but she stopped herself before she could. “Félix, I–” She bit her lip, torn between saying and doing.
Félix threw his head back and closed his eyes. “Then again, we could skip. Art history has never helped save anyone. We could break into the Louvre and look at the painting by Van Gogh, the one you like so much.” His voice was soft, as though he were picturing the scene in his mind. In reality, he was peeking through his eyelashes, wondering when to stop. If to stop. “We could talk about going on Erasmus.” They could never actually do it, not with Papillon and his minions out and about. “Or how Nathan has a plastic heart. Or something.”
“Or something.” Marinette snorted. “That’s not very in character of you, Fé,” she added teasingly, heart going wild in her chest.
Félix’s eyes shot open. “Wait, what?”
“I like you.” It was not what Marinette had wanted to say; the words came out on their own.
“No shit.” Félix laughed, startled. “We’ve been friends for like, forever. Unless you were pretending.”
“No, I– I wasn’t and that’s not what I meant.” Marinette took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “I like you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Félix scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Is that a bad moment to say…” He swallowed nervously. “That I like you more?”
The bell rang and the mass of students around them began to move, as though guided by an invisible force (the schedule). A gentle push by a passerby brought them closer together.
Her eyes searched his face for guidance as to what to do next. “Is it okay if…?” She raised her hand to cup his face. He leaned into her touch, “It is.”
Marinette rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his, as he pulled him into her tender embrace. He chuckled nervously against her lips, eager and elated.
Kiss me.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Louvre?”
“Yeah but I want to change out of this outfit first.”
“Why? You look hot!” She giggled. “Let’s swing by my place then. It’s closer.”
“Thank you,” he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”
Marinette squealed in delight as he peppered her in kisses. Everything was well.
For about five minutes until Félix discovered that the skirt that had been relatively easy to put on was not so convenient to take off. As the dominoes started to fall somewhere in the city, Félix’s whiny voice nearly reached the school:
“It’s not coming off!”