Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Felix Agreste kisses Bridgette Cheng, they’re in university, he’s lonely, and she’s available.

The realization that he’s lonely hits him one day out of the blue, and he’s honestly baffled. There were many adjectives that described him, and he would even admit to many that were unsavory, but never had he included lonely on that list. Alone, yes. Lonely? Not until now.

But then he flexes his right hand, a tick he has gained with the loss of the ring on his middle finger, and he thinks he understands where the loneliness comes from. But he has been without his Ladybug for a while, and another face flashes into his mind.

Bridgette.

Their third year of Lycée, something had happened, and like a switch, she had gone from annoyingly there to annoyingly not . He was glad for the reprieve; he knew that her constant, never-ending stream of fawning, sunshiney attention was a distraction at best. Even so, he knew that the only reason her absence still struck him with a niggling sense of annoyance was because he had admittedly gotten used to her presence. That, and maybe the fact that it had occurred so suddenly, with no explanation.

Now that he is without Ladybug and without Bridgette, he’s back to his natural state. Except he isn’t, because he is not the same person he used to be. No, now he had to add lonely to the list. And while he knows that he can’t see Ladybug again, the most frustrating part of this entire revelation is that Bridgette is still within arm’s reach. They’re attending the same university, after all. She’s kept a respectful distance, and for that he is grateful, but they both gravitate towards the familiar when faced with so much new, and so they’ve established what he can only describe as a tentative acquaintanceship. If he could put more qualifiers to make the relationship as vague as possible, he would. Their relationship as it stands only means that when trying to find a seat in a public setting, both would choose a seat by the other rather than by a stranger. They don’t talk much more than general pleasantries, and Felix knows that he prefers this Bridgette to the obsessive Bridgette in lycée.

But he’s still lonely.

So he watches her. The habit of watching when he knows she’s not looking had started years back. It wasn’t (isn’t) a romantic thing; he just wanted to understand how exactly Bridgette works. Now, he mostly watches because he has nothing better to do, half the time. With no social obligations and fewer other activities so he can focus on his studies, he has an absurd amount of free time. The other half of the time, he’s watching because he still has next to no grasp on how exactly Bridgette works.

He knows that she used to have a crush on him, and he knows that something about that changed drastically. Whether it was her feelings or her approach he can’t divine, but what he can see is that she turns down every guy who approaches her. Which, if Felix is being completely honest, is a surprisingly large amount. Maybe it’s just normal for girls to be sought after so much, but something tells Felix that her silky hair, sparkling eyes, ringing laugh, and warm smile are a large factor. But no matter who tries to get her attention, she merely smiles a kind smile and warmly but firmly asserts their place as a friend.

Felix isn’t so egotistical to think that it must be because of him. But the idea is present.

And it won’t go away. Like everything relating to Bridgette Cheng, it quickly becomes an annoyance, because he can’t stop thinking of it. Finally, he snaps and decides to test the theory.

It’s a stupid idea. A horrifyingly idiotic and likely disastrous choice, but one day, while studying late in the library, he leans over and taps her shoulder. She blinks in confusion, glancing around the deserted space before her eyes finally focus on his, as if she hadn’t been aware of her surroundings. But once she gathers her bearings, she leans forward just a little, waiting to hear what Felix has to say. He leans forward as well, eliminating the space between them into mere inches, and he carefully watches her reaction. Her breath catches and her pupils dilate, but she keeps her expression carefully neutral. If he hadn’t been watching for it, he would have missed it. That reaction in and of itself should have been enough proof, but he holds her gaze with his, and closes the remaining space between them.

Kissing Bridgette had not been in his initial plan, and so he had not considered it before. If he had, maybe he would stop himself because she just recently started leaving him alone, and doing anything to encourage her affections again would be horribly irresponsible. Or, maybe a moral part of him would finally emerge and remind him that using the girl and her feelings for him just because he was lonely was bordering on cruel. But he doesn’t think before he acts, and so the only thought in his head as his lips meet hers is the smell of her perfume. Her lips are frozen against his for a moment, but then they stutter to life and tentatively respond, and he’s gripped with a need to stay here forever, connected to her soft lips with the smell of her perfume curling around him. Strong perfumes had always felt invasive to Felix, but the soft, sweet fragrance lingering around Bridgette drifts pleasantly around her, barely noticeable until you were immersed in it, in her, and he finds himself entirely receptive to it.

But then he pulls back, his impassive face still only inches from her flaming red one, and she stutters out, “W-what was that?”

He pauses. “Hypothesis testing,” he finally says, and leans back into his own space. He looks back to his book, but watches a million emotions flicker across the girl’s blushing face out of the corner of his eye. He’s struck with a feeling of guilt as her face falls and she glances at him one last time before looking back at her own work. He thinks he might be a cruel person. Whether that cruelty was directed inward or outward, or both, is still to be determined.

Because another hour passes before they both leave the library, and when they go, not another word has been said, he’s still lonely, and she’s still available.

Chapter Text

The second time Felix kisses Bridgette, he’s had too much to drink, she’s popular, and he’s possessive.

Felix doesn’t consider himself a stagnant person, exactly, but he doesn’t like changing things that are fine as they are. Not all at once, at least. Change should be gradual and steady, or it gets overwhelming. As much as he believes that, the world doesn’t seem to be listening. Because everything in his life seems to be changing.

Because just a couple years ago, just a couple weeks ago, he would never have considered Bridgette his friend. And that was obviously changing. Their tentative acquaintanceship was no more, and Bridgette had gotten progressively friendlier with him in the past few weeks. And he had let her. At first he told himself it was because he didn’t want to be cruel after what he did in the library, but there was something else. He enjoys her presence. Her groans about her schoolwork and her exclamations about her ideas, her laughter at inane things and her running commentary about everything and nothing. Even though he doesn’t reply with much more than noncommittal noises of assent as he reads or does work, she keeps up a stream of idle chatter when with him, and he- god forbid, but he finds it comforting. Sometimes, when he goes too long without reacting, she slows down and stops, looking at him with guilty eyes, and he knows they’re both thinking of their younger days. So he pauses, looks at her, and asks a question. And then she picks back up, slightly more hesitant before falling into an easy rhythm. But what’s most devastating is the smile she gives him before continuing. Sweet and grateful, half-shy, and positively sincere. He has seen her sunny smiles, and while those were nice, she gave them away to everyone. This kind of smile… It’s his. And maybe it’s the cat still sleeping in his soul, but he can get very possessive. When she smiles at him like that, he wants to hide her away and curl around her and keep her as his .

He tends not to dwell on those thoughts.

Neither mentions the kiss in the library, and often Felix imagines that she has forgotten it completely. He’s not sure how he feels about that. Because sometimes he can’t get it out of his head. It was stupid and reckless of him but he wants to do it again. He ignores that want, files it away and makes absolutely no moves. But nonetheless, Bridgette is now squarely in the friend category, and maybe moving deeper, and it’s perhaps the biggest change he’s experienced in a long time, something that happened in mere weeks, and has somehow altered his entire schedule, and with it his entire life.

And still, there was the loneliness, less new but still a change he’s accidentally allowed into his life. Bridgette had plenty of friends, and he was just one of them, so even with her growing attention, he feels that low kind of sadness settling in again every time she looks away. He doesn’t do anything about it, because he doesn’t know what he could do. Tell Bridgette to stop having other friends? He’s resigned himself to petty possessiveness, and he knows that he can be an asshole, but he’s not that far gone. He’ll let Bridgette change him into a new person but he won’t let it affect her negatively.

And he does realize that the changes in his life are all related to Bridgette. He’s a master of self examination, and though he often chooses not to acknowledge troubling facts, he still sees them. So when she tries to drag him to a party, despite the fact that he is firmly someone who doesn’t go to parties, something in him goes fuck it, might as well change that too. Because she’s asking.

And then , when he’s at the party, standing off to the side and being what he doesn’t doubt Bridgette would call moody, watching her smile and laugh with a group of people he doesn’t know and has no interest in meeting, he decides to remove ‘doesn’t drink’ from his rapidly dwindling list of identities.

One drink in, he can’t help how his eyes trail after Bridgette as she flits from group to group, sharing a smile and a laugh with all of them. Everyone greets her with the same enthusiasm, and she fits in comfortably with every group. He notes who seem to be her closer friends, but almost everyone in the room seems to be on good terms with her. It’s not a surprise, he supposes; she was always a friendly person. Even if he had been annoyed by her, others in school had always liked her.

Three drinks in, he actually smiles a tiny smile, almost a smirk, at Bridgette as she scolds him for being moody, if only because he called it. But he refuses to go socialize, because he doesn’t care to meet people, and he’s not nearly drunk enough to have changed his mind on that. She seems to hover around him for a moment, and so he tells her to leave him alone. A flash of surprise covers her face, and then a brief look of hurt, and he nearly takes it back. But just because he’s going to sulk in a corner, doesn’t mean she has to as well.

Five drinks in, when she comes back to find him still sitting alone with a cup in his hand and asks him why he even came, he just levels a look at her, and takes another sip. The answer is entirely obvious, and if she chooses not to see it, that’s her own problem. She frowns and huffs, but leaves again.

Six (or was it seven?) drinks in, he’s watching Bridgette again, but this time with different emotions swirling in his stomach. He regrets telling her to leave him alone, because he doesn’t want that. He’s come to enjoy her company, to look forward to it, and he only came out tonight because she asked him to. But there was a reason he wasn’t keeping her as his. It’s blurry, but he tells himself there’s a good reason.

However many drinks in, as he watches some brunette take yet another step closer to her, he can feel his hackles raising. She takes an equal step back, a kind smile on her face but rejection in her eyes, and he feels satisfaction settle deep in his belly. But the brunette takes another step anyway, and the possessiveness rears its head with what would be terrifying strength if he were sober. The drinks weren’t particularly strong, but he’s had enough that he’s gone, his logic stranded three drinks ago. Whatever reason he had for leaving Bridgette alone, for letting her have fun while he stewed in a corner, is completely forgotten, and he stands with a sudden fierceness that startles the people around him.

The logical part of him presents him with a dilemma: He didn’t really have any claim over her anymore. He might have, years ago, but he pushed that away and let it go. And now, he was just her friend, and it was highly inappropriate to feel such possessiveness with no claim made. The much less logical and much more inebriated part of him presents an answer: he should go make a claim. He keeps his face impassive, but makes his way through the party and over to Bridgette, and the fact that he’s not hiding in the corner is enough to gain the attention of several people in the room.

Felix takes no notice, because he is focused on Bridgette with laser intensity. She notices him before he’s reached her, and she’s just as surprised as everyone else that he has moved. “Felix!” she calls, stepping around the brunette encroaching on her space and immediately making her way to him. Felix is steady on his feet with an impenetrable mask of stoicism, so to most onlookers he seems unaffected, but of course Bridgette only has to be looking at him for a few seconds to notice something is off. Her brow furrows and she reaches up, her fingertips ghosting the edge of his chin. Felix wants to chase her touch, but he’s distracted by the glare the brunette is sending his way. He tries to glare back, but the alcohol is dulling the steel in his gaze, or maybe it’s Bridgette looking up at him with such concern on her face, but either way, he needs another plan of attack. So instead he leans forward, putting his chin on her shoulder and his arms around her, and maintains eye contact with the other as she blushes and immediately clutches him back. “You left me alone all night, Miss Cheng,” he says into her ear, his voice coming out lower and scratchier than he expected. She shivers.

“Felix, you told me to leave you alone.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, standing up straight but leaving his hands resting firmly on her hips. “But it never worked so well in the past. I wasn’t expecting you to listen this time.”

It’s usually not a good idea to bring up the past between them, but his mind is muddled too much to remind him of this fact. However, Bridgette’s gaze hardens just a little, and she begins to push him away. “Things are different now. I’m different now,” she replies, defensive.

He resists being pushed away, if only because the brunette is still watching. Their conversation is low, so no one can really hear what’s being said, but they can see, and he’s going to use that. His hands slip lower and further back, not quite indecent, but quickly heading that way.

“You definitely are. Old you wouldn’t leave me alone all night. And after inviting me out, too.”

Bridgette begins to argue, but then just sighs and shakes her head, looking up at him. “I’m sorry. Is that why you…?”

She doesn’t finish the question, but he knows she’s asking about why he drank so much. His speech is surprisingly normal, but his eyes are unfocused and his hands are wandering, so he knows he can’t pretend he’s unaffected. Instead, he ignores the inquiry. “If you’re really that sorry, you can owe me the rest of the night,” he answers instead, pulling her just a little closer. She flushes, bites her lip, and then nods. There’s a furrow between her brows, but in the haze of alcohol all he feels is that he’s won. She’s his, and everyone in the room knows that now.

The possessive animal in his head is contented as she grabs him by the hand and pulls him away, out of the room, once she’s collected her things. The cold night air hits his face and cools him down a little, but he’s still stuck in a haze of alcohol and jealousy thrumming through his veins so when she stops and looks up at him, he doesn’t even hear her question because he’s focused on her lips. Those lips which he has already tasted once, already felt their silky softness against his. He wants it again. He wants to claim her in every way, and he wants more than anything else to claim her lips as his.

He leans down, cups her cheek, and brings their lips together. She reacts immediately with a surprised squeak, but he’s insistent, and she soon melts into him, her own eyes fluttering closed. His other hand rests on her waist, and he tilts his head a little so he can get more of her.

She’s wearing a different perfume tonight than the night in the library, he notes dimly, something fruity, but the thought flies out of his head as she opens her mouth to him and he takes the offering, exploring the new world with reverence. His thumb traces circles on her hip and slowly, tentatively, her hands find their way up his body, resting on his chest. He pulls her closer to him, lining their bodies up so he can feel every curve of her against him, his hand moving to her lower back, feel the thrumming of her own heartbeat thumping off-beat of his own. She’s soft- so impossibly soft, every part of her, her lips, her skin, her body, her tongue, and he wants to drown in her.

But she obviously doesn’t share the sentiment, because she breaks apart from him, sucking in the air that he had been depriving her of. He watches her chest heaving with fascination, gulping down air himself before diving back in, because he doesn’t want to breathe if it’s not her scent, the scent of sugar and warmth mixed with the fruit of her perfume and the smell of sweat and alcohol from the party. It probably should be a disgusting combination, but it’s intoxicating, hypnotizing, and he doesn’t want to part.

So when she freezes up, stops, and shoves him away, a whine escapes his throat without his permission. He tries to get close again, but she stops him with a hand on his shoulder and fingers on his lips.

“Felix, you don’t want this.”

The absurdity of that statement gives him pause, but he doesn’t know how to reply other than to frown.

“Felix, you’re drunk. I should have stopped you before you started, but I’m drunk, too, and I’ve always-” She cuts herself off, huffing out a sigh. “But I’m definitely more sober than you, and I shouldn’t have let that happen. You’ll regret it in the morning.”

“Bridgette,” Felix says, slightly muffled against the fingers attempting to shush him. “You want this, don’t you? Why are you stopping me?”

“I- I don’t, you- You don’t want this.”

“I want this.”

“That’s the alcohol talking.” She sighs, running a hand over her face. “Right? No, it definitely is. You’ve never shown any interest before tonight.”

“Bridgette.” The word is almost a whine. Almost, but even drunk Felix keeps some dignity, and begging a girl to kiss him is below him. Even if she was soft and tasted like vanilla chapstick and felt so small in his arms, impossibly fragile and yet he knew that there was so much he could do and she wouldn’t break, and oh, there’s a thought-

Bridgette steps away, putting almost a full two feet between them. He feels the warmth of her body already fading, and it’s a god damn tragedy. “No, Felix. I don’t want this. I’m drunk, you’re farther gone than you’re letting me know, this is a mistake.”

The only thing that seems like a mistake to Felix is the fact that she isn’t pressed into him, that she isn’t his right now, but he just nods.

“I’ll help you get back to your room, Felix.”

“You promised me the rest of the night.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please?” he asks, and she looks struck for a moment, not knowing what to do when faced with that word coming out of his mouth. She shakes her head, releasing a sigh that deflates her entire person.

“No. No, you’re not thinking straight.”

Felix is not pouting, but he also doesn’t talk to Bridgette for the rest of the walk back. He blinks at her for a few seconds as he reaches his door, but she seems lost in thought, so he enters his room and closes the door without another word to the girl.

He wakes up the next day with a pounding headache but a clear memory. The rejection stings anew, but his only regret is his current hangover. The memory of the kiss instead flutters somewhere in his chest, and he remembers the way he felt flying over rooftops, chasing after red ribbons.

Chapter Text

The third time Felix kisses Bridgette, he’s not had nearly enough to drink, she’s entirely too available, and he’s not the only one who’s possessive.

Felix Agreste is not exactly “good” with “people.” He knows how to create and maintain professional and business relationships without a problem, but personal and casual relationships are out of his wheelhouse. And for the longest time, this was perfectly acceptable. He didn’t need to know how to relate to people on an interpersonal level, nor did he need to know how to overcome awkward situations. Working relationships were the only ones necessary to him, so they were the ones he learned.

But that was before the whole ‘lonely,’ ‘Bridgette,’ and ‘friendship and very possibly crush’ business. (Felix hates the word crush, but he’s certainly not going to call it love, and suddenly his vocabulary is lacking. So he calls it a crush in his head, and hopes that he never has to speak of it out loud. For a moment, he considered pretending this wasn’t happening at all, but he had a very hard time explaining his drunker actions, and did away with denial completely and resigned himself to 'a crush'.) Suddenly, Felix is cursing his lack of social drive as a child, when it was understandable and expected to be awkward and horrible. Because now he is supposed to be past that stage, and yet he is currently stuck squarely with being awkward and horrible.

Part of him wants to blame Bridgette and move on with his life. She’s the reason for this entire problem, in his opinion. If she hadn’t decided to worm her way into his life, then he would have been fine. And yes, he was the one who made the first move, but now he was still floundering because she still has not mentioned it .

Felix remembers the entirety of the night. He remembers the cold night air, the pink of her cheeks, the softness of her lips, and most importantly, the way she had hesitated before she ultimately rejected him. The hesitation is his spark of hope and he remembers it, but he doesn’t know if she remembers it, and his social skills are failing him because he has no idea how to bring it up. How does one inform another ‘I drunkenly tried to make out with you, and you rejected me because I was drunk, but I’m very sober now and still want to stick my tongue down your throat, so I would like to request we get on with that’ while resisting the urge to jump out of the nearest window?

Felix has no idea. Bridgette is the social one. She should be the one to bring it up. She likes talking enough that he would have thought she would have forced a heart to heart by now, but she hasn’t, and it might actually drive him insane.

They still spend time together, and part of him is happy about it, content with how things are now. Because more than a romantic partner, Felix needs a friend, and Bridgette is a really good friend. She cares about his wellbeing, supports his endeavors, and gives him time and attention when he wants it (which is often). And though there is the issue of romantic attraction drifting between them, she is a master of pretending there is nothing, and he can follow her lead.

However, the other part of him is distinctly unhappy about it, because as much as he despises the way it sounds, this part still wants to make a claim on Bridgette. He blames his time as Chat Noir and wants to be done with it, because taking and claiming other humans as your own was a childish thing to do, but he can’t help but want her. And he wants her. But what he really wants, more than anything else, is for other people to stop wanting her. He understands that she is desirable, as he is now unfortunately experiencing, but she is obviously uninterested, so one would think that that would be a deterrent. But unfortunately for her (or, really, more for him), for Bridgette, uninterested does not equate to unfriendly, and some people cannot tell the difference between kindness and flirting. And since they have not spoken about anything, Bridgette is still completely, totally, technically available. A fact few interested parties tend to miss.

As he stews in the corner of yet another party, he wishes that he were better at saying ‘no’ to Bridgette. He used to be a master of that. But he’s gone soft. It disturbs him.

At the very least, she’s decided that when she does drag him along, she will at least stay with him for the night. That pleases the obnoxious cat inside him, because in a way she’s staking her own claim on him, but it also forces him to have a front row seat to those who Felix has not-so-affectionately dubbed ‘Bridgette’s Suitors’.

The smart ones leave after a good glare from Felix, and a few he assumes recognize him from his previous public display of affection send questioning or significant looks between the two of them, but choose not to engage. But then there are those that glance at Felix, but are caught by the sunny smile Bridgette sends them, and they are drawn in anyway. He petulantly refuses to talk to them, but those that aren’t interested in her he will at least engage in conversation. Bridgette seems oblivious as to what his distinction is between who he will and won’t talk with, and the lack of self-awareness makes Felix want to hit her, or maybe just tuck her away to protect her of the evils of the world. Yet if there’s anything new Felix has learned about Bridgette, it’s that as carefree and happy as she seems, she can actually take care of herself. Her immediate rejection of obnoxious idiots was always heartwarming to Felix. But she still always fell for the subtle ones. Or, at the very least, didn’t notice them. It makes him want to drink, but he’s not having a repeat of the other night.

So as Felix glowers at a boy with dark hair and light, droopy puppy eyes, Bridgette elbows him in the side. He knows it means ‘be nice,’ but he really isn’t good at that in a normal case, so instead he just turns his attention away. He’s immediately met with light eyes and a knowing smile, and he feels alarm bells going off in his head.

“So you’re Felix, right?” The girl tilts her head, and her eyes are entirely too inquisitive. Not curious, but… hungry, almost.

“Yes.” He keeps his response short, but her grin just grows.

“And you’re totally in love with Bridge, right?”

Felix blinks at her, and then spares a glance to the girl in question. She’s absorbed in a conversation with Puppy Eyes, and he can’t help but grimace as he watches the boy tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. When he looks back at the nosey girl with disgust evident in his features, her expression lets him know he’s trapped. So he doesn’t bother attempting to convince her otherwise. “I’m not having this conversation with you when she’s less than a foot away.”

“No problem, we can move.” She doesn’t leave room for conversation as she grabs his arm and yanks him up. Felix does not squack in surprise, but if he did, he would say it’s not his fault in any case. No one deserves to be manhandled in that way. “Bridge, I’m stealing your boy. You don’t need him right now, right?”

Bridgette finally looks away from Puppy Eyes, looking at the girl and Felix with surprise. She obviously forgot Felix was even able to get out of that chair. “Melodie…” she says cautiously, but the girl- Melodie- just waves her off.

“Felix said he wanted to talk elsewhere, and Sterling is good company, right?”

Bridgette is too surprised by the fact that Felix is apparently willingly engaging in conversation with someone to respond, and Melodie pulls Felix away before she can respond. He grimaces slightly, but allows it. He knows this girl is one of Bridgette’s friends, and one that is apparently perceptive and gossip-hungry. His survival instincts tell him to run before she eats him alive, but he’s not going to give her that satisfaction.

“So, you’re in love with Bridgette, yeah?” she starts off, wasting no time once they’ve found a secluded spot to sit. Melodie practically shoves him down onto the couch, and he takes a moment to right himself before he answers, carefully.

“No, I don’t think so.”

The other girl raises a brow, obviously unimpressed with his answer. Felix releases a long-suffering sigh.

“I am interested. I am not in love. It’s only been a few weeks.”

“Nuh-uh, I’ve heard about you. Haven’t you known each other for years?”

“We were… not friends until recently.”

She rolls her eyes, and leans forwards just a little. Felix leans back just as much. “Okay, well, you’re interested in Bridgette, right?”

“I just said that.” Though he didn’t like the particular tone she was taking with the word.

“And she’s been in love with you since you first met. So why are you two sitting next to each other and not speaking instead of finding a dark corner and not speaking for much more fun reasons?”

Felix raises a brow at the girl, wondering what kind of friend just spills declarations of love for other people like it was simple. Of course, he already knew, and he had just recently tested to see if she was still interested. (That test had ultimately ruined everything and forced him into this unpleasant situation with feelings, he concluded, but it also lead him to conclude that she was likely still interested.) But whatever the social rules are, Melodie seems to be having none of them. So Felix just purses his lips and answers, “Things are complicated.”

“No, things are simple. You’re both just shit at relationships.”

“...That makes it complicated.”

Melodie smacks him on the side of the head, and Felix is highly offended. He does not like this girl. “Just go up to her and kiss her senseless. I can already tell that you want to, with the looks you’re sending every guy who walks up to her.”

“One, not every guy. Just the interested ones.”

“The girl is cute. That’s basically every guy.”

She has a point... Felix moves on. “Two, I already did that, and it just made everything awful.”

“ What ? You’ve kissed her? Then why are you two still like… that!? And why hasn’t she told me?” Melodie hits him again to punctuate her statement, and he decides he definitely does not like this girl.

“There may have been alcohol involved.” Felix is about to continue, when he realizes that this strange girl with too much energy and flailing hands did not need to know all of his history, and he owed her nothing. “But I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It’s my business because her pining has gotten worse lately, and it’s annoying me. And no wonder! She probably thinks it was just a drunk mistake for you.”

“Technically, it was.”

“Who cares! Go make another drunk mistake, but sober this time.”

“Your plan sounds terrible and highly illogical.”

“I bet the crowd around Bridgette has increased by at least three because I pulled you away.”

Felix is about to respond that that was a non sequitur, but then he realizes that she’s absolutely right, and he doesn’t like it. He stays silent.

“You want to go back now, don’t you?” She pokes him in the side with the same hungry looking smile.

Felix remains obstinate. “I’ve wanted to go back since we left.”

“You know, jealousy can work in two directions.”

“I don’t know what-” He doesn’t finish his sentence before she’s on him, one hand in his hair and another pulling at the collar of his shirt. Felix does not yelp, but again, if he did, not one could blame him, because a girl just crawled in his lap and invaded literally all of his personal space. She plants her lips, sticky with lip gloss, at the corner of his mouth, and he finally remembers how to move. He shoves her off roughly, cold fire burning in his eyes. He brings his arm up to wipe the sticky substance off of his face, grimacing. “What do you think you’re doing.”

“Helping!” Melodie says with a smile, completely unperturbed by the murderous look he’s shooting her. “You know, your hair could be messier-”

Felix jerks away from her hands. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay, okay,” Melodie replies, as if his reaction is unreasonable. Felix bristles. “You’re free to go.”

He does, walking stiffly back to his previous seat. He’s none too happy when he sees it’s occupied, and that two others have joined in the conversation. Only one of them is a hopeful, as far as Felix can tell, but the fact that Melodie’s guess of three newcomers was right only works to irritate him more. He considers just leaving, but instead he stops by Bridgette's chair, waiting for her attention. The conversation is overtaken by a girl recounting some story, and Bridgette turns to look at him, her eyes widening as she looks at him. Felix curses under his breath, and self consciously tries to fix his shirt as he speaks. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh, I can get my-”

“You don’t have to,” he cuts her off. She flinches at his tone, and his frown only deepens. He’s not upset with her , she definitely doesn’t need to deal with him right now. He turns on his heel and leaves, not wanting to look back at the group that was inevitably pulling her attention back to them.

Once he’s outside, he stops and uses a window as a mirror to fix his hair and straighten his shirt. He scrubs at the spot where her lips had touched him with the back of his hand, lips pulling into a grimace. Bridgette needs better friends. Or keep them away from him.

He’s about to turn to leave when he hears a crash beside him, and sees Bridgette tumbling out of the doorway. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“I was definitely not following you,” she declares as she catches herself and stands up straight.

She says it so definitively that he can’t help but ask, “Why were you following me?” The words are more amused that accusatory, though his face is impassive. His anger from before has mostly evaporated at her antics, and now he just feels that weird affection sitting in his chest.

She stares at him blankly before flushing red.

Interesting. He has an idea. “Did you think to follow Melodie?”

“Well, I tried to find her, but-” She cuts herself off, looking off to the side.

Felix can’t help but think that maybe that girl was good for something. Not that he likes her methods.

“But?” he prompts.

“Nothing,” she mumbles.

He steps closer. “You’re not saying something.”

“I’m innocent.”

Another step. “Why did you follow me?” He’s directly in front of her now, looking down.

She’s still red from embarrassment, but she looks up at him with a gleam of defiance in her eyes. “What did you do with Melodie?” The words are nonchalant, but they both know there’s an accusation there.

“She accosted me.”

That answer throws Bridgette off. “She… accosted you?”

“I was defenseless, and she threw herself at me.”

Bridgette crosses her arms, looking unconvinced. “Melodie isn’t the type of person to do that.”

Felix shrugs. “She had reason.”

“Did you give her a reason?”

“Apparently.”

Bridgette’s eyes cloud with something he can’t quite read. “And what was that reason?”

“You.”

She’s thrown off for a second time in less than two minutes. “Me?”

“And Puppy Eyes.”

“What?”

Did he really say that out loud? “I didn’t bother learning his name.”

“Puppy Eyes?”

“They were droopy.”

“Okaaaay… I don’t understand how that leads to Melodie throwing herself at you.”

“She said it goes both ways.”

“What does?”

“Jealousy.” Felix lets the word into the air between them, and he realizes this is it, this is where they bring everything up. He hates that it was almost entirely thanks to Melodie, and he will never tell her that she was actually helpful.

“...You were jealous?”

“Were you?” His voice is a challenge, but in reality he just doesn’t want to be the first to say something.

She stares at him for a long moment, and then slowly nods. She looks off to the side. “I… I was afraid you and Melodie…”

“I thought you would know me better than that.”

“That’s what had me so confused! I thought I did, too.”

“Well, we didn’t do anything. We,” he pauses, and then continues as if it’s easy, “just talked about you, actually. And then she accosted me.”

“Talked about me…?”

“And Puppy Eyes,” he supplies again.

She puts it together. “So you were jealous.”

“You are a very desired woman, Bridgette.” He can’t help the bitterness from seeping into his tone. Somehow, this just makes her smile.

“You were jealous!” she exclaims, and Felix levels her with an unamused look.

“It’s not the first time.”

“Really?” She’s entirely too excited about this. Felix regrets everything. He plows on anyway, too deep to pull back now.

“I wanted nothing more than to chase them all away, but I didn’t really have that right.”

“...Do you want that right?” She looks up at him through her lashes, suddenly shy, and he can't help but think that she's being horribly coy.

“Obviously.”

“You can have it. You can have anything.” She makes a face as the second sentence slips out, as if surprised and horrified at her own mouth. Felix can sympathize, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to smirk down at her and taunt her for it.

“Oh?”

She looks at the ground, face blazing red, but when she mutters, “Well, yeah actually,” Felix ends up catching some of the blush for himself.

To cover for himself, or maybe just because he’s really wanted to do this all night, he grabs her chin and gently moves her head so she’s looking at him, and then he’s leaning in and finally pressing his lips to hers. Her eyes are closed before he’s finished closing the distance, and she responds immediately. The kiss is chaste at first, but then Bridgette’s hands are snaking up into his hair and she’s pressing against him more insistently, asking him to let her in. Felix is still soft and incapable of saying no to her, and he yields, melting into the softness of her mouth. His hands drift down her body, tracing her sides down to her hips as the kiss shifts from sweet to hungry. She tugs at his hair, pulling him down further, and the second he relents he’s rewarded with wet heat and a surprising relentlessness that has him finally gasping for breath and pulling back. She’s looking at him like she might eat him alive, and he finds absolutely no part of him is at all put off by that, but then the hunger rapidly dwindles down to uncertainty. He doesn't want a repeat of last time, so he grabs her shoulders, forcing her to look in his eyes.

“Bridgette,” he says softly. “Are you regretting that?”

“No,” she whispers, as if confessing a dirty secret. Felix doesn't understand her.

“Look at me,” he commands, voice low and soft. She does so, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. He doesn’t know what exactly her problem is, but he can at least sooth certain insecurities. “I have had nothing to drink since the last time I went to a party.” He keeps eye contact with her as he slowly leans in and gently presses his lips to hers before pulling back. “I didn’t then and I do not now have any regrets. What is the problem?”

“...You want this?”

“ Yes .” He was sure they had already established this.

“Oh.” The word is so small and relieved that any annoyance Felix has is replaced by that stupid fondness. So he leans forwards and captures her lips again, because he can. She’s smiling against him, and he has to pull back soon because she’s smiling more than kissing.

Still, when he looks into her eyes, the hunger from before is back, and he wonders if years of waiting made this moment more frustrating or more satisfying.

“Bridgette, I’m going back to my room.”

She blinks, her eyes returning to their normal open happiness, and nods at him. There's a little sadness in her frame at the announcement, but she reaches out and grabs his hand and it lifts away easily enough. “I’ll walk you.”

The walk back is the same as always, but this time there’s a slim hand in his, and he can feel her body warmth beside him, closer than before. As he stops at his door, he realizes that he hadn’t been paying attention to her perfume and for some reason it seems important, so at this point there’s only one course of action. He leans down and kisses her again, hand moving to cup her cheek and tilt her head for better access. Her perfume is the same gentle perfume as the night in the library, he notes with satisfaction. He pulls back and his eyes drift from her own, pupils blown wide, to her still-wet lips, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “So, would you like to stay?”