Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marinette stood in her bathroom, staring at the line of white sticks on the counter. Tikki hovered at her shoulder, offering a sympathetic look when Marinette turned her head.

“Do you think we should do another?”

Tikki shrugged. “It’s up to you, Marinette,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s going to make a difference.”

Marinette nodded slowly, turning back to stare at the little sticks. They were mocking her. “I’ll try one more.”

Five minutes later they were in the same position, watching as the seventeenth test showed the same result.

She was pregnant.

“Maybe they’re faulty,” Marinette said, hardly believing her own words. There was no way seventeen pregnancy tests could be wrong. Some showed lines, some showed smiley faces, others the words themselves, but they all said the same thing.

Pregnant.

She dialed her doctor, hardly processing things as she told the receptionist and made an appointment. There was a chance. A chance that this was a mistake, that the tests were broken, that she wasn’t pregnant with the child of a man she met once. The doctor would check, and would tell her that it was all okay and that there was no baby.

“It’s probably a mistake,” she said to Tikki as she hung up. “They’re probably all wrong.”

Tikki nodded in agreement, but they both knew that Marinette was just in denial.

Seventeen pregnancy tests couldn’t all be wrong.

She was pregnant.

The doctor confirmed it that Wednesday.

Marinette was pretty certain she was in shock. Surely she should have felt some sort of emotion in the last four days. But she hadn’t. It wasn’t real, not until the doctor said the words, and hardly even then. No one knew, just her and Tikki. Alya was on vacation in the States with her family, and Hawkmoth seemed to have taken a break as well, since there hadn’t been any attacks in the last two weeks or so, so she hadn’t seen Chat either. Sometimes he would show up for her solo patrol, but he hadn’t this week for whatever reason.

So no one knew.

It was a secret she didn’t want to keep, one that she couldn’t even seem to process completely.

She was pregnant.

Ladybug was already waiting when Chat Noir showed up for patrol that night, her legs tucked up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees.

“You’re early, Bugaboo,” he laughed, jumping onto the rooftop. Ladybug didn’t answer, didn’t even look up at him, so he lowered himself down beside her. “Hey, are you okay?”

Ladybug shook her head, leaning into him. As he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, the shock finally wore off, and her body shook as tears poured down her cheeks. Chat startled for a moment before pulling her tighter to him, rubbing her hair and telling her it’d be alright.

It was a long while before Ladybug was able to speak.

“I think…I think I have a problem, kitty,” she whispered, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and looking up at him.

“It’ll be okay,” Chat assured her. “Whatever it is, we can work through it.”

Ladybug nodded, sniffing. “I’m—” she broke off. Could she say it? Saying it would make it real.

But it was real. This was happening, and she had to accept it.

She took a deep breath, trying again. “I’m pregnant.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, but Chat heard it. He was silent for a while. That wasn’t what he was expecting. Ladybug had never mentioned she was seeing someone, and, in the ten years they’d been partners, they’d always told each other when they were in a relationship. He didn’t know that Ladybug had been serious enough with anyone to think about having a baby.

He wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t waited around the last ten years, holding out for Ladybug. He was still in love with her, yes, but he knew the chances were slim that she’d ever like him back. He’d dated. She’d dated. It was all okay.

But they were friends. Surely she’d tell him if she was baby-serious with anyone. He knew she would.

So this wasn’t planned.

“Are you….” Chat trailed off once he finally spoke, not knowing where his sentence was going. “Are you keeping it?”

Ladybug nodded. “I couldn’t get rid of it,” she said, her voice hoarse and quiet. “I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

Chat nodded as well, and they sat in silence for a while again.

“Does the father know?”

Ladybug was quiet for a few moments. “No,” she finally said. “Only you do.” She was quiet again, but Chat didn’t interrupt. He didn’t know what to say even if he wanted to.

“We’re not together,” Ladybug continued eventually. “I don’t really even know him. My friends and I were at a club a couple of weeks ago, and I got really drunk and went home with this guy. I guess something happened, and it ended up with this.” She gestured at her stomach. “I haven’t seen the guy since. I have no idea how he’ll react, or if he’ll even want to have anything to do with the baby.” She sighed, looking out over the city. “We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow.”

Chat nodded, running his hand up and down her arm, and they were silent again. He could feel Ladybug shake, and knew she was crying again, so he held her tighter.

“I’m here for you,” he whispered, when her tears had stopped once more. “I’ll always be here for you, my Lady. No matter how tomorrow goes, you’ve still got me.”

Ladybug sniffed, burying her face in his shoulder. “Thanks, Chat,” she whispered. “I know there’s no patrol tomorrow, but could we still meet up? So we can talk?”

She felt Chat’s nod against her own head, and she breathed out a sigh, some of the tension leaving her body. Chat would be here. Of course he would. Chat was always there for her.

She would be alright.

A few hours later, they called it a night. Paris went without a patrol, but neither hero seemed to mind.

“What do you mean, you’re pregnant?”

Marinette bit her lip, leveling her gaze at Pierre. “Exactly that.”

They’d met at a café for tea and scones. Pierre had seemed to have thought it would be a date, and his face was slowly turning the colour of his hair.

“Are you even sure it’s mine?”

She sighed, swirling her coffee. “I am one hundred percent positive that you are the only person who could be the father,” she said. They’d been over this at least three times.

Pierre crossed his arms and glared at her for a moment, before pulling his wallet out of a pocket. “I’ll pay for you to get rid of it,” he said, flipping through the bills.

“I’m keeping it.”

He froze, his eyes returning to Marinette’s face. “No, you aren’t.”

“Yes,” Marinette said, her eyes narrowing, “I am.”

Pierre’s wallet was back in his pocket in a second, and he rose to his feet. “Don’t think you’re getting one cent from me,” he snarled. “I am having nothing to do with you or your kid, and you’d better not come crawling to me for money.” And, with that, he stalked out the door, leaving a stunned Marinette at their table. A group of elderly ladies gave her sympathetic looks as she, too, stood, slowly leaving the café and rounding a corner.

“Marinette,” Tikki started, her head popping out of the purse.

Her chosen cut her off with a shake of her head as she ducked into an alley, only speaking the words it took to transform.

Tears streamed down Ladybug’s face as she tore across rooftops. Sobs wracked her body by the time she sunk down onto the roof where she’d meet Chat. He wouldn’t be there for hours, but she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t go to class and pretend everything was alright, and if she went home, her parents would worry.

So she sat on the roof and cried.

“Do you think we should leave yet? I think we should leave.”

Plagg sighed, burrowing deeper into Adrien’s bed. “You’ve been saying that for the last three hours,” he reminded him, “and you’ve still got an hour and a half before patrol. You’ll just be sitting on an empty roof alone until Ladybug shows up.”

Adrien ran his hands through his hair again, catching sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was definitely more Chat Noir than Adrien by this point, but it wasn’t like it mattered too much. No one was going to see him and figure it out.

He resumed his pacing, glaring at the clock for daring to go so slow. He couldn’t get his mind off Ladybug, couldn’t help but obsess over how her meeting with the father had gone. They’d sent him home early from the photoshoot he was at because he couldn’t concentrate, and his father wasn’t going to be happy with him when he found out. Adrien hoped he wouldn’t cut his business trip short just to yell at him.

“What do I do?” he asked. “What if the meeting went well and she’s getting together with the father? What if she doesn’t want me in the baby’s life? What if she quits being Ladybug?”

“She’s not going to quit,” Plagg assured him, but Adrien didn’t seem to hear.

“What if the meeting went horrible? What if the father doesn’t want anything to do with it? What if she decides to get rid of the baby, even though she doesn’t want to? What if….”

Plagg tuned out as his chosen ranted on, burying himself in the bedding. By the time Adrien’s questions had reached the outlandish—“What if she’s having triplets and she goes into labour while we’re fighting an akuma that turns people into fish and I get turned into a fish and then she has the babies but the akuma kidnaps them because it was akumatized because it really wanted kids but it couldn’t have any and Ladybug can’t fight back cause she just had three babies and I can’t fight back cause I’m a fish so it gets the babies and runs off to Hawkmoth and they raise the babies to be super-soldiers and they attack in Iron-Man suits on Bastille Day and cause the zombie apocalypse?”—Plagg decided he’d had enough.

“Adrien!”

His chosen froze, his hands digging into his hair and his eyes wild as he stared at Plagg. “I’m not ready to be a zombie fish.”

“What?” Plagg shook his head, glancing at the clock. They still had an hour until patrol. “You can leave now. I can’t listen to you anymore.”

He almost got whiplash by how fast Adrien had transformed and was out the window.

By the time he reached their spot, Ladybug was already there, huddled against the chimney and hugging herself. He lowered himself down beside her without a word, and she wrapped herself around him, burying her face in his chest, her tears beginning anew.

It was hours before she spoke, before the words poured out in a rush, interrupted by sobs and sniffles, before Chat filled with anger and hatred towards a man he’d never even met, this Pierre, before he felt his soul being torn to pieces because Ladybug just sounded so broken.

“I’m here,” he whispered when her words stopped. “I’ll always be here.”

She sniffed tilting her head up to look at him. “What am going to do, Chat?”

“I’ll be its father.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could process them, but they were completely and entirely true. He wouldn’t leave Ladybug alone to deal with this. He couldn’t. He would give everything to make sure that Ladybug and this baby are happy and safe.

Ladybug blinked up at him. “What?”

“A baby needs a father, Bug,” he said, his voice quiet as he rubbed her arm. “Mine was never around when I was growing up, and I know that messed me up. Babies need parents to love them. So I can be its father. I mean, if you want. If you don’t want that, I’ll still help you out. I’ll be an uncle or something, and I’ll be there for whatever you want, and—”

“Okay.”

Chat froze midsentence, staring down at Ladybug. She bit her lip and looked away, realising what she said. She didn’t regret it, though, because she couldn’t think of anyone who would be a better father than Chat. She needed help, and she wanted it to be from him.

“I…I’d like that, Chat.”

He nodded, squeezing her tight to his chest, and neither said anything for a long time. The sun was starting to peak over the horizon by the time Ladybug decided to move, her bones creaking from sitting in the same position for so long.

She stretched out her legs, turning to look at Chat, who looked more asleep than awake.

“We should know,” she said, her voice quiet. She’d been thinking about it for a while now, that they should tell each other their identities. She just hadn’t known how to bring it into a conversation. Now seemed as good a time as any. “We should tell each other who we are.”

Chat blinked the sleep out of his eyes and yawned. “Why?”

Ladybug shrugged. “Well, I’m not planning to go to doctor’s appointments dressed as Ladybug, and I am not having Chat Noir take me there,” she pointed out. “Knowing will make it easier.”

Chat nodded in understanding, releasing her from his hold as he pushed to his feet, then held out a hand to help her up. They stood in front of each other for a long moment, just staring.

“Count of three?” Chat suggested, and Ladybug nodded.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

A great pink and green flash blinded them for a moment before they could see each other again.

Marinette grinned shyly at Adrien, chuckling slightly under her breath. “This makes it easier.”

“This makes what easier?” Adrien wondered.

“I mean, it would have been kind of difficult to explain to our friends why some random guy has decided to help me raise a baby,” Marinette pointed out, and Adrien had to laugh.

“Point taken.”

They were quiet a while longer, before Marinette spoke again. “I’m glad it’s you.”

“I’m glad it’s you, too,” Adrien whispered, wrapping his arms around her. “I would have done the same thing if Marinette had come to Adrien, just so you know.”

Marinette didn’t say anything, just grinned into his shoulder.

Things were looking brighter.

Things were not looking brighter.

“Plagg, do you realize how much could go wrong?”

Adrien had returned from patrol an hour or so ago, and had immediately gone to his computer. He had to be ready. He had to be ready for anything, because Marinette was counting on him.

But he couldn’t do this. There was too much at stake. There were too many ways this could go wrong, too many ways Marinette or the baby could get hurt.

He clicked on a new webpage that offered new horrors, and groaned, knocking his face against the desk and digging his hands into his hair.

“I can’t do this. I can’t be a father. I don’t even know what fathers do, except ignore their kids, which I’m pretty sure isn’t what they’re supposed to do. Oh God, Plagg. What if I’m like my father? I could be like him. I don’t know what fathers do. I don’t know anything about babies. I don’t even know what they eat. What do babies eat, Plagg?”

“Camembert.”

Adrien glanced up, looking at Plagg for a long moment, before muttering, “Oh,” and turning to jot it down in the notebook that was quickly filling with the things he learned.

“That was a joke, kid,” Plagg sighed, and decided to take pity on his chosen. “Right now, the baby eats whatever Marinette eats. When it’s born, it’ll eat breast milk or formula, and eventually you’ll move it onto soft foods and then solid foods,” he told him. “But you don’t need to worry about that right now, because it’ll be months before the baby is even here. You need to turn off the computer before you go crazy, and take a nap or something. And find me some cheese. You still haven’t fed me since last night.”

Adrien nodded, pulling open the door of the fridge he kept under his desk and absentmindedly pulling out a wheel of cheese with one hand, while scribbling this new information with his other.

“How do you know that?” Adrien wondered, turning back to the computer as Plagg started his snack, scrolling through an article on the merits of eating fish.

“You think you’re the first Chat Noir to go through this?” Plagg asked, gulping down a slice of cheese. “I’ve helped them become mothers and fathers more times than you can count.” He pushed away from the wheel, floating up to block the computer screen as Adrien clicked on an article about birthing positions. “Seriously though, kid. You’re going to drive yourself insane if you keep going at it like this. I know you’re scared you’re going to be like your dad, but I know you aren’t. You already love this kid, right? And you’ve known about it for, what, just over a day? You’re going to be fine. Now just get off these websites and look at, I don’t know, baby names or clothes or something before you kill yourself.”

“Clothes?” Adrien repeated, closing the page that honestly had way too many pictures in his opinion, and typing into Google. He clicked on the first link, brought to a page full of pastel colours and cartoon animals.

“Hey, look at that,” he said, grinning to himself as he passed the mouse over a button labeled “Ladybug and Chat Noir”. The first item was a little Chat Noir fleece onesie, complete with a little bell on the zipper pull and tiny ears on the hood. That was his first purchase for the baby. It was by far not his last.

He spent the rest of the night like that, and the rest of the morning, alternating between websites full of facts that terrified him, and shopping for things for the baby. He stressed to Plagg, who tried to reassure his chosen, but, in all honesty, Adrien was hardly paying him any attention. His venting was mostly due to an inability to keep his thoughts silent anymore.

“Plagg, do you think I should propose to her? Do you think she’ll expect me to?”

“Babies can’t taste salt until they’re four months old. How do people even know this?”

“Shit, Plagg. This says ten percent of pregnancies end in miscarriage. What if Marinette loses the baby? What do I do then? What would she want me to do?”

“How do I change a diaper? I don’t know how to change a diaper. This says that newborns pee every twenty minutes, and I don’t know how to change a diaper! That’s not good, Plagg!”

“Why don’t babies have kneecaps? That doesn’t even make sense. What if they need to do kneecap…things?”

“Oh God, Plagg. Sometimes babies just stop breathing when they’re sleeping and die. What if that happens? What if something happens and the baby dies?”

“I don’t know how to hold a baby. What if I drop it?”

“What does ‘swaddling’ mean?”

“What if there’s more than one baby, Plagg? I don’t even know if I can handle one baby! What if there’s two? Or three? Or more?”

It was sometime after noon when Adrien’s phone rang, snapping him and Plagg out of their frozen horror as they watched a birthing video Adrien had clicked on, and he dove to grab it from the bed as Plagg quickly exited the video.

“Where are you, dude? We were supposed to meet for lunch, like, an hour ago, and you won’t answer any of my texts. What’s happening?”

“I’m not ready,” Adrien groaned, hardly registering Nino’s words as he rolled onto his stomach.

“Are you okay, man? I can keep waiting, but if you’re not going to show, that’s cool, I—”

“I’m not ready to be a father!” Adrien interrupted loudly, burying his face in the bed.

Nino was quiet for a moment. “Adrien?”

“What?” Adrien muttered, turning his face a little so he could speak.

“A father?”

“Yes!” Adrien cried, standing back up and pacing, his free hand tearing through his hair. “I’m not ready!”

Nino was silent again, and Adrien paced his room, the thoughts flowing through his head once more. He wasn’t ready. He was crazy for thinking he could do this.

“Adrien,” Nino finally said. “Who…who did you get pregnant?”

Adrien froze, Nino’s words actually registering in his head. He wasn’t supposed to tell, he didn’t think. Marinette would probably want to tell people, and she probably wouldn’t be happy if he told them without asking.

So he hung up.

And threw his phone across the room like it was on fire.

It buzzed loudly against the hardwood floor, over and over again, and Adrien assumed Nino was trying to get him to pick up the phone again. He just stood there, frozen, for God knows how long, staring at the phone.

Finally, after it stopped ringing, he walked over and picked it up. Ignoring the dozens of texts and voicemails from Nino, he typed out a message.

[ADRIEN] : [Please don’t tell anyone.]
[ADRIEN] : [She doesn’t want anyone to know yet.]

[NINO] : [k]
[NINO] : [i wont tell bro but u need 2 explain l8r]

[ADRIEN] : [Thank you.]

Marinette lay on her bed, staring up through the skylight. Her hands traced patterns on her stomach, as though she could feel the baby inside. This was insane. She was having a baby.

And Chat Noir was going to be its father. Adrien freaking Agreste was going to be its father. Because Adrien was Chat. Chat was Adrien.
It was insane.

She’d been more productive than Chat that day, having gone to classes and helped out in the bakery. She was backed up on orders from her online boutique thanks to being in shock for more or less an entire week, and had made a dent in those before coming up to lounge on her bed.

“I don’t know why he’d want to do this,” she muttered to Tikki for what was probably the hundredth time today. “I don’t know why he’d want to give up everything for a baby that’s not even his.”

Tikki sighed, stroking her chosen’s bangs out of her eyes. “That’s just the kind of person he is,” she reminded her. “Like he said, if Marinette had gone to Adrien instead of Ladybug to Chat, he would have offered the same thing.”

“But why?” Marinette groaned throwing her head back against the bed. It made no sense. Why would Chat, why would Adrien, want to help her raise her baby?

A tapping noise interrupted her, and her eyes flew open to the skylight over her head. In the semidarkness, all she could see at first was a pair of glowing green eyes before the rest of his face came into focus.

She sat up, pushing open the window before crawling up to the head of the bed and sitting with her legs crossed. Chat Noir slunk inside, closing the window behind him and taking a seat at the other end of the bed, a plastic grocery bag in his lap and a Cheshire grin on his face.

“Good evening, Purr-incess!” he purred, holding out a smoothie to Marinette, who took it with a confused frown.

“What’s this for?” she asked, taking a tentative sip. It was strawberry banana—her favourite, which Chat didn’t know.

But Adrien knows, a voice in the back of her head reminded her, but she pushed it away.

Chat shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. His smile faded into a more nervous one. “You need lots of natural sugars,” he explained. “I had our chef make it with real strawberries and bananas, which I think was your favourite? Plus bananas have a lot of Vitamin B6, which you also need, so it’s doubly good.”

Marinette blinked at him, sipping her smoothie in a silence which Chat rushed to fill.

He dug through the grocery bag. “I also have lots of fruit—oranges and strawberries and apples and bananas and grapes—and some different kinds of nuts—do you like nuts? I couldn’t remember, but they’re supposed to be good for you—and dark chocolate and lots of vegetables and—”

“Chat,” Marinette interrupted. He looked up from the grocery bag, his eyebrows knitting together. “Why?”

Chat floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing without actually speaking. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “I thought the least I could do is bring you food.”

Marinette didn’t say anything, reaching for the bag and rifling through it. He’d brought her so much food that would apparently be good for the baby. “How do you know all this?” she wondered aloud.

Chat looked sheepish again. “I might have spent a little bit of time on the internet since last night,” he admitted.

A bright green flash enveloped the room, and Plagg let out a barking laugh. “That’s rich, kid,” he said. “A little bit?” He shot Adrien, who was very red and avoiding looking at anyone, a look. “You never got off the internet.” He looked to Marinette. “This kid is going to drive himself crazy from all the websites he reads.” With that, Plagg flew off, dragging Tikki behind him.

“Really?” Marinette asked, looking to Adrien for confirmation of his kwami’s words. Adrien nodded, glancing up at Marinette with a nervous shrug of his shoulders. Marinette sighed. “That’s really smart, actually. I haven’t done much of anything since I found out except live in denial and freak out.”

Adrien chuckled. “I’ve done a lot of freaking out, too,” he admitted, and Marinette sighed in relief. At least she wasn’t the only one who was totally out of her element.

“Adrien.” She paused for a moment, gathering her words. She didn’t want to say this, didn’t want to take away the only hope she had, but she needed to. “You don’t have to do this. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to help me just because you feel like you have to. I don’t want to make you take care of a baby that’s not yours.”

Adrien was shaking his head from the first words, reaching across the space between them to wrap his hands around where hers held onto the smoothie.

“I’m not doing this because I have to,” he assured her. “I want to, Marinette. I want to help you raise this baby, in whatever way you want me to. I’d be thrilled to be its father. I want to do this.”

Marinette felt a smile break out on his face. Tikki was right, this was who Adrien was, who Chat was. And she wasn’t going to lose him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking down at their hands. “Thank you so much.”

Adrien squeezed her hands tightly before releasing them, and they sat in a comfortable silence while Marinette finished her smoothie. The bag of food had been moved to the floor, and Adrien had moved to lean against the pillows beside Marinette, by the time the silence was broken.

“How do you want to do this?” Marinette glanced up at Adrien in confusion for a moment before he continued. “What do you want to tell people, I mean? I’m sure everyone would believe if we told them I was just going to help raise the baby since the father doesn’t want to, but it might be easier if we told them I was the father? There’d be less questions, and it would make more sense.”

Marinette nodded, biting her lip. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I know my parents would probably be happier if the baby’s father was around, and it would definitely be easier if we pretended that was you, but are you sure you want to do this? I can’t ask you to.”

Adrien smiled softly. “I want to,” he said. “I want to be in this baby’s life as much as you’ll allow me, and I would be honoured to be known as its father.”

Marinette smiled back, cuddling into his side. “I’d love that,” she admitted, and Adrien squeezed her with the arm he’d wrapped around her.

They talked quietly for a while longer, about plans to get an apartment, about when they were going to tell people, about the ultrasound Marinette had booked for the next week.

Their eyelids grew heavier as the night wore on, and they drifted off to sleep at some point, sliding down the pillows and curling around each other. Tikki and Plagg laughed and rolled their eyes, tucking themselves into Tikki’s hidden bed for the night. A peaceful silence fell over the room, and it seemed that all would be okay.

Until just after five a.m., when Marinette bolted up in bed, barely reaching the nearby garbage can before emptying her stomach.

“What’s happening? Are you okay?” Adrien panicked, jumping out of sleep

“Fucking morning sickness,” Marinette muttered. “Why couldn’t I be one of those people who doesn’t get it?”

Adrien held her hair as she heaved, rubbing her back soothingly. Somehow, he’d missed any mention of morning sickness in his marathon research. He’d have to look it up.

This was real.

They were going to have a baby.

And they were not ready.

Chapter Text

Marinette’s hands shook as she sat in the hard plastic chair in the waiting room. She couldn’t even look at Adrien, who was sitting next to her. In a few minutes, they’d be called in to the ultrasound room and it’d be real.

Of course, it’d been real for a week now. Mostly. Adrien had stayed over every night since that first time, and they’d gotten into a routine by now. Marinette woke up at exactly five thirteen a.m. and emptied her stomach for an hour while Adrien rubbed her back, before she washed up and climbed back into bed. Then they’d go back to sleep until either an alarm would go off signalling one of them had to go to work or to school, or until they weren’t able to sleep anymore.

They were both skipping class today, despite finals coming up, to be there. Adrien had insisted on coming, despite Marinette’s protests that he should probably be in class—physics was hard, after all—but she was grateful he’d come. She didn’t think she could handle this on her own.

Her hands were suddenly encased in something warm, halting their shaking, and Marinette’s eyes snapped down to them. Her eyes trailed from the intruding hand that had wrapped around her own up its arm to Adrien’s face. He offered a nervous smile, and she forced herself to take a deep breath.

“Ultrasounds are easy,” he said, his thumb rubbing soothing patterns onto her hands. “They don’t hurt, and it’ll just feel a little warm. Easy.”

Marinette snorted. “Did you really research ultrasounds too?”

Adrien turned pink, rubbing his neck with his free hand. “No…well, yes,” he admitted. “But I’m actually speaking from experience.” Marinette’s eyebrow rose curiously, and Adrien looked away. “My mother, before she died, was really paranoid about…well, about everything, really. When I was about ten, I had a stomach ache, and she insisted we get an ultrasound of my kidneys.” He shrugged. “I think it ended up that I just had food poisoning or something, but yeah.”

Marinette nodded, looking back down at their joined hands. They fell back into silence for a few moments, before a nurse entered the waiting room.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Startled, Marinette’s whole body spasmed and she fell from her chair, pulling Adrien down with her by their still-connected hands. Her face was bright red as she righted herself, eyes to the floor to avoid Adrien’s gaze as they followed the nurse down a hallway. Her hands were shaking again, and he caught one of them in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The nurse got Marinette situated on some sort of table-bed-thing with her shirt pulled up around her breasts, before instructing them to wait a few minutes for the technician.

“Talk,” Marinette said immediately after the nurse had left, closing the door to the room. Her hand reached out towards Adrien, who took it in both of his, rubbing it in the soothing way he had.

“About what?”

She shook her head. “As long as it’s not scary pregnancy facts, I don’t care. Just distract me before I completely freak out.”

Adrien nodded, and after a minute he spoke. “So the baby is about the size of a lentil right now, which is about a quarter of an inch,” he said. “It’s already got a heartbeat, and it kind of looks like a seahorse.” Marinette snorted. “Its facial structures and bones and muscles are starting to form—”

“Already?” Marinette stared at him. “But it’s so small….”

Adrien nodded. “Yeah, well, I’m going under the assumption that you’re six weeks along, since that’s how long ago it happened, and, I mean, that’s what the internet says is happening.” He shrugged.

“What else?”

“Um, well, it’s forming little lumps that’ll grow into arms and legs, and its brain is developing, too—”

“It seems your husband is very knowledgeable.”

Both Marinette and Adrien jumped this time, but, thankfully, Marinette managed to stay on the table. They hadn’t noticed the technician walk in, but now she stood near Marinette’s feet.

“He’s not my husband,” Marinette said quickly, her face turning pink.

The technician smiled. “I’m sorry. My mistake.” She walked up the side of the bed opposite Adrien and took a seat next to the equipment, introducing herself as Dr. Moreau. Marinette could feel her hands shake again as the doctor went over what was going to happen, but she focused on Adrien’s warm hands on her own.

She shivered as Dr. Moreau spread the gel over her stomach. Adrien was right. It was a weird lukewarm that was almost uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but then Dr. Moreau was pressing the wand to her stomach.

And the heartbeat sounded throughout the room.

Marinette’s breath caught in her throat because that was her baby. That was a living thing inside of her and it had a heartbeat and a brain and it probably looked like a seahorse and it was hers. It was real.

She looked at Adrien in awe, and giggled a little.

“Are you crying, chaton?”

Adrien tore his eyes from her stomach, where the technician was moving the wand around, to her face, hastily reaching up to swipe at his eyes. “No,” he muttered, and Marinette giggled again.

They sat in silence, huge, dopey grins spreading across their faces as they stared at each other.

“Right there.”

Dr. Moreau pointed with her freehand at a spot on the screen, and Marinette and Adrien followed her finger. There was a smudge there, one that kind of looked like a kidney bean.

“That’s the baby?” Adrien whispered, his voice awed as he squeezed Marinette’s hand.

“It is,” Dr. Moreau confirmed.

Marinette reached a hand up, tracing the tips of her fingers along her bean-seahorse-baby smudge. “It’s real,” she whispered, turning back to Adrien for a moment, her own wet eyes matching his. “We’re having a baby.”

Adrien grinned at her and squeezed her hand as she turned back to the screen. They were having a baby.

After a lunch spent with goofy smiles and fingers tracing photographs, Adrien walked Marinette back to the bakery, where she packaged up a bundle of cookies.

“I’ll see you tonight, kitty?” she asked, handing him the goodies.

“Course, princess,” he replied, squeezing her hand one last time before leaving the store, both of them still smiling like idiots.

“Did you have a nice time at your lunch with Adrien, dear?”

Marinette flushed, spinning around. How had she not noticed her parents standing there? Was she really that out of it? She probably was, she reasoned. She’d been in a daze for the past few hours.

“It was really nice,” she sighed, her grin finding its way onto her face. She kissed her mom on the cheek as she passed her. “Let me just get changed and I’ll be down in a few.”

Her parents shared a knowing look. It had taken ten years, but, from the look on their daughter’s face, it seemed things were finally moving along with a certain model. Maybe they’d officially have him in the family soon.

Marinette barely registered the walk up to her bedroom, opening her purse before falling backwards onto her lounge with a sigh, the photograph from the ultrasound poised above her face.

“Look, Tikki,” she whispered as the kwami flew over, her fingers tracing the bean.

Tikki grinned, nuzzling against Marinette’s face. “I told you it wouldn’t be bad,” she reminded her. “You were worried for nothing.”

Marinette’s fingers traced the shape again and she sighed. This was her baby, hers and Adrien’s, hers and Chat’s. They were having a baby, and it looked like a bean and a seahorse, and it had a heart and a brain and it was growing arms and legs and it was perfect.

“Adrien cried,” she told Tikki. “I did, too, but he cried first. And he’s not even technically the father.”

Tikki smiled softly. “I think he is,” she said. “He’s the one who’s there for you. He’s the one who’ll be there for the baby. That’s more of what a father is than DNA.”

Marinette tore her gaze away from the photo, eyeing Tikki thoughtfully. She was right. This wasn’t Pierre’s baby. He didn’t want anything to do with it. It was Adrien’s.

Her afternoon of working in the bakery past in a blur. Many people commented on how happy she looked, as Marinette couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. The bell above the door jingled as Marinette was cleaning the counter, just about ready to head back up for the night.

“Why do you look so happy? You haven’t even seen me yet.”

Marinette’s head snapped up, her eyes focusing on the girl who’d made her way into the room before launching herself across the store.

“Alya! You’re back!”

Alya laughed as she hugged her friend. “And you never answered my question,” she pointed out. “What’s go you so smiley?”

“She’s been like that ever since she got back from her date with Adrien.”

Marinette spun around, sending a horrified look at the woman who’d come out of the back. “Maman!”

“A date?” Marinette turned, catching Alya’s eyes as she crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “With Adrien?”

“It wasn’t a date,” Marinette muttered, but the look on Alya’s face told her that there was no way her friend believed that. She sighed, ready to commit to a night of interrogation.

Adrien was still grinning as he made his way into the house, pulling the picture from his pocket to stare at the baby again. It had only been a week, but he’d already forgotten that the baby wasn’t biologically his. It felt like it was. It felt like this was his baby, his and Marinette’s, and he didn’t care whether this baby would have any of him in it. He was its father, not the man who got Marinette pregnant. Him. He would be there for the baby, and it was going to be his.

He was going to be a father.

Adrien was so caught up in the photo that he didn’t notice the entrance wasn’t empty. He didn’t hear Nathalie call his name again and again, didn’t even notice her presence until her hand was on his shoulder, causing him to jump and quickly tuck the photo back in his pocket.

“Nathalie!” Adrien laughed nervously, folding his hands together behind his back and shifting on his feet. He knew the dumb grin he’d had all day was still on his face, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. “What are you doing here? I mean, you work here so obviously you’d be here, but what are you doing here here exactly? In the entrance. Here. With me.”

Nathalie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on his behaviour. “We need to talk about your spending habits,” she said instead, turning and walking into a lounge. Adrien followed behind, his hand itching at his pocket to pull out the picture again. “We received a rather large shipment this morning, addressed to you. Can you explain this?”

Adrien had frozen in the doorway, staring at the sea of baby…things. There were large boxes with pictures of cribs or highchairs or other things he didn’t know the name of, all with laughing babies. There were other boxes, with names like Duckling Boutique or Baby Barn or Kradles.

And there were a lot.

He vaguely remembered that first sleepless night along with every free moment that he wasn’t at school or modelling or with Marinette, hours spent on the computer, alternatively stressing over pregnancy facts and relieving that stress in the way he always had—shopping.

He hadn’t realized he’d bought this much.

He looked away from the baby stuff, which, frankly, was stressing him out again—and would probably lead to more purchases, who was he kidding—and back at Nathalie, who was watching him and waiting for an answer.

But Adrien could only say one thing.

“Please don’t tell Father.”

Nathalie sighed, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. “Adrien—”

“I’ll tell him,” Adrien assured her quickly. “I just…we haven’t told anyone yet, and I’d rather he hear from me. In person.”

Nathalie nodded in understanding. “I will arrange a dinner with your father for when he returns,” she said, and Adrien sighed in relief. Nathalie smiled, a sight Adrien had rarely seen, and crossed back over to lay a hand on his arm. “Congratulations on the triplets.”

Adrien spluttered. “Triplets?” he repeated, his voice high. God, he could hardly handle the thought of one baby. What would he do with three? “No, there’s only one baby.”

Nathalie looked confused, glancing between him and the pile. “Then why did you order three cribs?”

“I didn’t….” Adrien followed her gaze, landing on three separate boxes that definitely contained cribs. “I ordered three cribs.” He sighed, grinning at Nathalie. “Oops?”

Nathalie rolled her eyes. “I’ll have someone move these to your room,” she said. “Congratulations, again.”

Adrien nodded, his hand finding its way back into his pocket and retrieving the picture, which was now slightly wrinkled. He tilted it towards Nathalie, grinning between her and the picture. “That’s the baby,” he said, his voice an awed whisper, pointing at the bean-shaped blur. “That’s my baby, Nathalie.”

“It’s lovely, Adrien,” she said before dropping her hand from his arm and stepping away. “Is there anything you need?”

Adrien shook his head, running his finger over the photo, and Nathalie moved to exit the room.

“Wait!”

Adrien looked up with his outburst, and Nathalie turned back to him. He glanced at the photo again, before looking back at Nathalie and biting his lip with a sudden bought of nervousness.

“Do you…do you know where we keep Mom’s engagement ring?”

“Spill.”

Marinette sighed, flopping on her back on her lounge, thankful she’d hidden the photo in her diary box earlier. If she hadn’t, Alya would have been sure to find it. “Spill what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Alya loomed above her, planting her hands on either side of Marinette’s face. “I left for a month and you got into a secret relationship with Adrien Agreste.”

“What?” Marinette spluttered, pushing Alya away as she sat up. “I am not in a secret relationship with Adrien. I am not in any kind of relationship with Adrien.” Except for the one where he’s fathering my unborn child. “We just went out for lunch. As friends. Jesus, Alya, I’d tell you if I was in a secret relationship with Adrien.”

Alya narrowed her eyes into a glare, standing in silence with her hands on her hips for a long moment. “Fine,” she finally said. “I guess I believe you. But only because the Marinette I know wouldn’t be able to keep any developments in the Adrien Situation to herself.”

What, like the fact that he sleeps in my bed every night and holds my hair when I puke? Or how we both bawled our eyes out over a heartbeat and a smudge this morning?

“Right,” Marinette agreed. “Glad we got that settled. How was your trip?”

Alya laughed, launching herself at the lounge beside Marinette. “Oh, Mari,” she grinned. “We’re not done yet. Just because you aren’t secretly dating him doesn’t get rid of the fact that you went out for lunch with him. What’d you guys talk about?”

How perfect our seahorse baby is and how we’re going to tell our parents mixed in with speculations on why Hawkmoth seems to have disappeared?

“Uh, school?”

Alya looked unimpressed. “School?”

“Yeah.” Marinette hopped aboard her half-hearted lie. She could work with that. “That thing where some of us go because not everyone became a famous reporter straight out of highschool?”

Her friend rolled her eyes. “I know what school is.”

“Good for you.” That earned Marinette a light shove, and she laughed. “Finals are coming up in like two weeks. I have half a dozen outfits to finish for my portfolio and apparently astrophysics has suddenly gotten hard.”

“Suddenly?” Alya snorted. “Is he even real?”

“Probably not,” Marinette agreed, and was about to say more when her phone rang.

Alya raised an eyebrow. “If it wasn’t a date, why is he calling you?”

Marinette ignored her, picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Marinette. So Nathalie kind of found out because I might have kind of ordered some stuff online and it came in today and she found it, but it’s all good and she’s scheduled us to have dinner with Father for Monday. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, it does.” God, they were going to tell his father. About their baby. This was insane. “Listen, so—” She was cut off as the phone was ripped from her hand and turned on speaker.

“Listen here, Mr. Astrophysics-Isn’t-Hard.”

“Hi, Alya. I didn’t know you were back.”

“I just got back today. Don’t change the subject. Did you or did you not go on a date with Mari today?”

“Alya!” Marinette screeched, reaching for the phone but her friend held it out of her reach. “I told you, it wasn’t a date.”

“I’m going to have to agree with Mari on this one, Al. We just went out to get our minds off school.”

Marinette shot Alya an I-told-you-so look, but her friend wasn’t done. “But you went out, just the two of you,” she pointed out. “Alone. With no one else. Just you two in the City of Love.”

Marinette groaned scrabbling harder to get the phone back.

“I go out with Nino for lunch all the time,” Adrien pointed out. “Alone. With no one else. In the City of Love. It doesn’t mean we’re dating, either.”

Alya clamped her free hand around Marinette’s face, holding her back, and laughed. “I’m not entirely convinced about that, either,” she informed him. “Anyway, you free tonight?”

“Yes?”

“Good.” Alya flashed Marinette a grin as she released her face, causing her friend to topple into her lap. “We’re going to a club. The four of us. You, me, Mari, and Nino.”

“But I don’t want to go to a club,” Marinette whined, trying once more to reach her phone. “I think I’m getting sick. We should all get lunch on Tuesday instead.”

Alya shot her a look. “You’re not getting sick,” she informed her. “We’re going partying! We can still have your boring lunch on Tuesday—why Tuesday?”

Because my parents and his father will know by then and we’re going to tell you about the baby?

“It’s supposed to be sunny?”

“You’re weird,” Alya told her affectionately. “But we’re going to the club tonight if I have to drag you there. You in, Agreste?”

“I guess. But Mari shouldn’t come if she doesn’t want to.”

“She wants to,” Alya assured him before hanging up the phone and tossing it back to Marinette, who glared at her. “Cheer up, Mari. When I’m done with you, Adrien won’t know what hit him.”

“I already told you, Alya, I don’t want to drink. I feel sick.” Marinette leaned against a table sipping her ginger ale through a straw. It wasn’t a lie, necessarily. Her stomach did feel off.

“Come on, Mari,” Alya whined. “You don’t go to a club and not drink.”

“I didn’t want to go to a club in the first place,” Marinette reminded her friend, but Alya waved her off, bouncing on her toes.

“I see the boys!” she squealed, bounding off across the club. Marinette rolled her eyes as Alya all but tackled her boyfriend. She’d already lost track of what drink her friend was on, and they had barely been there an hour.

Adrien picked his way to the table Marinette was still standing at, leaving Nino and Alya behind. He grinned at Marinette as he approached, and she absentmindedly noticed the small square that he fingered before tucking back into his pocket.

She couldn’t help but notice the tight black shirt that nicely showcased his muscles and the jeans that hugged his butt in just the right way. She forced her eyes to his face, though, because they weren’t in that kind of relationship, no matter how much she wished they were.

She caught Adrien’s eyes straying elsewhere, and smirked as she remembered the too-short dress that Alya had forced her into, a dress that’s neckline plunged lower than she was comfortable with that she didn’t even know why she owned.

But if it made Adrien look at her like that….

No. She shook her head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. They weren’t like that. This was the baby hormones talking, right? Adrien had mentioned reading something about that, but she couldn’t remember anything about what he said.

She jerked with a screech as someone touched her shoulder, and she turned to shoot Alya a glare, who’d approached with Nino.

“Told you,” she whispered too loudly with a smirk, and Marinette shot her a glare.

“We’re going to get drinks,” Nino interjected. “Want anything?”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m not drinking.”

“Because you’re a party pooper.” Alya pouted, then turned to Adrien. “Anything for you, Agreste?”

“I’m not drinking, either.”

“You’re both boring,” Alya declared, before tugging Nino off.

Marinette turned to Adrien. “You don’t have to not drink just because I’m not.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with Drunk Nino and Drunk Alya on your own,” he pointed out. “And I’ve never really been that into drinking, anyway.”

Marinette snorted. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I mean, supposedly last time you got drunk you got me pregnant.”

Adrien laughed, and she noticed the picture in his hands, grinning at the way he ran his fingers over it.

“Does Sunday work for dinner with my parents?”

Adrien’s eyes snapped back to her face, and he tucked the photo away again. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“What sounds great?” Nino asked, walking up with a decidedly drunk Alya draped across his shoulders.

“That there’s only two weeks until graduation!” Adrien cheered, pumping his fist in the air and letting out a whoop. Marinette laughed, but Alya rolled her eyes.

“They’re such losers,” she sighed, leaning against Nino. “All they talk about is school. They talked about school on their date, too.”

Nino dropped his drink, and Marinette thanked the gods that they were superheroes because that was definitely the only way Adrien managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

“You two went on a date?”

“It wasn’t a date,” two voices said at once, and Adrien handed Nino back his glass.

Soon, Nino and Alya were almost too drunk to function, but Marinette was the one who was crying.

“I just love you so much, Alya, you know?” she was saying. “You’re one of my best friends, you know that, right?”

Adrien watching in concern as Marinette sobbed into her friend’s shoulder, Alya looking shocked and confused. Marinette was not a sappy drunk. She didn’t profess her love when she drank too much. And she hadn’t hand anything to drink at all, except an absurd amount of ginger ale.

“Hey, Mari, are you okay?” he asked, pulling Marinette from her friend. She then latched onto Adrien, and Alya winked at him before dragging Nino away.

“You’re such a good person, kitty,” she whispered into his neck. He stroked her back. “I can’t believe how much you’re doing for me.”

“It’s really no problem,” he assured her, wondering what had gotten into Marinette. One minute she’d been laughing as she and Adrien had creamed Alya and Nino at pool—no one could match the hand-eye coordination of a pair of superheroes, and they wouldn’t have stood a chance even if they’d been sober—and the next she was crying and pulling Alya into a hug.

“I hate clubs,” she muttered into his shirt, and he ignored the shiver that shot through his body at the feeling of her lips moving against him. “Last time I was at a club, I met Pierre.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair. “I can get my driver to take us home.”

He felt her nod into his chest, and then she was pulling away and grinning at him. “And then you can come over and we can go to sleep.”

His eyebrows rose at her quick change in mood, but he didn’t comment as he took out his phone to text his driver. They quickly found Alya and Nino on the dancefloor and told them they were leaving—which invited some suggestive looks from the two, which they both decided to ignore—and then they were leaning against the outside of the club.
Marinette groaned suddenly, turning to knock her forehead against his arm.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Baby hormones are stupid.”

Chat Noir followed Ladybug home the next night. He’d been nervous all through patrol, and he could tell Ladybug had noticed, but, thankfully, she hadn’t said anything.

Until they’d dropped into her room and released their transformations.

“What’s going on, kitty?” she asked, watching as he carefully took the ultrasound photo out of his pocket and laid it on his side of her bed. It was a little wrinkled from being carried in his pocket, but it was still clear, showing their little bean baby.

He sighed, standing up and dropping down to the first floor where Marinette had retreated to find pyjamas.

“I need to ask you something.”

Marinette nodded, picking up two pieces of pink clothing from the floor and tossing them onto her lounge before looking up at him. “Okay, shoot.”

Adrien took a deep breath, building up the nerve he knew was necessary to get this out. “I know we’re not like that, that we’ve never been like that, but I—” He groaned, looking to Marinette. “Can I start over?” She nodded.

“I know we’re not together, and that’s okay,” he said slowly, gathering his words. He’d practiced this so many times that Plagg had started to make fun of him, but he’d somehow forgot everything he was planning to say. “But I want you to know that I’m never going to go anywhere, Mari. I’ll always be with you, no matter what.” He paused, taking another deep breath. “Marinette, you’re never going to be alone, and I’ll be here to help you with this baby. I-I feel like it’s mine already, which is probably ridiculous, but it’s how I feel. I just want to make everything as easy as possible for you. So….” He trailed off, dropping Marinette’s gaze as he fumbled in his pocket before dropping to his knee.

“Marinette, will you marry me?”

Marinette was frozen, and he couldn’t read her face as he glanced between his face and the open ring box in his hand displaying his mother’s engagement ring. He started to panic as the silence dragged on. Had he been too forward? He’d thought that maybe, before all this happened, before they revealed their identities, that Ladybug had started to respond to Chat Noir’s flirting. He thought that Adrien and Marinette had become close, that they were really good friends. They’d long since passed the stage where Marinette could hardly speak a sentence around him.

But maybe he was wrong? Maybe she would kick him out for even suggesting this and forbid him from having anything to do with her or the baby. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle that. It would be bad enough to lose Marinette, to lose Ladybug, but this baby? This baby that already felt like his own? He didn’t think he could handle that.

“Marinette?” he whispered, breaking her out of her trance.

She took a step forward, closing the distance between him and pulling him up. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. After a moment, he hesitantly hugged her back, nuzzling his nose into her hair. What did this mean?

“I’m sorry, kitty,” she whispered after a moment. “I can’t marry you. I can’t do that to you. I can’t take away your chance at happiness with someone just because you feel bad and I’m pregnant. If this ever turns into something real, I’ll definitely marry you. But I want it to be because we want to get married, not because I’m pregnant.”

He nodded against her head, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t say that he didn’t have a chance at happiness with anyone else, that there was only her. He didn’t say that he’d been in love with her since they were fourteen and that his feelings had only grown since. He didn’t say that he wasn’t just proposing to her because she was pregnant, that there was something selfish in there as well, a need to claim her and the baby as his own.

He didn’t say any of that. Just held her until she left to get changed, and then held her again until she fell asleep in his arms.

Once he was sure she was asleep, he planted a kiss on her forehead, smoothing her hair behind her ears and whispering the words he was too afraid to say when she could hear him.

“I love you, Marinette.”

Chapter Text

Marinette was nervous. Actually, that was a massive understatement. Marinette was terrified. Everything was becoming too real too fast.

Sure, she’d had three weeks to figure all this out.

Sure, this was her idea, and she’d come close to spilling everything too many times that it’d be disastrous to wait any longer.

But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t shaking as she paced her room, clutching the sonogram tightly in her hands, waiting for Adrien to arrive.

Because Adrien was coming over, and they were going to tell her parents about the baby.

And she was terrified.

Not that she thought her parents would react badly. No, she was confident that they’d be thrilled, if a little confused. Her parents weren’t the issue.

Marinette had clung to denial as long as she could. The ultrasound days before had swept away all but one small string. The baby was real. She couldn’t deny that, hadn’t been able to deny that for a long time. But a small part of her still wondered if maybe this was a dream, if she’d wake up tomorrow morning without a baby, without knowing Chat’s identity.

Telling her parents would make everything official. She’d have to let go of that last thread and step into the world where this was actually really happening.
The thought was terrifying.

She wasn’t ready for this, to be a mother. She was so beyond not ready that ready was on a completely different planet, having a tea party with her sanity and her ability to get a full night’s sleep.

Marinette was terrified, and the fact that Adrien was acting so cool about all this wasn’t helping one bit.

Adrien. Marinette sighed as she thought back to a few nights ago. He’d proposed. To her. Adrien Agreste had proposed to Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and she’d said no.

She could feel her fourteen year old self kicking her, but she ignored it. She’d made the right call. She was already holding Adrien back enough as it was, with him fathering a baby that wasn’t even biologically his. She couldn’t do that to him, not when accepting his proposal meant taking away any chance he had at finding something real with someone else. Even if she’d stopped breathing when she watched him get down on one knee. Even if she’d shattered her own heart in turning him down.

He deserved his own chance.

And he was ringing the doorbell.

Marinette flew into a panic, her breath coming in faster as she ran around the room, sure something about her wasn’t quite perfect enough for what they were about to do. Was her hair out of place? Was her shirt wrinkled? What if what Adrien was wearing clashed? What if she burnt dinner? What if—?

“Marinette!”

Tikki’s voice snapped her out of her head, and she took a deep, steadying breath, before nodding at the kwami.

“I’m good,” she muttered. “I can do this. It’s no big deal. We’re just having dinner with my parents, and telling them something really important and I’m definitely not going to throw up until after. Right. Let’s do this.”

The doorbell rang again as Tikki wished her luck and she headed down to let Adrien in the backdoor.

She paused before opening it, building up her confidence and willing herself to not immediately vomit on Adrien’s shoes.

“—going to hate me, Plagg!”

Adrien was too busy arguing with his kwami that he didn’t notice right away that Marinette had finally opened the door. She internally sighed in relief, hating herself a little for finding comfort in the fact that he, too, was stressed out.

“They’re not going to hate you,” she informed him, smiling a little as he jumped at the sound of her voice. “They love you.”

Adrien scoffed, running a hand through his styled hair and pushing his appearance slightly away from “Adrien” and towards “Chat”. “That’s because they don’t think I’ve knocked up their daughter yet.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, pulling him inside. “They’ll still love you, chaton,” she told him, then bit her lip and looked away. “Look, Adrien, there’s still time. You don’t—”

Adrien interrupted her, turning her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes—his green, green eyes that she’d fallen for twice—shaking his head. “If you’re going to tell me that I don’t have to do this, you might as well save your breath,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere, Mari. I’m in this with you, and there is nothing that will convince me to back out, unless you don’t want me with you anymore. I don’t know what else I have to do to make you see that.”

They stood there for a few moments, just staring into each other’s eyes. Marinette’s fried nerves calmed as the seconds grew on, Adrien, her kitty, her rock, dragging her away from the edge she’d found herself at, slowly convincing her that maybe she could do this, that maybe it wouldn’t be so scary if she didn’t wake up, if this wasn’t a dream.

“You two are gross. I’m going to find Tikki.”

God only knew how long their staring contest would have gone on if Plagg hadn’t interrupted, causing the superheroes to jump apart as he flew up the stairs.

“Right,” Marinette said, feeling herself flush and turning towards the stairs. “We should get started on dinner. How’re your cooking skills?”

She wasn’t going to think about that. She wasn’t going to think about how deep Adrien’s eyes were, how they stared into her soul. She wasn’t going to think about how they’d seemed to be getting closer. She definitely wasn’t going to think about how she’d thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her.

Nope. Food. That was all that was going through her mind.

That, and the fact that they’d reached the kitchen and Adrien still hadn’t answered. She turned back to see him deep in thought, staring at a spot on the wall as though it was the most important thing in the universe.

“Adrien?”

The boy’s eyes snapped to her face, his own darkening into a deep red. “Uh, yeah?”

“I asked what your cooking skills are.” Marinette smiled to herself. Maybe Adrien wasn’t as cool with all this as she thought. Maybe he was trying to hold himself together for her. Maybe he really would have tried to kiss her if Plagg hadn’t—

No, no, no! Food. That’s what they were talking about. That’s what she was thinking about. Food. Not how Adrien’s dress shirt hugged him just right to show off his muscles, or how his tie was the exact shade of his eyes, or how—

NOPE. Food.

Adrien shrugged—and she didn’t notice how that motion showcased his arms—and scratched at his neck. “I might be able to make a sandwich? Maybe?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, digging into the cupboards for the right pots. “A sandwich is the extent of your cooking skills?”

Adrien shrugged again. “We have chefs,” he pointed out. “I never needed to learn.”

“How are you at following directions, then?” Marinette preheated the oven for the garlic bread. They were making spaghetti. It shouldn’t be that hard for Adrien to learn.

The boy in question perked up. “I am paw-sitively purr-fect at directions, princess.” He grinned and Marinette rolled her eyes. Her heart definitely did not skip a beat at the Chat Noir-esque grin, and she absolutely did not feel grateful for his puns. Not at all.

Oh, God. Fourteen year old Marinette would be so disappointed in her lately.

“Great,” she said, handing him a large pot. “Fill this with water and start boiling it. I’m heading down to grab some bread.”

Adrien nodded, watching Marinette walk away. He would not mess this up. He was almost an astrophysicist. He could handle boiling water. He would not burn down her house in the process. Her parents would definitely hate him if he burned down their house, even on the tiny chance that they already didn’t hate him for Marinette being pregnant.

He groaned loudly, knocking his head against the still-empty pot. He was so dead. Someone is going to kill him tonight, be it Marinette’s mom or her dad, and he was going to be dead and never even get to meet the baby.

“You can do this,” he muttered to himself. He could. This wasn’t anything, really. He was just having dinner with Marinette and her parents and basically telling them he’d had sex with their daughter. Absolutely nothing could go wrong there.

He pushed the thought away. No matter what Marinette said, her parents were definitely going to hate him, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. What he could do was fill this pot with water and figure out how to use a stove.

It couldn’t be that much different than a Bunsen burner, right?

It turned out that a stove was a lot different than a Bunsen burner.

When Marinette returned with a couple of loaves of bread, she froze. How had Adrien managed to mess up boiling water this bad? Flames were climbing from one element on the stove. The pot was upside down on the floor, which was absolutely soaked. Six spoons were scattered over the floor, as well as…cheese? And why was there chocolate all over that wall? Adrien was leaning against the counter with his head in his hands, Plagg and Tikki fluttering around him, muttering words Marinette couldn’t hear.

“What the hell?” Marinette whispered once she finally found her voice. Three sets of eyes jerked towards her, before Plagg and Tikki took off back towards her room.

Adrien crossed the room, his eyes pleading with her. “I’m sorry, Mari,” he said, tiptoeing through the puddle of water. “I was filling the pot and then Plagg—”

Marinette shook her head. “I don’t think I even want to know,” she said, a laugh bubbling up as she found a clean space of counter to set the bread down on. She made her way to the stove, turning it off and causing the flame to disappear. “Are you able to just put water into the pot while I go find a mop?”

Adrien nodded, and, somehow—“It’s almost miraculous,” Adrien joked, earning him a swat on the arm with a tea towel—they managed to get the kitchen cleaned and dinner made by the time the bakery closed and her parents made their way into the kitchen.

“You didn’t say Adrien was coming over for dinner,” Sabine cooed, wiggling her eyebrows at Marinette, who shot her mother a horrified expression. She’d forgotten that her mother was the one who’d convinced Alya that they were dating. Right.

She watched Adrien shift nervously from the corner of her eye. “I told you a friend was coming,” she reminded her mother. “That friend is Adrien.”

“Right,” her mother agreed, winking. “Adrien is your friend.”

“Adrien is my friend. Thank you, Maman, for clarifying exactly what I just said.” Marinette rolled her eyes, feeling her face heat up and refusing to look at Adrien. “We made spaghetti.”

“Good,” Tom said, hanging up his apron on the back of the door. “I’m pasta-tively starving.”

Marinette was stressing out again. They’d made it almost all the way through dinner, and she still hadn’t brought it up. She could tell that Adrien was stressed, too. Instead of the usual pun filled banter he usually had when he was with her father, he would half-heartedly chuckle at Tom’s puns without making eye contact. She couldn’t remember ever having a more awkward dinner in her life.

They were well into seconds when Marinette finally decided that it had to be now. She placed down her fork, her right hand dropping under the table to find Adrien’s left and squeezing it tight.

“Maman? Papa? I need to tell you something.”

Her mother smiled, waving a hand dismissively in her direction. “We already know you and Adrien are dating, dear.”

Adrien choked on the drink he’d just taken, erupting in a spluttering cough and dropping Marinette’s hand in favour of pounding on his chest.

“Maman!” Marinette groaned. “I already told you, we’re not dating.”

Her mother just shared a knowing look with her father, offering a still coughing Adrien a napkin. “You don’t have to hide it, honey,” she said. “I could tell that that’s what you were planning to tell us as soon as I saw him. Alya thinks you’re dating, too.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alya thinks a lot of things that aren’t true,” she muttered, feeling Adrien’s hand take hers under the table again.

Sabine, thankfully, decided to believe her daughter. “What is it you want to tell us, then?” she wondered, and Marinette took a deep breath.

This was it.

This was the point where it all became real, the point where she couldn’t live in denial anymore.

Adrien squeezed her hand in comfort, and she nodded once.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, staring at the remains of spaghetti on her plate. “And…” She trailed off, glancing to Adrien, who nodded for her to continue, squeezing her hand again. “And Adrien is the father?”

Her parents were silent. She’d never heard them not react to something before. She chanced looking away from Adrien, no longer knowing what to expect.

“So, um, yeah. That’s what I wanted to tell you and—”

She was cut off as her parents rounded the table, pulling her and Adrien into a tight hug. Marinette caught his eye, sending him an I-told-you-so look. He looked visibly relieved, but still slightly panicked, as though he was waiting for something bad to happen.

“We’re going to be grandparents,” her mother sighed, squeezing tighter.

“It’s about time you officially joined the family,” her father said, patting Adrien on the back.

The blond boy’s eyes widened and he stared at Marinette for a minute before looking at her parents in turn. “So you’re not mad?” he asked, his voice tinged with amazement. “You don’t…you don’t hate me?”

Sabine cupped his cheek, smiling at him. “Oh, honey, we could never hate you,” she assured him. “Of course, if you’d abandoned our Marinette after finding out, we could probably have learned. But you didn’t. You’re part of the family now.”

“However, if you ever hurt our little girl, you’re out,” Tom warned, though the accompanying squeeze took out any bite that could have been in the statement. “But you’re a good kid, Adrien.”

Adrien stared back at Marinette, a grin slowly breaking out on his face. He’d been so sure they’d hate him. But they didn’t. And they called him family. This was…Adrien couldn’t even describe how high he was flying at the moment. He squeezed Marinette’s hand that was still gripping his tightly, and she grinned back.

This was real.

They were having a baby.

And no one was going to kill Adrien.

Letting go of the last string of denial was easier than Marinette thought it would be. It helped that her parents were so happy, that they weren’t upset even if she’d just told them that Adrien and her were not actually together. She was sure that conversation would come, but for now she just let herself be happy, wrapped up in her parents’ arms, Adrien’s hand clutching her own. She was having a baby. Adrien would be there for her no matter what. And her parents approved. Ready started packing up the tea party, her sanity helping as they boarded a rocket ship to start the trek back to Marinette.

She could do this.

Eventually, the hug ended, and Marinette’s parents cooed over the wrinkled sonogram that Adrien pulled proudly from his pocket. Questions were asked, and answers were given—“No, we’re really not together.” “Adrien proposed, yes, but I said no.” “We’re going to get an apartment together to make things easier.” “No, you can’t announce it at the bakery. You can’t tell anyone, actually, until Tuesday afternoon.”—and both Marinette and Adrien were amazed by how well her parents were taking everything.

Soon, it was late and time for Adrien to leave—“But feel free to come over whenever you want, kid.” “Absolutely anytime, dear.”—and Marinette walked him down the stairs to the backdoor after collecting Plagg.

“That went better than I was expecting,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Marinette smiled nervously, stepping forward to close the distance between them and wrapping her arms around his stomach. “Thank you,” she whispered into his chest, feeling his arms come around her. “Thank you so much, Adrien. For everything. I couldn’t do this without you.”

He buried his nose in her hair. “Of course you could,” he told her. “You can do anything, Marinette.”

She shook her head against him. “Not this. I am so scared, Adrien, and you’re the only thing keeping me from completely freaking out. I couldn’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you.”

He hugged her tighter. “You won’t have to,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They stood there a while longer, until Plagg started protesting. Marinette pulled away, smiling up at Adrien. “See you in an hour?”

Adrien grinned as he left.

Exactly an hour later, after her parents had gone to bed, Marinette opened her window to let a certain black cat in to cuddle until they both fell asleep.

Marinette stared into her mirror, tucking a strand of hair back into her bun. Her nerves had gone down since the night before. She was slightly less terrified about the whole baby situation.

But this was weird.

She was standing in her room, in a fancy blue dress that she’d made herself, and her hair wasn’t cooperating, and she had to officially meet Adrien’s father tonight. She was meeting Gabriel Agreste. Tonight. To tell him that his son had gotten her pregnant.

She suddenly knew how Adrien had felt the night before.

“Marinette! You’re going to be late!”

“I’m almost ready, Maman!”

Marinette fiddled with her hair again, finally getting that frustrating piece to stay up. She bit her lip, observing her refection for a while longer.

“You look great, Marinette,” Tikki told her, floating in front of her face. “Your mom’s right, though. You’re going to be late if you don’t leave soon.”

Marinette nodded at Tikki, steeling herself. “I can do this, Tikki. It’s just like last night, right? Everything will go well.”

Tikki nodded in agreement, smiling as she hid in Marinette’s purse. Marinette took one last look in the mirror. She could do this. She was just eating dinner with Adrien and his father. It would be easy.

Without looking back, she left her room, beginning the short walk to the Agreste mansion.

Adrien was freaking out. Marinette was going to be there any minute, and he was nowhere near ready. He’d slept weird the night before, and his hair was sticking out at weird angles, and then he’d spent the day running his hands through it, and now it wouldn’t lay flat. And his father would definitely notice.

“Chill out, kid,” Plagg said, diving into the jar of gel before rolling all over Adrien’s head.

“Plagg!” Adrien hissed, swatting the kwami away. Plagg grumbled something about a lack of appreciation and flew to Adrien’s bed to wipe the gel off on his sheets.

“You’ve probably messed this up even more,” his chosen muttered, turning back to the mirror. Adrien’s eyebrows rose as he took in his appearance. Not a hair was out of place. “Um, thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid,” Plagg muttered. “She’s going to be here in three minutes.”

Adrien swore, quickly changing into the suit he’d laid out earlier. There were two ways this dinner could go. Either his dad would be thrilled—read: emotionless—that Adrien was continuing on the Agreste line, and be happy—read: content—with Marinette’s decision to not get married, and everything would be fine, and he’d go on with life and become a cold, distant grandfather to the baby. Or he’d go off the wall and insist on a paternity test and forbid him from ever seeing Marinette again, causing Adrien to run away from home in the middle of the night with nothing but a package of eggs and a pillow, and they’d have to live under a bridge and only have camembert to eat while they hid from the law as criminals for faking the parentage of the baby.

He sighed, doing up his tie. Maybe the second option was a little extreme, but the point was that this dinner could either land in a neutral territory of indifference, or this could be the worst dinner of Adrien’s life.

No pressure.

The intercom buzzed, and Nathalie’s voice rang out through his room. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is here.”

Adrien took a deep breath, crossing to the door and pressing the button beside the speaker. “Thanks, Nathalie. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Adrien expected that to be the end of the conversation, so he was surprised when Nathalie’s voice rang through again as he was opening the door.

“Adrien, its Marinette, isn’t it?”

Adrien didn’t have to think hard to know what Nathalie was referencing. “Yeah.”

“You’ll be good for each other,” was all Nathalie had to say.

Adrien quickly started down the hall again, needing to be the first to the door. His father didn’t know that Marinette was joining them for dinner, and neither did any of the staff save for Nathalie. If anyone else reached the door before he did, they’d surely tell his father, and he didn’t know what would happen then.

He ducked around a butler, smiling politely as the man turned away, but managed to reach the door first, pulling it open to reveal Marinette.

Marinette, who was wearing a blue dress. A blue dress that hugged her figure and made her eyes pop. Her hair was piled in a bun, and a curl had escaped and was hanging near her face.

Marinette, who was looking as beautiful as ever.

Marinette, who was still standing outside the door because he’d frozen and hadn’t let her inside.

As Adrien mumbled an apology and stepped aside, he was glad he’d left Plagg in his room, because the kwami would definitely be laughing at him.

“We could, uh, we should go to my room?” Adrien mumbled, leading the way without waiting for an answer. “Nathalie will call when dinner’s ready.”

Marinette didn’t answer, because Adrien’s suit pants did wonders for his butt. Not as amazing wonders as a certain leather suit did, but wonders enough that she couldn’t look away as she followed him down the hallway. She registered, somewhat, that he was still talking, but she couldn’t tell you a single word that he spoke the entire walk to his bedroom.

Where she froze upon entering, staring at the mountain of boxes piled up by the windows.

Boxes which clearly contained baby things.

Adrien followed her gaze and turned bright red. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I have a bit of a problem.”

Marinette snorted. “The last time either of us said that I told you I was pregnant.”

Adrien cracked a smile. “Okay, so it’s not that type of problem,” he admitted. “I have a shopping problem. Especially when I’m stressed. Which I have been lately.”

Marinette just nodded, releasing Tikki from her purse as she crossed the room to the pile. “I can’t believe you bought all this for the baby,” she said, her voice an awed whisper. “Adrien, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t mean to do this,” he muttered to himself, before coming up behind Marinette. “It’s our baby, Mari. It deserves the best of everything. Obviously we don’t have to keep everything, only the stuff you want to keep.” He paused, searching for the only box he’d actually opened. “Except this. We have to keep this.” He handed the small box to Marinette, who raised an eyebrow at him before opening it, bursting out in a laugh. Adrien grinned. “Like it?”

Marinette grinned back, carefully pulling the little Chat Noir onesie from the box. “It’s perfect, chaton,” she said, making the little bell jingle. “We’ll have a little baby Chat.”

Tikki giggled from Adrien’s bed as their chosen just stood there, smiling at each other.

“They should just kiss already,” Plagg grumbled, turning away to burrow into the sheets. “It’d make everything a lot easier. They’re such idiots.”

“Yeah, but they’re our idiots,” Tikki reminded him, smiling as the two superheroes flushed red and turned away from each other, Marinette returning the outfit to its box and Adrien pointing out some other things from the pile. “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

Marinette’s face scrunched up, and she quickly turned back, reassessing that, yes, she had counted correctly. “You realize we’re only having one baby, right?” she clarified.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, I know I bought three cribs,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Three?” Marinette ran through the pile again. “Adrien, you have five cribs.”

“No, I don’t,” he protested. Marinette raised an eyebrow, pointing specifically to each of the five cribs she’d picked out of the pile. “Oh. I definitely thought I hadn’t ordered anymore. That’s a lot.”

“So you were totally fine with having ordered three cribs, but five is crossing a line?” Marinette snorted as Adrien spluttered in an attempt to defend his shopping. He was ultimately saved by Nathalie’s voice.

“Dinner is ready. Please head to the dining room. And good luck, Adrien.”

Marinette was going to die. She was going to die tonight, and maybe take Adrien down with her, and she’d live as a ghost haunting the Agreste mansion for the rest of eternity.

She was second guessing her decision to wear a dress she’d designed. Why had she thought that was a good idea? She was trying to impress Gabriel freaking Agreste tonight. Why would she wear her own design? Why wouldn’t she wear something he’d designed, to show she had good taste? What if he hated her dress and forbid her from ever seeing Adrien again?

They’d been sitting at the table in silence for ten minutes or so, waiting for Gabriel to arrive. He was late, which didn’t surprise Adrien. He hoped his father didn’t decide to just not show up. He’d honestly kill his father if he tried to reschedule last minute. A waiter had come in a few minutes ago and poured them drinks, so word had definitely spread through the staff that Adrien had a girl over for dinner.

The longer it took for Gabriel Agreste to arrive, the more stressed Marinette became, and the more upset Adrien became with his father.

It was upwards of half an hour of waiting before Gabriel Agreste made his appearance, spouting a half-hearted excuse about a business meeting running long, which Adrien wasn’t sure whether he believed or not. Gabriel paused before sitting.

“Adrien, I was not aware we would be having a guest tonight,” he said, his voice not giving any clue as to what kind of mood he was in.

“You remember Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” Adrien nodded towards the girl. “We’ve been friends for years.”

His father nodded, taking his seat. “I seem to recall something,” he said, turning to Marinette. “You were in the list of applicants for an internship this year, weren’t you? Your portfolio was quite impressive.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said, pausing as a team of waiters served their first course. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to retract my application, though. Something’s come up, and I wouldn’t be able to focus on it this year.”

Gabriel nodded, and conversation ceased for a long while. Marinette had to cast glances out of the corner of her eye at Adrien to make sure she was using the right fork because there were about thirty of them and she did not want to mess that up.

Adrien fidgeted. With the edge of the tablecloth. With his cutlery. With the cuffs of his jacket. With Marinette’s hand when she noticed and grabbed his to try to calm him.

He was nervous as hell, especially since they were on the third course and Gabriel had yet to ask what Marinette was doing there. He was usually so straight to the point. Adrien would schedule a dinner and the first course would have hardly been served and they’d have fully discussed whatever topic needed to be discussed.

He was convinced his dad knew something, though he knew that Nathalie wouldn’t have told him. So what his father knew, Adrien didn’t know, but he definitely knew something.

The fourth course was being served when Gabriel finally spoke.

“Adrien, would you mind enlightening me as to why Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng has joined us for dinner?”

Adrien gulped. This was it. This was the moment they’d tell him and his father would either not react or react badly.

He made eye contact with Marinette, who offered him a timid smile and a squeeze of his hand, and took a deep breath, gathering himself.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Father.” Gabriel waved him on, and Adrien decided to just dive right in. “Marinette is pregnant. With my baby.”

Gabriel nodded minutely, and Adrien couldn’t read him. “How long have you and Miss Dupain-Cheng been together?” he asked, and Adrien shook his head.

“We aren’t together, Father,” he said. “It was just one night.” He hated how he had to spell it out like that. Marinette’s parents had been happy with just “we’re not together”. But there was no way that was going to satisfy his father.

Gabriel shrugged, returning to his meal. “We’ll have to schedule a paternity test.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in panic, and Adrien’s face reddened in fury.

“We are not scheduling a paternity test,” he growled. Gabriel’s eyes widened minutely, the only indication that the man had emotions.

“No offence to you or to Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel started, “but we have to know whether this child will actually be an Agreste heir or not. We cannot just trust her word on this matter, Adrien. She is an aspiring fashion designer, and, for all we know, she is using as access to get closer to the company.”

“She is sitting right there.” Adrien rose from his seat, dropping Marinette’s hand and waving his own in her direction. “And she can hear you, Father! She’s not using me, and I doubt the thought even crossed her mind. We don’t need a paternity test, because I trust Marinette. If she says the baby is mine, then it’s mine. End of story. She’s my friend, and she wouldn’t lie to me about something like this.”

If Gabriel was shocked by his son’s outburst, he didn’t show it, calmly folding his hands on the table. “This is naïve thinking, Adrien,” he informed him. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng has every opportunity to use you as an entrance to the company, and she would be stupid not to act on the chance given to her. Are you sure she’s even pregnant?”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you,” he said, his voice low. “How dare you accuse Marinette like this. Marinette would never do anything like that, and I do know for a fact that she is pregnant because I heard the baby’s heartbeat at an ultrasound last week. I have a picture, too, not that you care. I can guarantee you that Marinette is not using me for the company or for money or anything like that, because she is not that kind of person. I trust Marinette more than I trust anyone else, and if you’re not going to accept this, then I’m done. I’m done with being an Agreste, and I’m done with you.”

With that, Adrien reached out to pull a shell-shocked Marinette from her seat and lead her towards the door.

“I apologize.” Adrien froze, his hand on the knob of the door leading back into the hallway. Did Gabriel I’m-Always-Right Agreste really just apologize? “I was out of line, and I hope you can forgive me. You have to know that you have to be careful in this business. It was not my place to judge Mad—Marinette, and if you trust her, than I trust her as well. Please, come finish dinner. I would like to discuss this more.”

Adrien looked to Marinette. His father must have realized he had really messed up this time. He’d never apologized to Adrien before, especially like this. He didn’t want to abandon his father, but if Marinette was uncomfortable, he wouldn’t hesitate. They had a silent conversation, the kind they’d perfected as Ladybug and Chat Noir, before Marinette shrugged slightly and nodded, and they slowly returned to the table.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance,” Gabriel said. “I hope we can get off on a better foot, Marinette.” They were all silent as the wait staff cleared their plates and replaced it with the next course. “Now, I believe we have a wedding to plan?”

Marinette coughed. “There’s no wedding.”

Gabriel leveled his son with a look. “Nonsense,” he said. “I taught you better than that, Adrien.”

“He did propose.” Marinette was quick to interrupt, not wanting another fight to break out. “I don’t want to get married unless we have an actual relationship.”

Adrien narrowed his eyes at his father, daring him to continue thinking that Marinette only wanted to use him to raise herself in the fashion industry when she refused to even take the Agreste name.

Gabriel seemed satisfied with that answer, taking a bite of his meal. “You said there was a picture?” he recalled, looking back at his son. “I want to see my grandchild.”

“That was a disaster,” Chat Noir announced, falling dramatically through the skylight onto Marinette’s bed. The girl in question rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t that bad,” she insisted. “He did have a point. Kind of. He definitely could have handled it better, though.”

“Right?” Chat cuddled into Marinette’s side and she ran her hand through his hair. “He could have brought it up to me in private instead of talking about it like you weren’t even there. I’m so sorry, Marinette.”

“Its fine, chaton,” Marinette assured him. “It all worked out in the end. It could have been a lot worse.”

"Yeah, a meteor could have hit the dining room and killed us all." Chat shrugged, and let his transformation drop. “Alya and Nino are going to flip,” he said, changing the subject. Marinette chuckled.

“Alya is probably going to kill me for not immediately telling her we hooked up,” she pointed out. “She’s also going to insist we name the baby after her, whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Whose baby do you think she’ll be more excited for?” Adrien wondered. “Marinette and Adrien’s, or Ladybug and Chat Noir’s?”

Marinette giggled. “It’ll definitely be close.”

“I can’t believe you wanted to go to some boring café for lunch when we could have gone to a club.”

“Alya, its noon. I can’t believe you’re already drinking.”

Alya made a face at her friend, tipping her margarita glass back and draining it. “I’ve made a vow to live my whole life in some state of not sober.”

Marinette snorted, sipping her own drink. Which was tea. Because that was what normal people bought at a café at noon. She and Alya had arrived a few minutes ago, sitting on opposite sides of the table while they waited for the boys to show, their food having been ordered and their first drinks well on the way to being done.

“Sorry we’re late. The photoshoot ran long,” Adrien apologized with a squeeze to Marinette’s arm when they arrived, causing Alya’s eyebrows to rise.

“We just got here,” Marinette assured him, smiling as he followed Nino to the counter.

“So.” Alya dragged out the word, leaning forward against the table. “Something is definitely going on between you and Agreste. Spill.”

“We’re not dating,” Marinette insisted, glancing quickly at Adrien, who was joking with Nino as they waited for their drinks to be made.

Alya sighed. “Okay, so maybe you’re not dating, but something definitely happened,” she pressed. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Her friend shrugged, staring deep into her tea as if it held all the answers. “Can we do this later?”

Alya let out a loud squeal, all but diving across the table to pull Marinette’s hands from around her mug. “No way. Marinette, this is fantastic! It’s only taken you ten years and you’re finally getting somewhere with Adrien!”

“It’s not like that,” Marinette insisted, turning pink as the boys returned to the table.

“What’s not like what?” Nino wondered, taking the seat beside Alya with a sensible cup of coffee. Because Alya was definitely the only crazy one.

Alya shot her friend a smug grin, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. “Marinette here was about to tell us about the changes in her and Monsieur Agreste’s relationship.” Marinette groaned.

“She was?” Adrien looked at Marinette curiously, wondering why she’d been about to tell Alya when he wasn’t even at the table yet.

“She was not,” Marinette clarified, rolling her eyes at Adrien. “But she supposes that since Alya isn’t going to let up, she might as well?”

Alya grinned triumphantly, and Marinette felt like she was going to throw up. She dropped her hands to her lap, grateful that Adrien immediately reached over to cover them with his own. This was okay. Everything would be fine. Alya and Nino would be thrilled. There was absolutely no way that this lunch could go wrong.

She took a deep breath. “So a while ago, you guys had a date night and I was bored and decided to go to a bar.”

Nino gasped dramatically, raising a hand to his chest. “Marinette? Our Marinette decided all by herself to go to a bar?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I did,” she confirmed. “So I went to this bar and ran into Adrien and we ended up doing a lot of shots and got really, really drunk.”

Adrien nodded, backing up Marinette’s lie, but Alya wasn’t satisfied.

“Is there more to this story?” she wondered. “Because if the big news is that you got really drunk together, I’m out. What’s the rest of the story?”

Marinette gulped, glancing at Adrien for strength. “I think we kind of hooked up?”

No one moved. Alya and Nino were frozen, Nino with his mug of coffee halfway to his mouth. Marinette squeezed Adrien’s hand, preparing for the onslaught that was coming in three…

...two…

...one…

“What?” Alya screeched, clutching onto Nino’s arm. “No way. No freaking way, Marinette!”

“Finally.” Nino rolled his eyes. “You’ve been dancing around each other for a decade. This was bound to happen eventually.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alya demanded, her eyes narrowing at Marinette. “I can’t believe you kept this from me. You’re giving me all the details later. Every. Single. One.”

“What? Alya, no!” Marinette shot Adrien a panicked look. “There are no details! I remember being at the bar, and then absolutely nothing else until I woke up the next morning in my bed with Adrien. And he doesn’t remember much more, so we assumed that, since we were, you know, naked and all, we’d probably hooked up.”

That was safest, they’d decided, to pretend they didn’t actually remember anything from the night they’d supposedly hooked up. That way their stories wouldn’t clash, and they wouldn’t need to remember any made up details. It would work.

Alya wasn’t happy with that, and it seemed Nino wasn’t either, as he’d crossed his arms and was sending Adrien a look that Marinette couldn’t decipher. “So your development with Adrien is that there’s a possibility that you had sex a while ago?” she clarified.

Adrien shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee and avoiding Nino’s eyes. “No, we definitely had sex.”

Nino’s hand came down on the table loudly, causing everyone to jump as he let out a yell. “No way!” he hissed, leaning forward towards Adrien. “No way! Marinette? Seriously? Adrien! You’re kidding me! No. Way. Holy shit, man! I thought it was just some random girl, but Marinette! Holy shit! This is awesome, dude!”

There was a beat of silence as Adrien blinked in confusion at Nino before remembering the phone call from a few weeks ago.

“You already told Nino?” Marinette asked, glancing at Adrien. Wouldn’t he have let her know if he’d already told someone? It wasn’t a big deal, really, but she would have assumed he’d have at least informed her that it’d happened.

“Wait. Nino knew before me that you two hooked up?” Alya aimed a punch at her boyfriend’s arm, causing him to rub it in pain. “Dude, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Adrien assured Marinette, squeezing her hand again. “I actually completely forgot I’d told him anything. I was freaking out and he called in the middle of me ranting and I kind of yelled it at him?” Marinette snorted.

“Stop hitting me,” Nino insisted, shoving Alya’s hands away. “I didn’t know they hooked up. I knew the part that they haven’t told you yet.” He smirked at his friends as Alya’s attention returned to them.

“There’s another part?”

“Yes.” Marinette bit her lip. “There’s a reason I wanted to go out for lunch and not go to a bar and it wasn’t to tell you that Adrien and I hooked up. I wanted to tell you that I’m….” She trailed off, squeezing Adrien’s hand tightly. Alya was watching them expectantly and Nino was already grinning. This would go well. Of course it would. She offered them a smile that she was sure turned out as more of a grimace. “I’m pregnant?”

Alya let out an ungodly shriek, almost knocking over the table in her hurry to get to Marinette. “Oh my God, girl!” she yelled, wrapping her friend up in her arms. “This is amazing! I’m going to be the best godmother in the world! Is it a girl? You should name her after me! Actually, you should name it after me even if it’s a boy. Alya is a great unisex name, probably. I can’t believe it, Marinette! You’re going to be a mom! This is the best thing ever!”

Marinette smiled at Adrien over Alya’s shoulder, where he and Nino were laughing. Alya hadn’t put it together yet, the relevance between telling her that she and Adrien hooked up and the fact that she was pregnant. She waited as Alya chattered on for her to clue in.

“Wait.” Alya pulled away, stealing Adrien’s coffee and taking a sip. “Why am I the last to know? Why the hell did Nino already know that you’re pregnant? Why did Adrien tell him? And why would you have told Adrien before you told me, your best friend?”

Marinette shrugged, looking at Adrien, who’d lost his smile. Alya was scary. If she didn’t think he was good enough for Marinette, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Probably in an incredibly painful way.

“Because,” he said, cautiously, bracing herself, “I’m the father?”

Alya’s stolen mug crashed to the ground as she stood there gaping at them. Marinette was fairly certain that they’d broken her friend. Nino laughed, stepping past his girlfriend to pull Marinette and Adrien into a hug.

“Congrats, guys,” he said. “Also, I definitely deserve to be godfather since I kept this secret from Alya for two weeks. Which isn’t easy. She can smell secrets.”

Marinette and Adrien chuckled, pulling away from their friend as Adrien pulled the sonogram from his pocket to show him. Some sort of high pitched squeal was starting, and Marinette assumed it to be a coffee machine. But it increased in pitch and volume until it was clear the sound was coming from Alya, who, finally unfrozen, launched herself at Marinette again.

“This is even better!” she screamed. “You’re having a baby! With Adrien! Oh my God, Marinette! Do you know what this means? You finally made a move after a freaking decade of crushing on him, and now you’re having a baby together and holy shit, Marinette! Nino, let me see that picture!” She released her friend, diving at her boyfriend and scrabbling for the sonogram.

Adrien looked at Marinette, a smirk on his face. “A decade of crushing on me?” he repeated. Alya was cooing over their bean baby, pointing out features she was sure the blur shared with either of its parents.

Marinette felt her face redden but rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“We are talking.” Alya’s voice pulled them back to their friends. “Marinette, I don’t buy this whole ‘we don’t remember anything’ thing. We’re discussing this. In detail.”

They returned to the table, their food finally arriving. Alya apologized for the dropped coffee cup, digging into her salad.

“This is honestly the best news you could have given me ever,” she was saying. “Actually, the second best news. The best news would have been this plus you two not being stubborn and actually being in a relationship, but I’ll settle.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, and pulled her own sonogram from her pocket, laying it on the table beside Adrien’s more wrinkled one. Nino and Alya officially became godparents, because, honestly, who else were they going to ask? Alya vowed to throw the best baby showers in the history of the universe, and Nino promised to teach the baby how to skateboard because “with parents as lame as you, it’d never learn”.

“Smile!”

Marinette blinked in surprise, but leaned closer to Adrien and grinned, the flash on Alya’s phone going off.

“What was that for?” she wondered, as Alya began typing.

“You think I’m not going to announce this on the Ladyblog?” Adrien choked on the food he’d just shoveled into his mouth, and Marinette coughed, slightly panicked. How had she figured it out? “What’s wrong with you two? Obviously I’m going to post about my best friends having a baby. With the way you’re acting, it’s like you’re secretly Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Marinette forced a laugh, Adrien joining in once his throat was clear. “Right,” she said. “How weird would that be?”

“I’m going to get another coffee,” Adrien announced, standing up and looking to Marinette. “More tea?” Marinette nodded and Adrien left for the counter.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Adrien jumped, looking back at Nino, who’d followed him from the table.

“Don’t even bother denying it, because I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her for the last few years.”

Adrien sighed, watching as Marinette talked to Alya about something, waving her hands in the air. “She doesn’t feel that way about me.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say something that idiotic,” he decided. “Why haven’t you made a move?”

“I don’t—” Adrien was saved from having to answer that by a loud crash in the street and a war cry.

“I AM BUZZ! HUMANITY MUST BE STOPPED BEFORE WE KILL THE BEES!”

“Nino!” Alya screeched, drawing out the final syllable and rising from the table.

Nino gave Adrien a look. “We’re not done,” he said, before turning to run from the café with his girlfriend.

Adrien abandoned the thought of coffee and met Marinette at the door. “I guess Hawkmoth got back from his vacation.”

Marinette laughed. “Well, it couldn’t have lasted forever.”

Adrien opened the door, sweeping down into a bow. “After you, my Lady.”

They went outside…and ran into a giant bee in the middle of the street. Alya and Nino had been caught, stuck to the opposite building in a mass of honey, Alya’s phone still out as she filmed the akuma. Marinette and Adrien snuck down the side of the building, hoping to make it to the nearby alley to transform.

But luck was not with them today.

With a loud cry of “YOU’RE KILLING THE BEES!”, the akuma charged. Despite her protests, Adrien threw Marinette behind her, taking on a defensive stance as the akuma neared and—

Skidded to a halt?

Buzz’s face was lit up with a purple mask, and Adrien and Marinette attempted to sneak closer to the alley as the akuma argued with Hawkmoth.

“Her? What’s so special about her?”

They were steps from the alley when it happened. They’d turned away, their backs to the akuma as they turned to go in. Alya and Nino cried out a warning and they turned back, but they were too late.

The akuma’s big hand had already closed around Marinette and was carrying her away.

Chapter Text

Adrien was frozen. The akuma had reached down and plucked up Marinette in her huge hand—why did the akuma even have hands? It was a bee. Bees didn’t have hands—and was carrying her away. Alya and Nino were screaming something from where they were honey-ed to the wall on the other side of the street, but he couldn’t concentrate on that. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but Marinette’s wide eyes as she stared back at him, and her mouth that was moving in words he couldn’t hear.

Wait. She was saying something.

The world crashed back around him in a cacophony of words, but the only ones that registered were Marinette’s.

“Adrien! Run!”

Run? Away from her? Why would he do that? He felt something poking him in the stomach and tore his eyes away from her to see Plagg, the kwami sending him an exhausted look.

Right. He had to run because he was Chat Noir. He couldn’t just stand there looking like an idiot. He had to get somewhere to transform.

He took off after the akuma, away from the alley he and Marinette were trying to get to. He could hear Alya and Nino screaming at him, but ignored them in favour of dodging the akuma’s blast of honey by diving behind a dumpster.

This was good enough.

“Plagg, transform me!”

The akuma had deposited Marinette within a honeycomb. The walls were a translucent yellow, and it was like looking through honey. She could vaguely see Buzz pacing on the other side. There was no way she could get out without revealing her identity. Somewhere along the line, Adrien had disappeared, and Marinette only hoped that Chat could get her out quickly.

“Mind letting me out?” she called to the akuma. “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Buzz turned on her, baring sharp teeth. “I’d string you up, but Hawkmoth won’t let me,” she snarled. “You’re stuck in there until he decides we can let you go.”

“Why does he want me?” Marinette wondered for the millionth time since the akuma had grabbed her. Why her? Why would Hawkmoth want an akuma to kidnap her? Unless he found out that she’s Ladybug….

Shit. He must have found out who she was. That was the only explanation. She had to be ready. The moment the akuma mentions anything about her being Ladybug, she was going to transform, screw the consequences of revealing her identity to anyone around.

Buzz was going off on a monologue about how quickly the world as it was would end once the bees went extinct when something black appeared in Marinette’s milky view through the wall. She sighed in relief as the black blur crashed into the akuma, pushing it away. She could make out most of the details of Chat’s face as he pressed it against the barrier, his eyes desperate as he searched her.

“I’m going to get you out, okay?” His voice was muffled but clear, and Marinette nodded quickly, pressing her palms opposite his. Her eyes widened and she cried out a warning just in time for Chat to duck down and roll out of the way of a spray of honey.

Chat came up with a snarl, turning to face Buzz. A purple mask shone over the akuma’s face for a moment, before she rolled her eyes and fired another blast of honey at Chat.

“Hawkmoth doesn’t want you anywhere near her,” she growled, and Chat glanced back at Marinette’s blurred form in confusion. What did Hawkmoth want with Marinette?

Chat charged the akuma, growling as he pulled the baton from his back and swinging it around. Whatever Hawkmoth wanted Marinette for, it couldn’t be good. He just had to distract the akuma long enough so he could use cataclysm on the honeycomb and get her out.

Hawkmoth wanted Marinette. The reason didn’t matter. Chat couldn’t get past that point, couldn’t think of anything else as he threw everything into his hits and punches. After what seemed like forever, the akuma went down and didn’t get back up.

He rushed away, calling on his Cataclysm as he neared the honeycomb prison and pressing his palm to the wall. He watched as it crumbled into nothing, diving at Marinette the moment the wall between them fell and pulling her into his arms.

His breathing was faster than it should have been, and his heart threatened to burst from his chest as he tore across rooftops. He had to get her away. He had to get her somewhere safe.

“—far enough. Chat!”

Marinette’s words finally broke through, and he skidded to a halt on top of some random roof. He was panting as Marinette’s feet touched the ground, and he pulled her in tightly, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair.

“I could have lost you,” he muttered. “Marinette, Hawkmoth wants you. You’re in danger.”

Marinette’s hands tangled in his hair as her own arms looped around his neck. “Chat, we’re always in danger.”

“Don’t.” His grip tightened as he growled out the word. “Don’t say that. Ladybug and Chat are in danger. Not Marinette. Marinette is supposed to stay safe, but Hawkmoth wants you. What if I can’t protect you next time?”

“But you will,” Marinette assured him, running her fingers through his hair. “You’ll be there, Chat. It’ll be okay. And if you’re not there, I can handle myself. Everything will be fine.”

“But what if it’s not?” Chat knew the only reason he wasn’t crying was the sheer will he was pouring into making sure he didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to go on if anything happened to Marinette.

The girl in question pulled her face away from his chest, her hands moving along his head to cup his cheeks. Blue eyes stared into broken green ones, and she felt a flutter of hope in her chest. Maybe Chat really did feel the same way about her as she did about him. She quickly squashed that thought. This wasn’t the time.

“It will be,” she pressed. “Chat, we’re going to be fine. We’ll get past whatever’s going on with Hawkmoth. Just trust me, okay?”

He nodded in her hands, and they stood there for a few minutes before Tikki flew out, glancing guiltily between the heroes.

“Sorry to have to break this up,” she said, sounding every bit as sorry as she claimed to be, “but there’s still an akuma out there.”

It didn’t take long for Ladybug and Chat Noir to defeat the akuma—though Chat let out so many bee centred puns that Ladybug could have sworn he’d anticipated this one—and then Marinette and Adrien were running back to the café where they’d eaten lunch and a sobbing Alya was throwing herself at Marinette.

“What the hell was that about?” she wanted to know, her arms tightening around her friend’s neck. “Mari, what if something happened? Did something happen? Why did the akuma want you?”

Marinette didn’t answer, just hugged her friend back as well as she could with one arm—Adrien hadn’t let go of her hand since they’d transformed back and he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon—and shook her head.

Adrien couldn’t concentrate. Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Why would Hawkmoth have an akuma kidnap Marinette? It didn’t make any sense, unless he’d figured out one of their identities. If he’d figured out Marinette was Ladybug, obviously he’d get an akuma to kidnap her before she could transform. But that didn’t really make sense either. Why wouldn’t he have gotten the akuma to take her Miraculous?

So, Adrien decided, clutching Marinette’s hand tighter as they said goodbye to Alya and Nino, Hawkmoth didn’t know that Marinette was Ladybug. Which left the second option.

He knew that Adrien was Chat Noir.

Why else would he kidnap Marinette? Obviously Hawkmoth followed the Ladyblog—honestly, what kind of villain wouldn’t follow a detailed blog dedicated to the heroes? A dumb one, that’s who—and must have seen Alya’s post about the baby. The post had so many notes that it didn’t really narrow down Hawkmoth’s identity, but it at least made a little sense. Hawkmoth had somehow figured out Chat’s identity, and then seen the post and determined that Marinette would be his weakness.

It was the only thing it could be.

“Are you okay?”

Adrien blinked. Somehow he’d been so caught up in his own mind that he hadn’t registered arriving at the Dupain-Cheng house, let alone making their way up to Marinette’s room.

“No.” He shook his head, wrapping her up in his arms and pulling her down onto her lounge with him. She cuddled into his side, and he buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in.

She was alright. She was here. She was safe. Hawkmoth didn’t hurt her. It was all okay.

He repeated the words in his head like a mantra, clutching her tightly too him. She was in his arms. Everything was going to be alright, because she was there and he was never going to let her go.

They didn’t speak. Marinette seemed to understand that he just needed to be with her, and was willing to give him that. Or maybe it was because she needed this just as much as he did.

Either way, both were fast asleep and tangled up with each other when Sabine came up that night to see if her daughter had made it home. A customer had asked about her, having seen Marinette with the akuma earlier. Sabine smiled at the sight in front of her, tucking a blanket around them and turning off the lights.

Marinette woke with a kink in her back and a weight pressing down on top of her. The weight was warm and cozy and all she wanted was to curl back around it and go back to sleep, but Tikki was at her ear reminding her that she had class today and she couldn’t miss it.

So, with an excess of reluctance, Marinette rolled the weight off of her and tried to slip out—only to be pulled back in.

She rolled her eyes, poking the weight in the shoulder. “Kitty, you have to let me go.”

Adrien grumbled, wrapping his arms tighter around Marinette. “No. Sleep.”

“No,” Marinette mumbled, allowing herself to be pulled in. “School. Don’t you have a test today?”

Adrien’s head shook against hers. “I’m asleep.”

“You’re not asleep,” Marinette protested, her own eyes drifting shut again.

“We should hibernate,” he muttered, and Marinette nodded in agreement. Tikki rolled her eyes, looking to Plagg for help. But the other kwami was still asleep, curled around a piece of cheese. After a final tug on Marinette’s hair, Tikki gave up, crossing the room to start on her breakfast.

Marinette woke a second time to a flash of light, blinking awake to see her mother standing over her with a camera. She matched Sabine’s smile with a scowl, pulling the blanket over her head and cuddling back into the warm lump at her side.

“Marinette, dear, if you don’t get up now, you’re going to be late for class,” Sabine laughed. Marinette could hear her walking back to the door. “I’ve got breakfast made for you and Adrien.”

“Adrien?” Marinette mumbled, and the lump she was wrapped around grunted in response.

She shot up, finally registering the meaning of the flash of light and the camera in her mother’s hand. “Maman!” Sabine’s cackle came from down the stairs and Marinette groaned and Adrien’s arms wrapped around her waist, his head pressing into her stomach.

“Why’re you yelling?” he muttered. “Let’s sleep.”

Marinette’s eyes landed on her clock. “Maman’s right, kitty,” she sighed, running her fingers through his hair. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get up.”

“Why’s your mom here?” Adrien wondered, nuzzling closer.

Marinette rolled her eyes, pushing him away. “She’s not anymore,” she told him, standing up. “But her and Papa definitely know you sleep over now.”

Adrien groaned loudly, throwing the blanket over his face. “They hate me,” he moaned.

“They didn’t hate you for getting me pregnant, Adrien,” she reminded him as she dug through her closet, hardly registering the fact that Adrien didn't technically get her pregnant. “They’re not going to hate you for this. Now get up, you lazy cat, or you’re going to miss your test.”

Adrien swore, pushing off the bed, scooping up his shoes, and running down the stairs. Marinette could hear him shouting a thank you and goodbye to her mother.

She made her own way downstairs a few minutes later, a smirking Sabine waiting for her daughter in the kitchen.

“So how often does Adrien sleep over?”

Marinette took a deep breath, staring up at the gates of the Agreste mansion. She didn’t really understand the call she’d gotten earlier in the day from Nathalie, requesting Marinette come for lunch with Gabriel. It didn’t make sense. Chat had complained for years to Ladybug about how his father never had time for him. Adrien had mentioned once or twice how he had to book an appointment to even see the man.

But he wanted to have lunch with Marinette? Why?

She couldn’t even talk to Adrien about it. She was sure he had no idea, and he was taking his test all day. She didn’t want to leave him a message. He’d probably worry, and it was probably nothing, so there was nothing for him to worry about.

She couldn’t put it off anymore. She rang the bell, and the gates opened automatically, without the weird camera that had greeted her a few nights before when she’d come for dinner. She breathed deeply and made her way inside.

Nathalie directed her to the same dining room where they’d had dinner the other night, and Gabriel Agreste was already seated. He looked up from his tablet as Marinette entered, offering her a slight smile that was more of a lip twitch than an actual smile.

“Marinette, I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.” He stood and pulled out a chair for her, and she criticized the clothes she’d thrown on that morning. It wasn’t good enough. It couldn’t be good enough. But, thankfully, Gabriel never mentioned her outfit.

“I want to apologize again for what I said the last time you were here,” he continued, taking his own seat again. “It was out of line, and I have been convinced that nothing I accused you of was true.”

Marinette nodded, not quite willing to forgive him entirely. What he’d said had hurt, even if he’d raised logical concerns. She’d still been hurt, that he’d think so little of her that he’d assume she was making this up for money, or for an in to the fashion world. But he was trying to make it up to her—that’s probably what this lunch was about, she reasoned—so the least she could do was hear him out.

A waiter dropped off their meals in the pause before Gabriel continued.

“I know that what I said upset Adrien, and I would be an idiot to assume it didn’t affect you,” he said, and picked up a folder that lay on the table, “and I would like to try to make it up to the two of you. Starting with this.”

Marinette lay down her fork, taking the folder from his hands, her eyes widening at the contents. “I can’t accept this.” She shook her head, pushing the folder back towards him. “This is too much.”

Gabriel pushed it in her direction. “This is the least I can do,” he insisted. “The matter is not up for discussion.”

Marinette slowly picked up the folder again, flipping through the pages within before starting on a new protest. “Adrien won’t accept this.”

“Which is why I called you to lunch and not him.” Gabriel speared his salad with his fork.

Marinette lasted an hour. She was proud of herself for that. But she still left at the end of that hour with the folder in her hands, some big news to tell Adrien, and three days before everything would change again.

Adrien was waiting for Marinette outside a café, his coffee and her tea clutched in his hands. The test had gone well, he thought, and he’d managed to make it on time. He wasn’t sure what to think about Sabine knowing he slept over with Marinette, but getting caught was definitely worth the croissants she’d thrust into his hands as he’d run out.

Maybe Marinette’s parents would be okay with him sleeping over every night. Maybe they’d make him breakfast again. Maybe the street would open up and he’d fall into a pit of kittens and flowers. The odds were about the same.

Marinette jogged up, slightly out of breath and clutching a folder to her chest. “Sorry I’m late.” She smiled at him as she accepted her tea. “You’ll never guess who I had lunch with.”

Adrien’s hand was on her back as they walked down the street. She didn’t mention it, so he didn’t move it. They had a lot more contact cuddling while they slept, so his hand really shouldn’t feel like it was burning and he really shouldn’t feel that conscious of such a small amount of skin.

“Who?”

Marinette’s eyes turned up to gauge his reaction. “Your father.”

Adrien spluttered, his hand pulling away from Marinette as he froze. “My father?”

Marinette turned back after a moment, realizing he’d stopped walking, and rolled her eyes. “C’mon, chaton. It wasn’t bad.”

“I don’t see how it could have been good,” Adrien protested, starting off again and catching up. “Why did he want to have lunch with you? Why did you go? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ll get to that first one. As for the second, I went because Nathalie said he wanted to apologize again and I think she’s on our side and I don’t want our kid growing up not knowing its grandfather because of me.” Adrien’s heart definitely did not stop at the way she referred to it as their kid. “And for the third, you were taking your test and I thought you would have freaked out if you’d known, and clearly I was right, since you’re proving my point right now.”

“I’m not freaking out.” Adrien tried to roll his eyes at the thought, but his breathing had shallowed and his hands clenched his coffee cup at the thought of Marinette alone with his father, talking about god knows what for who knows how long. Okay. Maybe he was freaking out. But just a little bit. Definitely not a lot. Adrien Agreste was still in full control of the situation.

They reached the park near the Dupain-Cheng bakery, taking a seat on a bench. Marinette took a sip of her tea, looking like she had all the time in the world. Adrien was probably going to hyperventilate soon if she didn’t talk, so he forced himself to speak.

“What did he want to talk about?”

“This.” Marinette handed him the folder she still held, putting her hand on top of his before he could open it. “Before you ask, I tried every single argument I could think of, but he wouldn’t let up. We’re not getting out of this, kitty.”

Her hand moved away and Adrien’s own shaky one paused before opening the folder. What would he find inside? The top secret designs to the 2047 fall lineup? The plans for a successful colony on Mars? A map to the location of the dead bodies of everyone who ever dared to wrong Gabriel Agreste?

Of all the things he was expecting to find within, the deed to an apartment—a really nice three bedroom, two and a half bathroom apartment—was not one of them.

“No.” He shut the folder with a shake of his head, handing it back to Marinette. “We can’t take this.”

Marinette sighed. “I’ve already tried everything I could to get out of it,” she said again. “There’s literally nothing we can do. We might as well take it. It’s really nice. He’s going to furnish it with whatever we want. We were going to get an apartment anyway, and he’s already paid for it.” Adrien was still shaking his head. “You can argue with your dad yourself if you want, but I seriously doubt you’re going to get out of this.”

“Why?” Adrien had taken the folder back, flipping through the pages. It was really nice. Hardwood floors. A newly renovated kitchen. The floor to ceiling windows and accompanying balcony in the living room would come in really handy.

Marinette shrugged. “He wants to make it up to us for what he said the other night,” she explained. “Apparently this is just the start.” She stood up, bending to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ve got to go. Alya’s coming over, and she’s going to be there any minute. Do whatever you want about this, and I’ll call you when Alya’s gone. Bye, kitty.”

Adrien didn’t move as Marinette walked away, hardly having registered her words. He could still feel her lips pressed against where she’d kissed him, and he had physically restrain his hand from reaching up to cup his cheek.

“I’m going to kick his ass.”

“You can’t kick his ass.”

“I don’t care if he’s Adrien’s father, or the Pope, or freaking God himself, no one talks to you that way and gets away with it. I’m kicking his ass.”

“You can’t kick his ass, Alya. He bought us an apartment.”

“Us as in me and you? Or you and your baby and your baby daddy?”

“Don’t call Adrien that. And it’s the second one. Why would he buy an apartment for me and you? You live with Nino.”

“Maybe he thinks we should be together. Maybe he thinks Nino and Adrien are together. I’m still not totally convinced they aren’t cheating on us with each other.”

“Adrien can’t cheat on me, Alya. We’re not together.”

“See, you can dispute that, but you don’t even have an argument against the possibility of him and Nino being gay for each other. But, anyways. He bought you an apartment? Why?”

“Yeah, and it’s a really nice one, too. I guess it’s to apologize.”

Alya pursed her lips. “Fine. Maybe I won’t kick his ass. Papa Agreste gets a free pass. This time.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, flopping on her back on her bed. “I’m glad it’s got your approval.”

Alya lay beside her friend on her stomach, her chin propped up on her hands and her eyebrows raised, and changed the subject. “I heard some great gossip today.”

Marinette hummed turning her head towards Alya. “About what? Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

Alya shook her head, an evil grin spreading across her face. “It’s better than Ladybug and Chat Noir gossip. Plus it comes from a very reliable source, who had photographical evidence to back it up.”

“Kay. I’ll bite. What’s the gossip?”

“So apparently your mom found you and Adrien sleeping together last night and this morning and you never asked if Adrien could sleep over. And it was apparently the boring kind of actual sleeping and not the fun kind.”

Marinette groaned, rolling onto her stomach. “I can’t believe she took a picture,” she mumbled.

Alya poked her in the shoulder. “Why did Adrien sleep over? Are you secretly hiding an actual relationship from me? Because that’s cold, Mari. Even for you.”

“He came over after the akuma attack and we were both kind of freaking out and I guess we fell asleep at some point.” Marinette shrugged, not lifting her face, as if accidentally falling asleep was something that happened all the time. Which, it kind of was. That was what had started all of his sleeping over, technically.

“Okay, while I believe that, you looked far too comfortable in that picture for this to be a onetime thing.” Curse Alya and her reporter skills. “So, Mari, spill. How often does Adrien sleep over?” Marinette mumbled something, and Alya’s eyebrows rose. “Could you repeat that? I didn’t quite hear.”

Marinette turned her head just enough to move her mouth away from the sheets. “Every night,” she mumbled again, but Alya caught it.

“Every night?” she repeated.

“Yeah,” Marinette confirmed into the mattress. “He kind of stresses out massively when he’s not here and spends the night on the internet looking up pregnancy horror stories and freaking out instead of sleeping. And he holds my hair when I get morning sickness. Every. Single. Bloody. Morning.”

“Marinette. Girl.” Alya grinned at her friend. “You are clearly in a relationship here. I don’t know why you’re denying it.”

“But we’re not!” she groaned, sitting up. Alya followed suit, sitting up and crossing her legs underneath her. “Alya, it sucks. He’s so sweet about everything. I’m having his baby and he cries at ultrasounds and he sneaks in every night and we cuddle and he holds my hair when I get morning sickness and he stood up to his dad for me and my parents love him and we’re moving in together and he buys me food that’s good for the baby and he’s bought baby clothes, Alya, and cribs and everything and it’s all so nice and sweet and he’s amazing but it’s awful because I’m in love with him, Alya, and he doesn’t see me that way and it feels like we’re in a relationship but we’re not and I—” She broke off with a sob, collapsing into a shocked Alya.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, stroking her friend’s hair. “It’ll all be okay. Have you actually talked to him about that, Mari? About possibly having a relationship? Maybe he’s just as in love with you as you are with him, and you’re both just too stubborn to see it.”

Marinette shook her head, sniffing into Alya’s shoulder. “But if he’s in love with me, shouldn’t we have gotten together by now?”

“I don’t know,” Alya soothed. “Maybe. But maybe he’s just as bad at expressing his feelings as you are. You can’t let yourself think like this until you know how he feels about you. If you ask me, it looks like he’s at least a little bit in love with you, Mari. I love you, but even I’m not going to hold your hair while you puke. That’s gross. He carries around that picture everywhere, and you can’t even tell it’s a baby. But he’s so proud of it, Mari. He loves that baby, and he loves you. I can tell. He’s done so much for you, and he could have just run away and not looked back when he found out you’re pregnant. Hey, I’ll tell you something but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?” Marinette sniffed again, but nodded against her friend. “Nino’s pretty sure that Adrien’s been in love with you for the last few years. He’s just really bad at expressing it.

“So you’re not going to think like that anymore, okay? Adrien would be lucky to have you, and I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to date you if you asked. I doubt he’s going to make a move any time soon, though. Knowing him, he’d overanalyze everything and think that you’d think that he’d only want to be with you because of the baby. So it’s got to be you, Mari. If you want something more to happen, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

Marinette sniffed once more, pulling herself away and wiping at her eyes. “Thanks, Al. I needed to hear that.”

“No problem.” Alya offered a smile, grateful that Marinette returned it.

“So did I tell you he proposed?” Alya let out a godawful screech and flung herself at her friend. “And that I said no?”

“What the hell, Mari?” Alya slapped her shoulder. “You realize that if any of your past selves were to travel forward in time to right now they would beat you up for saying no to a proposal from Adrien freaking Agreste?”

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t know how much they’d beat me up, seeing as how having sex with Adrien freaking Agreste is what lead to that.” Or faking having sex with Adrien freaking Agreste, but that was beside the point. And, honestly, it was feeling more and more like their we-got-drunk-and-don’t-remember-any-details story was true as time went on. Even though it had only been a day since they’d told that story, and barely two weeks since he’d offered to father the baby. Pierre in his entirety was beginning to seem like a bad dream.

“True,” Alya agreed. “But they’d be disappointed in you for forgetting everything about having sex with Adrien freaking Agreste.”

Marinette just shrugged.

“So Baby Alya Junior will definitely be coming with me to chase down Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

“No. Way. There’s no way in hell you’re taking my baby into an akuma attack.”

“Oh, c’mon, Mari. AJ will be cool with it. She’ll be my partner in crime. Adrien will back me on this.”

“Adrien will not back you on this. What are you talking about? You saw him freak out when an akuma came near me. What do you think he’ll do if an akuma comes near our kid?”

“Oh, please. I won’t let AJ get kidnapped. I’ll fight the akuma off before it gets her.”

“Her? You don’t know it’s going to be a her. And it’s never going anywhere near an akuma if I can help it.”

“I’ve just got a feeling she’s going to be a little girl. Agreste’ll back me up.”

“He’s not going to back you up on any of this. Maybe on the girl thing, possibly, but we’ve never actually discussed what gender we think the baby will be.”

“Please. It’s Adrien freaking Agreste we’re talking about here, Mari. He’s going to back me up on anything.”

“Except letting our baby anywhere near an akuma fight. This is Adrien freaking Agreste, Alya. He’s bought five cribs. Probably more since that was, like, two days ago. He refused to let me out of his site when the akuma kidnapped me and we ended up falling asleep. There’s no way he’s going to let you take our baby akuma hunting.”

“We’re not akuma hunting, Marinette. We’re journalists looking for a scoop on Ladybug and Chat Noir. It’s different.”

“Sure.”

Marinette’s phone rang, interrupting the conversation.

“Who is it?” Alya wondered.

Marinette picked up her cellphone, smirking down at the screen. “Adrien freaking Agreste.” She pressed answer. “Salut?”

“Are you okay?”

Marinette sent Alya a confused look. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You’re sure? An akuma didn’t get you? You’re totally fine?”

“Yeah, I’m totally fine, Adrien,” she assured him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You said you’d call when Alya left and you haven’t called and it’s after midnight and I was getting really worried that something had happened or—”

Marinette interrupted. “Adrien, I’m fine. Really. Alya’s still here, that’s why I didn’t call. She’s sleeping over.”

He was silent for a long minute. “Oh,” he said finally. “I guess I can’t come over, then.”

Alya, who’s ear was pressed up against the back of the phone—Marinette silently thanked the powers that be that Adrien hadn’t mentioned anything about their other identities—rolled her eyes heavily and pulled the phone away from her friend, switching to speaker phone.

“Get over here, Agreste,” she said. “As long as you two aren’t being disgusting, I’ll survive. Plus I already told Mari I’m not holding her hair when she pukes, so you better be here for that or she’s holding her own hair.”

“You’re okay with that?” Adrien asked, and Marinette couldn’t tell if his question was directed at her or Alya. Alya decided for her.

“Course I’m okay with that.” She shot Marinette a look. “So you’re cool with me taking AJ with me to track down Ladybug and Chat Noir, right? Mari said its okay.”

“I did not!”

“Who’s AJ?”

“She’s named our baby after herself.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “She’s also decided it’s a girl.”
“You’re definitely not taking our baby into akuma fights.” Marinette smirked in victory at her friend, the slight panic in Adrien’s tone making her wonder for a moment how they would handle akuma fights once the baby came around. They couldn’t exactly take it fighting with them. Maybe there was a baby Miraculous it could get and it could join the team. “There’s no way in hell that’s happening, Alya, so don’t even try. I’ll be over in a few minutes, if that’s okay, Mari.”

“See you in a few.”

As Marinette took her phone back and hung up, she eyed Alya’s smirk apprehensively. “What?”

“You should make a move.”

“Now? I can’t make a move if you’re sleeping over.”

Alya shrugged, pushing off the bed to make one for herself on the lounge. “You can if I pretend to fall asleep.”

“Which you won’t,” Marinette pointed out. “If you pretend to fall asleep then you won’t get to ask invasive questions that nobody wants answered, and then you’ll be disappointed in yourself in the morning.”

“That’s true,” Alya mused, pulling a dozen or so blankets from Marinette’s closet and heaping them on the lounge. “Maybe if we keep Adrien up long enough we can finally figure out whether he and Nino are together.”

Marinette snorted in response and flung a pillow at her friend. “I really doubt that Nino’s cheating on you.”

Alya caught the pillow easily and shrugged. “Me too. But if anyone’s his mistress, it’s gonna be Agreste.”

“Whose mistress am I?”

Alya squealed and jumped, but Marinette barely flinched as Adrien’s head hung above hers from the skylight.

“Get in here, you idiot.”

Adrien grinned and flopped down onto Marinette’s bed, reaching back up to pull the window shut. “So who am I mistressing?”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” Alya pointed out, getting over her shock and climbing back up to the loft. “But we’re pretty sure you’re Nino’s mistress.”

Adrien nodded. “Cool.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“How’d you get up there, anyway?” Alya wanted to know. “Like, why sneak in from the roof when Marinette’s parents already know you sneak over? Why not just use the front door?”

“Because it’s almost one in the morning and I’m pretty sure Marinette’s parents wouldn’t approve of me sneaking in in the middle of the night,” Adrien pointed out. He removed his shoes and stretched out on the bed.

“Okay, but how’d you manage to get on the roof anyway?” Alya pressed. “We’re on, like, the third floor.”

Adrien shrugged, his arms reaching out to wrap around Marinette’s waist. Alya’s eyebrows rose. “You do realize I have a rock wall in my bedroom? The side of a building is nothing.”

“You’re right. They’re disgusting. I don’t know how you managed to sleep in the same room as them.”

“It’s so gross. Like, I would have preferred to wake up to them having sex than to this.”

“Why is Nino here?” Marinette mumbled, burying her face deeper into Adrien’s chest. His arms tightened around her.

“Because he had to see how disgusting you two are in real life so I invited him over.” Alya made a gagging sound.

“Be quiet,” Adrien grunted. “Sleeping.”

Chapter Text

Moving day came faster than either Marinette or Adrien expected it to. Of course, everything seemed to be moving fast, but those two and a half days between finding out they now owned an apartment and actually moving into said apartment went by in a flash. Adrien tried everything he could think of to convince his father against giving them such an expensive gift, but none of it worked. Gabriel was insistent that he wasn’t selling it and that it would just be sitting there empty if they didn’t take it.

And that’s how Marinette, Adrien, Alya, and Nino found themselves with mugs of coffee and tea clutched in their hands—with a little added something extra in Alya’s—staring up at a ridiculously expensive apartment building.

“God, I can’t believe you’re living here,” Alya muttered as they braved entering the lobby. The place had a bellboy and a high ceiling with chandeliers. Marinette was pretty certain that everything was detailed in actual gold. There was no way she would have been able to afford this place if Gabriel hadn’t bought it.

They went into the elevator—which had an actual attendant? What even was this place?—and rode up to their penthouse—they were living in the freaking penthouse!—suite in relative silence. The doors finally opened, revealing the most spectacular place that any of them had seen. Hardwood floors stretched out for miles. A chandelier hung in the open kitchen. And the windows. The far wall was made of floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying a breathtaking view of the Champs-Élysées with the Eiffel Tower rising in the background.

It was amazing.

And they were living there.

Their things had been delivered earlier, and, between the four of them, it only took a few hours to get everything put away. This was accomplished with maximum teasing from Alya and Nino, once they discovered the Baby Stash, as Nino had dubbed it. The boxes filled the baby’s room to the brim, and spilled out. A corner of the living room was dedicated to the rest of the mountain.

That night they sat in the living room eating pizzas and getting drunk. Well, Alya and Nino were getting drunk. Marinette was not, and Adrien was having difficulty even getting tipsy after having eaten three whole large pizzas himself.

“Truth or dare?” Nino asked, shakily pouring himself a glass of wine. They were on their fourth bottle. Alya had lied down on the floor an hour or so ago, her head tucked under the coffee table, and started their game. Nino was curled in an arm chair using the now-empty pizza boxes as a blanket. (Adrien had offered to get him an actual blanket but “Dude, this one smells like pizza.”)

“Who’re you asking there, bud?” Adrien wondered, scowling at his own glass. He shouldn’t have eaten so much pizza. He needed to be drunk. Sober-Adrien was suddenly having a hard time dealing with the fact that this was his home now—his and Marinette’s home—where they would live together and raise their baby and he was in love with her and she (probably) didn’t love him back and it was too much.

“Oh, uh, Marinette?”

His eyes snapped to the girl in question, who was lying across the couch with her head in his lap, a can of ginger ale resting on her stomach.

“Truth?”

Nino was silent for so long that both Adrien and Marinette had thought he’d fallen asleep. But, no, he was just distracted with tossing pizza crumbs at his girlfriend’s face.

“Nino?” Marinette questioned, handing her pop to Adrien so she could flip onto her stomach. “Are you asking a question or are we done with the game?”

He jumped, his head snapping back up as the pizza boxes tumbled to the ground. Alya cackled from under the coffee table. “No, I have a question,” he insisted. “Um…oh! I’ve got a good one! Who was your first kiss?”

That was a good one. Adrien was wondering how, exactly, she’d answer that, and glanced back down to the girl. Marinette had turned bright red, and was avoiding eye contact.

“Chat Noir.”

“What?” Alya screeched, jerking upwards. “Ow! Shit.” She moved out from under the coffee table, rubbing her head from where she’d smacked it. “Chat Noir?”

“You knew that, Al,” Marinette reminded her. “And, yes, Chat Noir.”

Alya squinted at her friend for a moment, before collapsing on the ground in a fit of giggles. “Right,” she breathed once her laughter had subsided. “I forgot you and Chat Noir had a thing back in high school.”

“We did not have a thing.” Marinette pushed herself up, her eyes not meeting Adrien’s. “He came over sometimes and we hung out and did homework and played video games and kissed ONCE. It was not a thing.”

Adrien was slightly confused. He’d never noticed that Marinette had told Alya that he used to come over. They were sixteen or so when he’d started, around the same time he’d started to fall for her—not Ladybug but Marinette—but she still couldn’t talk to him. But she’d talk to Chat. So he’d come over and help her with her homework and they’d just hang out for hours doing not much of anything.

Of course, he’d had to go ahead and be an idiot and kiss her that one night. He’d been sleep deprived and not thinking straight and was just plain tired of having to stop himself from kissing her all the time. So he had. Even though she’d told him over and over that there was someone else she liked.

He was stupid.

His visits had become less frequent after that until they’d stopped altogether.

But he didn’t realize that Alya knew about them at all, let alone the kiss.

The kiss that was apparently her first kiss. The kiss that was also his first kiss. The kiss that he was aching to repeat.

That kiss.

Nino was more than a little confused. “Marinette dated Chat Noir?”

Marinetted sighed, leaning back against the couch. “We didn’t date. We kissed. Once.”

“Mari loooooved him,” Alya drawled, reaching for the bottle of wine. “She kissssssed him and wants to maaaaarry him.”

“What? Alya, no.” She shot a look at Adrien, who was just as flushed as she was.

“Did you have, like, sex with him?” Nino wanted to know. “Did you have sex with a superhero, Mari?” Marinette spluttered. Adrien drained his wine glass.

“Nino! NO!”

He shared a conspiratorial look with Alya and opened his mouth again, only to be cut off by Marinette.

“I already answered your question, so I think it’s my turn to ask.” Nino made a face, but quietly gathered up his pizza boxes to begin rebuilding his fort. “Alya, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Alya said, looking far too smug for someone about to be dared.

“I dare you to go get me that jar of pickles from the fridge. Also some chocolate.”
Alya snorted, making an attempt to stand before falling back on her butt. She then made a show of scooting on her belly across the floor and into the kitchen, eventually returning with the requested snacks.

“My turn!” she sing-songed. “Marinette, truth or dare?”

“Twoof,” Marinette muttered through a mouthful of pickles and chocolate. She felt like she should be disgusted with herself, or at least a little embarrassed to be eating something so weird beside Adrien, but the baby wants what the baby wants. And the baby did not want to get off the couch for any ridiculous dares that Alya could come up with.

Alya grinned. “How many times did you have sex with Chat Noir?” She shared a triumphant fist bump with an arm that had emerged from Nino’s pizza box cave, cackling as pickles and chocolate were spewed onto the coffee table.

“Zero,” Marinette said, crossing her arms. “Like I’ve already told you. Adrien. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

She bit her lip. She’d been hoping he’d choose dare, because she could really use some ketchup to go along with her snack—okay, ew, that sounded gross even to her—and now she had to think of a truth. She knew what Alya would want her to ask, what Tikki would want her to ask, what the little voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like a combination of the two would want her to ask.

Would you ever consider me romantically?

Is there any chance at all that you’d date me?

Why did you kiss me when we were sixteen?

Did it mean anything to you?

Do you still think about it, too?

Why did you jump at the chance to help me raise a baby that isn’t even biologically yours?

But she didn’t ask any of that. Because she didn’t know what the answer would do to their relationship, and she didn’t want what they had to change.

“Would murder be bad for the baby?” she asks instead. “Because I’m seriously considering it.”

Adrien laughed, and Nino was pulled from his fortress by a furiously whispering Alya. “I think it might be a little bit,” he said.

“Darn.”

Nino crawled across the floor, pulling himself onto Adrien’s lap and whispering in his ear. Nino was a pretty good drunk whisperer, Marinette had to admit. That, or Adrien caught about as much as she did.

As Nino tumbled back onto the floor and over to Alya, a chant started up between the two.

“Ad-ri-en. Ad-ri-en. Ad-ri-en.”

Marinette shot him a look, not liking the Chat-like smirk that had emerged on his face.

“Marinette,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Marinette said warily.

Adrien leaned closer, smirking. “On a scale of one to ten.”

He paused, long enough for Marinette to get exasperated and push him away. “On a scale of one to ten what?”

“How would you rate—” He paused again to push his face back into Marinette’s. “—Chat Noir’s kissing skills?”

Alya and Nino broke into cackles again, rolling around on the floor. Marinette rolled her eyes, pushing him back by his nose and rising in hopes he wouldn’t see how red she’d gotten.

“I’m going to bed,” she stated, stalking off towards her room only for Adrien to catch her hand.

“But Mari,” he whined. “That’s the game. You have to answer it.”

“Yeah, Mari,” Alya echoed, clutching onto her friend’s ankle. “When it happened you were too upset that you might be feeling something for him that you wouldn’t even give me the details. We want to know.”

“Please.” Nino, wrapped around her other leg, was staring up at her with wide eyes.

Marinette huffed, shaking them off, and looked at Adrien. He was slightly stunned from Alya’s previous comment—did Mari still feel something for him?—but was aware enough to smirk at her.

Marinette smirked back, her legs finally freed. “Nine,” she said, shaking her wrist out of Adrien’s hand and walking away.

“Nine!” Adrien cried, throwing himself against the end of the couch. “Nine? Gosh, Mari. What did Chat Noir do wrong to not be rated perfect? Was it because it was his first kiss? Maybe he’s gotten better.”

Marinette laughed, pushing open the door to the bathroom. “I never said it was his first kiss,” she pointed out. “And you seem a little invested in Chat Noir’s kissing skills. Maybe you’re the one who wants to kiss him.”

Alya and Nino oohed as Marinette disappeared and Adrien sat spluttering on the couch.

Marinette was curled up under her blankets. The bed that came with the apartment was amazing. It was queen sized and memory foam and pure bliss. Alya and Nino had left not long after she’d left the living room, laughing and stumbling back into the hallway.

She was tossing and turning because, despite the amazing bed, she couldn’t fall asleep. With one flop, she started at the figure standing in her doorway, shooting up in bed and flipping on the light.

“God, Adrien. You almost gave me a heart attack.” She turned the light back off, trying to get the forlorn look on Adrien’s face out of her mind. She curled back into the blankets. “What are you doing?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. This was weird, right? Standing in someone’s doorway at night was weird. It didn’t matter if they’d slept in the same bed for the last couple weeks. They were right down the hallway from each other. That should be good enough, right?

His silence was too long for Marinette. “Go to bed.”

“Do you realize how much could be going wrong right now?”

That was not what he meant to say. That was so far from what he meant to say that it was waving at what he meant to say as it took a rocket into space to settle on an alien planet to build a colony.

“No,” Marinette grumbled, trying to find a comfortable position. “And I don’t want to know. Plagg’s right. The internet is driving you crazy. Go to sleep, Adrien.”

He was silent again, shifting from one foot to the other. He should leave. He should go back to his room and try to fall asleep. That was what a sane person would do.

“That’s not what you wanted to ask, is it?” Marinette finally asked, her voice muffled.

“Did you…do you…” He trailed off running a hand through his hair. He could do this. He could absolutely definitely do this. “I was wondering if you still wanted to…you know…if it’d be weird if we still…now that we’re…”

“What, Adrien?” Marinette asked, sitting up again. He could feel her eyes on him through the dark.

“Can I sleep in here?” God, why did he sound like a five year old? This was stupid. He had his own room, a nice room that he decorated himself, and there was no reason he had to sleep in Marinette’s room when his was right down the hall and—

“Course, Chat.”

His thoughts broke off, and he stood blinking for a few moments. “Oh. Really?”

Marinette nodded. “I can’t fall asleep, and I think it’s because yourenotinherewithme.” Her words came out in a rush, but Adrien understood, a grin breaking out on his face. “So I’d really like it if you slept in here.”

“I can’t sleep without you either,” Adrien admitted.

They were silent a while longer, thoughts running through Adrien’s head. Maybe she did feel that way about him. She did rate his kiss at a nine out of ten. But she could have just been saying that so he wouldn’t feel bad. It could have been the worst kiss of her life, even if he hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

But she couldn’t sleep without him. That had to mean something, right?

“Stop standing there like an idiot and get in bed.” Marinette flopped back down and Adrien hurried to comply.

This bed was bigger than Marinette’s old bed. They didn’t have to wrap around each other to fit. But Adrien’s chest was Marinette’s favourite pillow, and his arms wrapped around her, and they were asleep within minutes.

“I just don’t understand why you haven’t made a move.”

Marinette sighed, pushing her tray of cookies into the oven. “It’s not that simple, Alya.”

Alya snorted, readjusting her perch on the counter. “I’m just saying, it’s obvious he likes you, Mari,” she continued, waving a spoonful of cookie dough at her friend. “I don’t remember everything from last night, but there was some massive flirting going on.”

Marinette scoffed. “No there wasn’t.” She tossed her tea towel on the counter and leaned against it.

“Puh-lease. Like—okay. What was with that whole kiss thing?”

Her friend rolled her eyes. “Like you and Nino weren’t the ones who told him to ask that.”

“Well, yeah,” Alya allowed. “But still. He got like this close—” She demonstrated, pushing her face into Marinette’s, far closer than Adrien’s had been because she would have definitely remembered if Adrien’s nose had stabbed her in the eye. “—and you both had like massive heart eyes and it was gross but the point is he got really offended that you only gave Chat a nine out of ten which also makes no sense unless he’s into Chat Noir or something but—okay that wasn’t the point either, but the actual point is that you were totally flirting with him and he was flirting back and it was a really weird topic and it was kind of awkward but it was definitely flirting.”

“No it wasn’t,” Marinette grumbled.

Alya scoffed. “I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say something that idiotic.” She rolled her eyes, scraping the last remains of the cookie dough from the bowl. “But okay. Fine. Let’s say it wasn’t flirting even though it totally was. Do you know what Nino said?” Marinette shook her head. “All Adrien ever talks about is you. It’s all ‘Marinette said this’ or ‘Did you see Marinette’s butt in that dress yesterday?’ or ‘I can’t believe I’m going to be a father and I don’t even remember sleeping with her! I don’t want to forget that!’”

“You’re making that up.” Marinette snorted.

“I’m not!” Alya insisted, thrusting her spoon in Marinette’s direction. “My point is that you and AJ are all he ever talks about, but, according to Nino, he’s not going to make a move anytime soon.”

“Why not?”

“Apparently he thinks you’ll think he only wants to go out with you because you’re pregnant with his baby. Which is stupid, honestly. The boy’s been head over heels with you since high school.”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Yes, he has. Of course, that started around the same time you were all hung up on Chat Noir and what him kissing you meant, which, honey, you basically ruined your chances there yourself. Unless you’ve secretly been dating him for the last, like, eight years.”

“Which I haven’t.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Okay, but, the thing is, if you want this thing with Adrien to go any further than co-parenting your baby, you’re the one who has to make a move.” Alya leveled her gaze at her friend. “I know he’ll say yes, and not just because of the baby. Okay? You're living together, and you sleep in the same bed, and he carries that picture everywhere, and, you know I love you and AJ dearly, but if I have to coo over that damn picture one more time..." She broke off, shaking her head. "Please get another ultrasound soon. He needs a new picture. But seriously. He loves you, Mari. It's disgustingly obvious. You have to tell him, and the longer you wait, the harder its going to be.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll tell him tomorrow. We’ve got another ultrasound tomorrow and I’ll tell him after that.” Marinette nodded, confirming her plan with herself. This would go great. Adrien loved ultrasounds. At least, he loved the first one. And they’d be in baby mode where they felt like they were a family and it would be perfect. The timer on the oven beeped.

“Great!” Alya grinned, punching her friend in the arm in support. Marinette smiled back, pulling out the rack of cookies. “Where is he even?”

Marinette made a face. “Some lunch thing with Chloe.”

“So what you’re saying is that Alya wasn’t lying in her post and you’re actually having a baby with Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I had to find out through the flipping Ladyblog?”

“Yes?”

Chloe sat across the table from Adrien, scowling into her coffee. “That’s crazy.”

Adrien’s face lit up in a smile, and he reached into his pocket for the picture. “This is the baby,” he said, holding it out for Chloe to see. “It’s—”

“I don’t believe this!” Chloe’s outburst came with a flailing of her arms, knocking her coffee mug onto the ground. “I can’t believe you slept with Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

“Well, I did,” Adrien assured her, turning the picture in his hands. He held it out to Chloe again. “It’s about a centimetre and a half, and it’s already got little fingers and toes, and—”

“Marinette Dupain Cheng?” Chloe ripped the photo from his hands, standing to stare incredulously at him. “Why her, Adrien? What’s so special about her?”

“She’s amazing, Chloe,” Adrien defended. “If you’d just give her a chance, you’d like her.”

Chloe scoffed. “As if. I can’t believe you even stooped to look at that girl, let alone get in bed with her. She’s probably lying about this whole baby thing, anyway. She’s probably not even pregnant. Or she tricks so many guys to sleep with her that she doesn’t even know who the real father is. She’s probably just using you for your name. What about me? Why would you sleep with Marinette before you slept with me? She’s nothing, compared to us, Adrikins. She’s—”

“Stop it, Chloe!” Adrien stood, too, ignoring the looks they were getting from the others in the café. “I don’t know what your problem is with Marinette, but it has to stop. She’s a part of my life now, and you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“But—”

“No! You don’t get to interrupt me this time, Chloe. I’m talking. Marinette is a wonderful person, and this baby is mine. There’s nothing you can do about that, so you’re going to have to get used to it. I’ve put up with your behaviour for far too long, and I’m done with it. I’m done with the way you treat Marinette, and the way you treat my friends, and the way you treat everyone else. Marinette and I are having a baby, and she’s going to be in my life now. So you can sit down and accept that, or you can leave.” With that, Adrien sat, draining his coffee. This wasn’t how he pictured this going. He didn’t want to yell at Chloe. He was thrilled that Marinette was having this baby and that he’d get to be a part of its life. He’d thought she’d be happy for him.

Chloe was silent for a few long minutes, glancing between Adrien and the picture clutched in her hands.

“Why her?”

Adrien looked up when she finally spoke, a broken look on her face. “I love her, Chloe,” he said simply.

Chloe stamped her foot. “But what about me?” Her voice had returned to its previous state of whining, and Adrien grimaced. He really didn’t want to do this.

“We’re friends, Chloe,” he told her. “We’ve always been friends, and we won’t be anything more. I want you to be in my baby’s life. You’re the closest thing I have to a sister, and I don’t want you or the baby missing out. But I’m in love with Marinette.”

“Marinette’s using you, Adrien!” Chloe shrieked, her hands on her hips and her voice rising to an octave that Adrien was fairly certain that he could only hear thanks to his Chat Noir-enhanced hearing. “She’s a fucking tramp and—”

“Enough, Chloe!” Adrien yelled, standing once more. His hands clenched the edge of the table, the knuckles turning white. “I want you in my baby’s life, but you can’t talk like this anymore! I don’t know what you have against her, but it ends now. You’re being childish and immature, and if you can’t work this out with her like an adult, you can’t be in my life anymore. If you can let it go and grow up, you can stay. But if not, I want you out of my life. If you’re going to act like a spoiled child, I don’t want to know you anymore.”

Chloe gaped at him for a full minute, and, for a moment, he thought she’d give in. He thought she’d sit down and apologize and life would go on.

But that dream left him with an inhuman screech as Chloe tore up the photograph in her hand, disappearing out the door before Adrien could even react.

An hour or so later, Nino stopped in for a cup of coffee, finding his friend crying over a small pile of ripped paper and a lost friendship.

Chapter Text

Needless to say, Marinette did not confess her feelings to Adrien the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or any of the other days in the two months that followed her conversation with Alya.

At first, there were excuses. He was just far too upset after whatever happened at his lunch with Chloe for her to even think about saying anything. She still didn’t know exactly what had gone down—though Nino showing up with a taped together sonogram a few days later gave her a hint—but he’d curled up on the couch with her immediately and they’d cuddled as he cried for the rest of the day. The ultrasound the next morning seemed to cheer him up some, but he was down for a couple of weeks.

After that, she really didn’t have a good excuse. Or a bad excuse. Or any excuse, really. She’d just chickened out. Despite everything, she was as scared to confess now as she’d been ten years ago. It didn’t matter that she no longer stuttered and ran away when they spoke. It didn’t matter that Adrien was just Chat, her silly cat that she could talk to since day one. It didn’t matter that she’d fallen in love with him twice, or that he used to claim to be in love with Ladybug, with her, or that he’d liked her enough once to kiss her.

None of that mattered, because, no matter how far they’d come, she was still the same scared teenager she’d been when he’d handed her his umbrella, when they’d fallen out of the sky into each other.

Which is how she found herself two months later, platonically cuddled up to Adrien on their couch in their apartment, flipping through a half dozen books trying to find the perfect name for their baby.

“What about Leopold?”

“I had an uncle named Leopold. He was a creep. What about Oregano?”

“That’s a spice, Adrien. We’re not naming out child after a spice.”

“But it’s in the book!” he insisted, jabbing a finger at the page. “‘Derived from the Greek oros, meaning “mountain” and ganos meaning “joy”, “brightness”, and “pride”.’ See, Mari? It means joyful mountains. It’s cute. Plus it’s unisex. Win-win.”

“It’s still a spice.” Marinette rolled her eyes, flipping the pages in her book. “I like Alya Junior more than Oregano, honestly.”

Adrien snorted. “Fine.”

“Name it Camembert,” Plagg suggested, scanning the page of another book. “Camembert is a nice name.”

“Do you two even have baby books? Because it sounds like you’re reading from cookbooks.” Marinette shot the kwami an unimpressed look. “What do you think about Marguerite?”

Plagg let out a crow of delight. “Brie!” he cried, pounding at the book with his paw. “If you won’t name it Camembert—which I don’t know why you wouldn’t since there isn’t a better name—you should still name it after a cheese. Like Brie. Which is in this stupid book so you can’t even get mad.”

“We can’t name our baby after any type of food whether it’s an actual name or not, thank you very much.” Marinette frowned at the kwami. “One of my last names is literally Bread. We’d be naming it “Cheesy Bread” or “Spicy Bread” and that’s not going to happen.”

“You’re missing out on some great names,” Plagg grumbled, turning the pages again.

Tikki had three books open in front of her, flitting from one to the next. “Didn’t you have your children’s names picked out when you were fourteen?” she recalled.

Marinette turned red, focusing all her energy on flipping pages and ignoring Adrien’s stare that was burning into her head.

“Mari?”

With a long exhale through her nose, she confirmed Tikki’s statement. “Maybe.”

Adrien shifted beside her. “So? What were they? Do you still like them?”

Marinette risked a glance up. Was she actually about to tell Adrien the names she’d chosen for their hypothetical children ten years ago?

“Louis, Emma, and Hugo.”

Apparently she was.

Adrien grinned. “I like them.” He reached for the coffee table—which was difficult to do with Marinette curled into his side—and grabbed the mostly empty sheet of paper that rested there. “They’re going on the list.”

Marinette looked away, biting her lip and turning pink. Fourteen year old Marinette gave her a mental high five.

Her phone buzzed with a call from Alya.

“Holy shit, Mari! You should see the akuma down by Notre Dame! It’s insane! It’s throwing, like, lightning everywhere and—oh my god Notre Dame just blew up! Get down here!”

Marinette looked back up at Adrien, who’d heard their friend’s yells and was already transforming. “I think we’re going to pass, Al.”

“Boo, you nerds! I have to go, Mari. Me and Nino are going to try to get closer!”

“Wait, Alya, don’t—” Marinette broke off, realising her words weren’t being heard when the call clicked off.

“Let’s go, Bugaboo!” Chat called, diving off the balcony. Marinette rolled her eyes, calling on her own transformation before following him.

Sparks was a tough akuma. From what Ladybug and Chat could tell, he’d been an electrician for a large corporation that cut corners on safety, and his partner had been badly electrocuted.

So Sparks set out to electrocute the city—particularly the heads of the corporation—and, as Alya had kindly relayed, had blown up Notre Dame.

They were fighting him in the streets, dodging the lightning he shot at them.

Until they couldn’t.

Until one perfectly timed blast hit the wall behind them.

Until the wall blew into pieces.

Until one of those pieces slammed into Ladybug, sending her crashing to the ground.

Her side hurt, and she rose shakily to her feet, her eyes meeting Chat’s as one thought passed through their minds.

The baby.

The rest of the battle was fought with slight distraction, both itching to leave and make sure everything was alright. A lucky charm, a cataclysm, and a purified butterfly later, Chat and Ladybug were fleeing across the rooftops, dropping into an alley behind the nearest hospital to detransform and rushing inside.

“What’s your emergency?” the ER nurse asked.

Marinette’s eyes were panicked as they met Adrien’s. “We were caught in the akuma attack and I took a pretty bad hit and I’m pregnant and I don’t know if it hurt the baby or if Ladybug fixes that kind of thing or….”

The nurse nodded, smiling up at them. “We’ve gotten this before,” she said, her voice calm. “The purification has always seemed to fix this, too. We’ll get you an ultrasound and check this out, just to make sure.”

The hour they spent in the waiting room was torture, and they held onto each other like a lifeline as the ultrasound technician got her ready.

The press of the wand to Marinette’s stomach brought the sound of a heartbeat, and she broke out into a sob, Adrien rocketing forward from his seat to wrap his arms around her, his own sobs of relief muffled into her neck.

The technician finished the exam, telling them that everything looked perfect and that Ladybug’s cure had fixed anything that could have been wrong.

They made it back to the apartment, Tikki and Plagg flying off to who knows where, and Adrien wrapped his arms around Marinette, pulling her close.

“Please don’t get upset,” he started, staring down at her with eyes that were just as red and swollen as she expected hers to be.

Marinette stared back, curious as to what he’d say, and nodded at him to continue.

He did, after taking a deep breath. “I think Ladybug should go on vacation. Just until the baby comes.”

Marinette smiled faintly, leaning forward to rest her forehead on his chest. “I was going to suggest the same thing.”

Ladybug had vanished without a trace two weeks ago, and Alya was freaking out. Granted, most of Paris was freaking out, but Alya was the closest. And the loudest. And probably the most well informed.

“I just don’t know where she’d go.” Alya had gone off on another rant, perched on Marinette and Adrien’s counter with a glass of wine. Nino was on the couch flipping channels, and Marinette was making dinner. Adrien was at a shoot, but would be home any minute.

“It’s not like her,” Alya continued. “She wouldn’t just disappear, would she? What if something happened to her?”

“I don’t think it’s really that big of a deal,” Nino called, settling on some sort of talent show. “She probably just went on a vacation.”

“But Ladybug’s never taken a vacation!”

“Which is why she probably needs one.” Her boyfriend turned around, resting his chin on the back of the couch and staring into the kitchen. “Think about it, Al. Her and Chat have been doing this for ten years. Wouldn’t you want to take a vacation every once in a while?”

“I guess,” Alya allowed. “But why now? There’s been eight akuma attacks since she disappeared, and I don’t think Chat can purify them on his own. But the cure’s still been happening, so she has to be around, right? Where do you think she is?”

“Where do we think who is?” Adrien asked, entering the kitchen and running a hand through his styled hair.

“Ladybug!” Alya cried, swaying a little. Marinette made a note to hide the wine soon.

Adrien shrugged, pulling out a bar stool and sitting on it. Because normal people didn’t choose to sit right in the middle of the prep area. “Maybe she’s having a baby,” he suggested. “I mean, I wouldn’t want Mari out fighting crime pregnant.”

Alya balked at the suggestion, waving a dismissive hand at Adrien. “No way. I bet she’s figured out Hawkmoth’s identity and is doing super-secret behind the scenes detective work that can only be done during akuma attacks.”

“Ten bucks says she just went on vacation,” Nino called.

“Ten bucks on the Hawkmoth thing,” Alya added, placing her glass on the counter. “I’m going to make Chat talk after the next attack, and then you’re going to owe me money.”

“Like he’d ever admit something that secretive on camera.” Nino rolled his eyes, sliding back onto the couch.

“Well, he’d say it’s a secret mission or something,” she argued, turning back to Marinette and Adrien. “So? Want in?”

“Ten bucks says it’s a baby.” Adrien smirked, and Marinette threw her tea towel at him. Was he seriously cheating on this stupid bet?

“Ten bucks says she eats ice cream in her pyjamas and watches the attacks on TV.” Marinette hid her own smirk, turning to stir the pot on the stove, and Adrien stifled a laugh.

“That’s ridiculous,” Alya declared, fishing a square of paper and a pen from her purse. Marinette didn’t point out that, ridiculous or not, that was exactly what Ladybug had been doing during the attacks, along with a fair bit of worrying whenever something hit Chat too hard. “But if you want to throw your money away, be my guest.”

Alya hopped down from the counter, turning to scribble the specifics of the bet on her paper. She crossed to the fridge, finding a tacky Chat Noir magnet and pinning the bet among the dozens of selfies and sonograms that had gathered on its surface over the past two months.

“I’m getting thirty bucks,” Alya crowed, dancing her way to the couch and Nino. “Somebody better be having a bad day soon. I don’t know how long I can wait.”

Like she’d spoken the magic words, an onscreen magician was interrupted with an emergency news program, broadcasting a hotdog-themed akuma spewing out condiments outside the Louvre. Alya squealed in delight, pulling Nino towards the door.

“Come on, Mari, Adrien!” she pleaded. “You guys never come to attacks!”

“Seeing as how five akumas have tried to kidnap me in the last two months, I think I’m going to pass.” Marinette rolled her eyes, pushing back the uncomfortable thought of whatever Hawkmoth could possibly want with her.

“I’m staying, too,” Adrien added. “Hurry back before we eat all the food.”

The akuma was so easy that Chat probably could have beaten it in his sleep. He didn’t even need to use cataclysm, and quickly had the butterfly clutched tightly in his hand.

The reporters swarmed. Everyone wanted to know where Ladybug was, and, somehow, Alya and Nino managed to push their way to the front. Nino had a video camera in his hands, an expensive one that they’d saved up for months to buy, and Alya had an actual microphone gripped in hers. Though they still only posted for the Ladyblog, their content had greatly improved in the last ten years, and was some of the best out there.

Questions were shouted, and Chat held up his hands, one still fisted around the akuma.

“Woah, woah, woah! I only have time fur one or two questions today!” The reporters yelled louder, and Chat pretended to think about choosing one. He pointed at Alya. “You! What’s your question?”

“Can you tell us where Ladybug is?” she asked. “Is she okay?”

Chat grinned at his friends. “Ladybug is purr-fectly fine, don’t worry.”

“Then where is she?” Alya pressed. “When will she be back?”

Chat’s grin grew, and he leaned in close to the microphone being shoved into his face. “Ladybug is taking a break from crime fighting for the next few months because she’ll be welcoming a little baby bug into the world.”

Alya and Nino’s mouths dropped open, before Alya let out a squeal of delight. “She’s pregnant?”

The hero shot confirmation finger guns at the camera, winking at his friend.

“Chat?” Alya pressed forward. “One more question?” He nodded. “Are you the father?”

Chat spluttered for a moment. “Oh, look at the time.” He held his watchless wrist up to the camera. “This cat’s got to split. Cat-ch you later!”

He bounded off across the rooftops, as though he hadn’t just sent all of Paris into a tizzy.

“You heard it here first, Ladybloggers! Ladybug is having a baby! We don’t have confirmation, but I’m willing to bet that Chat Noir is the father.”

Ladybug snorted and turned off her phone, readjusting the dials on the stove to heat everything back up.

“My Lady, I brought you a purr-esent.”

She rolled her eyes, turning to the windows where Chat was entering. He released the akuma and she caught it in her yo-yo.

“Alya already thinks you’re the father,” she told Chat. He shrugged in response.

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

The front door slammed open, and Alya’s voice carried through the apartment. “Did you see my post? Holy shit, Adrien! I can’t believe you were right!”

Ladybug and Chat shared a panicked look, quickly dropping their transformations and moving back into the kitchen.

Adrien held out his hand to his friends. “Pay up.”

“Pay me, too,” Marinette added. “I know what pregnant people do during akuma attacks, so I’m probably right, too.”

Alya snorted, forking over a ten to Adrien. “When Chat gives confirmation that that’s what Ladybug does, then I’ll pay you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“You know what this means?” Nino took a plate from the cupboard and started piling on food. “Super Baby and AJ will be the same age. They might go to school together.”

Alya, who was digging through the fridge for a bottle of wine, let out an inhuman squeal. “What if they date?” she cried, clutching her found bottle to her chest. “Oh my God, Marinette! What if your baby and Ladybug’s baby get married?”

Marinette snorted, pushing Nino away from the stove before he could take all the food. “I can guarantee you that that’s not going to happen.”

“Wanna bet?” Alya crossed her arms.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” Marinette laughed, sharing a look with Adrien. They were making some easy money today. “Fifty bucks says our baby won’t marry Ladybug’s.”

“Make it a hundred and fifty and you’re on.”

The girls shook on it and Alya made it fridge official before gathering their own food to join Nino at the table.

“You realize the only way you’re ever going to settle that bet is if Ladybug and Chat reveal their identities,” he pointed out, waving his fork for emphasis. “Like, honestly. You’re going to have this bet going on forever.”

“No way.” Alya speared a potato off her boyfriend’s plate. He hadn’t left any for anyone else, so it was basically an invitation to just eat his food. “We’ve got, like, two decades at least before AJ gets married. We can figure out their identities by then, and then make, like, an arranged marriage or something between AJ and LJ.”

“LJ?” Adrien questioned.

Alya nodded. “Ladybug Junior. Only one of you can name your baby after me, and I’ve already given that right to you.”

Marinetted rolled her eyes. “We’re not naming the baby Alya.”

Alya didn’t seem too concerned, sipping her wine. “Yes you are.”

“Do you have any more?” Nino asked, holding up his now empty plate.

“No,” Marinette deadpanned. “You ate it all.”

Nino shrugged, heading to the fridge and returning with a box of leftovers. “How old’s this meatloaf?”

“I don’t know. A week?” Marinette guessed, looking to Adrien who shrugged. Nino hummed and dug his fork in.

“Two hundred bucks says Chat’s the father,” Alya said.

Nino rolled his eyes, swallowing his mouthful. “Well, duh. No one’s going to bet against you. An interesting bet would be who they were when they did it, if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his eyebrows across the table at Adrien, who looked confused.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Nino sighed loudly, clapping his container on the table. “Seriously, man? Do I have to spell it out for you? Was it Ladybug and Chat, or Ladybug and Chat’s secret identity, or Chat and Ladybug’s secret identity, or both their secret identities? Two hundred bucks says they were both their superhero selves and it was after an akuma attack.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Obviously they’d be in civilian forms. Their suits are, like, magic or something. They probably don’t come off.”

“But Chat’s has a zipper,” Nino pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean it works,” Alya countered.

“It works.”

Three heads turned to stare at Marinette, who was quietly sipping her ginger ale as though she hadn’t just revealed god knows what to her friends and reminded Adrien that she definitely had unzipped his suit before.

Alya crossed her arms, her eyebrows rising to her hairline. “And how would you know that, Mari? What happened to not having a thing with Chat?”

“What are you talking about?” Marinette glanced at her friends, all of whom were giving her pointed looks, including Adrien. It clicked a few moments later, and she spluttered out something incoherent. “I—no, Alya—we didn’t—Adrien! Stop laughing!—nothing happened. Jeez. He showed up with a massive tear in his suit because he was being an idiot and took on muggers. I had to unzip his suit to bandage him up.”

“Sure.” Alya smirked at her friend. “Let’s pretend it wasn’t because of something else.”

“The zipper doesn’t even go down that far so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Marinette groaned and dove under the table to hide as Alya and Nino cackled and Adrien turned red.

“And how do you know that, Marinette?” Alya asked, wheezing out the words between breaths. “Why would you know how far the zipper goes if you weren’t trying to do something more?”

“The cut went farther and I was trying to—you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Marinette pouted under the table for a while, Alya and Nino taunting her, and eventually even Adrien snorted out a chuckle or two.

“Okay, okay.” Nino waved his hands, finally containing his giggles. “Alya’s on civilians and I’m on superheroes. Do you two want to get in on the bet?”

“Chat and Ma-Ladybug’s secret identity,” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck and hoping no one noticed his almost slip up. “They’re friends and hung out and I don’t know. It ended up in a baby.”

Alya was scribbling down his words on a napkin. “Did he know it was Ladybug?”

Adrien shrugged. “Probably not? She was really into keeping their identities secret from each other. At least, that’s what it seemed like.”

“Okay. Marinette?”

The girl in question crept back onto her chair, raising an eyebrow at Adrien. Why had he chosen that specific pairing? Of course, it was weird to have to choose any of their identities as most likely to hook up, but why had he chosen her and Chat specifically? Did that mean something? Sure, at one point Marinette and Chat definitely would have been the most likely. But lately it would have been Ladybug and Chat, or possibly Marinette and Adrien. Maybe.

Was she overthinking this? Absolutely.

Would she have a long discussion with Tikki later trying to figure it out? Probably.

Would Tikki tell her she was insane and that it would have been weirder if Adrien had just decided not to take part in the bet? Definitely.

So Marinette pushed those thoughts away and sent Adrien a smirk. “Definitely Chat and Ladybug’s civilian identity.”

“Ooo, why’s that, Mari?” Alya leaned forwards on her elbows. “Did Chat sneak around with more than one civilian?”

Her friend shrugged. “He always swore he was only hanging out with me.”

“Hanging out?” Nino repeated. “Is that what the kids call it these days?” Marinette snorted, but didn’t dignify him with an answer.

“So you’re suggesting that you are Ladybug’s civilian identity?”

“What? That would be ridiculous, Al.” Marinetted laughed awkwardly. “He probably found someone else to bother and it just happened to be Ladybug.”

“Okay,” Alya allowed. “So it’s Chat and Civilian Ladybug. How’d it go down?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “So Chat comes over for food or whatever and they’re hanging out and end up getting drunk and then next thing she knows, she’s waking up in bed with Ad-Civilian Chat and they freak out.”

Alya laughed, scribbling it down, and Nino shook his head, rising to clear the dishes off the table. But Adrien didn’t say anything. Could that have happened? Would he and Marinette have eventually gotten together if he hadn’t just stopped coming after he’d kissed her and she rejected him? Could she have actually fallen for him? Could he have been the actual biological father of the baby if he hadn’t just chickened out?

No one else seemed to notice his internal freak out. Nino yelled something about helping at him from the kitchen and he numbly rose to help fill the dishwasher. Marinette was picking at the hem of her shirt, avoiding his eyes, and Alya finished off her list with a flourish.

“Okay, so we’ve got Nino with post victory superhero sex, Adrien with Chat and Civilian Ladybug just in general, Marinette with Chat and Civilian Ladybug, drunk and with a morning after identity reveal, and me with secretly dating as civilians,” she read, proudly attaching the bet to the fridge with both a Chat Noir and a Ladybug magnet. “Winner gets six hundred dollars. Unless Marinette’s weirdly specific prediction is true. In which she gets two hundred and Adrien gets two hundred, and I will give you my firstborn because clearly you’re psychic or something.”

“Why does being psychic get me your firstborn?” Marinette wondered, flopping down on the couch. Adrien and Nino stuffed the last of the dishes in and turned on the machine, before wandering over to join the girls in the living room. Nino and Alya squeezed into an armchair—despite the Dupain-Cheng-Agreste household having two—and Adrien stretched out across the couch with his head in Marinette’s lap. All this talk lately about the things that didn’t happen between Chat and Marinette had him missing those days, when they’d hang out and talk for hours. Sure, that happened now, but it wasn’t the same. Marinette didn’t feel the same way he felt about her, so they both held back.

But, he thought, as Marinette’s fingers ran through his hair and he had to hold back a purr that he wouldn’t be able to explain to their friends, maybe she missed that too. Maybe her feelings towards him could change, if he tried hard enough.

“Because,” Alya was saying, “if you’ve figured out how to be a psychic, I want you to teach my kid. Maybe that’s why you’ve never been akumatized.”

“Maybe she taught Adrien,” Nino added. “I mean, he was right about the whole Ladybug being pregnant thing.”

“True,” Alya agreed, cocking her head to stare at her friends. “Is that how you guys did it?”

Adrien smirked up at Marinette, who matched his look with an eye roll. “Maybe.”

[MARINETTE] : [Akuma outside the restaurant]
[MARINETTE] : [Alya’s dragging me out for a closer look]
[MARINETTE] : [Apparently it’ll be fun and I definitely won’t get kidnapped this time]
[MARINETTE] : [Adrien? I hope you’re not answering because you’re coming to fight it]
[MARINETTE] : [Gosh, Chat Noir’s taking his time getting here]

[ADRIEN] : [I’m coming. Stay away from it, Mari.]

[MARINETTE] : [I’ll be fine, Kitty]
[MARINETTE] : [Hawkmoth is definitely reusing ideas]
[MARINETTE] : [This akuma is ridiculous]

“Come on, Mari. Just a little bit closer.”

“Alya, seriously. I don’t need to see it.”

“Yes, you do. You never get up close and personal with the akumas. I don’t know how you can live such a boring life.”

“It’s called not wanting to die, Alya. You should try it some time.”

“Ha.”

“Plus, every time I get up close to an akuma lately, it kidnaps me.”

“I bet that got old fast.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, not having much of a choice but to follow her friend down the street after the akuma. It was strange, not having to make up an excuse to get away to transform. It felt wrong.

Today’s akuma was called the Sandman. He was a hulking beast of sand, turning buildings into sandcastles and putting people to sleep. Like she’d texted Adrien, it was ridiculous. Hawkmoth had definitely used this akuma design at least twice.

They rounded a corner and froze. Sandman came into view, all twenty some-odd feet of him. He was near the opposite end of the road, but turned their way when he heard Alya start recording. He was gearing up to blow sand their way when he stopped.

Marinette knew the look that crossed her face. She knew it very well. It was the look the akumas got when they questioned Hawkmoth’s intentions of wanting to take her.

“Alya, we have to run,” she hissed, turning to pull her friend away from the beast.

They didn’t make it far.

A sand dune swept up, carrying Marinette back towards its master and away from a screaming Alya.

Chat knew where Marinette and Alya had gone for lunch, and it didn’t take very long for him to reach there. However, the streets outside the restaurant were covered in sand and empty of people, akumatized or otherwise.

So he followed the sand, leaping across buildings for a few blocks.

And then he saw her.

And his blood turned cold.

He dropped to the street, steps heavy as he approached the lone figure. His stomach clenched as he noticed the streaks of mascara on Alya’s face, heard the sobs that wracked her body.

“A-alya?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, and it broke when he tried to speak, but the girl looked up, rising on shaky legs and throwing her arms around him.

“It’s my fault,” she sobbed into his chest. “It’s all my fault. She didn’t want to come but I made her and now Hawkmoth has her again and I don’t know where they went or what to do or anything and it’s my fault and you have to help her, Chat. Please.”

Chat’s arms had frozen halfway to reaching around Alya. “Marinette.” His heartbeat quickened, and he pulled away, retrieving his baton from his waist. “I’ll find her, Alya.”

The girl nodded, and he took off, following the trail of sand.

Until it ended.

Until he was standing in the middle of a square, the only sand in sight where he’d already come from.

He knew he was being irrational. He knew there was no logical reason for him to be practically hyperventilating, tearing through the streets at random. He knew that Marinette could handle herself, that for some reason Hawkmoth wanted the akumas to take her unharmed, and that, if things did get bad, she could always transform and kick its butt.

He knew that. He really did. But none of it was registering past the fact that she was gone and he didn’t know where she was and if he’d managed to sneak off from the photoshoot just a minute sooner, she might not be.

He spent hours searching for her. It didn’t matter that Alya and Nino were probably blowing up his phone, telling him that an akuma had Marinette again. It didn’t matter that he was missing dinner with his father. Nothing mattered except for the fact that Marinette was still missing, and he didn’t have a single lead.

It was nearing midnight when he finally heard her voice, from inside a mattress store of all places.

“Can’t you just let me go? I won’t even tell Chat where you are. I just want a nap.”

Chat almost collapsed in relief, bracing himself against a wall for a moment before charging in like an idiot.

But he wasn’t thinking. He hadn’t been thinking for the better part of the day. All he could think about was getting Marinette back.

So he didn’t contemplate that maybe that was exactly what Sandman was waiting for, for him to come crashing in without a thought, for him to lose the element of surprise that could have helped him.

Chat burst into the warehouse with his baton in hand, wild eyes searching for Marinette.

And there she was, sitting on a mattress in the back corner of the store, completely unharmed and sending an unimpressed look at the akuma.

The akuma that had definitely seen Chat’s not-too-sly entrance and was lumbering its way towards the cat.

Chat dodged the attack, swinging his baton at Sandman’s head. It went through, knocking the sand to the floor. But the beast didn’t go down. No, the sand of his body moved up in a wavelike motion, rebuilding itself.

Chat didn’t know this, though, as he hadn’t stuck around to watch. He raced across the store, skidding to a halt beside Marinette and pulling her tightly against him. He pulled away a moment later, scanning her for injuries.

“I’m okay,” Marinette insisted, grabbing his hands. “I’m fine, Kitty. He didn’t hurt me.”

Chat nodded, his breathing slowing to an almost normal rate. He retracted his hands, running them over her face.

And was then pushed away in a blast of sand.

He dug his way to the surface, vaguely registering Marinette crying out, vaguely realising that the akuma had but himself between them.

But Chat was seeing red. How dare Hawkmoth do this? How dare he send the akumas to kidnap Marinette for no discernable reason? How dare he do this again and again and again?

He charged at the akuma, yelling out a war cry and beating it with his baton. Again and again, the akuma crumbled and rebuilt itself, tossing Chat away before he could reach Marinette.

“Stay away from her,” the akuma finally bellowed, and Chat paused his attack.

“Why?”

“Hawkmoth doesn’t want you near her.”

That didn’t make a lot of sense. Of course, he was in a leather cat suit fighting a mountain of sand in a mattress store, so his perception of making sense was kind of off, but still.

“Why not?”

“You’ll hurt her.” Sandman seemed to be done with talking, sending out a wave of sand to push him back.

That made even less sense, but Chat didn’t have time to contemplate that. He pushed it to the back of his mind and dodged the attack, trying to determine the location of the akuma.

“Blanket!” Marinette called.

Blanket? Chat didn’t see a blanket, and continued dodging attacks, making his way closer.

Ah. There it was. Sandman had a sandy cape with bits of blue peeking through.

It only took a few more minutes and a nicely timed Cataclysm before Chat had the butterfly clenched in his fist and was carrying Marinette away, hiding out on a rooftop.

“Chat,” she whispered after a few moments. “You have to let go of me so I can purify it.”

He hadn’t even noticed that she was still wrapped in his arms, but he forced himself to peel away, allowing her feet to touch the ground. Marinette transformed and purified the butterfly, the cure sweeping out over the city.

She turned, offering Chat a tired smile. “Let’s go home, Kitty.”

“No, I swear I’m fine, Al. We’re at home now. No, he didn’t answer cause he was out all day searching for me. Yeah. Chat found me. Alya, why would we make out? I thought you thought he was with Ladybug? Look, I’m really tired. Can we do this later? Thanks. Yeah, I’ll see you later. Bye.”

Marinette tossed her phone to the floor, snuggling back into Adrien in their bed. His face was buried in her neck, and he’d hardly let her out of his sight since they’d returned to the apartment. She sighed, reaching up to run her hand through his hair.

“We need to talk about it.”

His head shook against her. “No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.” She sighed, feeling his arms tighten around her. “Hawkmoth must know us, like civilian us. Why else would the akumas be told to protect me from you?”

“I don’t know,” Adrien mumbled. “He probably knows who I am. He probably found out my identity somehow and is taking you to get to me and it’s all my fault.”

“Hey.” Marinette pulled his head away from her, staring deep into his eyes. “It’s not your fault. Even if Hawkmoth has figured out who you are, somehow, it’s not your fault, okay? If I have to go through frequent akuma kidnappings for no logical reason, at least they’re kidnapping me to protect me. I’m not going to get hurt, so it’ll all be okay.” Adrien nodded, but Marinette could tell he didn’t entirely believe her. She didn’t mention it, allowing him to curl back into her, and wrapped herself around him. Being kidnapped by an akuma for the whole day really drained her energy, and she was asleep within minutes.

Adrien, however, was not. He couldn’t get it out of his head that somehow this was all his fault. The thoughts swirled through his mind, making him shrink with guilt. How could he have ever thought he could deserve Marinette? He was supposed to be a superhero, but he couldn’t even keep her safe during attacks. How was he going to keep a baby safe?

His thoughts drove him out of bed, retrieving his laptop from the floor before climbing back in. Marinette immediately moved closer in her sleep, her arms coming up to wrap around his waist.

He brought up a website, one of the best for baby supplies that he’d found, and clicked a link.

“I need your credit cards.”

Adrien blinked, looking at the figure that had appeared in the doorway to their bedroom. “Hold on a second.” He pulled the phone away from his ear, closing the notebook that lay on his lap. “What?”

Marinette stepped further into the room, holding out her hand. “Give me your credit cards, Adrien Agreste, or I’ll have to go through your wallet and find them all myself.”

Adrien’s eyebrows scrunched together and he moved the phone back to his ear. “I have to go, Alix. I’ll call you later.” He rose from the bed, picking up his wallet from the bedside table and pulling out eight cards.

“What do you need them for?” Adrien asked as Marinette scooped them up. “Do you need to buy something?”

Marinette let out a sharp laugh. “God, no,” she said, and waved the cards at him. “I’m confiscating these.” She turned and left the room.

“What?” Adrien hurried after her. “Why?”

“Why?” Marinette looked incredulous. “This is why.” She waved her arms. Six boxes of cribs stood behind her.

“I already told you I’d send some back,” Adrien reminded her. “Why’d you bring them back out?”

“I didn’t. This was the shipment the delivery guys brought up this morning.” She gave him an unimpressed look before turning to head to the kitchen.

“Oh.” Adrien scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, you should probably hide the cards.”

There was a banging on the door a moment later, and an incessant screaming of their names. Marinette sent Adrien a look, and he moved to answer it.

Alya practically fell into the apartment. It had been a couple of days since Sandman, and she was full of theories.

But that wasn’t why she was there.

“Look at this! Look at this video that somebody sent me this morning!”

A phone was thrust into Adrien’s hands, and Marinette crowded in behind him as he pressed play.

“You have to let me in,” Chat’s voice crooned. On screen, the hero was pressed against the glass doors to a grocery store, pounding against it. “Please. I need to get in. It’ll only take a couple minutes. Ladybug needs chocolate fudge and pickles, and she’ll kill me if I don’t get them. Please.”

Marinette burst out laughing as Chat’s pleading continued, burying her face in Adrien’s shoulder. No wonder it’d taken him so long to get back the night before. She peeked out again, watching as the clerks opened the door and let Chat in.

“That’s not fair,” Adrien commented and Marinette snorted. “They don’t let me in after closing when you have cravings.”

Chapter Text

“—on his new tour, Jagged Stone is rumoured to have a big announcement.”

Marinette flopped onto the couch in her pyjamas, a bucket of ice cream on her lap and a plate of chicken strips beside her. She was half-heartedly watching a celebrity gossip show, Tikki curled into a pillow in one of the arm chairs. The kwami’s face was twisted in disgust at her chosen’s choice of breakfast, gagging loudly as Marinette dipped a piece of chicken into the ice cream.

“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I think it’s got something to do with that Penny Rolling.”

“They have seemed to be getting closer.”

“Speaking of closer, what do you think about Ladybug’s baby?”

Marinette snorted, rimming her chicken strip around the bucket. Everything came back to Ladybug’s baby lately. Chat would defeat an akuma, and all the news could talk about was whether Ladybug was showing. A new art gallery gets built, and the talk shows wonder whether she and Chat do it on rooftops during patrols. A hospital opens a new wing, and people want to know if the baby will have Chat’s eyes or Ladybug’s nose.

It was a little annoying, but, generally, Marinette was flattered with how excited everyone was that she was having a baby.

There was one thing that everyone could agree on, though.

“Chat Noir is going to be the absolute best father, no doubt about that.”

It wasn’t even a contest. No one was even considering any other option, that Ladybug could be with someone other than her partner. It made Marinette glad that she was with Adrien—technically speaking, at least. No one was taking into consideration how Ladybug’s husband or boyfriend or whatever would feel if he wasn’t Chat Noir.

Of course, Chat Noir himself wasn’t exactly denying his hypothetical paternity.

“You’ve all probably seen this video by now, but we’re going to show it again.”

The screen changed to a post-akuma interview from a few days ago. Despite the talk show host’s speculations, Marinette had not, in fact, seen this video. Chat Noir was leaning casually against his staff, grinning at the camera.

“Yeah, Ladybug and Baby-Bug are doing great. All that good baby stuff is happening, and everything’s looking normal and healthy. My Lady eats a lot of ice cream now. Apparently it’s her comfort food during attacks, so, you know. That’s fun.” This must have been the interview that Alya was furious about the other day, coming into the apartment and throwing ten euros at Marinette because she “won the stupid bet, don’t rub it in”.

“Can you tell us who the father is?” an off-screen voice asked. That was the question everyone wanted answered. Everyone wanted undeniable proof that their favourite superheroes were together.

“That’s not your real question, is it?” Chat’s smirk grew, and he wiggled his eyebrows at the camera person.

“What do you mean?”

Chat tilted his head. “I mean, what you really want to know is whether the little bug is also a kitten. Am I right?”

“Well…yes.”

Chat straightened, his baton shooting up into his hand so he could swing it over his shoulders. “Well, I’m afraid that’s cats-ified information.”

Marinette snorted as the on-screen Chat vaulted away and the video returned to the talk show hosts.

“I mean, he pretty much confirmed it. There’s no doubt in my mind that Chat Noir is the baby’s father.”

“Pretty much isn’t good enough.” Someone knocked on the door and Marinette stood, bringing her breakfast with her as Tikki dashed off to hide. Alya wouldn’t judge her for her weird food. Well, that wasn’t true. Alya would definitely and loudly judge her for her weird food, but Marinette wouldn’t care. “I mean, it’s obvious that he is the father, but we need actual confirmation!”

Marinette swung open the door, grinning at her friend. “Hey, Al! You’ll never guess what they’re talking about on—” She broke off, smile dropping as she slowly blinked at the figure standing in her doorway.

It wasn’t Alya.

It was so far from being Alya that the gods were probably laughing at her for even considering that the blonde haired girl with a strained grin and a large designer bag could possibly be Alya.

But what the hell was Chloe doing outside her door?

Her face scrunched up, and she was suddenly self-conscious of her Ladybug and Chat Noir pyjamas and the ice cream tub in her arms. “What are you doing here?”

Chloe looked away briefly, the fake smile dropping for a moment before she pasted it back on, brighter and more strained than ever. “We’re going shopping!”

Marinette blinked. And then she blinked again. And then she pinched herself, because obviously this must be a dream. Because there was no way in any reality that Chloe Bourgeois would be showing up at her door to take her shopping.

But apparently life was ready to take reality and throw it off a train, because no amount of blinking or pinching was making this go away.

Marinette’s silence was finally broken by a weak “What?”

Chloe’s fake smile dropped and her arms came up to wrap around her stomach. “Look, Marinette,” she started, her eyes trained on the floor near Marinette’s feet. “I really messed things up with Adrien. I was a total bitch and I said some things about you that weren’t necessarily true and I just…I fucked up, okay? Adrien’s probably told you all the details, so I’ll spare you them.”

Marinette hadn’t, actually, heard the details of Adrien and Chloe’s last lunch two months or so ago, but there was a taped-together sonogram on the fridge that gave her enough of an idea. She didn’t say anything, though, and Chloe shifted uncomfortably for a moment before continuing.

“Adrien…he kind of told me that I couldn’t be in his or your baby’s life unless I could make things up with you.” She paused, taking a shaky breath, her eyes finally rising to meet Marinette’s. “I’ve spent the last two months trying to work up the nerve to come over here and talk to you. I can’t lose Adrien, Marinette. I can’t. So I’m willing to try this whole friends thing for his sake if you are. Can you give me a second chance?”

Marinette was shocked to say the least. Chloe Bourgeois, her enemy since they were eleven, wanted to try to be friends? She was here to apologize just so she could be friends with Adrien again.

Did Marinette trust Chloe? Not at all.

Did she think there was a chance that Chloe would disregard anything they said today to suit her own needs? Absolutely.

But she also saw the hope shining in Chloe’s eyes, and the desperation. This was her last chance to make up for whatever she’d said and done to Adrien, her last chance to be a part of his life.

If they could work things out with Gabriel—sort of, at least—who was it to decide that Chloe was a lost cause?

So Marinette found herself stepping back into the house, words falling from her lips that she’d never thought she’d say again.

“Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

Chloe blinked for a second before a small but genuine smile lit up her face. “Thank you, Marinette,” she said, following the girl inside. “Thank you so much. I promise I’ll try really hard to be better.”

Marinette nodded but didn’t say anything, leaving Chloe to poke around in the living room while she went back into her and Adrien’s bedroom. Tikki flew up from the bed and Marinette’s eyes widened, her mouth moving in silent disbelief. She flew around the room in a hurry, brushing her hair and picking out something that didn’t look absolutely horrendous with her baby bump—which, at over three months in, was really starting to show.

“Hey, Marinette?”

The girl in question jumped in shock, having momentarily forgotten who it was that was watching the celebrity gossip show in the other room. “Yeah?”

“How many babies are you having, exactly?”

Marinette shared a look with Tikki. “Just the one…why?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes?” Tikki darted into her chosen’s pocket as Marinette pulled on her shirt. “That’s what all the ultrasounds have been saying, at least.”

“Then what the hell do you need fourteen highchairs for?”

Marinette stepped back into the living room, where Chloe was standing amidst a pile of boxes. She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Adrien—”

“Is stressed out?” Chloe finished, eyebrows raised.

Marinette laughed. “So this isn’t a new thing?”

“God, no.” Chloe snorted, picking her purse up off the floor and staring for the door. “He’s done this since his dad gave him his first credit card for his sixth birthday.” She studied the mountains of cardboard that Alya and Nino had rearranged into furniture. “I think he may have gotten worse, though.”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed, slipping on a pair of flats. “You should see the nursery. The door doesn’t even close.” She passed by Chloe, and the two slipped out into the hallway, Marinette pausing to lock the door behind them. “So. What are we doing?”

Chloe crossed her arms. “I was thinking lunch,” she suggested amicably, before her eyes swung in a once-over of Marinette’s wardrobe, eyebrows raising. “And then we’re going shopping, because clearly Adrien has not been stress-shopping actual maternity clothes.”

Lunch with Chloe was awkward to say the least. She’d booked a table at some fancy restaurant, and the two girls sat in silence as they waited for their meals. Marinette pushed her meal around with her fork, trying to figure out a way to start the conversation she’d been waiting to have for thirteen years.

“Hey, Chloe?” she finally said, her voice tentative, looking up from her meal.

“Yeah?”

“Just…there’s something I want to know.” Marinette paused, biting her lip, as Chloe nodded enthusiastically. “We used to be best friends, Chloe. What happened?”

Chloe took in a breath before nodding. “I guess you remember what I was like back then,” she started, tucking her fork onto her plate for the long talk. Marinette nodded, remembering the little girl from primary school with pigtail braids, thick glasses, and a lisp. “You were my only friend, Marinette. I mean, everyone pretended to be friends with me because they were all friends with you, but none of them really liked me. You didn’t see the way they ignored me when you weren’t around, or teased me about the way I talked or any of that.

“You may have been my only friend, but I was ridiculously jealous of you. You just made friends so easily, and with everyone! It wasn’t fair.

“Remember when we were eleven? We were both so upset that my father was making me spend the whole summer in Nice with my cousins. They were older and they…well, they remade me. They bought me all the coolest clothes and taught me how to do my hair. I got contacts, and got help with my lisp.

“And then I was cool. At least, I thought I was. I wasn’t going to be the four-eyed kid who couldn’t talk that trailed you around anymore. My cousins taught me that there wasn’t any difference in having people love you or fear you, as long as you were popular.

“So I started bullying people. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was definitely what I was doing. Especially to you. I was still really jealous of you, Marinette, because everyone still liked you more even though I dressed cooler and had more money.

“And you never fought back, not until Alya showed up.” Chloe cocked her head. “Why?”

Marinette shrugged, staring into her glass of iced tea. “Because it was you,” she said quietly. “Because you never had a bad thing to say about anyone. Because you were my best friend, and I couldn’t make myself believe that that Chloe was really gone.”

Chloe was silent for a few minutes, toiling with her napkin. “But she was gone,” she finally said. “That Chloe disappeared that summer, and I hated it. I regretted what I was doing to you every single day, but I didn’t realize it until it was too late. By then, you hated me and there wasn’t anything I could do about it, so I just didn’t try.

“I should have, but I didn’t. Because I took the easy way by scaring and threatening people into being my friends.” She let out a humourless laugh, shaking her head. “Which is a really shitty way of making friends, especially since people still didn’t really like me.” She smiled sadly at Marinette. “Even Adrien left me for you.”

Chloe let out a breath, folding her hands on the table. “That’s why it took me so long to come talk to you after what happened with Adrien,” she said. “I miss you, Marinette. I’ve missed you since the day I left for Nice and decided to change who I was. I really wish I hadn’t been such an idiot.”

“I forgive you.” Marinette looked up from her drink, offering Chloe a smile. “You were a kid, and you did what you thought would get you friends. I wish you hadn’t, but we can try to be friends again.”

Chloe was frozen for a moment before her face broke out in a grin. She ducked her head, smiling down at her plate. “Thanks, Marinette,” she said. “I hope we can.” She looked back up, pushing the mostly empty plate away. “Now. Let’s go shopping.”

Adrien had woken up early that morning, dressing quickly in a suit and rushing Plagg out the door. He only spent a few minutes standing in front of the building before a ridiculously large pink truck pulled up and he climbed in.

“Hey, Alix,” Adrien said, pulling his seatbelt across him. “Thanks again for doing this.”

Alix smirked, maneuvering the monstrosity into the streat. “Anything for you, Chat Noir,” she replied, sending him a wink. “And you’re getting me those autographs for Poppy, right?”

Adrien turned to smile at the little girl strapped into the back seat, a Chat Noir doll being strangled in her grip. “Course I am,” he said. “How’s it going, Poppy?”

The two year old sent him a toothy grin. “Hi, Onka Ad.”

“We have to drop Pops off at daycare on the way,” Alix said, a hand running through her spiky pink hair. “And you better not Cataclysm this guy. I’m pretty sure turning the guy to dust isn’t going to help your case.”

“Ha.”

It’d been three weeks since he’d first met up with Alix about the issue, meeting at her own house during Poppy’s naptime.

“I need your help, Alix.”

“Why?” Alix wanted to know. “Because I’m gorgeous and a genius and better than you at everything?”

Adrien didn’t acknowledge his friend’s words. “Because you’re a lawyer.”

She nodded. “Right. That.” She steepled her fingers, leaning forward against the table. “What is it that you need my lawyering skills for that you can’t just get one of your dad’s lawyers to deal with?”

Adrien ran a hand through his hair. “They’d tell my father,” he said. “And my father can’t find out about this. Ever.”

Alix nodded sagely. “Because this is about you being Chat Noir?” she guessed.

Adrien started, spewing the water he’d been drinking all over the table and his friend. “What?”

Alix just wiped the water from her eyes like she got spat on every day. She probably did, a part of Adrien’s brain rationalized, seeing as how she had a two year old. “Or is it about Marinette being Ladybug?”

“Wh-what?” Adrien let out an obviously fake laugh. “We’re not—that’s not—you’re—”

Alix reached forward, laying her hand over Adrien’s with what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring smile. “Save your breath, Adrien,” she said. “It’s not like either of you were very subtle about it back in school. Honestly, I’m surprised I’m the only one who figured it out. Kim doesn’t even believe me, but we all know I didn’t marry him for his brains.” Adrien was still gaping at her, and Alix huffed out a breath, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, Adrien. I’ve had ten years to accept that you idiots are superheroes. Just make your peace with it and move on.”

“You know?” Adrien repeated, the weight of what this meant starting to sink in. “But…how? How long?”

“Like I said, you were both pretty obvious about it.” Alix rolled her eyes again, taking a sip of her own water. “I pretty much figured it out after Ivan was Stoneheart for the second time.”

Adrien floundered for a moment, incoherent noises the only sounds he could make for a few minutes. “You’ve known for ten years?” he finally managed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Alix shrugged. “I figured I could use it against you at some point,” she admitted. “But the chance never came up.”

Adrien shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve known for ten years,” he muttered. “Mari and I didn’t even know until the whole baby thing happened.”

Both of Alix’s hands came slapping down on the table with such speed and sound that Adrien jumped. “I knew it!” she shrieked, before covering her mouth and pulling the baby monitor up to her ear. They sat in silence for a few moments, but no sound came to indicate that Poppy had woken up, so Alix sent an accusatory finger at Adrien. “I fudging knew it, Agreste. There was no way in heck you could have known in school with the way you acted around each other. Holy shoot, Kim is going to owe me so much money!”

“You can’t tell him!” Adrien jerked forward over the table, eyes wide. “You can’t tell anyone!”

Alix rolled her eyes. “Duh. I’m just saying that in the inevitable moment when you idiots make some stupid mistake and reveal your identities to the world, I’m going to rich as heck.” She grinned at Adrien. “One more thing. How’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know. It.” Adrien stared at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Adrien. I’m starting to see why it took you ten years to figure out Marinette is Ladybug. How’d you guys make the baby? Who was it? Adrien and Marinette? Ladybug and Chat Noir? Chat Noir and Marinette? Adrien and Ladybug?”

Adrien sighed, running his hand through his hair. “That’s kind of the thing I want to talk to you about,” he said. “But you can’t tell anyone ever.” He paused, waiting for Alix to agree. “I’m not technically the father.”

Alix blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean me and Marinette…we’ve never…we’ve never had sex, Alix.” Adrien ran a hand over his face. “The baby’s not mine. Not biologically.”

Alix stared at him for a moment, shaking her head. “Ho. Ly. Shirt,” she muttered. “Never? But Marinette had that thing with Chat Noir in lycée?”

Adrien faceplanted on the table. “There wasn’t a thing!” he groaned. “Why does everyone think there was a thing?”

Alix took pity on him, folding her hands together and going into lawyer mode. “Alright,” she said. “So you’re not the biological father. Who cares? You’re the one who’s going to be the father, right? So what’s the big deal?”

Adrien looked up again. “You know who we are, Alix,” he reminded her. “He doesn’t want anything to do with the baby, but what if it gets out the Mari is Ladybug?”

“Because then he’ll suddenly want everything to do with the baby, because who wouldn’t want the world to know they provided the sperm for Ladybug’s baby.” Alix nodded in understanding.

“Right,” Adrien agreed. “And if he decides he wants to be in the baby’s life, then he’d have some claim over it, wouldn’t he?”

“You want me to get rid of his claim?” Alix guessed, and Adrien nodded in agreement. “Does Marinette know you’re doing this?”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t really like talking about him,” he told her. “He kind of seemed like an asshole. So I thought I’d get this whole thing figured out with you and him and then tell her?”

Alix sighed, flipping open her laptop. “Let’s do this, Agreste,” she said. “What do you know about this bumhole?”

And that was how Adrien found himself now in Lê Chiên Alix’s pink monster truck dropping her daughter off at Rose and Juleka’s for daycare.

Alix climbed back into the truck—a feat for the tiny girl which amazed Adrien—and they drove the rest of the way to Pierre Chevalier’s law firm. Because, surprise, Alix actually knew the guy from law school, and he was as much of a jerk as Adrien assumed him to be.

Proven by his jerky top floor lawyer office with his jerky floor to ceiling windows and his jerky golden engraved name plate on his jerky solid oak desk.

But Adrien wasn’t biased or anything.

Pierre’s secretary let them into his office, and the three shook hands before Adrien and Alix sat opposite him. A tiny part of the back of Adrien’s mind noticed that Pierre was also blond, and that the man looked enough like him for Adrien to pass as the father. So that was good.

“What can I do for you today, Kubdel?”

“It’s actually Lê Chiên now, Chevalier,” Alix replied, tapping her folder on the desk. “My client here, Adrien Agreste, has brought forward some concerns about you.”

Pierre leaned forward, holding a hand out to Adrien. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Monsieur Agreste,” he said, and Adrien shook his hand, resisting the urge to wipe his own off on his pants. “How is it that you can have concerns about me when we’ve never even been in the same room?”

“My client is the current boyfriend of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Alix interjected. They’d decided on the way over that that would strengthen his claim, and, besides, they were living together and sharing the same bed. Who would dispute it?

But Pierre looked confused. “Who?”

Adrien’s fists clenched and he had to fight to contain the instinct to transform and Cataclysm the lawyer into tomorrow. “The girl you got pregnant, asshole,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Pierre blinked. “Oh. Her.” He crossed his arms, leveling a glare at Adrien and Alix. “I already told her that she wasn’t getting anything from me. I don’t want anything to do with her or with it.”

Alix nodded. “Then we’re in agreement.” She handed him the folder. “This is a contract relinquishing any and all claim to the baby.”

Pierre opened the folder, and began a back and forth debate with Alix about points drawn up—“Is the wording “regardless of any information brought forth in the future” really how you want to state this?” “Yes, it is.”—that went on for hours. At least, it seemed that way to Adrien, who had been lost in the conversation almost as soon as it had begun.

Eventually, the ringing of his phone interrupted, and Adrien took the blessed moment to step outside, not even bothering to check who was calling.

“Hello?”

“Oh my God, Adrien. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Chloe?” He pulled the phone away from his ear, squinting down at it in confusion. Sure enough, Chloe’s face lit up the screen. “Why are you calling me?”

“I’m sorry, Adrien.” Her voice was thick with worry. “I apologized to Marinette and we went shopping but now there’s an akuma and it—I’m sorry, Adrien. It took her. I couldn’t stop it, and Chat Noir hasn’t shown up yet and I don’t know what to do and—”

“Where are you?” Adrien’s voice cut off her rant, and he hung up the phone as soon as she’d given him the name of the mall.

He pushed open the door to Pierre’s office, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair.

“What’s up?” Alix asked.

“An akuma took Marinette,” he said, eyes pleading with her to get his unspoken message.

Alix nodded, glancing at Pierre. “I think we can handle this on our own,” she said, and Pierre hesitantly nodded. “Go find her, Agreste.”

It took him awhile, but eventually Chat Noir caught up to Army Man and his following of life-sized green plastic army men.

Marinette was nowhere in sight.

Army Man got a baton to the face, Chat pinning the akuma to the ground with a wild look in his eyes.

“Where is she?” he hissed. “Where’s Marinette? What did you do to her?”

The akuma didn’t answer, choosing instead to laugh as his followers pulled Chat off of him. Chat’s heart caught in his throat, though he logically knew he shouldn’t be worried. The other akumas had never hurt Marinette, and Sandman had even said that he was protecting her.

But he was stressed, and it showed. It took him a few hours before he was finally able to defeat the akuma. Butterfly clenched in his fist, he took off back towards his apartment.

It was empty.

Marinette wasn’t there.

The hand that wasn’t clutching the butterfly ran through his hair as his transformation dropped. Plagg didn’t say anything, just diligently flew into the kitchen to recharge.

Adrien pulled his phone from his pocket, pacing as he dialed Marinette’s number.

“The number you are trying to reach is not available at this time.”

He swore, throwing the phone at the couch as Plagg reappeared, and he called up the transformation again. His palm still tingled from holding the akuma against his bare skin.

He phoned her again and again, but the same recorded voice answered each time. He tried again, switching numbers.

“Hello?”

“Alya!” Chat breathed out in relief. “Where’s Marinette? Is she okay?”

“She said she was just going to stay home today,” Alya said slowly. “Why? Is she not there?”

Chat drew his leather clad hand over his face. “No. There was an akuma and it took her but I couldn’t find her and Chloe called and said—Chloe!”

“Wait…Chloe?”

“I have to go, Al. I’ll let you know when I find her.”

His claws flew over the phone and he held his breath, waiting as it rung again and again and again until finally—

“Adrien?”

“Where is she? Is she okay? I couldn’t find her anywhere. She’s okay, right?”

“Marinette’s fine, Adrien.” Chat deflated in relief, sinking down against the wall. “The akuma let her go when Chat didn’t show up and we’re on our way back to your place now.”

“Can I—can I talk to her?” Chat asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Please, Chloe. I just need to know she’s okay.”

There was muffled talking for a moment before another voice appeared. “I’m okay, Adrien. The akuma only had me for a couple of minutes, but I broke my phone and I guess Ladybug hasn’t purified it yet since it’s still broken. But I’m okay.”

Chat closed his eyes, the fist still tightly wrapped around the akuma pressing against them to keep the relieved tears in. “You promise?”

“I promise. Look, Chloe and I are just pulling up to the apartment now, and thank god because I really need to pee.” He recognized what the emphasis on those words meant, even if only a small part of his mind was able to focus on anything other than the fact that he could have lost her or the baby. “I’m going to hang up, but I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Chat agreed, listening to the phone click off. He pulled himself off the floor and walked on shaky legs into the ensuite.

The wait was torture—did it really take that long to get up the elevator?—and he desperately wished that he could talk with Plagg. But that would mean dropping the transformation, and, with the worst of the worry about Marinette gone, his palm was really starting to burn from touching the akuma with his skin. He hoped that whatever side effects there were from that would disappear once Marinette purified the butterfly.

And then the glorious sound of a key in a lock reached his ears, and Chat stiffened, standing to stare at the door leading back into the bedroom. The blood was pounding in his ears too loudly to make out more than general mumblings from the girls who entered.

After a few agonizing minutes, the door finally opened.

Forgetting the butterfly, Chat threw his arms around Marinette, pulling her close and squeezing her tightly. He barely registered the small lump in between them, focusing on Marinette’s arms holding him back and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Eventually, Marinette’s hand came up to run through his hair. “Adrien,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I really need to get back out there. Chloe’s going to wonder why I’m taking so long in the bathroom.”

Chat nodded against her, taking another moment before pulling back. He watched as she transformed, and then let the butterfly fly from his hand. It took only moments for Paris to be put back to normal, for Chloe to yell out something about Marinette’s phone being fixed.

“I’ll try to get her out soon,” Marinette promised, dropping her transformation again and squeezing Adrien’s hand before she left.

Chloe was perched on a bar stool in the kitchen, flicking through something on her phone. “You know, there’s all sorts of theories about why akumas keep kidnapping you. One of the favourites is that Adrien is Hawkmoth.” She looked up. “It would make sense, really. I mean, he’s never actually been an akuma.”

Marinette offered her a small smile at the joke, leaning against the counter. “I’m really tired, Chloe,” she said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. “Could we maybe continue this some other time?”

Chloe nodded, hopping up. “All your bags are by the couch,” she told her, toeing her way back into her shoes. “I’ll text you later?” Marinette nodded and watched Chloe leave.

The door had barely shut when she felt arms wrap around her and a face burying itself in her neck. She turned in Adrien’s grip, her hands coming to the sides of his face to pull him up to look at her.

“Hey,” she whispered, her thumbs running over his cheeks. “I’m okay. Nothing happened.”

Adrien nodded, his arms tightening around her. “Chloe phoned and said…and then you weren’t there. I didn’t see you at all, Mari, and I thought…I thought something happened.” He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand and squeezing tighter. “I thought he did something to you, and it would have been my fault for not getting there fast enough.”

“Adrien,” Marinette murmured. “Look at me.” He opened his eyes again, and she stared into them. “Nothing happened, okay? He let me go when you didn’t come right away, and I got back to Chloe. If something had happened, it wouldn’t have been your fault. It would have been Hawkmoth’s, okay? And I would have transformed and taken care of myself.”

“I know.” Adrien’s voice was shaky. “But I was so worried, Marinette. I thought I’d lost you.”

Marinette dropped his face to wrap her arms around him, hugging him tight and whispering that she was okay.

After a while they moved to the couch, curling up under a blanket together to watch a movie.

“What were you doing with Chloe?” Adrien asked. Marinette was tucked under his arm with her head resting on his chest.

Marinette sighed. “She came to apologize,” she said. “Apparently she did and said some things to you and now she’s decided to make things better between us so she can be in yours and the baby’s lives.” She shrugged. “We went shopping and she bought me a bunch of maternity clothes.”

Adrien nodded against her head but didn’t say anything, and Marinette didn’t press. She was almost asleep when the ringing of the doorbell caused both her and Adrien to jump.

“I’ll get it,” Marinette offered, peeling herself off the couch and stretching. She padded over to the front door, pulling it open.

“Tante Mar!”

“Hey, Poppy.” Marinette smiled down at the girl, whose arms were in the air. She picked her up, placing her on her hip and smiling at the girl’s mother. “Hey, Alix. What’s up?”

“I see you weren’t eaten by an akuma today,” Alix observed, nodding at her friend. “That’s good.”

Adrien appeared behind Marinette. “You got it finished?”

Alix nodded and Marinette looked between them, Poppy tugging on the ends of her hair. “Got what finished?”

Alix suggested they go inside, and the three plus Poppy crowded around the table, the folder Alix had been carrying laid out before them. She looked at Adrien. “Are you going to tell her, or do you want me to?”

Adrien looked at Marinette, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I thought that possibly if anything ever got out about us being—” He paused, glancing at Alix and Poppy. “—Ladybug and Chat Noir—”

“Adrien, what the hell?” Marinette cried out. Her head whipped around to Alix. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. He’s just making stuff up.”

Alix rolled her eyes. “Chill, Marinette,” she said. “I’ve known since Stoneheart. I’m just better at keeping a secret than you two.”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“You both give yourselves way too much credit,” Alix informed them. “Just because you were too big of idiots to figure out who the other was doesn’t mean that I was that stupid.”

Marinette nodded slowly. “Okay,” she allowed, looking back at Adrien. “What were you saying?”

Adrien let out a deep breath. “I was thinking that if our identities ever got out, which Alix thinks is a really high possibility because apparently we’re really obvious idiots.” Alix nodded in confirmation of his statement. “Right. Well, I thought that probably Pierre would suddenly want to be back in your life.”

“Shit,” Marinette muttered, running her hand over her face. “I didn’t think about that. But he would definitely want people to know that he’s Ladybug’s baby’s father, wouldn’t he? Shit.”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed. “That’s why I went to Alix. I thought she could write something up to get him to give up all rights no matter what. I didn’t plan on telling her who we were, but she already knew that.”

Marinette turned to Alix, eyes wide. “And did you?” she wanted to know. “Did you get him to sign something?”

Alix nodded, and Marinette let out a sigh of relief. “All you have to do is sign it, and you’ll never have to see Pierre Chevalier again.”

Marinette sat up in bed, all traces of sleep leaving her. Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. Could it? She felt it again and let out a squeal of delight, reaching to shove the body still cuddled into her side.

“Adrien!” She didn’t bother to be quiet as she shook him. “Adrien, wake up!”

He bolted up in bed, eyes wide as his head whipped around. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it an akuma? Shit. Plagg, transform me!” The green light that flashed through the room was accompanied by a fair amount of cursing. “Where’s the akuma?”

“There isn’t one.” Marinette’s voice was flat, her eyebrows raised.

Chat blinked at her in confusion. “Then why am I transformed?”

“I don’t know.” A smirk tugged at the corners of Marinette’s mouth as Adrien released Plagg, the kwami grumbling as he flew back to his bed.

“Then what’s wrong?” Adrien wanted to know, looking her over. “Shit. Is it the baby? Is something wrong with the baby? Don’t worry, Marinette. Just wait here. I’ll call an ambulance.” He moved to get out of bed, but Marinette grabbed his arm.

“Relax, Adrien,” she said with a laugh. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Adrien slowly moved back, eyeing her with suspicion. “Then why’d you wake me up?”

Marinette grinned, taking his hands in her own and pressing them against the bump of her belly. They sat there for a few minutes, her grinning up at him and him staring at their hands in confusion.

And then they felt it.

Adrien jolted back, his eyes widening as he pressed his hands harder against her stomach. There it was again! He stared at Marinette, whose own grin had grown.

“Is that the baby?” he whispered, his eyes returning to their hands in awe.

Marinette nodded, squeezing his hands. “It’s kicking,” she breathed back.

Adrien moved to look at Marinette again, a grin of his own breaking out across his face. “It’s kicking,” he repeated, a breathless laugh escaping. “Oh, my god, Marinette, it’s kicking!”

Chapter Text

Chat vaulted over the streets, sighing at the people screaming for him from down on the ground. He readjusted the grocery bag on his shoulder, twirling down his baton until he was standing in the middle of the crowd.

“Isn’t it meow-velous mew-ning?” He grinned at the civilians, faltering when bags and boxes were shoved into his open arms. “What—what’s happening? What are you doing?”

“We wanted to give you things for the baby,” one woman said, draping a handmade quilt around his neck. “You’ve both saved all of us so many times, it’s the least we could do to pay you back.”

Chat blinked in confusion, voices blurring together as he looked around at all the faces. He registered the ringing of his baton after a while, somehow managing to maneuver the gifts to one arm and answer the call.

“Chat, are you almost back with the pudding?” Ladybug’s face peered out through the screen, eyes narrowed as she scanned the background behind his head and listened to the chatter of the crowd. “Where are you even?”

Chat grinned sheepishly, side eying the sheer amount of stuff piled around him. “I got a little sidetracked,” he admitted. “I’ll be home in a claw-ple, though.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and hung up, and Chat turned back to the people, offering them a smile and wondering how on earth he was supposed to carry all this stuff over the rooftops.

Marinette cocked her head, a mug of tea warming her hands as she watched Chat lug in an ungodly amount of baby supplies through the balcony doors.

“Did you rob a store?”

Chat jumped, having not noticed her standing in the kitchen, and offered her a lopsided grin. “I didn’t buy any of this!” he defended, rubbing his arm where a particularly awkward to carry rocking horse had dug in through the entire trip. “Or steal it,” he added as he processed what she’d said.

“Right.” Marinette’s eyebrows rose, clearly not believing him. “Because obviously all of this just fell out of the sky onto you.” She crossed the room to pull a green bib off one of his cat ears. “Did you at least remember the pudding?”

He grinned, whipping their cloth bag off his shoulder. “Like I would forget your pudding, my Lady.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, pulling the bag from where it dangled from his fingers, and retreated to the kitchen for a spoon. “So,” she asked, hopping onto the counter with her pudding to watch Chat try to sort through his stuff. “If you didn’t buy these and you didn’t steal it, where did they come from?”

He sighed, dropping his transformation. A grumbling Plagg disappeared into the refrigerator. “So apparently we have a lot of fans.”

Marinette licked her spoon clean, digging it back into her tub. “And that’s news to you?” she wondered. “I’m not getting how this connects to the stuff.”

“I’m getting to that part.” Adrien, arms finally rid of baby things, hopped up onto the counter beside her. “I guess they’re really excited we’re having a baby and want to give us presents.” He finished with a shrug, stealing a scoop of chocolate pudding with his finger.

Marinette scowled at him, moving her snack out of his reach. “So you just took them? Adrien, you know we have too much stuff already.”

“But they were so cute,” Adrien argued. “They were so excited to give Chat Noir things for the superbaby.” He unwrapped the quilt that was still around his neck, holding it proudly out in front of him. “This sweet little old lady made this herself for our baby, Marinette, and you expected me to say no?”

It was a patchwork quilt of pastel blues, greens, yellows, pinks, and purples. Marinette shoved her pudding into Adrien’s free hands, using both of her own to pull the blanket close. The edges were rimmed with a pattern of hand-embroidered red ladybugs and green paw prints, but it was the center that took Marinette’s breath away. A large black cat with green eyes was embroidered across the blanket, a ladybug perched on its nose.

She trailed her fingers over the stitches and looked up at Adrien. “Someone actually made this for us?” she breathed, matching his smile. “Someone heard we were having a baby and their first thought was to make this for us? Adrien, this is gorgeous.”

“Still think I should have said no?” Adrien asked, polishing off the pudding with his finger.

“No,” Marinette sighed, rubbing the soft material of the blanket between her palms. “Yes. I don’t know. This is—Adrien, this is all amazing, but we can’t accept anymore. We need to figure something out, because we already have way too much baby stuff without civilians giving you things every time Chat Noir makes an appearance.”

“Probably,” Adrien agreed, though he didn’t offer any more of a suggestion. He pulled two more containers of pudding from the shopping bag and held one out. Marinette draped the blanket across their laps and accepted it, stealing back her spoon.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, contemplating what to do, until the doorbell rang.

Marinette shot Adrien a quizzical look, climbing off the counter and heading for the front door. She swung it open—and was greeted by three grinning faces and an amount of shopping bags and tool boxes that rivaled the things the cat had dragged in. She snorted to herself, wondering silently whether or not to tell Adrien that pun.

“Mari!” She was snapped back to reality as Kim dropped his bags and wrapped her up in a hug, crushing her to his chest. “It’s been too long!”

Marinette laughed and pushed him away. “You came over for dinner three days ago,” she reminded him.

Kim picked his bags and the massive toolbox back up, grinning at her. “Three long days filled with nightmares of your deathtrap of an apartment.”

With that, he pushed past Marinette into her home, yelling out a greeting to Adrien. Marinette stared after him in confusion for a moment before looking back at Max and Nino.

Nino shrugged, hefting his own bags. “He called us yesterday,” he explained. “Apparently we’re babyproofing.”

“Fun,” Marinette drawled, gesturing for her friends to follow her in. They moved back to the kitchen, where Kim and Adrien were arguing about whether the magnets at the bottom of the fridge would be choking hazards.

“They’re smaller than my thumb, Adrien. AJ’s going to eat those and then you’re going to spend hours in emergency.”

“They’re only smaller than your thumb because your thumb is, like, the size of my entire hand. And AJ—I mean, the baby—can’t eat fridge magnets from in Mari’s stomach! That’s basically impossible!”

“Actually,” Max interjected, piling his things on the floor, “it’s completely impossible. There is absolutely no way that the fetus could eat fridge magnets before it’s born. And it’s in her uterus, not her stomach.”

Nino flopped backwards onto the couch. “What if Marinette ate fridge magnets?” he wondered. “Then AJ would be, like, absorbing fridge magnets.”

“Absorbing isn’t eating,” Adrien argued. “Or choking on. Hey! Don’t move those!”

Kim was picking the magnets off the top of the fridge, papers depicting the logistics of various bets fluttering to the ground. “Do you want AJ to fudging choke, Agreste?” he demanded, waving an arm in Adrien’s face.

“How is the baby even going to get those ones?” Adrien argued. “Marinette’s not giving birth to a six foot tall man!”

Marinette blinked. What was she even listening to? “I really hope I’m not giving birth to a six foot tall man,” she agreed, plucking her purse off the floor. “I’m heading to Alix’s.”

Kim waved a hand—the one that wasn’t full of magnets—at her. “She made lasagna and wouldn’t let me have any.”

“Great.” Marinette took that as her cue to leave, waving at a flustered looking Adrien as she left.

Adrien stared after her, itching to kiss her goodbye. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her. She’d probably think he was only doing this because of the baby. That wouldn’t be the only reason, wouldn’t even be near the top of the reasons, but she didn’t know that, and Adrien had no idea how to tell her.

“What if Mari really did give birth to a six foot tall man?” Nino wondered aloud, rolling over to peer over the couch at his friends. “Man, that’d hurt.”

“She would die,” Max agreed. “There is no possible way that she would survive that much pain and tearing.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Adrien begged, snatching the magnets from Kim and replacing them. “I don’t need these images.”

“I don’t know why you don’t want to imagine your not-girlfriend pushing a guy Kim’s size out her—you know what? I can’t even joke about this anymore. I don’t want those images either. Why’d you start this, Adrien?” Nino folded his arms under his head on the back of the couch, sending Adrien a glare. His friend spluttered defences, but Nino ignored him, turning his glare on Kim. “Here’s me changing the subject. Why didn’t Alix make us any lasagna?”

“Because she has a life other than making lasagna,” Kim deadpanned, bending down and tapping on the corners of walls. “Marinette was having cravings for it the other day so she thought she’d make her some.”

“I want to be pregnant,” Nino pouted. “Nobody makes me food just because I want it.” He rolled off the couch and made his way into the kitchen. “Dude, what kind of leftovers do you have?”

“If you keep eating all our food, we’re going to go broke,” Adrien pointed out, watching as Nino pulled out a leg of turkey he didn’t even know they had.

“Yeah, right,” Nino laughed through a mouthful of meat. “You’re rich, dude. You don’t need your leftovers. I need your leftovers.” He chomped down again, staring at Adrien in thought. “Is Marinette still craving lasagna? Or does it, like, change?”

Adrien shrugged, watching as Kim knocked on a wall, his ear pressed up against it. “It changes, I guess. She was craving pudding this morning.”

“So was Ladybug,” Max interjected, and Adrien’s eyes shot over to where his friend was leaning against the counter with a glass of water. “Sabrina and I saw Chat Noir at the grocery store this morning. He bought out their entire supply.”

“Dude, I have to text Alya.” Adrien blinked at the turkey leg that was thrust into his hand. “Ladybug and Mari have the same cravings. How crazy is that?”

“Super crazy,” Adrien agreed, rubbing his neck and laughing awkwardly. Thankfully, none of his friends picked up on his awkwardness. None of them ever did. Except, apparently, Alix. It’d been over two months since they found out she knew and it was still weird.

“What is he doing?”

At Nino’s words, Adrien looked back at Kim, who was lying on his back under the TV stand.

“Don’t question the process,” Max said.

Nino took back his turkey leg, ripping off a chunk with his teeth. The three stood there for a while, watching Kim climb furniture and tap on things.

“Shouldn’t we help?” Nino wondered.

“No.” Adrien and Max spoke at the same time. Adrien grinned and held his hand out to Max, who rolled his eyes but nevertheless obliged his friend in a fist bump.

Nino finished off the last of his turkey leg, cocking his head in question. “Well, why not?”

“You and Alya were in Spain when he wanted our help baby proofing for Poppy,” Max pointed out.

“So?”

“So,” Adrien repeated, drawing out the syllable, “Kim is insane. He’ll just redo anything we do.”

Nino squinted between his friends, crossing behind Adrien to dig through the fridge again. “So he got us to come here to not help him baby proof your house?”

Adrien shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Nino had a tub of macaroni and a soup ladle when he rejoined his friends, handing them each a can of Coke. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You do know we have plates, right?” Adrien asked, raising his eyebrows at Nino’s choice of snack. “And appropriate cutlery?”

“Jeez,” Nino rolled his eyes. “Hey, Max, look at Monsieur Multimillionaire-Supermodel over here with his fancy plates and appropriate cutlery.” He pointed the spoon in Adrien’s face. “Don’t slut-shame the ladle, dude.”

Adrien spluttered. “What—I’m not—what are you talking about?”

Kim returned to the kitchen then, slamming his hands down on the island. “Do you losers want the good news or the bad news?”

“Good news?” Adrien suggested. “This apartment is brand new, Kim. What kind of bad news can it have?”

“I want the bad news first,” Nino argued, offering a ladleful of macaroni to Kim. “You’re always supposed to get the bad news first.”

“Weird Spoon here’s the winner,” Kim said after dumping the macaroni down his throat. He gave Adrien a pointed look. “You need to work on your bribery skills, Rich Kid.”

“But it’s my macaroni!”

“But Weird Spoon’s the one who gave it to me.” Kim shrugged, handing Nino back the ladle. He steepled his hands on the counter. “So the bad news is that your apartment is a walking disaster zone. Seriously. I don’t know how Alix can relax when we have Poppy over here. The worse news is that it’s even less safe than I thought it was going to be, so I don’t know if we’ve got enough stuff to baby proof it.”

Adrien eyed the mountain of hardware store bags suspiciously. He doubted they wouldn’t have enough stuff, but Kim was the expert in all this. Instead of arguing, he just sighed.

“And the good news?”

Kim grinned, straightening up. “Your apartment is motherfudging wicked, Rich Kid.” He leaned over to pick up a bag and his tool box. “So. I’m going to start making this place safe for Poppy and AJ, and you can keep stuffing your faces.”

Nino gave him a thumbs up of agreement, already heading back to the fridge for more leftovers.

Alix opened the door, Poppy on her hip, and stared flatly at Marinette. “You’re early.”

“By, like, twenty minutes.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “They were talking about making me eat fridge magnets and give birth to a grown man.”

Her friend’s eyes widened. “I can see why you left.” She swung her arm wide, welcoming her into the house. “Come in. I made lasagna.”

“Yeah, Kim said. Sounds good.”

Alix and Kim’s house was nothing that Marinette would have pictured for them in college and lycée. If she was being honest, their entire life was nothing anyone would have pictured for them in college and lycée. They’d started dating sometime in the summer before their last year of lycée, and had been together ever since. Alix proposed on Kim’s nineteenth birthday, and Mylene and Max had been maid of honour and best man at their wedding a year later, and Poppy was born when they were twenty two.

And their house. It was an adorable little cottage that Kim had built himself after he and Max had opened their construction business. The couch Marinette had chosen to sink into was an overstuffed pink thing, piled high with pillows, some floral but most sports themed. The walls of the living room were hung with pictures, of their friends and family, but mostly documenting ever moment of Poppy’s life.

“Kim did tidy up this morning.” Alix let out a long suffering sigh, placing Poppy down on the carpet in the midst of an explosion of toys. The girl immediately went to empty whatever was left in the toy box. “The little monster just doesn’t like having things clean.”

Marinette waved it off. “You should see our living room. Adrien went out to get pudding this morning, and apparently the entire population of Paris had to give Chat Noir baby gifts.”

Alix snorted. “How do you even have any room in your place with that and all the stuff Adrien’s bought?”

Her friend just shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t even know. I think we could probably open a baby store and still have too much stuff.”

Alix laughed, pulling out her phone and changing the subject. “Mylene sent me pictures this morning,” she said, handing it over to Marinette. “God, I’m jealous of her right now.”

“Me, too,” Marinette agreed. “This beach is gorgeous. They’re in the Caribbean, right?” Alix nodded, and Marinette continued to flick through pictures, smiling at one of Mylene and Ivan posing in ridiculously large sunhats and sunglasses. “They’re so cute. I’m so happy they finally got married.”

“They definitely took their time.” They watched Poppy toddle over, and Alix held out her hands to accept the offered half-eaten banana. “They’ve been together for as long as you and Adrien have been obliviously in love with each other.” She shot Marinette a look. “Speaking of, Alya says you’re planning on making a move.”

Marinette sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I don’t know, Alix,” she admitted. “I don’t know if he even feels that way about me. What if I say something and make a fool of myself and just mess everything up?”

Alix looked at her flatly, and Poppy found something funny enough to burst out laughing at that exact moment. It was probably the act of squishing banana in her mother’s hands, but Marinette felt that the toddler was mocking her.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Alix asked. “We’re talking about the same Adrien Agreste slash Chat Noir here, right? The kid practically worshipped you through school, both in and out of the mask. And I hope you haven’t forgotten about the time Chat Noir kissed you? Because that happened. Do you know how sad Adrien looked for weeks after you told him you couldn’t be with him because you liked someone else? You were too caught up in stressing out over which version of him you liked to notice, but I did. He was devastated, Marinette. Those kind of feelings don’t just go away overnight.”

Marinette pushed away the guilt at being too wrapped up in her own problems to have noticed Adrien’s feelings years ago. “But that’s just it,” she argued. “It’s not overnight. It’s been years since that kiss. He’s hand girlfriends, I’ve had boyfriends, and he’s never shown interest in me since then. And we’ve been living together for five flipping months! We sleep in the same bed for crying out loud, and he’s never made a move or done anything to suggest that he wants something more.” She looked down, her fingers twisting together. “I could lose everything if he doesn’t want to do this. I can’t lose him.”

“Okay, first off.” Alix paused, steepling her banana covered fingers and leveling her gaze at Marinette. “What world are you living in where Adrien Chat-Fudging-Noir Agreste isn’t head over heels for you? Have you seen the clips Alya’s gotten when you get kidnapped by an akuma? Have you seen the way he looks at you? Or the look on his face when he talks about Ladybug and the baby in interviews? Do you not notice that he carries the latest ultrasound picture with him until you head in for the next one? Or that he actually stood up to his father for you? Or—”

“Alix, stop,” Marinette interrupted, burying her face in her hands. “None of that means anything.”

Thankfully, the ringing doorbell saved her from any further interrogation, and Alix stood. “You,” she drawled, pointing an accusatory finger at her friend, “are delusional as shoot, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. That boy is as in love with you as you are with him, and you’re both too blind to see it. But I promise you, if you don’t say anything to him, you’re going to regret it.”

Some part of Marinette, a deep down part that sounded like Tikki and Alya, knew that Alix was right. She couldn’t keep not telling Adrien how she felt and expecting him to do something. It wasn’t fair—to him, to her, to anyone. She needed to make a move, or suck it up and move on and stop hoping for something to happen. She was twenty four years old, for Pete’s sake. It was about time she grew up and dealt with these feelings.

She didn’t have to dwell on the daunting task she’d set for herself any longer, since Alix returned at that moment with Alya, Sabrina, and Chloe trailing behind. Sabrina had joined the group a few years back, when she and Max had first gotten together. She’d fit in like a missing puzzle piece, and was actually a pretty cool person once she’d gotten out from under Chloe’s thumb.

Chloe had been the new addition for two months now, and was still trying to fit in. In her own obnoxious Chloe way.

She stood in the entrance to the living room, looking around with thinly veiled disdain. “This is...” she trailed off, briefly catching Marinette’s eye, “…quaint.”

Well, she was trying. That was what really mattered, right?

“I’ll go get the lasagna,” Alix said, rolling her eyes at Chloe’s back. “Take a seat, and can someone please get Poppy out of whatever sheep she got her bum stuck in?”

Alya crossed the room, pulling Poppy out of a vase—plastic, of course. Would you really think Kim would have something so dangerous lying around?—and Marinette laughed as the toddler started marching around, smacking her butt and chanting, “Bum, bum, bum.” The fact that the birth of Poppy hadn’t depleted Alix and Kim’s constant swearing wasn’t really a surprise to anyone. The hilarious and completely unexpected surprise came when their daughter’s appearance turned their mouths into those of ten-year-old boys who think they’re cool. Their ever changing vocabulary of two-year-old friendly curses was Marinette’s favourite part of her friends being parents—though she really did hope the same thing didn’t happen to herself and Adrien.

Poppy paused in front of where Chloe was perched on a footstool, eyes wide as she stared up at the still-fairly-stranger-ish woman. “Tante Coco gots a bum-bum?”

Chloe squinted down at the tiny person, pushing away the automatic disgust of the banana-covered child. “Yeah,” she answered cautiously. “I do have a butt.”

Poppy grinned at her, nodding sagely. “Po gots a bum-bum, too.” She turned around to show Chloe. “See?”

“Yeah, I see.” Chloe looked around at her—well, she couldn’t really call them friends, yet, but there wasn’t really a better word—for help, but they just hid laughing mouths behind their hands. It was probably payback, honestly.

The toddler turned back around, holding out her grubby little hands. “Uppies?”

Chloe shot a panicked looked at the others.

“Nope,” Alya smirked, leaning into the couch beside Marinette. “Tante Coco’s in this all by herself.”

The blonde sighed, turning back to the child and trying not to scowl. Her hands wrapped around Poppy’s stomach and she lifted her into the air, holding her in front of her while the small girl laughed.

“Alix,” she called, wincing as Poppy smeared banana over her expensive jacket. “Can you get something to clean your child with? She’s getting food all over me.”

Alix re-emerged with the dish of lasagna and a stack of plates and cutlery. “Cloths are in the bathroom if you want to clean her,” she said, unloading her haul on the coffee table. “She’s just going to get covered in lasagna in a minute anyway, so there’s really no point.”

Chloe carefully put Poppy back on the ground, only for the girl to crawl up into her lap and nuzzle her sticky face against her chest. “Can’t one of you take her?” Chloe asked, her arms hovering near Poppy, not knowing what to do.

“Don’t even move,” Alix commanded, waving the lasagna knife at her friends. She turned back to Chloe. “You’re her favourite today, Coco, and if you’re going to be part of the group, you’re going to have to get used to my daughter.”

Chloe glanced down at the person curled up on her lap, snuggled into her chest and tracing pudgy fingers up and down her zipper, and sighed, hesitantly wrapping her arms around her.

“Somebody needs to get me some lasagna, then,” she snapped, gently pushing Poppy’s hand away from where it was reaching for her face. “I have no idea how to hold this thing while standing and will probably drop her if I have to get my own.”

There was a collective eye roll from the group, but Marinette, who was closest, handed a plate of lasagna to Chloe—which gained the immediate addition of Poppy’s fist as the toddler laughed.

“Hey, Mari,” Alya said, her phone clutched in her hand. “Apparently you’ve got the same cravings as Ladybug.”

Sabrina swallowed her mouthful, gesturing at Marinette with her fork. “You’re craving pudding, too?” She took in the curious looks from her friends with a blush. “Max and I watched Chat Noir raid the pudding aisle at the grocery store this morning.”

“That’s so cool that you two have the same cravings,” Alix said, smirking across the room at Marinette while Alya berated Sabrina about her inability to capture that on film. “I wonder why that is?”

Marinette looked at Alix unimpressed with her friend’s implications. “We’re about the same ways along, I think,” she said. “Maybe everyone gets pudding cravings when they’re five months pregnant.”

Alix raised her fork to her smirk. “I definitely didn’t,” she said. “Which just makes it a really weird coincidence that you just happened to have the same cravings as Ladybug and are at the same time in your pregnancy.”

Alya snorted in laughter. “Are you suggesting that Marinette is Ladybug?”

Sabrina cocked her head. “I don’t think it’s that crazy, Alya,” she said. “I mean, they kind of look alike, and Marinette is definitely brave enough and cool enough to be Ladybug.”

Chloe chose not to comment, focused on trying to extract Poppy from her lunch.

Marinette shot Alix the most discrete glare she could. Really? She could keep her secret for ten years, but as soon as Marinette knew that she knew, she’s going to blow it to everyone?”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” Alya glanced at her friend, and Marinette schooled her face into a more civil arrangement. “You could totally be Ladybug, girl. You’d be a great Ladybug. What I’m saying is that if Marinette is Ladybug, that would mean that Adrien is Chat Noir.” She leveled her gaze at the group. “And, as Marinette has pointed out far too many times, she has never slept with Chat Noir.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And, come on, can you really see Adrien being Chat Noir? I seriously doubt the guy would ever run around the city in a leather cat suit. I mean, come on. Have you ever actually seen Adrien wear leather ever?”

Everyone but Alix and Poppy—who tumbled off Chloe’s lap only to wiggle back up once she found her Chat Noir doll—voiced their agreements, and Marinette sighed in relief, silently thanking Adrien and his amazing ability to preserve his secret identity.

Adrien was seriously doubting his ability to preserve his secret identity. It was all going great, until Nino was going through the stack of presents Adrien had been given by the citizens for tower building supplies and pulled out a card addressed to Chat Noir and Ladybug.

“Dude, what’s this?” were the words that sent Adrien into a panic. He just had to mess this up, didn’t he? Mari was going to kill him if their friends found out. Why’d he have to go out that morning? Why’d he have to accept gifts that would obviously be incriminating? Why’d he have to let Nino dig through them?

“Dear Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Nino read, raising his eyebrows. “We’re very happy to hear you’re having a baby. We just had a baby ourselves, and found that you can never have too many diapers. Wishing you a healthy baby and a happy life.” He looked up at Adrien. “Why do you have this?”

“I, uh, found it?” Adrien winced at how that came out as a question, hand scratching at the back of his neck. Maybe Alix was right. Maybe it really was a miracle that no one else had figured them out. Adrien Agreste, it turned out, was an extraordinarily terrible liar.

“How does one find a letter for Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Max wondered from the kitchen, pausing in his attempt to stack everything from the cupboards into a massive tower to glance quizzically at Adrien.

Adrien let out an awkward chuckle. “Marinette wanted some, uh, pudding this morning, and I was walking back from the store and I—uh, I mean, Chat Noir—flew overhead and dropped it?” God, this was terrible. They were going to find out. Marinette was going to kill him. “So I picked it up? So it wouldn’t, uh, get dirty? Or wrecked? I’ll get it back to them somehow, I guess.”

Nino nodded, tucking the card back into the pile, and Max returned to his stacking. “Makes sense.”

Or maybe they hadn’t been found out because their friends—with the exception of Alix—were oblivious idiots.

“But how’d you get pudding?” Nino wondered, standing up and gathering the empty tubs for the tower. “Max said Chat Noir bought all of it.”

“There’s more than one grocery store in Paris,” Adrien pointed out, watching Max direct Nino in the placement of the pudding tubs. “Clearly Chat Noir and I go to different ones.”

Adrien picked up a can of soup, tossing it between his hands for a moment before adding it to the tower—and sending the whole thing crashing to the ground. He blamed Plagg and his bad luck. Of course, he couldn’t tell the others that.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“We were almost finished, Adrien, and you ruined it.”

Adrien sighed, sliding down the counter to sit on the floor in shame. “I’m sorry,” he said, throwing his arms out dramatically. “I’m a disaster of a human being.”

“Clearly,” Nino agreed, stacking a can on top of another can as the start of a new tower.

“Hey, Disaster, I need to talk to you.”

Adrien threw himself on the ground, rolling around to prolong his shame for a moment longer. He stood, crossing his arms and leaning casually against the fridge, grinning at Kim, who had finally re-emerged from wherever he’d ended up in his babyproofing escapades.

“What’s up? Is our apartment still too catastrophic for the baby and you need to go get more babyproofing…stuff?”

“Don’t joke with me, Agreste. This is a serious matter.” Kim scowled at Adrien, who, though somewhat confused, offered him a two fingered salute—God, his friends must be idiots. He was not good at hiding Chat Noir.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Babyproofing is serious stuff. Wouldn’t want my unborn child to eat a fridge magnet.”

“Absorb,” Nino helpfully corrected, adding a couple more cans back to the tower.

“Right. Absorb.” Adrien nodded. “Thanks, man.” Nino shot finger guns over his shoulder.

Kim’s scowl deepened. “I finished that, actually, but that’s not what I’m talking about, Rich Kid.” He leaned into his friend’s space. “We’re talking about Marinette.”

Adrien straightened up, still unsure where this was going. But Kim was worrying him. “Okay. What about Mari?”

“I don’t care if your face is worth a million euros,” Kim growled, scowl increasing as he waved a threatening finger close to said million-euro face, “I will punch it if you hurt her.”

The blond let out a sigh of relief. That’s what this was about? “I’d never hurt Mari,” Adrien assured him, never having spoken truer words as he moved his friend’s finger away. “And it’s actually worth six million.”

His friends just stared at him for a long moment. Adrien couldn’t understand what he’d said, glancing between them.

“Oh, my god.” Nino finally broke the silence. “You’re serious, aren’t you, dude?”

Adrien nodded slowly. Was that what this was about? That his face was worth so much?

“Why the hell do we keep you around then?” Kim wanted to know. “We should have sold you years ago if you’re worth six million euros.”

“It’s actually just my face that’s worth six million,” Adrien pointed out, crossing his arms back over his chest. “If you’re selling me, my whole body’s worth eleven.”

“What the actual hell?” Nino cried, arms flying wide and toppling the tower again. Max sighed in defeat. “Why are you worth eleven million euros? Like, why is that even necessary?”

Adrien’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why wouldn’t that be necessary?”

His friends stared at him in shock before bursting out in laughter. Adrien rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, even I noticed I sounded like a dick there,” he admitted.

“Just a bit,” Kim agreed. “You know what, hurt Marinette, and I’m not punching you in your six million euro face or kicking you in your—what? Two million euro?—balls. I’m selling your eleven million euro body.”

“You’re going to pimp him out?” Nino wondered, perking up. “Dude, I want in.”

“Nah, I don’t have the skills to be the pimp,” Kim said, waving a hand. “That’ll be Alix’s job. I’ll be the muscle.”

Adrien snorted but didn’t comment, leaning down to gather up fallen tower materials. The four worked in silence for a few minutes, cleaning up the mess that the kitchen had become.

“So, Adrien. Dude.” Nino cocked his head, staring at his friend. “How much are your balls worth?”

“I don’t actually know?” Adrien scratched his head. “I think they’re just grouped into the general eleven million? I mean, you could ask my publicist, I guess, but I think Nathalie would tell my dad that you asked that kind of question, and I’d rather it didn’t get to him.”

Nino laughed. “I’m definitely asking your dad about the price of your balls next time I see him,” he assured his friend. “Don’t worry, man.”

Adrien sighed, straightening up. They’d managed to put the kitchen relatively back to the way it had been before, which was quite the accomplishment. It was mostly Max’s doing, true, but it was still an accomplishment.

Kim tilted his head, staring at the ornately carved door to the pantry. He moved toward it, tapping it with his fist. “You know, Rich Kid, I could make a pretty cool table out of this.”

“You’re not making a table out of my door.” Adrien moved himself in front of said door, as if to guard it with his body.

“Actually, there would be enough material there to make a good sized table,” Max pointed out. His eyes scanned the kitchen and living room, landing on a group of tall vases on the mantle that had come with the place. “With a little work, those vases there could be the legs.”

“We’re not making my furniture into a table,” Adrien said again, crossing his arms. His phone rang before anyone could make further arguments, and he pulled it out, swiping Marinette’s picture across the screen. “Hey, Mari.”

“So Alya just left because apparently there’s an akuma near your dad’s place.”

Adrien shot a glance at the pantry door, and the vases he really didn’t like, and sighed. “Yeah, I’ll go pick up some milk.”

“Be careful.”

He hung up, backing towards the front entrance. “I have to go get milk,” he said, eyeing his friends and waving a wary finger in their direction. “Don’t destroy my furniture to make other furniture.”

He disappeared out the door, and Nino glanced between the others. “So are we making a table?”

Max adjusted his glasses. “Technically, neither a door nor vases are furniture.”

Kim threw a fist in the air, letting loose a war cry. “We’re making a table!”

Marinette pushed back against the couch, watching the Ladyblog’s coverage of the attack on the television screen. Thankfully, today’s akuma didn’t look too difficult. Chat would have it done in no time.

Chloe had migrated from the footstool to the floor, and was pretending she wasn’t smiling as Poppy stood on her knees, fists buried in Chloe’s ponytail. Sabrina had had to leave, having training at the police academy that afternoon, and Alix was half asleep in the armchair.

It had been barely an hour before Chat managed to grab the object, catching the butterfly in his fist and leaping away from the crowd.

“I feel nauseous,” Marinette said suddenly, one hand resting on her stomach and the other pressed against her mouth as she quickly stood. It was one of the excuses she’d perfected in five months of being pregnant—another favourite being “I need to pee”—and they were all a lot more believable than her usual excuses. “I need to go get some air.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Chloe asked, looking up in actual genuine concern. “You shouldn’t go out by yourself if there’s a chance you might throw up.”

“I’ll go with her,” Alix offered, jumping to her feet. “You’re good waiting here for Alya and watching Poppy for a bit, right?”

Chloe made some sort of noise in agreement, and Alix and Marinette crept out the front door. They walked far enough down the road to disappear into a concealed alley, where Ladybug was able to call Chat on her yo-yo.

“You know,” Alix said, arching an eyebrow. “I’ve known who you are for ten years, but that’s the first time I’ve actually seen that happen.”

Ladybug offered her a lopsided smile. “Yeah, I was pretty amazed the first time I watched Adrien transform, too,” she admitted. Her smile turned to a grimace as her hands ran over her belly. “Spots and spandex don’t really work with being pregnant.”

“Nah, you rock it,” Alix assured her, and the black figure landing between them voiced its agreement.

“My Lady rocks everything.” Chat sent her a smirk and she rolled her eyes. He let the akuma flutter out between them, and a quick purification and lucky charm and cure later and Paris returned to normal.

“I have to get back before they destroy our place and turn it into furniture,” Chat said, leaning down to press a kiss against Ladybug’s cheek. “Oh, by the way, the latest rumour that I may or may not have accidentally started is that we’re having sextuplets. I’m really glad we’re not, by the way.”

And with that, Chat took off, not noticing that Ladybug’s fingers were glued against the spot his lips had touched, or that she didn’t hear a word that Alix said in the entire time they waited for the last dot to disappear from her earrings and for her transformation to drop.

It was the pink light flashing over her that pulled Marinette out of the state she was in, and she blinked out at Alix.

“He kissed me.”

Her friend snorted and rolled her eyes, grabbing Marinette’s arm to pull her back towards the house. “You’ve got it bad, girl.”

Alya was back by the time they returned, and she and Chloe were laughing at something she’d brought up on the Ladyblog.

“Mari, Alix, you have to watch this,” she said, rewinding the video to start again.

Chat pulled away from the akuma scene, only to be stopped by a citizen with a large box. The man’s words were too quiet for Alya to catch on camera, but Chat’s laughter and waving arms were caught.

“No, no, no. I can’t take this. My Lady would kill me if I came home with a seventh playpen.”

The video cut out as Chat bounded away, and Alya scrolled through the comments. “Everyone’s convinced that Ladybug’s having sextuplets now,” she laughed. “I have been getting so many submissions of people asking Chat about it, and I only took this video ten minutes ago.” She waved a hand at the screen. “She’s not, though. I checked, and there’s no one in Paris at the moment who’s pregnant with sextuplets.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at Alya. “How did you check that?” she wanted to know.

But Alya just shrugged. “I have connections.”

They stood on a random rooftop, Chat recording on a phone they’d literally bought in costume literally five minutes before. The video only showed Ladybug from above her belly, greeting their audience with a wave and a grin.

“Hey, guys!” she said. “I know you haven’t seen me around in a while, but I’m here to tell you that I’m perfectly fine. I’m five months along now, and the baby is doing great.

“Which is what I’m here to talk to you about. While Chat and I appreciate all the gifts you’ve been giving us, we really can’t accept them anymore. We’re pretty well off moneywise, and it just wouldn’t be fair to you to take the things you’ve bought that we don’t really need or can’t buy ourselves.

“If you still want to do something for us and the baby, we suggest donations in either baby supplies or money to one of the many charities and organizations out there that help children and expecting mothers. We’ll add some links under this video if you want suggestions.

“That’s all for now, but I look forward to seeing all of you again once the little bug is born!” She held her smile until Chat lowered the phone.

“Wonderful, my Lady,” he said, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “How long do you think it’ll be once we submit it before Alya phones to freak out?”

Ladybug snorted. “She’s probably already phoning.”

They quickly swung back into their apartment, dropping their transformations as they collapsed on the couch.

“Aaaaand submitted,” Adrien said, tossing the phone on the floor. They’d have to get rid of that at some point. Alya was pretty good with computers, and would probably find a way to track it.

Adrien stretched out to rest his feet on their new coffee table—although they were initially not too happy, they had to admit that Kim had been right and the pantry door and the vases looked much better as a table—and Marinette’s phone blared its ringtone.

Speak of the devil.

She smirked, holding the phone out in front of her and turning it on speaker. “Hey, Alya.”

She barely got the words out before a scream of delight came from her friend. “Holy shit, Marinette! You’ll never believe it! Ladybug and Chat Noir submitted a video! To me! On my website!”

Question: How hard could a flower themed akuma really be to beat?

Answer: Very hard.

Marinette had been watching in a panic from her couch as Chat struggled to fight the akuma, landing blow after blow. He’d just disappeared again after his second cataclysm when the doorbell rang.

“Can you see who it is?” she asked Tikki. “I can’t leave.”

Tikki nodded, flying off through the apartment. She looked through the little eye window and caught pink hair, so she opened the door to let Alix in.

“She’s scared,” she said, looking up at the girl. “The fight isn’t going well.”

Alix nodded. “I was listening on the radio. I thought I’d come see if I could help.”

They closed the door and returned to the living room.

“Tikki, I have to go help him,” Marinette said, shakily rising to her feet. Chat had returned from recharging Plagg at some point, and the akuma picked him up with one of the vines sprouting from her back and tossed him against the wall. “We need to help him.”

“You can’t, Marinette,” Alix said, reaching out to pull her friend back onto the couch. “You can’t go into that fight. It’ll hurt the baby.”

Marinette stared with watering eyes at Chat, as he pulled himself up against a wall. “But he needs help.”

Alix rubbed her back, and Tikki nuzzled her cheek. “He’ll be fine, Marinette,” Tikki assured her. “He’s going to be okay.”

Chat gripped the wall, panting. He’d used two cataclysms already and even he was running out of energy. God, what he wouldn’t give to have Ladybug with him right now. They would have taken down Flower Power hours ago. But Marinette and the baby were safe at home, and that was all that really mattered, right?

The akuma rounded the corner, the vines swirling from her back readying themselves for another attack. The butterfly was in her watering can. Chat had figured that out in the first five minutes. The problem, though, was that it was damn near impossible to get anywhere near the girl, let alone her watering can.

He took a deep breath, extending his baton and bracing himself for the oncoming attack.

A forest of oversized flowers tore through the pavement, and Chat dropped to the ground, rolling out of the way just in time. He didn’t have the energy to make any of the thousands of flower themed puns he’d stocked up on over the years, and his entire body ached with every movement.

His fighting was getting sloppy. He could tell, but he couldn’t do anything to fix it. He was just too exhausted.

But Chat pushed on, slashing through vines and stems with his claws and his baton, inching his way closer to Flower Power. He almost reached her. He was within arms’ reach of the akuma when a massive rose erupted into life beside him, a thorn the size of his head tearing up his side.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t process anything as he dropped to his knees with a howl of pain, tears blurring Flower Power’s fleeing figure. He gripped his side, his baton falling to ground. His hands shook in horror when he pulled them back.

They were dripping with blood.

Marinette was frozen in shock as she stared at the television, the terrifyingly clear video of Chat crouched in a growing puddle of his own blood seeming to progress in slow motion. She registered somewhere in the back of her mind that Tikki and Alix were calling for her, that they were saying something, but all she could see was the terrified look on Adrien’s face, and all she could hear was his cry of pain, repeating over and over in an endless loop in her head.

And then one clawed hand was groping for his baton, the other pressing into his side as he shakily rose to his feet.

Marinette’s scream ripped through the apartment as his legs buckled underneath him and he had to grip onto a stem to keep himself up. Her nails dug painfully into Alix’s arm, but she didn’t notice, didn’t care because Adrien, Chat, her kitty was pale and panting and leaving a trail of blood as he pulled himself towards the akuma.

“I have to go,” Marinette said, her voice a choked whisper as the jolted to her feet, eyes never leaving the screen. “Tikki, we have to go. We need to go and save him. I have to—I have to make sure he’s okay.” She was shaking, Alix’s grip on her arm the only thing keeping her standing. “He needs to be okay. He can’t—he can’t—Tikki, please. I need to save him.”

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Tikki said, her own voice shaking slightly. “It wouldn’t be safe for the baby. And it would probably just make things worse for Adrien. He wouldn’t be able to focus with you there. You’ve seen him when akumas kidnap you. He needs you to be strong and be ready to purify the akuma when he gets it back.”

Marinette’s eyes were locked on Chat’s pale face, scrunched up against the pain as he readied to attack. “I can’t lose him,” she whispered, her hands clenched into fists so tight she could feel her nails pierce her skin. She could feel the baby kick against her, keeping time with her erratic heartrate. “He has to be okay. I need him.”

“He’ll be fine, Mari,” Alix assured her, pulling her friend back down on the couch before she collapsed and wrapping her up in her arms. “He’s going to get that butterfly and come back to you, okay? Because he loves you, and he loves that baby, and he’s never going to leave either of you, got it?”

Marinette nodded, clinging onto her friend as Tikki stroked her hair. “He’s going to come back,” she whispered, even as she watched the akuma’s vines bat him painfully to the ground. “He’s going to be okay and he’s going to come home.”

Chat hit the ground and saw stars. He didn’t have enough energy to cry out, even as the gash in his side was crushed against the pavement. He took in a steadying breath, not moving from his spot until his vision had returned enough for him to see a sliver of blue sky. It was the same shade as her eyes.

The thought of Marinette made him cringe. It didn’t look like he would ever get to meet that baby. He hoped it would have her eyes. Her eyes were gorgeous. The thought made him push himself off the ground onto shaky legs. Even if he’d never get to meet the baby, it’d be worth it. If he could just get the butterfly to Marinette, whatever happened to him would be worth it. He’d only regret that he never told her how he felt.

His vision blurred, and his claws dug into the stem of some giant flower to keep himself up. If he made it out of this, somehow, if he could get the akuma to Marinette before he died and the cure worked on him, brought him back, he’d tell her. He promised whatever higher being there was that he’d tell her. He wouldn’t make excuses anymore.

There were three akumas in front of him, and he knew that wasn’t part of her powers. He shook his head and squinted and they turned back into one. Okay. He could do this. All he had to do was get the watering can and Marinette would fix him up. Or he would die. But, either way, he had to get that watering can first.

He pushed forward, the moments passing in a blur of pain and adrenaline that came from a reserve he didn’t know he had. But then, suddenly, he was clutching the watering can in his hand, smearing it with red. Flower Power reached out with a furious scream, crashing into him, but Chat just threw it as hard as he could—which, admittedly, was not very hard what with the bare amounts of strength he currently had—and they watched it tumble through the air…

…and smash against the ground.

The akuma’s shove had sent Chat tumbling forward, sprawling against the ground. He watched the butterflies—why was there five? Shouldn’t there just be one?—rise from the broken garden tool, and stretched out his arm. If he could just reach a little further.... He clasped his hand around it, collapsing back against the pavement in relief.

His job done, the pain he’d been pushing aside flooded back all at once and he let out a bloodcurdling cry. It was almost too much to bare as he rose to his feet and avoided looking at the place he’d been lying, at the blood he knew would be there. He had to get home. He had to get back to Marinette.

He had to.

“He should be back by now. He shouldn’t be taking this long.”

Ladybug was pacing in front of the balcony windows, hands running through her hair. Alix was on the balcony itself—Ladybug was not because “if you’re going to be transformed already, you can’t be showing people and Hawkmoth where Ladybug and Chat Noir live. That leads to bad things, Mari”—staring out over the rooftops. There was still no sign of Adrien anywhere, no sign that he was even still alive since, bleeding and shaking, he’d stumbled his way onto a rooftop and away from the cameras.

That had been twenty seven and a half minutes ago.

Yes, Marinette was counting.

“I should go look for him, right?” Her voice was taking on a hysterical pitch as she all but pulled out her pigtails. “The akuma’s gone, so it won’t hurt the baby and I can—I can find him.”

“I don’t think that would be the best idea,” Alix said slowly, hating the words as they fell from her mouth. “If someone noticed you out, it’d get on the Ladyblog and word would spread to Hawkmoth. I don’t think he’d pass up an opportunity when you’d be too worried about the baby to fight as well as you could otherwise.”

Ladybug knew her friend was right. She did. It was just killing her to think that Chat could be lying dead in an alleyway somewhere and they wouldn’t even know.

She collapsed on the floor, burying her face in her hands. “I’m so scared, Alix,” she whispered.

Her friend sent one last worried glance over the rooftops before coming back inside. She crouched down beside the superhero, wrapping her up in her arms. “He’s going to be okay,” she said, her words sounding hollower and hollower with each repetition. “He’s going to come in her with a grin and a pun about cats or flowers or babies or something and he’s going to be completely okay.”

“Alix, I love him.” Ladybug moved her hands to stare blankly out the window. “I love him so much, and I’ve never even told him.”

“You will,” Alix whispered, running her hands over Marinette’s polka-dotted arms. Her phone rang for the sixth time since Chat disappeared from the scene of the attack, and she didn’t bother to move to look at it. Whoever was calling wasn’t calling with anything important enough to ignore Marinette.

But apparently Marinette didn’t agree. “You should answer it.”

Alix didn’t say anything, pulling her phone out and answering the call. “Hey, Kim. Oh, shit. Is it that time already? No, I was coming home and Marinette called. Yeah, I guess she was talking to Adrien when the akuma attacked and then the phone went dead. No, we still haven’t heard from him. I know. I can’t just leave her, though. Call and tell them you can’t get to work because of the akuma? I don’t know. You’re the boss, aren’t you? Well, just make something up for Max. He’ll understand. You could even tell him the truth. Or you could take Poppy with you and I could pick her up there? I know it’s not safe. I don’t—”

“You can go.”

Alix glanced down at Ladybug, who had wrapped her arms around her knees and was staring out the windows. “Mari, I can’t just leave you here.”

“Yes, you can.” Her voice was flat, but she looked back up at Alix, a sliver of hope lighting up her eyes. “He’ll be back soon, and I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. Or I’ll go find him. But you being here won’t change whatever happens. Go home.”

Alix stared at Marinette for a long minute, ignoring whatever Kim was saying on the other line, before she spoke. “I’ll be home in a few minutes,” she told him, clicking the phone off. “You sure you’re okay on your own?” Ladybug nodded, and Alix hugged her one last time before she gathered her things. She stopped at the edge of the living room, at the hallway leading to the front door. “If he’s not back in ten minutes, go find him.” She didn’t know if Marinette heard or not, as the girl didn’t acknowledge her words in any way, but she let herself out of the apartment, closing the door behind her.

Ladybug sat in front of the windows, watching the rooftops and the clock on the wall. Ten more minutes. That was all she had to wait, and then she’d go find him.

One minute and a couple of pigeons flew onto the balcony, fighting over a French fry.

Two minutes and she really had to pee, but that could wait.

Three minutes and she swore she saw Chat, but it turned out to be a crow.

Four minutes and a helicopter flew overhead, and she tore her gaze away from the window to the TV, hoping it had been a news one and that it had caught something. It hadn’t.

Five minutes and the pigeons were joined by a squirrel, darting in quickly and running off with the fry.

Six minutes and the baby kicked against her in comfort.

Seven minutes and her phone belted out Alya’s ringtone, but she ignored it.

Eight minutes and her vision was blurring again.

Nine minutes and she couldn’t breathe anymore.

Nine and a half minutes and Chat Noir came falling out of the sky, crashing through the screen door and into the living room.

Ladybug faltered for a minute. There was even more blood than it looked like on television. God, how was he even conscious.

“My…Lady.”

The croaked, barely-there words snapped her out of her shock, and she muffled a sob as she collapsed almost on top of him.

“Hey, Chat,” she whispered, pushing the hair out of his eyes and offering him a watery attempt at a smile.

Chat stared up at her, eyes wide and panicked. His clawed hand nearest her gripped her knee, and his mouth moved in words she couldn’t hear, breaking off with a hacking cough, blood splattering over them both. She leaned closer, and he tried again.

“I lo-o-ve yo-ou.”

And then his eyes fell closed, his body going limp and a butterfly making its way from his hand. The transformation dropped, and Plagg was flying at Adrien’s face.

“Kid, come on. Please. Wake up.” His paws slapped at his face. “Kid. Please. Don’t do this.” He turned his eyes on Ladybug. “What are you doing? Do something! You have to fix him!”

Ladybug’s hands had been running over Adrien’s face, the baby kicking against her in time to her sobs. Plagg’s words jolted her back into reality, and she jerked her arm out to capture the akuma in her fist. She called on a Lucky Charm—a pair of pruning shears—and then released the butterfly once more.

It was long seconds before the ladybugs erupted from her yo-yo, sweeping over the apartment and the city. The screen door reattached itself to the doorframe. The blood disappeared.

Adrien stayed pale and unmoving.

Marinette dropped her transformation, running her hands over him again. “Why isn’t it working? Why isn’t he waking up?” She gripped his wrist in her hands, the lack of pulse terrifying. “Tikki, why won’t he wake up? What’s happening?”

CPR. That’s what she should be doing. Adrien wasn’t breathing and his heart wasn’t beating and she was freaking out but somehow her hands were moving and she was pushing on his chest and Tikki and Plagg were flying around their faces and they were saying something but she couldn’t hear because Adrien still wasn’t waking up—

And then he was coughing, his eyes opening to stare up at her.

Marinette let out a sob, her arms wrapping around Adrien and her face burying itself in her chest. He didn’t say anything, just held her while she cried. He could feel the baby’s kicks against him from where they were pressed together, and he rubbed her back, his own quieter tears falling on her head. He was really glad he wasn’t dead, in all honesty. He knew what he’d decided, that all that mattered was getting the butterfly to her, but he was really, really happy that the cure had saved him.

Eventually, after god knows how long, Marinette pulled back, running a hand under her nose. Her face twisted into a scowl, and she shoved at him.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she yelled, all while wrapping herself back around him. “I could have lost you, Adrien!”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry, Mari.”

She sniffed. “Sorry isn’t good enough.” She pulled herself away, reaching up to run her thumb over his cheekbone. “Please don’t do that again. I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you either.” He stared into her eyes for a long moment, his own hand wrapping around her back to pull her closer. He took a deep breath. He had to say it. Damn the consequences, he’d promised.

“My Lady,” he whispered. “Ladybug. Princess. Marinette. I love you.”

Marinette didn’t move for a few seconds, and he started to fear that he’d judged this wrong, that she was going to freak out and tell him to get out of her life.

But then she flung her arms around his neck and her lips were crashing into his. The kiss only lasted a second before she was pulling away again, but it was there.

“I love you, too, you stupid cat,” she muttered, a grin breaking out before she buried her face in his chest. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?” Adrien asked, his hands stroking her hair. “Kiss you?”

She jerked back, eyes widening as she as she backed out of his arms. “Oh, my God.” Her hands flew to her face. “I kissed you. You kissed me back. What the hell? I’m not freaking out. Are you freaking out? Because I’m definitely not freaking out. You—you died, Adrien. You were dead. And you said—oh my god, you said you loved me. And then you died. But then you came back to life and you said it again and then I said—and then I—I kissed you!” She continued on, knowing she was babbling but unable to stop herself. She was shaking, and her arms were wrapped around herself, and she couldn’t stop talking, but she’d been so, so scared.

“Hey,” Adrien said, pulling her against him again, and her babbling ceased. “Hey, you don’t have to freak out, okay? I love you, Marinette. I’ve loved you since I met you. I don’t care what happens, whether we get into a relationship or whatever, but I needed you to know. I couldn’t die without you knowing. I’m in love with you.”

Marinette took a shaky breath, pulling her face away from him. “I’m in love with you, too, Adrien,” she whispered, a shaky smile on her face. “I can’t—I can’t do a big speech like that right now because I’m still freaking out that you were dead on our living room floor, but I love you.” Her eyes darted down and she bit her lip. “And I’d really like to kiss you again.”

Adrien grinned, tracing her jaw with her thumb and tilting her head back up so she could look at him. “I’d really like to kiss you again, too.” She smiled back at him, letting out a small chuckle, and he leaned down, capturing her lips with his.

Alix crept out of Poppy’s room, the girl having finally fallen asleep. It was probably time to call and check on Adrien, she reasoned. Ladybug’s cure had swept past just as she’d returned home, so logic said that he was fine, but she wanted to make sure.

“Popcorn?” Kim asked as she collapsed on the couch beside him, the opening to Vraies Femmes au Foyer de Paris already playing on TV. She nodded in agreement, bringing up Marinette’s contact information.

“Hello?” The voice that answered was groggy, but definitely Marinette.

“So?” Alix asked. “He’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, he’s alive. Thanks for staying with me, by the way.”

Alix let out a sigh of relief. “Adrien’s alive,” she called to Kim. “So everything’s okay, then?”

“Yep. He came home and then he died on the carpet and then I cured him and then we kissed and then we ate dinner and—”

“What?!” Alix shrieked. Kim poked his head out from the kitchen and shot her a quizzical look, but her only response over the phone was a quiet giggle and a click. She pulled it away from her ear, glaring at the blank screen. “What the hell, Marinette! You can’t just say that and then hang up!”

Kim sat on the couch next to her with the giant bowl of popcorn on his lap. “What did she say?”

Alix turned to her husband, her wide eyes expressing the importance of her next words. “They kissed.”

Kim choked on his mouthful of popcorn. After he cleared his windpipe, he smirked, grabbing the remote to turn up the volume. “Fudging finally.”

Marinette and Adrien spent most of the day cuddling on the couch. It was just like any other day, except now there was kissing involved. They didn’t go any further, not yet, because Adrien had literally just died. They both needed some time to recover from that.

It was later that night when things got awkward, after Alix’s phone call woke them both from the accidental nap they’d been taking on the couch. They’d decided to move into bed, and Marinette had retreated to their room to get into her pyjamas, while Adrien went to his old room, the one that had been his bedroom for approximately half a day, to change out of his own clothes—why hadn’t they moved his clothes into their room after five months? Neither of them really knew, except that it took a lot of effort that they didn’t feel like putting into the task.

Marinette was tucked under the covers when a shirtless Adrien appeared in the doorway, awkwardly freezing at the threshold and running a hand through his hair.

“What are you doing?”

He jolted, like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t be, and offered her a sheepish grin. “I just—does this change things? Do you still want me to, you know, sleep in
here?”

Marinette smiled back at him. “Of course I want you to sleep in here, minou,” she said, and his eyes seemed to light up. “Why wouldn’t I want you to? I don’t really think I’d be able to sleep without you.”

That was all the permission Adrien needed, and he was quickly crossing the floor to crawl in beside her.

There was nothing different about the way they curled around each other, any minute awkwardness from the change in their relationship vanishing at the familiar comfort.

But tonight, when Adrien presses a kiss onto the top of her head, he didn’t have to worry whether she was asleep or not. He wasn’t scared for her to hear the habitual “I love you” that followed.

The answering kiss against his collarbone and mumbled “Love you, too” left him grinning until he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Marinette woke as she did most mornings, wrapped in Adrien’s arms.  The sun shone softly through the curtains, and she was warm and content.  She shifted, her belly not quite comfortable in the position it’d ended up in.  While it wasn’t huge yet, you could definitely tell she was pregnant, especially when all she was wearing was an oversized t-shirt that may or may not have been Adrien’s and a pair of loose shorts.  It wasn’t too happy being squished up against Adrien, so she rolled mostly onto her back.

Adrien moved, too, tightening his arms around her.  She felt his breath against her hair as he sighed lightly, shivering at the feel.

“Morning, my Lady,” he mumbled, his words vibrating against her cheek.

Marinette whispered something back, a dream she must have been having playing on the edge of her mind and making her tense.

“What is it?” he asked, concern bleeding into his voice.  She knew he was seconds away from having a panic attack over the baby, so she tightened her grip on his arm.

“I had a weird dream,” she told him, and she watched as his body and eyes relaxed, a brow quirking up in question.  “There was an akuma that made flowers, and you were bleeding a lot, and Alix was with me but she had to leave, and then you came home and died in the living room.”  Her voice was speeding up, panicking from the dream that seemed so real.  “The cure brought you back, but it took so long and you weren’t moving or breathing and then you woke up and you said—”

“That I love you.”

Marinette blinked up at Adrien, her breathing rate launching itself from the verge of hyperventilation to stopping altogether.

“What?”

Adrien offered her a soft smile, one hand unwinding from around her to stroke her cheek.  “I love you, Marinette,” he whispered, and her heart stopped along with her lungs.  “It wasn’t a dream, but I’m okay.  You fixed me, and I’m fine, and I love you.”

She stared at him a while longer breath coming back as her hands scrambled to his chest—because if it was real, that meant he was dead yesterday and he was talking and she could feel his breath but she had to be sure.  Her breath escaped her when she found his heartbeat, steadily pounding against her hands.  He was alive.  He’d been dead, but he was alive, and everything was okay.

Marinette steadied herself once more, hands still splayed over his heart.  Her eyes traced his face as his thumb rubbed soothing patterns under her eye, and she relaxed.

“You love me,” she whispered, letting a dopey grin spread across her face.  “You’re in love with me.  And I’m in love with you, and we kissed.”  There was a lot of kissing, if her memories were correct.

Adrien grinned back, leaning closer to rub his nose against hers.  “I do love you,” he confirmed, his voice a breathy whisper.  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, though, in all honesty, it was probably just the baby.  His lips replaced his nose, pressing gently against the tip of hers.  “Say it again, please.”

Marinette’s fingers, satisfied that he wasn’t dead, drifted away from his heart and over his shoulders, winding around his neck.  “I love you, Adrien,” she whispered, a thrill shooting down her spine.  How many years had she spent wishing to say those words to him?  How many times had she told him yesterday?  And it still wasn’t enough.

He pulled away just enough to flash her another grin before capturing her lips.

Marinette’s eyes drifted shut as she melted against him, her lips moving against his in a way that was far better than anything she’d ever dreamed.  He tasted of morning breath and the remnants of toothpaste, but it was still absolutely perfect.  Every kiss was.  The butterflies sped up.

Before yesterday, she’d kissed him a grand total of three times.  The first was when Kim was akumatized, a quick peck turned into something slightly more to break the curse.  It was something she’d forbidden herself from even thinking about for months, years even, not even allowing the tiniest thought that maybe she felt something for Chat as well as Adrien.  To be entirely honest, she wasn’t sure she’d ever even told him about it.

The second was in her bedroom in the early hours of the morning.  They were too tired, having stayed up all night watching movies, and he’d leaned in and kissed her.  She’d enjoyed it way more than she’d been willing to admit, though it hadn’t lasted more than a second or two before she was pushing him away, saying there was someone else and she couldn’t do that. 

The third was at Alya’s sixteenth birthday party, a couple of months after the second.  It was a quick, embarrassed peck during a game of Spin the Bottle that Marinette hadn’t thought about as much as she’d thought she would have, the second kiss and Chat’s-all-but-disappearance from her civilian life still on her mind.  (Adrien, however, had thought about that kiss.  A lot.)

Three kisses in ten years, and then enough in a day to make her lose count.  Not that Marinette was complaining.

The butterflies were definitely not butterflies by this point, and Marinette was snapped out of her musings with a well-aimed kick to her stomach.  She pulled away from Adrien with a gasp, rolling quickly to release its contents onto the floor rather than the bed.  He was there in an instant, pulling her hair away from her face as the baby continued its attack, rubbing her back as she breathed through the pain.

The baby finally decided to calm down and Marinette let out a tired sigh, her head lolling against the bed in exhaustion.  “Seriously, AJ?” she mumbled, scowling at the vomit-stained throw rug.  “What the hell was that for?”

Adrien pressed a kiss against the top of her head and swung out of bed.  “Go have a shower,” he suggested, and Marinette nodded without moving.  “I’ll clean this up and get some breakfast ready, okay?”

Marinette nodded again and pushed herself up and towards the bathroom.  She was seriously done with this whole pregnant thing.

*********

So the rug would have to be trashed.  To be entirely honest, Adrien had no idea how to get vomit stains out of a carpet.  He was decent with clothes at that point, but the combination of it being a fluffy carpet and being white just left him with no option, really, besides transforming for extra strength and maneuvering the rug out from under the bed.

A quick rooftop flight to the nearest dumpster and he was back in the kitchen, the shower still running.

He was getting better at cooking, if he did say so himself.  If anything, he was definitely better than his failed attempt at boiling water at Marinette’s parents’ house.

His specialty?  Scrambled eggs and toast.

(Okay, maybe that wasn’t that special, but it was an improvement.  And would be easy on Marinette’s stomach if the baby decided to act up again.  Not to mention his scrambled eggs and toast could probably be sold at fancy restaurants, not that he was bragging or anything.)

The eggs were on the stove, and Tikki and Plagg were on the table eating their own breakfasts, and Adrien had to take a moment for himself.  He leaned forward over the stove, eyes falling shut as a smile slid onto his face.

He’d told Marinette.  He’d finally told her how he felt, and she felt the same way back.  Sure, it had taken actually dying, but he’d finally said the words.  And it’d worked out so well, because now he could kiss her.  He could kiss her whenever he wanted, and he didn’t have to worry about her thinking this was all about the baby.

He loved her.  Adrien Agreste loved Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and she loved him back.  And they were going to have a baby.  Really.  How could any of this get even more perfect?

A loud beeping went off and he opened his eyes, swearing as he moved the burnt eggs off the burner and moved a chair to reach the smoke alarm.  Maybe his cooking skills could still use a little improvement.

“Is everything okay?”  Marinette’s voice carried from the bathroom after the beeping had stopped, and Adrien grimaced at the remains of breakfast.

“Everything but the eggs,” he called back, shooting a look at the kwamis at the sound of their laughter.

Adrien sighed, dumping the eggs into the compost bucket and starting again.  He was not allowed to get stuck daydreaming this time.  Nope.  No daydreaming around open flames—or, in this case, really hot pieces of metal.  Really, it was just common sense.  He could daydream after the eggs were cooked.

They were almost ready—and, no, he didn’t burn them this time, thank you very much, Plagg—when arms wrapped around his stomach and a soft body pressed against his back.  Lips pressed between his shoulder blades in a kiss, and he had to move the eggs off the element before he got too distracted again.

“It smells good, Kitty,” Marinette whispered, pressing another kiss against his skin.  “Did you remember to put cheese in them?”

Adrien shut off the burner, turning in her arms and leaning back against the counter.  “Yep.”  He grinned at her, standing in a different one of his shirts than the one she’d worn to bed, a pair of fuzzy Chat Noir themed sleep pants, and a fluffy pink towel wrapped around her hair.  “And the bacon pieces.  Remind me, Princess.  Why don’t you just have omelettes?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, smile turning into a smirk.  “You can’t make omelettes,” she pointed out. “Plus it’s better this way.”

Adrien didn’t really have an opinion on whether scrambled eggs with cheese and bacon in them were better than omelettes, and he wasn’t sure if this was Everyday-Marinette’s opinion on them or just Pregnant-Marinette’s, but he really didn’t care either way.  Scrambled eggs with cheese and bacon in them were good, and the fact that he could make them was definitely a plus.

Opinions on weird scrambled eggs aside, he shrugged in response and leaned down, cupping Marinette’s cheeks with his hands.  His lips neared hers when he paused, pulling away enough to look into her eyes.

“You brushed your teeth, right?”

Marinette let out a huff and rolled her eyes.  “No,” she deadpanned.  “I decided I felt like going all day with my mouth tasting like vomit because it sounded like a fun thing to do.”

Adrien snorted, because, really, it was a dumb question, and pressed their lips together.  Her arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer as she pushed him against the counter.  This was heaven, Adrien decided.  Maybe he really had died yesterday and he’d been placed in some sort of alternate dimension where he could just kiss Marinette all day.  Honestly, he wasn’t really complaining, though heaven could come with less burnt eggs.

Her lips glided against his, and his hand slipped off her cheek to pull the towel from her hair, tangling into the sopping locks.  His finger got caught in the tangles, and she made some sort of little noise that made him gasp into her mouth.  He needed to hear it again.  He needed to hear every noise she could make, but right now, unfortunately, he really needed to breathe.

Adrien pulled back, resting his forehead against Marinette’s as he caught his breath.  His heart was racing, and he could feel hers beating just as quickly where their chests were pressed together.

He opened his eyes, gazing at her.  Her own eyes were still closed, a flush coating her cheeks, and her lips were parted slightly as she panted.  She was gorgeous, and she was his, for as long as she wanted him.

He pressed a quick kiss against her nose, feeling it scrunch up under his lips, and pulled back entirely.

“We should eat breakfast,” he told her, voice low and rough.  Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him quizzically, as if she was wondering why eating breakfast would be more important than continuing their make out session.  Honestly, he was wondering, too.  “Eggs don’t taste very good when they’re cold.”

Marinette made a face and let out a long suffering sigh before she pulled away, just enough for him to maneuver around to dish up their breakfast while still close enough to be touching.  He wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

Before long, they were settled at the table, chairs pulled so close together that Marinette might as well have been sitting in his lap.  Tikki and Plagg kept sending them knowing, judging looks, which is why neither thought it was necessary to mention that their legs were tangled together under the table.

“You two seem happy,” Tikki commented, grinning around the cookie she was nibbling.  Marinette just grinned, shoving a forkful of eggs in her mouth and leaning her head on Adrien’s shoulder.  He contemplated kissing the top of her head, and then did it just because it was allowed now.

“They seem gross is more like it,” Plagg grumbled, raising his…forehead?  Adrien was pretty sure the intent was to raise his eyebrow—that’s what it looked like, at least—but Plagg didn’t exactly have eyebrows to raise.  “Kid, if you hadn’t waited until actually dying to stop being an idiot, we could be past this”—he paused, waving a nub at them for emphasis—“and be back to the normal, more tolerable grossness levels.”

Marinette snorted, taking another bite of eggs without lifting her head.

“I think Plagg’s asking to be tied town while we make out in front of him for hours.”  Adrien raised his actually existent eyebrows back at his kwami in challenge, and Plagg scowled at him.

“I couldn’t do hours,” Marinette pointed out, sitting back upright to give him a somewhat apologetic smirk.  “I’d have to pee.  Plus, he’d just be able to phase out of the ropes.”  The apology disappeared from her smirk as she turned it on Plagg.  “I think he’s asking for me to make out with Chat a lot.”

Plagg faked vomiting, though they all knew he and Tikki never remembered any details of what happened in the suits, and downed the rest of his cheese.  “I’m going to take a nap,” he announced, floating up off the table.  He sent a pointed look at Adrien and Marinette.  “If you don’t stop being gross, you’re gonna miss your appointment.”  He flew off into god-knows-where, and Tikki rolled her eyes, grabbing a cookie for the road and following.

Marinette’s head snapped to the clock at Plagg’s words, and she cursed under her breath, quickly shovelling in the rest of her eggs.  Adrien looked to the clock as well, and noted they had just over an hour until they had to be at an ultrasound.  He took his last bite, barely chewing before he swallowed, and kissed Marinette on the cheek.

“Gonna go have a shower, Princess,” he announced, walking back towards their bedroom.

“If you take too long, I’m coming in there with you to do my makeup,” Marinette called after him, and he faltered, barely managing to catch himself on the wall.

If she came in there…she’d see him naked.  His face was bright red as he turned into the bedroom, pausing just inside the door to bring his heartrate back down.  The only time they’d seen each other naked resulted in AJ, and he didn’t even remember it.

He blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts.  Where had that come from?  They’d never seen each other naked, and they’d never slept together.  When had he forgotten that their story wasn’t actually true?

He pushed it away, hurrying into the shower.  This wasn’t the time to think about that.

*********

Sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting for their appointment to start, was about as different from the first time as you could get.  Neither were scared, or anxious about what was going to happen.  Marinette wasn’t shaking in her seat, and Adrien’s heart didn’t feel like it was going to burst out of his chest.

It felt natural, sitting there in the waiting room.  Marinette flipped through a magazine, giggling at the moustache someone had drawn onto one of Adrien’s ads.  Adrien had his arm wrapped around her, sending reassuring smiles to the men who looked like it was their first time.  If he could get through this, could feel comfortable with the fact that they were having a baby, then any of these dads had it easy.

It didn’t matter that they still needed to talk through what their relationship was now, because it felt natural to press a kiss to Marinette’s temple as she found another of his ads, this one with the addition of buck teeth, glasses, and devil horns.  It didn’t matter that they’d only kissed for the first time yesterday, because he was already wondering how long was the shortest appropriate amount of time to wait before he could propose again.  Because he was pretty sure she’d say yes this time, even if he whipped out the ring right here, right now in the middle of the hospital waiting room.

(He wouldn’t, though, because that would be a lame proposal and he could do better than that.  Plus he’d left the ring at home.)

A nurse called for Marinette, and she closed her phone after capturing the artwork on his face to show Alya later, and neither of them fell on the floor as they stood up.  But, really, that had only happened twice.  Maybe three times.

He knew he had a stupid smile on his face as he trailed behind Marinette and the nurse, who were discussing the complete lack of respect babies have and how she shouldn’t be surprised if AJ were to decide to jump on her stomach again, but he couldn’t help it.  Somehow, the mere fact that he could now kiss Marinette made this whole thing feel all the more real, like they were even more a family than they were before.  Him and Marinette and their baby.

He was so out of it that he didn’t notice Marinette and the nurse turn into one of the ultrasound rooms, and had to backtrack after walking past the door.

“I can’t believe you missed the room,” Marinette giggled as the nurse helped her get situated on the table-bed-thing and he settled into the chair by her side.  “Something distracting you, kitty?”

The nurse smiled at them as she left, and Adrien leaned forward to cross his arms on the table, resting his chin on top as he grinned up at Marinette.

“Just how much I love you,” he said.  He ignored Plagg’s gagging coming from his pocket, and focused on how adorable Marinette looked when her face flushed liked that, how dazzling the small smile that lit up her face was.

“Really?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I’m always distracted by how much I love you,” he assured her, and she stared at him a moment longer before laughing.

“You’re a dork,” she said fondly, running her fingers through his hair.  “I love you.”

His grin grew.  “I love you, too.”

He had to pull back when the technician came in a few moments later, but their fingers were entwined as she went about getting Marinette ready.  It was a few more minutes before the heartbeat sounded through the room, and the baby appeared on screen looking far less like a seahorse or a bean and more like an actual tiny human being.

Marinette’s hand tightened on his.  “It’s smiling,” she whispered, and his eyes trailed from where he’d been trying to count toes to the baby’s face, his own smile growing.  The baby was smiling smugly at them, one hand with five little fingers pressed over its eye.

“It’s probably really happy with itself for this morning,” he pointed out with a laugh, and Marinette sent a half-hearted scowl at the monitor.

“AJ, you better not be as big a jerk when you come out, okay?” she scolded, and the technician smiled.

“You’re naming the baby AJ?” she asked, and Marinette and Adrien’s faces turned to matching grimaces.

“God, no.”  Marinette visibly shuddered, and Adrien laughed.  “I don’t know what its name is going to be, but it definitely won’t be AJ.”

The technician didn’t question them on why they would call the baby something that wasn’t going to be its name, and just moved the wand.

“Well,” she said, glancing up at them.  “I’m pretty confident that we can learn Not-AJ’s gender today, if that’s something you’re wanting to know.”

Adrien’s breath caught in his throat, and he tore his eyes from the monitor, meeting Marinette’s wide ones.

Was this something they wanted to find out?

*********

“Do not fear!  The wine is here!”

Marinette laughed, opening the door wider to let Alya and Nino enter.  “I wasn’t actually fearing,” she assured her, “considering I can’t drink the wine anyway.”

Alya waved a hand at her, thrusting her armful of wine bottles into her friend’s arms so she could take off her shoes.  “But everyone else can, and you never have any,” she pointed out.  “Is Chloe here yet?  She’ll be excited about the wine.”

“God, finally.”  Chloe appeared behind Marinette and pulled a bottle from her arms.  She raised an eyebrow and pointed the bottle towards Alya.  “All these people have is ginger ale and water, and Adrien won’t stop showing off the newest sonograms.”  Nino nodded in greeting to Marinette and brushed past Chloe into the rest of the apartment.  “I can’t turn off my brain and gush over them if I’m sober, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  I’ve told you that before.  He’s all ‘Look, Chlo.  It’s smiling,’ and I’m like it’s a reflex and doesn’t actually mean it’s happy, but the facial features seem to be developing right on track.  I need to be drunk for this.”

Chloe disappeared with the bottle of wine, and Alya collected the rest back from her friend, grinning at her.  “AJ’s smiling?” she repeated, and Marinette nodded, returning the smile.  Alya squealed.  “Where’s the sonogram?  I need to see her!”

“Adrien’s got them in the living room with Maman and Papa,” Marinette said, and her friend took off at a sprint into the apartment.

Marinette shook her head and closed the door, walking back into her home.  Tonight was the bi-weekly Agreste-Dupain-Cheng family dinner.  They started about a month or so after Marinette found out she was pregnant, as a way to get Sabine and Tom and Gabriel acquainted.  As she had told Adrien, she was not having separate holidays because their parents couldn’t get along.

Sometimes dinner was at Marinette’s parents’ house.  Sometimes it was at the Agreste mansion.  And sometimes, like, tonight, it was at Marinette and Adrien’s apartment.  Tonight was also the first time Alya and Nino and Chloe were joining in, for reasons Marinette still wasn’t entirely sure about besides them insisting they were family.  Which was fine.  She wasn’t complaining.  The more the merrier.

With Alya and Nino here, they were just waiting on Gabriel and Nathalie.

Marinette sighed as she lowered herself onto the couch, tucking herself into Adrien’s side as his arm wrapped around her.  Her mother was on the other end of the couch, sharing a sonogram with Alya as she cooed over it.  Chloe returned with a handful of wine glasses and her now open stolen bottle of wine.  Nino and Tom were in the kitchen with their backs turned to the living room, probably stealing food.

“I don’t know what Chloe’s talking about, Mari,” Alya said, waving the sonogram at her friend.  “This is absolutely adorable.  AJ is clearly taking after me.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Chloe pointed out, sliding into an arm chair with her wine.  “AJ can’t take after you.”

Alya sent the blonde a deadpan look. “Clearly that was a joke,” she said, handing the picture back to Sabine.  “How much wine is it going to take to turn off the doctor?”

“At least a bottle.”  Chloe let out a dramatic sigh, staring wistfully into her glass.  “Thank Ladybug I’m not on call tonight.”

Alya rolled her eyes and stood up, heading into the kitchen to deposit the rest of the wine and make sure Nino and Tom hadn’t eaten the entirety of dinner. 

Marinette unwound herself from Adrien’s arm as another knock sounded on the door, looking at him expectantly.

“Go let your dad in.”

Adrien groaned, pulling her back against him.  “Can’t you let him in?”

“No.”  Marinette poked him in the nose, struggling to free herself from his grasp.  “And especially not if you don’t let go of me.”

“Mari,” he whined, burying his face in her hair.  Sabine smiled at them, and Chloe rolled her eyes behind her wine glass.

“Adrien Agreste,” Marinette huffed as another knock echoed through the apartment.  “Your child is inside of me.  The least you can do is open the door for your father.”

Wine sprayed over their custom made coffee table as Chloe choked on a laugh.  Adrien pulled back and eyed her for a quick moment, before grinning goofily at her.

“I guess that’s a good excuse,” he agreed, leaning down to press a quick kiss against her belly and another to her temple before rising.  She was too busy trying to decipher the look he’d given her to notice the way her mother’s eyebrows lifted at his kisses.  He was almost at the door by the time Marinette realized what she’d said.  His child, like he was the one who’d helped create it.

Chloe was saying something, and Marinette realized she’d zoned out.  She could think about that later.  Or not, because, really, what did it matter if she forgot that Adrien wasn’t biologically the father?  He might as well be, for all Pierre mattered.

“Sorry, Chloe,” she said, adjusting herself on the couch as she refocused on the conversation.  “What did you say?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her glass.  “Has there been any point ever that you haven’t spent zoning out and daydreaming of Adrien?” she wondered.

“I wasn’t daydreaming about Adrien,” Marinette insisted, ignoring Sabine’s chuckles and Alya and Nino’s laughter as they sunk onto the floor.

“Of course you weren’t, sweetie.”  Alya patted her on the knee and sent her friend a faux-sympathetic look.

Marinette scowled at her briefly before turning back to Chloe.  “What were you saying?”

Chloe flipped a noncommittal hand at her as she refilled her wine.  “Just that since everyone’s here now, you can go ahead and tell us.”

Marinette blinked, hand going to her stomach as AJ kicked it particularly hard.  “Tell you what?”

Chloe just shook her head, smirking knowingly, and returned to her seat to sip at her wine.

“It’s a gorgeous smile,” Gabriel was saying as he followed Adrien into the room, ultrasound in hand and Nathalie a few steps behind him.  “Nathalie, make a note.  We’re going to start designing baby clothing, and we’ve found our first model.”

“Father, no.  Nathalie, don’t make a note.”  Adrien rolled his eyes, gesturing at the living room and retrieving another two wine glasses from the kitchen.  “The baby does not need to be a model.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Gabriel allowed, accepting a glass and filling it from Chloe’s selected bottle, which was almost empty, before taking a seat on a chair.  Nathalie waved off the other glass, sitting down in the armchair that Chloe wasn’t occupying.

Gabriel frowned at the coffee table.  “Adrien, is that the pantry door?”

Adrien slipped onto the couch beside Marinette, pulling her back into his side, and hid a grimace.  “Maybe?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and sipped on his drink.  “Nathalie, remind me.  How much did it cost to have that door custom carved?”

Marinette snorted at the look Adrien sent Nino, who was hiding behind his glass, as Nathalie pulled out her tablet from nowhere and tapped it a bit.

“Three hundred twelve thousand,” she finally said, and Marinette choked on nothing.  Who in their right mind would buy a pantry door worth over three hundred thousand euros?

“And what about those vases?” Gabriel gestured vaguely at the legs of the table, and, after a few more taps, Nathalie had the answer.

“Eight thousand apiece.”

“Please, Adrien, tell me.”  His father leaned forward, resting his free hand on his knee.  “What possessed you to turn them into a coffee table?”

Adrien sighed.  “Nino,” he said.  “Why did you turn them into a coffee table?”

Nino shrugged.  “Kim was really into it.” 

Marinette couldn’t read Gabriel’s face, and she was fairly certain that no one other than Nathalie and Adrien had any hopes of distinguishing one look from another, but Nino’s face was a clear mix of wariness and shock.  The wariness came, Marinette assumed, from the fact that Gabriel had been responsible for all but the Hawkmoth part of his akumatization a decade before, and she could relate to the shock.  Why had no one told her that their pantry door was worth over three hundred thousand?  And what was the point of having four eight thousand euro vases?  And, if those particular pieces were worth so much, what the hell was the rest of the apartment worth?

“Topic change because who really cares about the coffee table?”  Chloe leaned forward with a pointed look at Marinette and Adrien, brandishing her wine glass.  “There’s something you need to tell us, and I’ve been nice and waited for everyone to get here.  So.  Tell us.  Now.”

Marinette glanced at Adrien.  Was there something they needed to tell them?  Something that Chloe had somehow figured out?  She shook her head at Adrien’s questioning gaze, drawing a blank.

“What are you talking about, Chlo?” Adrien asked.

Chloe rolled her eyes.  “Don’t play dumb, Adrikins.  You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

Chloe huffed, glaring at them with unmasked disappointment.  “Please.  You can’t lie to me.”  She paused to sip at her wine.  “I’m an OB/GYN.  I know what the second trimester ultrasound means.”

Sabine let out a gasp, hand clutching Marinette’s thigh, though she was clearly the only one who understood Chloe’s reference.

“What does the second trimester ultrasound mean?” Alya wondered, glancing back at Marinette and Adrien.  “Is that when it can smile?  Cause we’ve already seen that.”

“Oh my Ladybug, you’re all idiots.”  Chloe sighed loudly.  “Second trimester ultrasound is when you can figure out the baby’s gender.  Obviously.”

Alya screamed, and Marinette remembered that, yeah, that was a thing that had happened at the ultrasound.

“Right,” she said, because how could she forget about that?

Alya turned around, leaning against Marinette’s legs and raising an eyebrow.  “So?” she squealed.  “Is AJ a boy or a girl?”

Marinette blinked at the sudden attention that was thrown at her and Adrien.  Chloe was smirking into her wine with an air of superiority and feigned disinterest.  Sabine was beaming at her daughter, one hand still clutching Marinette’s leg and the other holding tightly to Tom’s.  Her husband was behind the couch, smiling just as wide.  Nino and Alya were practically squirming, Nino muttering something about it being a boy and Alya owing him.  Gabriel had leaned forward in his seat, a tiny, maybe, almost smile breaking his usual unfeeling mask.  Nathalie’s smile was larger, her tablet clasped against her chest.

Marinette turned to look at Adrien, raising her eyebrows.  He chuckled, pulling her closer and gesturing for her to speak.

“Well.”  She drew out the syllable, eyes darting from one face to another.  “We decided we wanted it to be a surprise?”

She grimaced at the shriek that came from Chloe.

“What?”  She lurched to her feet, glaring at the couple.  “Why the hell would you want that?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “Your bedside manner is fantastic,” she commented, drawing a chuckle out of Adrien.  “And you wonder why I won’t switch to you.”

“Obviously I support my patients’ decisions.”  Chloe rolled her eyes, hands on her hips.  “However idiotic those decisions may be.  But, as you so clearly pointed out, you are not my patient.  I can tell you how stupid you’re being.”  She sunk onto the couch between Marinette and Sabine, scowling at Marinette and Adrien.  “Why wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Because we want to find out when it’s born,” Adrien told her, panting her hand with the one wrapped around Marinette.  “And because it’s our decision, not yours.”

Chloe pouted.  “But how am I supposed to know what to buy it?” she whined.

“Gender neutral is a thing,” Alya pointed out, grinning at them.  She reached out and slapped Marinette’s leg.  “I support your decision, girl, even though it means I’ll have to wait four more months to win this bet.”

“Well I think it’s a wonderful choice,” Sabine said, grinning at her daughter past Chloe’s head.  “It’s a surprise that will be worth waiting for.”

Marinette smiled back, relaxing into Adrien’s side.  The technician had left them alone to decide, and they’d talked for a long time, but ultimately they’d decided to not find out.  The technician knew, so her actual non-Chloe OB/GYN knew or would know soon, but they didn’t want to know.  This was one thing Marinette wanted to be surprised for, one surprise where the chances of it ending in somebody dead or a supervillain ruling Paris were practically non-existent.

So they chose to not find out, and they were happy with that decision.  And it seemed that everyone else was at least okay with that decision.  Except, apparently, Chloe.

“We’ll have to design clothing for both genders,” Gabriel said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “as well as some gender neutral.  Nathalie?”

“Already done, sir.”  His assistant was typing quickly on her tablet.  “Should I move up the meeting with the consultants for the infant line?”

Gabriel nodded.  “We’ve only got four months, so push it as soon as possible.”  Nathalie nodded, and he turned to look at his son.  “Adrien, you will have the best dressed child in France.”

“Fantastic.”  Adrien flashed his father a thumbs up.  His kid’s style wasn’t anywhere near the top of his worries, but he let out a sigh of relief that Gabriel wasn’t insisting they find out right this second.  Speeding up the schedule for his infancy line was definitely much better than insisting on a paternity test.  Definitely some improvement going on.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all peaches and baby clothes and wonderful.”  His attention returned to Chloe, who was leveling Marinette with a look.  “You know, if you switched to me, it’d be win-win.”  Alya snorted, and Chloe sent a brief scowl her way.  “I’m serious, okay?  I’d know if I’m getting a niece or a nephew, and you’d have the best OB/GYN in all of Paris.”  Chloe paused, pursing her lips in consideration.  “No.  All of France.  Maybe even all of Europe.”

Marinette sighed, leaning back into the couch.  “No.”

“But Mari,” Chloe whined, collapsing forward into Marinette’s lap and pouting up at her.  Her wine sloshed in her glass and Nino barely managed to dodge it dripping on his head.  “Why not?”

“We’ve had this discussion, like, a million times already, Chloe,” Marinette pointed out, sighing again and glancing to Alya for support.  Her friend raised her hands with a smirk, probably secretly relieved that she wasn’t currently the one on the receiving end of Chloe’s constant insistances.  Marinette glanced back at Chloe, ignoring the puppy dog eyes.  “I don’t have any desire for you to get that personal with me.”

Sitting up, Chloe had the audacity to look confused, as if they didn’t go over these same points every other week.  “But why?”

Marinette let out a breath through her nose, steadily avoiding looking at her parents.  “Would you want me in that general area”—she gestured vaguely at her lap—“for you?”

Chloe paused, her nose scrunching up as she considered it.  “As my doctor?” she clarified.  “Ladybug almighty, no.  You are nowhere even close to being qualified for that.  But for other reasons?”  She shrugged, smirking.

Marinette felt her face heat up, and suddenly Chloe was on the list of people she couldn’t look at.  Actually, she might as well add everyone present in the living room to the list as well.  Would Adrien consider moving to a cave in the forest with her and AJ so she’d never have to look at another human again?  Or at least put his astrophysics degree to good use and build her a rocket so they could live on the moon until she could look at Chloe again without the mental pictures her comment had brought up?

While Marinette was trying not to die—dying would be bad for the baby—the rest of the living room had frozen.  Alya, Nino, and the adultier adults were staring at Chloe in shock, and Adrien was trying to figure out whether what he thought he’d heard was what he’d actually heard.  Chloe was really the only one unaffected, snorting softly and rising to refill her wine glass.

It was a few moments before anyone moved, Mairnette having decided that caves and moons probably weren’t the best places to raise a baby in the same second that Adrien determined that, yes, he had heard Chloe right.

“I need to pee!” Marinette yelled, jumping to her feet and all but running to the bathroom.

“Who’s ready for dinner?” Adrien announced simultaneously, gracefully tripping over Nino as he attempted the apparently difficult task of standing.  “I think it’s a good time for dinner, yes?  Food?  Nino, you like food.  Food is good.  Let’s go eat.”

When Marinette finally emerged from the bathroom, slightly less red and with a vow to avoid continuing that conversation at all costs, all the food was on the table and Adrien had downed half a bottle of wine in the kitchen.  She eyed him in envy.  Wine would be ridiculously good for forgetting certain things said by certain people.  Stupid fetal alcohol syndrome.  Why did that have to be a thing?

Adrien caught her eye, raising a brow, and she nodded in confirmation that she was good.  Both moved to their seats at the table, unconsciously moving their chairs closer to one another.  Sabine was the only one who noticed, pursing her lips in thought.

“Dig in,” Marinette urged, and Nino let out a whoop, piling half the chicken onto his plate.

*********

“Mmm!” Alya let out an exited hum around her mouthful, waving her fork to get everyone’s attention.  She swallowed heavily and took a sip of wine before steepling her fingers and glancing around at the table.  “So you’ll never guess what I saw earlier.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at the dramatics, raising her glass to her lips.

No one seemed to be able—or willing—to guess what Alya had seen, so she went ahead and told them herself.

“I have some pretty solid evidence that Chat Noir was disposing a body this morning.”

Nino received a faceful of ginger ale from across the table as Marinette choked on her drink.  Adrien’s arm moved off the back of her chair to rub her back, and he side eyed Alya.  What was she talking about?  He definitely hadn’t disposed of any bodies this morning.  Or ever, for that matter.

Marinette finally got a hold of her breathing, and his hand stilled, though he was the only one who didn’t notice it stayed resting between her shoulder blades.

“What?”

Alya raised an eyebrow, smirking at her friend.  “Don’t sound so shocked, Mari,” she said.  “Apparently your ex isn’t as heroic as he seems.”

Adrien could practically hear Marinette roll her eyes.  “He’s not my ex,” she grumbled, and he had to fight a grin.  Chat Noir was definitely not her ex, considering he was her current.  Finally.

Of course, none of this explained why Alya was so sure he’d been hiding a body this morning, but he assumed she would get to that.  She always did.

He glanced around the table and was hit with another fact.

Marinette and Chat Noir having a thing in high school was not, apparently, a common fact.

Exhibit A: Chloe Bourgeois, with raised eyebrows and an impressed smirk.

Exhibits B and C: Sabine and Tom Dupain-Cheng, staring at their daughter as though she’d grown another head.  Which, technically, she had, though the second head wasn’t visible unless you had an ultrasound machine or cut her open.

Exhibit D: Nathalie Sancoeur, sipping with feigned nonchalance at her wine to hide what Adrien was sure was a grin.  Little known fact: Nathalie Sancoeur loved gossip.

Exhibit E: Gabriel Agreste, looking pretty much the same as always.

Case in point, in the eloquent words of his hopefully-future-mother-in-law:

“When did you date Chat Noir?”

Marinette spluttered for a moment, pointedly not looking at Adrien.  “I didn’t,” she finally said, shooting Alya a glare.  “Chat Noir is not my ex, and we were not a thing.”

Alya rolled her eyes.  “Stop denying it, Mari,” she insisted.  “You were definitely a thing.  You made out with him, and then freaked out about making out with him, and then made out with him again.  That’s a thing.”

Marinette was bright red, and Adrien nudged her leg with his in support.

“We were not a thing,” she insisted.  “We only kissed once!”

He couldn’t help himself, but, really, could you blame him?  That was such a blatant lie, and Marinette hadn’t even said it convincingly, so, honestly, he had no choice.

“I’d say you’ve kissed him quite a few more times than once, Princess.”

A gasp came from someone or everyone, and Marinette’s head whipped towards him, her eyes wide as she took in his smirk.  “You—you just shut up!”

Maybe he should have felt bad for putting Marinette on the spot like that.  Maybe pointing out the fact that he knew that Marinette and he had kissed so many times in the last twenty seven and a half hours that saying they’d only kissed once was laughable would possibly make their friends and their parents and their…Nathalie figure out he might possibly be Chat Noir.  Maybe this entire dinner was just a disaster waiting to happen.

But he couldn’t really find it in him to care too much at that exact moment, still riding the high of actually, really being with Marinette.  And there was no way he was going to let them think they’d only kissed once.  Obviously they’d kissed far more than a measly once, even before yesterday.  (Maybe twice wasn’t much better, but it was still technically more than once.)

(If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure what was so wrong about Marinette denying anything having gone on with Chat Noir.  She’d been denying it for years, and he’d never really had a problem.  Of course, it wasn’t like she had been lying before now.  He didn’t know where this train of thought was going, and added it to the pile of things to think about later.)

“Does Adrien know something we don’t know?” Alya was questioning, seeming to have all but forgotten her original reasons for bringing up the hero in favour of teasing her friend.  “Have you guys had the exes talk and finally admitted to your teenage love affair with Chat Noir?”

Marinette’s head spun back to stare at Alya.  “No!” she yelled, cringing when it was louder than she’d intended it to be.  “No, we haven’t, because there was no teenage love affair with Chat Noir.  There was one kiss, and that was it.  End of story.  The end.  Finished.  Everybody take your popcorn and go home.”

A snort escaped Adrien, and he quickly jerked his hand to cover his mouth, but it was too late.  Everyone’s eyes were already on him.

“I dunno, Mari,” Nino said, pointing at Adrien with his fork.  “Adrien’s got the face of a guy who knows the intimate details of your past relationships.”

Marinette scowled.  “There are no intimate details,” she informed him, slapping Adrien’s arm and turning her glare on him as another snort of laughter escaped.  “You’re not helping!  Can’t you make yourself useful and, I dunno, go build a deck or something?”

Adrien removed his hand, struggling to keep his face straight as he stared incredulously at her.  “Why would I build a deck?”

Because, honestly, none of what she just said made any sense.  For starters, where would they even put a deck?  Were they building it off their balcony?  And, really, he was probably not the best person to ask to build a deck.  Scratch that, he definitely wasn’t the best person to ask to build a deck.  He’d tried to build a crib a week or so before, and, for the first time, he was happy he’d bought nineteen so far because it was going to take at least that many tries to have one not mangled beyond repair.  (In hindsight, though, maybe using Cataclysm on that one piece to make it fit wasn’t the best idea.)

So, if they really needed a deck—which they didn’t—he would have assumed they’d call Kim.

But none of that explained why he should be building one right now.  They were eating dinner.  Couldn’t he finish dessert at the very least before starting on a doomed to fail building project?

Marinette just shrugged, screwing her face into an adorable helpless expression.  “I—I don’t know?”  She glanced at the others for help, but everyone either looked as confused as Adrien felt, or were already snickering.  She returned her gaze to Adrien.  “You’re gonna be a dad soon.  That’s what dads do, right?”

Adrien felt his mirth at the ridiculous request go out like someone had dropped it into a pit of lava filled with lava piranhas.  Did dads build decks?  Was that really something they did?  He can’t remember his father ever building a deck.  Was that why he’d been such a horrible father?  Had the lack of deck building doomed his chances?

But Kim!  Kim was an amazing father, and he built decks all the time!  That was literally in his job description!

Was he fated to be a terrible father because he couldn’t build a deck?  Should he spend these next four months getting Kim to teach him?  Why hadn’t any of the parenting books mentioned deck building?

Clearly everyone else had overestimated his deck building skills, as they’d all burst into laughter at Marinette’s words—excluding his father, who had cracked a slight smile.

But it was Tom’s booming laugh that caught Adrien’s attention, drawing him out of his deck-fueled panic.

“Marinette, when have I ever built a deck?”

Marinette’s face somehow managed to get even redder.  “Never?”

And then suddenly relief was flooding Adrien’s senses, and he relaxed into his chair, his arm falling off the back of Marinette’s and wrapping around his waist.  Because everything was fine.  He wasn’t going to be a failure of a father for not knowing how to build a deck.  Tom was probably one of the best fathers he knew, and if he hadn’t built a deck, clearly it wasn’t an important thing to know.

“Jesus, Marinette,” Nino laughed, smirking at Adrien.  “I think you almost gave the baby daddy a heart attack.”

Marinette sent a quizzical look his way, and Adrien shrugged sheepishly.

“I can’t build decks,” he admitted.  “I thought it might be a requirement.”

When the resulting laughter at Adrien’s expense died down, Alya steepled her hands.  “Back to the topic on hand.”  She turned to gaze at Sabine and Tom.  “Your daughter snuck a superhero into her room most nights for years.  As far as she’s shared, it went as far as one kiss, that she freaked out over for months.”  Alya’s gaze returned to Marinette.  “Did I miss anything?”

“No,” Marinette grumbled, and Adrien squeezed her side in support.

Sabine smiled.  “Oh, we knew Chat Noir used to come over,” she assured them, and Adrien felt Marinette tense as he froze.  “You weren’t exactly quiet, dear.”

A rampage of curses ran through Adrien’s head as he masked his face into a cool disinterest.  Maybe Tom and Sabine wouldn’t kill him for sleeping with and knocking up their daughter, but he was pretty sure he was dead if they ever found out his identity.  What kind of parent would be okay with a random boy dressed in leather sneaking into their teenage daughter’s bedroom almost every night, even if that boy was a superhero?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Marinette wondered, and Adrien couldn’t look at her without fear of his mask dropping.  “If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?”

But Sabine just rolled her eyes at whatever horrors he was sure were on Marinette’s face.  “We assumed you’d let us know if anything happened between you.”  She raised an eyebrow smirking slightly.  “Apparently we were wrong, but the point still stands.  If you were going to be sneaking any boy into your room, Chat Noir is probably one of the safest.”

Adrien tuned out the rest of the conversation as he thanked whatever higher beings were out there that he got such understanding eventual-in-laws.  They were fine with him sneaking into Marinette’s room for years.  They were fine with him getting Marinette pregnant without an established relationship first.  They were fine with Marinette’s decision to not marry him.  He was pretty sure the only things they wouldn’t be fine with would be either him kicking Marinette out and never seeing her again, or him straight up murdering someone.

Enough of the conversation filtered through his ears that he could piece together that Alya’s original point of having caught Chat Noir disposing a body came from her witnessing him getting rid of the carpet that morning.  And apparently she got it on camera and posted it on the Ladyblog.  (She also didn’t really believe that there had been a body in the carpet, but Adrien really hadn’t been that worried.)

He fully returned to the present at the sound of his father clearing his voice.

“I have a hypothetical question,” he announced, and Marinette relaxed in Adrien’s arms far more than was usually associated with his father bringing up any topic.  Especially hypothetical ones.

Hypothetically, would you be interested in modelling for the company, Adrien?

If someone hypothetically knew something about someone in your life who hypothetically wouldn’t be able to be around anymore, would you hypothetically prefer they told you before or after your piano recital?

Adrien, if there was a hypothetical way to bring your mother back, but it could hypothetically be considered morally wrong, would you do it?”

To be completely honest, none of his hypothetical questions ever ended up being actually hypothetical—except, of course, if his father actually had the morally questionable way to bring back his mother that Adrien had cautiously approved, he had yet to see any progress. 

So why Marinette seemed so relieved that his father was asking a quote-unquote hypothetical question, he wasn’t entirely sure.  It could be that she didn’t know that his hypothetical questions weren’t as hypothetical as they may seem, or it could be that she was just happy the topic was moving on from Chat Noir and herself and their Schrodinger’s relationship—get it?  Like Schrodinger’s cat?  Because he was a cat?  He’d have to remember to tell that one to Marinette later—from over half a decade ago.  Probably, he reasoned, it was a bit of both.

Gabriel folded his hands in front of him, staring passively down the table at his son and hopefully-future-daughter-in-law.  “If someone was hypothetically to get you, say, a custom made mobile”—He paused, glancing at Nathalie with a look that clearly directed her to take notes.  Adrien rolled his eyes as Nathalie tried to discretely pull out her tablet to take notes.  Did his father really think he was subtle enough for anyone to believe this was actually hypothetical?—“how many diamonds would be too many diamonds to hypothetically have encrusted on it?”

Chloe snorted, waving a dismissive hand.  “You can never have too many diamonds,” she declared, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork, oblivious to the looks that most of the dinner guests were sending between her and Gabriel.  “What kind of question is that?”

Adrien wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the incredulous look Nino had directed at him.  Or Marinette’s parents’ faces.  Or Alya’s.  Was this an unreasonable question?  Did most people not have diamond encrusted baby mobiles?

“Any would be too many?” The look Marinette sent him over her shoulder was confused and seemed to be begging for his help.  “Who puts diamonds on a baby mobile?”

Well.  That answered that question.  Apparently most people did not have diamond encrusted baby mobiles.  Who would have guessed?

“It’s okay, Father,” Adrien said, tightening his arm around Marinette and offering her a supportive smile.  If she didn’t want his father getting them a diamond encrusted baby mobile, he was going to support that decision.  He glanced over her head and caught her father’s eye.  “I believe mine is in the attic, right, Nathalie?  We can just reuse that one.  No need to have a new one made.”

And then suddenly everyone’s shocked looks were turned on him, Marinette turning in her seat to stare at him with an open mouth.  Had he said something wrong?

“Dude.”  He caught Nino’s eye, his friend’s fork frozen halfway to his mouth as he shook his head.  “You had a baby mobile made of diamonds?”

Chloe rolled her eyes, reaching past Nino to grab the wine bottle currently being horded near Alya’s plate.  “So did I.”

Gabriel cleared his throat again, the slight squint of his eye telling Adrien that he was feeling a bit uncomfortable.  “So is that a no to a mobile in general?” he questioned, directing the conversation back to Adrien and Marinette.  “Or just a no to diamonds?  Hypothetically.”

Marinette sent Adrien another quick glance, but he just shrugged, still not entirely understanding what was wrong with his father’s request.  Did she not like diamonds?

“Hypothetically,” Marinette said, turning back to Gabriel, “please don’t buy diamonds for our baby.  Normal baby stuff, please.”

Gabriel stared at her for a long moment before nodding.  “Nathalie?”

“Already noted, sir.”

Everyone ate quietly for a minute or two, Alya muttering something under her breath about “damn rich kids”.  Adrien still wasn’t sure what the problem with the conversation had been—the fact that Marinette clearly didn’t like diamonds?  The fact that diamonds were involved at all?  Did Marinette have a problem with baby mobiles?—and he made a mental note to ask her about it later as he shovelled food into his face.

It was Nino who picked up the conversation, leaning forward on the table, propping his chin on his fists, and glancing down past Chloe.  “So, Gabe, my man.”

“It’s Gabriel, Nino.”  Gabriel leveled his son’s friend with an unimpressed gaze, his fork returning to his plate.  “And, actually, it’s M. Agreste.”

Nino was undeterred by the lack of interest in whatever he was going to say and his mouth slowly formed a smirk as he continued.  “We’re pretty tight, right, Gabe?”

“No.”

“Great.”  Nino flashed Gabriel a bright grin before it returned to his smirk.  “Well, Gabe, I’ve been best friends with your son for, like, ten years now, and I’ve seen you in person, like, three times, and the only time we’ve actually talked got me turned into an akuma.”

Adrien had no idea where Nino was going with this, and Nathalie had raised her wine glass to her mouth to hide her laughter at how uncomfortable Gabriel looked, so, honestly, he was looking forward to seeing what Nino wanted to talk to his father about.  If it ended in an argument - as he was pretty sure it would, since, as Nino had pointed out, the only conversation his father and his friend had ever actually had before today had gotten Nino akumatized - well, he wasn’t above sending them to sit in the hallway until they settled their differences.

“Your point?”

“Since we’re so close”—Nino paused to waggle his eyebrows—“can I ask you a personal question about your son?”

Adrien felt his stomach drop.  No.  There was no way this was where the conversation was going.  Nino wouldn’t.  Would he?

Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh.  “I suppose.”

“Nino,” Adrien hissed, releasing Marinette and leaning forward to glare pleadingly at his friend.  “Don’t you dare.”  He ignored the looks Marinette and everyone else were sending him, only having eyes for Nino at that moment.

But Nino couldn’t be bothered to even glance his way as he waved off his words.

“Shut up, Adrien,” he said, and Adrien hated the teasing lilt in his voice at that moment.  “I’m talking to your father.  So, Gabe, buddy, pal.  I found out that Adrien’s face is worth six million euros, and that his entire body is worth eleven.”

No, no, no.  They were not having this conversation, not here at the dinner table with the entire family.  This was not happening.

“That is correct,” his father confirmed, and Adrien could feel his gaze as he continued to glare daggers at Nino.  Marinette’s hand clutched his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Nino, stop,” he pleaded, feeling his face heat up in anticipation of his inevitable mortification.  He could hear Alya giggling, probably knowing exactly what her boyfriend was getting at.  “Please.  I will retract your godfather privileges.”

Nino finally graced him with his gaze, only to smirk.  “No, you won’t,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself for someone who was moments from being dropped off the Eiffel Tower.  “You love me.”  In this moment, that was not exactly the truth.

He turned back to Gabriel, the smirk still evident on his face.  “So, what I was saying was that we know what his face is worth, and that the rest of him is worth five million.”  Gabriel nodded slowly, and Adrien closed his eyes, sinking down low in his seat in an attempt to use Marinette to shield him from the looming weight of crushing embarrassment ready to drop onto him at the next words that fell from Nino’s mouth.

“The real question is how much is his junk worth?”

Marinette’s hand tightened on his knee to a degree that would have no doubt meant broken bones for anyone else.  He buried his face in her arm, trying to ignore Alya’s screeching laughter and Chloe’s giggles, and whoever was the third person laughing, and let out a groan.

“I’m going to kill you,” he muttered darkly.  He pulled his face away just enough to send Nino his most murderous glare.  “Jesus, Nino!  Why would you do that?  What is wrong with you?”

Nino looked smugger than he had any right to be and shrugged.  “Kim and Max need answers, man,” he pointed out, as if that justified his need to Cataclysm Adrien’s relationship with his future-in-laws.  “So do I.”

Adrien pushed away from Marinette, eyes wild as he flung his arms in the air, barely missing hitting Marinette and Nathalie across their faces.  “That’s not a good reason!”  Why was his voice so high?  His voice wasn’t normally this high, was it?  “What the actual hell?”  His head whipped towards Gabriel for the first time since Nino had spoken those fateful words.  “Father, just ignore him.”

He expected Gabriel to listen to him and for that to be the end of the conversation, especially considering Gabriel was pretty well versed in ignoring Nino.  He did have ten years of practice, after all.

But apparently he was mistaken, as proven by the single word his father chose to speak.

“Nathalie?”

“Two point four million.”

He snapped his eyes to the woman next to him.  How had he missed her bringing the tablet back out?  Why did they even have that information of file?  Would Marinette consider running away with him so he’d never have to see any of these people again?

His eyes caught Nino’s for long enough to notice the impressed look his friend was giving him, before Alya caught his attention with a snort.

“That is ridiculously disproportionate,” she pointed out, pointing her wine glass down the table towards Gabriel for emphasis.  “Like, who chose those values?  Over half his worth is in his face, and, like, a quarter is in baby maker.”  Adrien groaned again, returning to his hiding place in Marinette’s arm.  Her hand released his knee and patted him awkwardly on the back on the head as Alya continued.  “That only leaves about a quarter of his worth for the rest of his body.  Sorry, Nathalie, if you’re the one who made this up, but this seems ridiculously not thought through.”

Marinette felt her own cheeks warm as she tried to console Adrien, watching with wide eyes as Gabriel adjusted his glasses, leaning forward and clasping his hands as he tried to defend Adrien’s values to Alya.

“Well, it’s his face that sells the clothes and the magazines,” he pointed out, “so obviously it would be worth the most, and his—”

“So the baby made me puke this morning,” Marinette interjected, far louder than necessary, cringing at how desperate she sounded.

Though Gabriel didn’t finish wherever that sentence was going, Chloe was really the only one to pay her words any attention, offering Marinette a sympathetic smirk before turning to Gabriel.

“How much are his abs worth?”

Adrien started banging his head against her shoulder, and Marinette gave Chloe an unimpressed look, the girl only shrugging in return.

“Nathalie?”

“One point two million.”

“Wait, wait, wait.”  Alya, for the first time all night, put down her wine glass to hold up both hands to silence the grand total of nobody who was trying to talk over her.  “You’re telling me that nine point six million of his eleven million euro value is put into three parts of his body?”  She glanced with wide eyes at the rest of the table.  “Does this not seem wildly disproportionate to anyone else?”

Gabriel and Nino both opened their mouths and Marinette could sense an argument coming on.

“Baby names, right?” she practically yelled, slight hysteria seeping into her voice.  “Who wants to help name this baby?”

Like she’d set a magic spell on the table, everyone turning to her with wide eyes before beginning to talk over each other with suggestions of baby names.  Her totally smooth conversation changing skills saved the day yet again, and Adrien was finally safe to emerge from his cave of shame.

He leaned in close, and she shivered as his lips brushed her ear.

“I thought we’d already decided on names?” he whispered, his fingers tangling with hers under the table.

“But they don’t know that,” Marinette pointed out, pulling away far enough to offer him a smile.  “And it saved us from having to continue that conversation.”

Adrien, though still bright red, grinned in return, pressing a quick kiss of thanks to her nose before returning to his food.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, tell me she’s not serious.”

Marinette’s attention snapped to Chloe, who was glaring past Nino’s head at Alya.

“Who’s serious about what?” she wondered, and Chloe let out a huff.

“Apparently you’ve decided to name your child after her instead of me.”  Alya stuck out her tongue, and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“We haven’t decided that,” she assured her.  “Alya has decided that, and she doesn’t get final say in names.”

“You’re just passing by a perfectly great name,” Alya insisted.  “AJ probably hates you for refusing to give her the best name in the universe.”

“No.”  Adrien gave Alya a deadpanned look as he defiantly shoved a piece of meat into his mouth.  Alya scowled at him.

“What about naming it after one of your grandparents?” Sabine suggested, speaking loudly before Alya could start up on another of the arguments they’d heard for the last five months.  “Montel, or Noelle, or Liu, or Ju.  Or one of Adrien’s grandparents?”

“You know, this would be much easier if we could narrow the names down to a gender.”  Marinette sent Chloe an unamused look, and she held her hands up in defense.  “I’m just saying.”

“I like the name Nino,” Nino pointed out.  “Also Wolverine.”

Adrien turned to Marinette with a smirk.  “What do you think, Mari?” he asked.  “Wolverine Dupain-Cheng-Agreste?”

“Absolutely perfect,” she agreed.  “But only if the middle name is Magneto.”

“It’s decided, then.”  Adrien leaned down close to her stomach, pressing a kiss against the bump of the baby.  “Hello, little Wolverine Magneto Dupain-Cheng-Agreste.  I’m your papa.”

Marinette giggled, and Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Please tell me someone gets to veto all their names,” she sighed.  “I am not having my niece or nephew named after comic book characters.”

“Aww, but Chloe.”  Marinette gave an exaggerated pout.  “We’re missing out on some great names if we cut out—shit, that was my bladder.”  She hopped up quickly, groaning as AJ kicked again, and sprinted to the bathroom.

The table had been cleared by the time she returned, everyone seated around it laughing over Tom’s retelling of the Great Mix Master Disaster of Three Weeks Ago, aka The Reason Why Adrien Isn’t Allowed to Help in the Bakery Anymore.

Adrien gave her a peck on the lips as she sat—a kiss which went unnoticed by all but Sabine, who stared for a moment before deciding that her angle must have been off and it was just a cheek kiss because in what world had Marinette ever gathered the courage to tell that boy how she felt?—and she smiled back at him.

“I still find frosting in my hair when I shower,” she interjected when Tom had finished the story.

Chloe was, for some reason, laughing the loudest, despite the fact that Marinette was sure that she had about the same level of baking skills as Adrien, if not less.

Adrien seemed to agree.

“Like you wouldn’t do something like that.”

Chloe rolled her eyes.  “Puh-lease, Adrikins.  I’m a doctor.  I think I could bake a measly cake without it exploding on me.”

“And I’m an astrophysicist,” he shot back, shaking his head.  “There’s not a lot of overlap between baking and our careers.  I bet you’d burn it or do something.”

She scoffed.  “I could bake better than you any day.”

Adrien’s eyebrows rose, a smirk stretching across his face.  “Is that a bet?”

“You know what?  Yeah, it is.”  Chloe’s grin was dangerous, teeth barred as she stretched over the table.  “Right here, later tonight.  Cookie baking contest.  Are you in, or are you too much of a chicken?”

Adrien leaned forward to clasp her hand.  “It’s on, Chlo.  You’re going down.”

Marinette glanced between them as they sunk back into their seats, sizing each other up.  “Do I get a say in this?” she wondered.  “Because I’m pretty sure burning down the apartment would be bad for the baby.”  Alya snorted.

“Your face is bad for the baby.”

“Thanks, Chloe.”

“Anytime.”

“So.”  Tom pushed to his feet.  “We brought dessert.”

Nino whooped, pumping a fist in the air.

“I’ll grab plates,” Adrien offered, rising as well, and, within a few minutes, everyone had an excessively large piece of chocolate cake in front of them—or, in Nino’s case, their second excessively large piece of chocolate cake.

“This is delightful,” Gabriel said, and Adrien barely stopped himself from choking.  Was his father really giving Tom and Sabine a complement?  Was this actually happening?  “It’s from your bakery, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Tom confirmed.  “We just baked it this morning.”

Gabriel nodded, cutting another bite off his piece.  “Nathalie, make a note that dessert catering for any future events will be coming from the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie.”  He glanced back at Marinette’s parents, who were somehow managing to reign in their shock.  “That is, as long as it’s alright with you.”

Sabine nodded quickly.  “Of course,” she said.  “It’d be great business.  Thank you.”

Adrien was impressed.  His father must have realized that Marinette’s parents were going to be a part of their life now, whether he liked it or not, and was trying to meet in the middle to attempt to get along.  That, or he just really liked the cake.

Chloe leaned forward, her fork tapping on the edge of her plate, and smirked.  “So, Marinette, Adrien.  You two are looking rather cozy today.”

Adrien glanced at Marinette, whose face was twisted with as much confusion as he was sure his showed.  Were they acting any different today?

“What do you mean?” he asked, and Alya sighed loudly.

“Chloe, you know how oblivious they are,” she said, and Adrien felt excessively hurt by her words.  They weren’t that oblivious, were they?  “You can’t beat around the bush.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes, glancing between Alya and Chloe.  “What bush?”

“When did you hook up?”

Chloe’s words did nothing to dissuade Adrien’s confusion. “Five months ago?” Was that somehow not obvious?  “What are you talking about, Chloe?  You know that’s when the baby happened.”

He could practically hear Alya roll her eyes.  “Not that time,” she said slowly, as though the speed of her voice was what was keeping them from understanding.  “The second time.”

He glanced at Marinette, and she shook her head, just as lost as he was.  “There hasn’t been a second time?” she pointed out.

“Puh-lease.  I noticed as soon as I walked in.”  Chloe huffed, obviously annoyed that they weren’t following her.  “You two have reached a new level of touchy-feely-grossness today that’s more than your normal level of touchy-feely-grossness.  Clearly you guys hooked up, and I’m not talking about the baby-making hookup.”

“There has been no hooking up,” Adrien assured her, not knowing where she’d gotten that idea from.  “The baby making time was the only time.”

Nino let out a sharp laugh, cutting it off abruptly as he took in their faces.  “Wait, are you serious?”

“I’m not even going to pretend I believe you,” Alya said, eyeing them as if evidence of a non-baby-making hookup would make itself known if she stared long enough.

Sabine hummed loudly and all eyes turned to her.  “I’m pretty sure I saw Adrien kiss Marinette earlier,” she offered, and everyone’s gazes snapped back to Marinette and Adrien.

Adrien was feeling even more confused than before.  Why was him kissing her such a big deal?  They’d kissed a lot since yesterday....

“Oh.”  His eyes widened as he finally clued in.  “Oh.”  He turned to Marinette, who hadn’t seemed to catch on to their mistake.  “Marinette, I think we forgot to tell them.”  He could see the exact moment that Marinette caught on.

Alya snorted.  “That you hooked up?  I think we’ve already established that we know.”

“What?  No.”  Marinette shook her head.  “There’s been no hooking up.  We just kissed.  A bunch of times.”

You would have thought an akuma was attacking from the screaming that erupted.

Chapter Text

“So.  I need the deets, babe.  How’d it happen?  What made you losers finally stop being oblivious as heck?”

“Adrien died.”

“What?”

“Uh, I mean, he might have died?  Maybe?  Adrien, you tell this story better.”

“Wait.  You’ve already told it to someone before us?  Who?”

“…Kim?  Alix was over during most of it and we had to let Kim in on it.”

“I guess that’s acceptable.  Adrien, go.”

*cough* “Uh, right.  So I was out yesterday?  And I was on the phone with Marinette when the akuma attack happened and this, uh, rose came up out of nowhere and cut me up?  And I dropped my phone and it broke and I blacked out and don’t remember anything until Ladybug cleansed the city.”

“Holy shit, dude.  Almost dying is something you tell people right away.”

“Yeah, yeah, Adrien almost died.  Happens all the time.  But how did that lead to you getting together?”

“Jesus, Alya.  Even I could tell that’s harsh.  But she has a point, Adrikins.  That just sounds like any other akuma attack.”

“Well, before I blacked out, I realized that I didn’t want to die without telling her I loved her.”

“And I lost contact with him after a pained scream and spent what felt like hours freaking out and when he showed up at the, uh, door, alive, I just had to kiss him.  And now we’re together.  The end.  No more questions.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

*********

Alya dropped the Charades box onto the coffee table from unnecessarily high.  "Alright, losers, time to pick teams." 

Chloe scoffed.  "Like we're going to let you pick teams."  She pulled out her phone, scrolling through her screens.  "I've got an app for that.  Give me a second." 

Nino collapsed onto the couch with a pout, strips of paper sticking out of his fist.  "Then why'd I make all these name tags?" 

Chloe stared at him for a moment before sighing loudly and turning off her phone.  "Fine," she conceded.  "We'll use your lame papers.  But I get to be team captain." 

"Only if I'm the other team captain."  Alya folded her hands on her hips, eyeing the group in challenge.  No one seemed to have any complaints, and Alya and Chloe took their place at the front of the room with Nino's hat filled with his papers. 

"Alright," Chloe said, after winning first pick seven to six in a cutthroat game of rock-paper-scissors.  She dug into the hat, fishing around for a moment before pulling out a slip of paper.  "First addition to Team Cool People is..."  She paused for effect before unfolding it.  "Tom." 

Alya snatched the hat back, not wasting any time in pulling her first slip.  "Adrien Agreste, welcome to Team We're Better Than You."  Adrien whooped loudly. 

"Nino." Nino bellyflopped onto the ground and inched his way to the designated Cool People section of the living room.  He held out his fist and Tom bumped it with his own. 

"The other Agreste." Gabriel, who was already sitting beside his son, didn't seem to react in any visible way, but Adrien could guess his thoughts.  Of course I'm on Team We're Better Than You.  It wouldn't make sense any other way. 

"Sabine."  Sabine made her way to her husband with far more grace than Nino. 

"Marinette."  Adrien pulled her closer, nuzzling into her neck, and Marinette offered her team-captain-slash-best-friend a thumbs up. 

Chloe smirked, tossing the hat back at Nino.  "So that makes Nathalie a Cool People." 

Alya crossed her arms, brows pinching together in a scowl.  "No way.  Nathalie's Better Than You.  That's only fair." 

"Chloe won first draw," Nino pointed out, pulling his hat back on.  "That means we get the extra person.  Plus, you've got Marinette." 

Marinette snorted.  "I think you're seriously overestimating my Charades skills." 

"Probably," Nino agreed.  "But AJ's automatically on your team.  That makes us even." 

"AJ can't act," Alya snapped, crossing her arms.  "And Marinette's already made twenty three trips to the bathroom since we got here, so, if anything, she only counts as half a person, not two." 

"Hey," Adrien started, patting Marinette's head in unnecessary comfort.  "Marinette is perfectly capable of playing Charades.  Are you saying pregnant people can't participate in family game night, Alya?  That's very pregnant-ist of you." 

Marinette covered his mouth with her hand before he could dig that hole any deeper and pressed a kiss against his cheek.  "Thank you, chaton, but Alya has a point.  Excuse me."  She rose, quickly making her way into the hallway, and they heard the bathroom door close a moment later. 

Chloe sighed, sinking into an armchair.  "Alright.  Nathalie, you're on Team Losers." 

"First of all," Alya said, waving a finger at Chloe, "it's Team We're Better Than You, thank you very much.  And second of all"–her finger swung to Adrien–"she calls you chaton?  Really?  Are you sure Marinette's not still hung up on Chat Noir?" 

Adrien laughed, trying not to look too smug that, yes, Marinette was in fact still hung up on Chat Noir, and currently dating him to boot, and muttered something in defence of his totally solid, not going to be broken up by Chat Noir relationship with Marinette. 

Thankfully, that topic of conversation seemed to have run its course at dinner, and conversation quickly returned to Charades.  Or, more accurately, conversation turned to another Chloe vs. Alya argument on the topic of Charades. 

"Obviously we're first, since you got first pick," was Alya's main argument. 

"First pick doesn't mean anything when you still got the extra player."  Chloe tossed her hair over her shoulder.  "So we should be first, since we have one less person." 

And so it went, back and forth and back again, until Nino piped in with the suggestion of another rock paper scissors match—won, this time, by Alya. 

The self-proclaimed Ultimate Queen of Everything asserted herself at the front of the room, hands on her hips as she surveyed her subjects. 

Nino plucked the minute-glass off the coffee table.  "And—go!"  He flipped it over, and the game was on. 

Alya brought We're Better Than You off to a good start, with the act of skydiving oh so carefully acted out by taking a dive from the back of the armchair and taking a hit to her forehead on the 344k coffee table. 

"I'm good!" she yelled, quickly righting herself. "Someone guess before the time runs out!" 

She was not, in fact, good, if the blood pouring from her face was any indication, and Nino quickly crossed the room to press his previously discarded sweatshirt against her wound. 

"Uh, skydiving," Adrien guessed, and Alya let out a pained whoop of victory.  "Are you okay?" 

Alya nodded, the motion threatening to send the makeshift bandage flying.  "Super duper." 

Another lie, considering Nino's light blue sweatshirt was far darker than it was supposed to be. 

"Maybe we should get Chloe to take a look at it," Nino suggested.  "There's kind of a lot of blood, Als." 

Alya shook her head.  "No, no, no," she said.  "Chloe's not that type of doctor, babe, and I'm fine.  Let's just keep playing." 

Chloe gave Alya a look, making her way across the room.  "I know how to give stitches, Alya," she pointed out, pulling the sweatshirt from her face and giving the wound a brief onceover before recovering it.  "And you definitely need some." 

Alya let out a long-suffering sigh.  "Fine," she conceded.  "Go grab your doctor bag and do your thing.  And someone get me more wine.  I'm not drunk enough for stitches." 

Sabine hurried off in search of a non-empty wine bottle, and Chloe continued to stare down at Alya. 

"Doctor bags haven't been a thing for, like, half a century," she said.  "Do you think I just carry suture equipment in my purse or something?  You're going to have to go to the hospital for actual stitches." 

Alya rolled her eyes, or, at least, that was the general assumption, as Nino's sweatshirt was blocking her eyes from view. 

"Clearly you're a terrible doctor then," she said, accepting the opened bottle Sabine handed her.  "I can see why Marinette doesn't want you to be hers if you don't even carry around basic medical supplies wherever you go." 

Marinette rolled her own eyes and stood up.  If Alya was still able to snark at Chloe, she wasn't too badly injured.  "We've got a suture kit in the bathroom.  Adrien, could you go grab it?" 

Adrien voiced his agreement, vaulting over the couch and half-jogging towards the master bedroom, and Nino and Chloe's gazes turned to Marinette. 

"Why do you have a suture kit in the bathroom, Mari?" Nino questioned. 

Marinette's mouth opened and closed for a few moments while trying to find a suitable excuse that didn't involve daily fights against supervillains. 

"I—we—you—I had a teenage love affair with Chat Noir," she reminded them, pointedly ignoring the fact that that was a blatant lie—her love affair with Chat Noir was very much mid-twenties, not teenage, thank you very much.  "Well, I mean, I didn't, but he was around a lot, and sometimes I had to stitch him up and it just became habit to keep it stocked.  Because Chat Noir used to use it.  And he could need it again.  Definitely not because of anything else." 

Thankfully Adrien returned with said suture kit before anyone could try to further dissect her totally solid reasoning. 

"Got it!" he yelled, tossing the kit onto the coffee table.  While Marinette had been rambling, Nino had maneuvered Alya so she was sitting on the table, and said patient was currently chugging the wine straight from the bottle.  Chloe raised an eyebrow at Marinette's story and moved into the kitchen to scrub in.  Sabine had collected a baggie of ice and was using it as makeshift freezing, pressing it against Alya's head.  Tom and Gabriel were quietly discussing the schematics of the cake they'd eaten for dessert.  Nathalie was looking up techniques for removing blood from carpet on her tablet. 

Scrubbed clean and gloved up, Chloe returned to the living room, ready for surgery. 

Alya lifted a finger, silently asking Chloe to pause on that while she finished her bottle.  "Alright," she said, tossing the bottle to the ground.  "I'm ready.  Stitch me up, girl." 

It took a few minutes and a few pained screams, but eventually Alya's head was back in one piece and her Charades war wound was hidden behind a large Ladybug bandaid. 

Alya fell back into the couch—and, indirectly, into Marinette—brandishing a new bottle of wine.  "So," she said, surveying the others.  "That's one for We're Better Than You.  Chloe, you're up." 

Chloe returned from the kitchen, drying her hands on a tea towel, and raised an eyebrow.  "You don't want to just end this before somebody else gets hurt?" 

Alya shook her head.  "Nope!  Are you just too chicken to compete with my killer charading?" 

Chloe rolled her eyes and tossed the dishtowel at Alya's face.  "You're on, Césaire." 

Unfortunately for Chloe, it wasn't much of a battle, as her silent Maui impersonation was nothing to say thank you for.  Sabine still guessed it, but only after a not-so-silent clue that would have been vetoed had Chloe not pulled the I-Just-Stitched-Your-Face-Back-Together card. 

Chloe dropped into her seat, swinging her arms wide.  "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, let's see what you've got. 

Marinette stood and pulled her card and snorted.  "This'll be so easy," she said, shooting her team a we got this look.  She raised her hands, miming a projector. 

"Movie!" Adrien yelled, and Marinette moved on.  "Two words!" 

Marinette proceeded onto the actual title, by pointing both pointer fingers at her belly. 

"Knocked Up," came from Nathalie, and Marinette sent Chloe a triumphant smirk as she sunk back onto the couch. 

"Well, clearly you cheated."  Chloe rolled her eyes and took another sip of wine.  "Sabine, you're up." 

Sabine, mother of all things competitive—including, of course, her daughter—brought the heat with a light speed round of Making Pancakes that was finished before the first grains of sand had had a chance to settle on the bottom of the minute glass, bringing the Cool People into the lead. 

Nathalie's poor Screaming Goat impression was a miss—though it could have had to do with one of her teammates spending the round in the bathroom, considering how spot-on her post-loss vocalized impression was. 

Nino was next, pulling a Famous People card.  He struck a pose, leaning casually against the fireplace.  And then another, stretching out provocatively on the floor.  And another.  And another.  And another.  And while his performance was gaining him laughs and a plethora of guesses, none of them were correct and he was running low on time. 

So he brought in the big guns, springing up from his latest pose and crossing to the We're Better Than You couch—and pressing a kiss against Marinette's forehead. 

"Adrien Agreste!" Chloe yelled, meeting Nino in the middle of the room for a victory high five. 

And so the Cool People retained their lead. 

Until Gabriel Agreste took the stage. 

Famous Person.  One word.  Two syllables.  Go. 

Gabriel pointed to himself, before waving his hand.  He then brought his hands together, flapping them out like a— 

"Butterfly!" Marinette yelled, halfway to standing to head out to the bathroom.  "That's a butterfly!" 

Gabriel's butterfly hands landed on an empty wine bottle and exploded, before coming back up to cover his face in a way that seemed like a butterfly mask, like an akuma, or— 

"Hawkmoth!" Adrien and Marinette yelled at once, breaking into laughter at the thought of his father being a supervillain.  Nathalie only rolled her eyes, though no one actually noticed. 

But, with Gabriel's uncanny Hawkmoth impression, Team We're Better Than You pulled drastically into the lead. 

Which left the fate of the Cool People in the hands of Tom Dupain-Cheng pulling out an absolute victory over whatever topic he chose, and the following demise of Adrien Agreste on his own turn. 

No biggie. 

Except, of course, Tom's Charades game wasn't worth shit. 

"Interpretive dancing!" Nino yelled as they watched Marinette's father prance around.  "Synchronized swimming?" 

"Chicken in a blender?" Chloe glanced at Nino, who shrugged.  "Bursting appendix?" 

"Thomas," Sabine said, voice low and brows furrowed.  "Get your shit together before you cost us the game." 

Tom did not, in case you were wondering, get his shit together, and the timer ran out with no one being anywhere closer to guessing his topic. 

"What was it, Papa?" Marinette asked, having missed most of the round while in the bathroom. 

Tom grinned.  "Jurassic Park." 

Sabine shoved to her feet, glaring at her husband.  "How the hell were we supposed to guess Jurassic Park from that?" she yelled, waving her arms in the vague, non-dinosaur-related way that Tom had been acting out his clue.  "Did you want us to lose on purpose?" 

Marinette reached out and rested her hand on her mother's shoulder.  "Maman, I don't—" 

"This was a competition, Tom!"  Her arms flew wide, and Marinette's hand fell from her thigh.  "You can't just let down our entire team!" 

Marinette sighed, giving up on calming down her mother and sinking back against Alya and Adrien.  Her friend patted her shoulder consolingly. 

"It's just a game, Sabine," Tom said, retaking his seat in the armchair.  "We all know I can't play charades." 

"You could at least try," Sabine snapped, turning on her heel and storming out of the living room. 

A smashing caught everyone's attention, and suddenly all eyes were on Gabriel, who had stood up too quickly to save his empty wine glass from crashing to the ground. 

He cleared his throat, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.  "I have to take this call," he said.  "It's very important.  I'll be in the nursery.  Don't disturb me." 

They watched him leave and sat in silence for a few moments before Adrien shifted, clearing his throat. 

"So I guess I don't get a turn?" 

And that was when the wall caved in. 

Not-Quite Sabine laughed loudly, throwing her multicoloured arms wide.  "I am the Charaider!" she yelled, sparks flying out of her hands.  "Everyone will learn to communicate without speaking, or they won't communicate at all!" 

And so she zapped Tom with her red sparkly sparks and turned on the rest of the group. 

The Charaider stalked towards her daughter, and her face softened as she lay a hand against Marinette's cheek. 

"Mari, honey, you're looking a little pale.  Adrien, be a dear and get her something to eat." 

And, with that, the Charaider disappeared—or, rather, crashed through another wall and ran off into Paris looking for victims and specific magical jewellery. 

Marinette stared after her mother for a moment before her eyes turned to her father and she rushed forward. 

"Papa, are you okay?" 

Tom nodded and opened his mouth, but no sound came out.  He shrugged and nodded, and Marinette relaxed slightly. 

Adrien slipped a cookie into Marinette's hand, and she turned to look at him. 

"Your mom wanted you to eat," he reminded her.  "I'm going to go have a shower."  His look was pointed, and, despite Nino and Chloe's loud teasing about how akumas always made Adrien need to shower, Marinette understood his message. 

"I'll come," she said.  "I need to pee first." 

They made their way down the hallway, and the slight calmness that her mother's powers weren't that serious was gradually replaced with dread. 

They stopped in their bedroom, and cookie crumbs fell from Marinette's hand as she reached out to grab Adrien's. 

"Be careful, chaton," she whispered, staring up at him with wide eyes.  "I can't lose you again." 

Adrien squeezed her hands tightly before dropping them in favour of brushing his fingers against her cheek.  "I will be," he promised.  "I'll see you in a bit." 

And then he was gone, out the bedroom window to cross Paris to fight her mother. 

Marinette took a deep breath and entered the ensuite, turning on the shower before leaving again. 

And then heading back in to pee because apparently her excuse wasn't just an excuse. 

********* 

 After confirmation that Marinette was okay with them running out, as well as a semi-official doctor's statement that maybe akuma chasing wasn't the best decision on Alya's part, Alya and Nino were off to track down the Charaider.  Tom left not long after, miming that Sabine would most likely return home afterwards and that he'd meet her there.  Gabriel still hadn't emerged from his very important business call, leaving Marinette, Chloe, and Nathalie alone in the living room. 

The Ladyblog was playing on the TV, showing Chat Noir jumping and diving to avoid attacks, and Marinette's knees were bouncing at a concerning rate, considering even Chloe had noticed. 

"Are you okay?" she asked, and Marinette willed her knees to stop. 

"Yeah," she lied, flinching at a particularly hard hit.  "I'm fine."  It's just that I watched Adrien die in my arms yesterday, and I'm kind of freaking out a little. 

Chloe eyed her over her wine glass.  "Well, you don't look fine," she pointed out.  "You look like you're about to have a heart attack, in my professional opinion." 

Marinette hesitated, before deciding that Chloe could hear at least part of the truth.  "Did you see the attack yesterday?"  Chloe nodded, and she took a not-so-steady breath.  "Chat Noir died.  Or, at least, he was close.  What if it happens again?" 

Chloe narrowed her eyes.  "If you still have feelings for Chat Noir," she started, voice low in warning, but Marinette cut her off before she could continue. 

"I love Adrien!" she said, not quite willing to lie by denying her feelings for Chat.  "Just Adrien.  But Chat Noir's my friend, and if something were to happen to him..."  She trailed off, staring down at her hands, fingers clutching each other too tightly.  "What about Ladybug?  And their baby?  And—" 

It was Chloe's turn to cut her off, awkwardly patting her shoulder.  "Even if he died yesterday, Ladybug fixed him," she pointed out.  "She can fix him again.  It'll be fine.  So stop stressing out cause it's bad for the baby." 

Marinette didn't point out that Ladybug having to fix him again was what was stressing her out, but she took a few deep breaths and tried not to think about how likely it would be for her mother to kill her boyfriend. 

Thankfully, the chances weren't that high and Chat defeated the Charaider after not too long.  Gabriel emerged from the nursery a few minutes later, and, from the slightly disgruntled edge to his expression, Marinette figured the business call hadn't gone well. 

Marinette let out a sigh of relief when she heard the sound of Adrien knocking over god knows what as he re-entered their bedroom, and announced that she was going to go let him know the attack was over. 

He was righting a lamp when she came in, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his back.  His hands came to rest on hers, and she took a few moments to breath him in and let her heart calm down.  Because he was here.  He was alive, and he wasn't dying, and she wasn't going to have to watch the life drain from his eyes again. 

He seemed to understand, and didn't say anything until she pulled away. 

"You good?"  She nodded and called on her transformation. 

"How's my mom?" she asked as he released the butterfly.  It only took a moment to call on a Lucky Charm and cleanse the butterfly and the city. 

"She seems fine," he said.  "I saw Tom after the fight, and I think they were heading home." 

Ladybug nodded, and then they were Marinette and Adrien again.  Adrien went into the ensuite, and Marinette returned to the living room, Adrien following a minute later with wet hair. 

Gabriel stood up.  "I believe it's time Nathalie and I left," he said, and nodded at Marinette.  "I had a lovely time, and I'll see you in two weeks at the next one." 

Marinette offered him and Nathalie a smile, and Adrien led his father and Nathalie to the door. 

Chloe vaulted over the couch when Adrien returned, hands on her hips and a challenge in her eye. 

"So, Adrikins," she drawled.  "Are you ready to be crushed by my killer cookie skills?" 

"Only if you're ready to eat my cookie dust," Adrien shot back.  "Mari, where's a cookie recipe?" 

Marinette rolled her eyes, but obligingly followed them into the kitchen. 

She was seated on a stool at the island when Alya and Nino returned, letting themselves in.  They'd decided on chocolate chip cookies, because they were easy, and because it was almost impossible to mess up chocolate chip cookies, and half the kitchen was already covered in flour and broken eggs. 

"Holy shit," Nino said, taking the seat beside her. 

Adrien pushed his hair off his face, leaving a smudge of dough behind.  "You're gonna be the judges," he informed his friend.  "Loser has to give the winner five thousand euros, and Chlo is going down." 

Nino snorted.  "That is an outrageously high bet for a cookie baking contest, my dudes," he pointed out. 

Chloe snatched a cube of margarine out of Adrien's hands.  "Your face is an outrageously high bet for a cookie baking contest." 

Nino nodded.  "Fair enough." 

Alya collapsed onto the other stool, burying her face in her hands.  "What's the maximum amount of pain medicine I can take without dying, Dr. Chloe?" she asked. 

Chloe dumped the unsoftened margarine straight into her bowl and opened the medicine drawer and tossed some pills at Alya.  "I'll give you something else in an hour if it's not helping.  But no more alcohol.  It'll mess with the meds." 

Alya booed loudly but downed the pills with a swig from the open milk jug rather than the bottle of wine. 

"Alright!" Chloe slammed her bowl down on the counter, bits of cookie dough flying up into the air.  "I'm finished!" 

Adrien slammed his own down a moment later, a slightly less watery concoction splattering around his face.  "Time to bake!" 

Two dozen uneven blobs entered the oven minutes later, with Adrien and Chloe crouched in front, staring through the glass like a couple of children. 

Alya's pain had reduced enough for her to answer Ladyblog comments on her phone, and AJ decided to take up tapdancing in Marinette's stomach. 

"Nino, hey."  She reached out and grabbed Nino's hand, pressing it against the spot where AJ was kicking.  Only for AJ to stop on contact. 

Nino frowned at her.  "If this is a joke, it's not funny," he said, and Alya started snickering. 

"I don't know why you can never feel it," Marinette mused, moving his hand away again.  The kicking restarted as soon as contact ended, and stopped again when she pressed his hand back.  "I don't think the baby likes you, Nino." 

"Then I guess AJ is gonna be a nerd who will never learn to skateboard," he said, pointedly staring at Marinette's stomach, but AJ didn't seem to care about being a nerd or skateboarding, as it didn't acknowledge it's godfather's words in any way. 

Nino huffed and pulled his hand back, and the timer went off on the stove. 

Adrien whooped, and pulled out the racks of cookies, and then the wait was on again because, as Chloe so eloquently stated, "they won't know I'm the winner if their taste buds are burning off". 

"Hey," Alya said, holding up her phone for the group.  Chat Noir was pictured on the screen, leaning elegantly against a wall.  "Doesn't he look kind of familiar?" 

Chloe raised an eyebrow.  "Alya, that's Chat Noir." 

"I know that."  Alya rolled her eyes, pulling her phone back.  "I just meant, you know, he looks sort of familiar in a non-Chat Noir way.  Like, think about it.  Ladybug and Chat Noir have been active for a decade.  Chances are we've probably met their civilian identities at least once by now." 

Chloe scoffed.  "If I met non-Ladybug Ladybug, I would know," she said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter.  "I am her biggest fan, after all." 

"Obviously they're really good at keeping it secret," Nino pointed out, stepping in before the three way fight about who Ladybug's biggest fan was broke out for the millionth time—Chloe argued that she had the most merchandise and was Ladybug's best friend; Alya argued that it was clearly her, since she knew everything there was to know about Ladybug and Chat Noir, except for their identities; Adrien's own secret, winning argument was that, without even touching on the fact that he was her partner, he was having a baby with her, and, more recently, dating her.  Needless to say, he didn't usually win the verbal arguments. 

"Of course."  Alya tossed her phone down on the island and sighed.  "It's been ten years and I'm not anywhere closer to figuring out who they are.  But I will!  Soon!" 

Marinette rolled her eyes.  "You've been saying that for a decade," she reminded her friend, which was really the only reason she wasn't particularly worried about Alya finding out anytime soon. 

Alya crossed her arms, a determined glint in her eye.  "I mean it!" she insisted.  "Let's make a bet.  If I find out who Chat Noir and Ladybug are before AJ is born, you name her after me." 

Marinette glanced at Adrien briefly.  "Middle name." 

Alya grinned widely.  "Middle name works." 

"But you have to find out both their identities before the baby's born."  Which is never going to happen, she mentally added, and Alya nodded, extending a hand.  Marinette clasped it and they shook. 

"Deal."  Alya dropped Marinette's hand and looked at Nino.  "We've only got four months, babe.  We're starting double time tomorrow morning." 

Nino frowned.  "What do I get when we win?" he asked.  "You didn't negotiate my name into the bet." 

"You get Chat Noir as a friend," Alya said, "and the ability to show him your mixtapes." 

Nino nodded, a far off look in his eyes as he imagined the hopefully not far off days of listening to mixtapes with Chat Noir, and Adrien rolled his eyes. 

"What if Chat Noir doesn't want to be your friend?" he asked.  "Or listen to your mixtapes?" 

Nino shrugged.  "Then Chat Noir can suck it.  And Marinette needs better taste in ex-boyfriends." 

"He's not my ex-boyfriend." 

Chloe rolled her eyes.  "Nobody believes you," she pointed out, turning away to the stove.  "And nobody cares, either, because it's time for cookies!"  She scooped hers off the cooling rack, setting them in a pile in front of the judges, Adrien following her movements. 

Marinette was first to take a bite, tentatively lifting Chloe's misshapen cookie to her lips.  She swallowed, trying to mask the look of disgust on her face because what the fuck did Chloe put into these cookies? 

And then she was taking a few lurching steps across the kitchen to vomit the entire contents of her stomach into the sink. 

The others were quiet for a moment before Adrien burst into laughter, Alya and Nino quickly following suit. 

"I can't believe you're actually that bad at baking, Chlo," he said, moving to pull Marinette's hair out of the way.  "I mean, I knew you were bad but I didn't know you were throw-up-with-one-bite bad." 

Chloe huffed, crossing her arms.  "Marinette is not a fair judge," she insisted, nose in the air.  "Her hormones have messed up her sense of taste in general, and clearly she's incapable of knowing amazing flavour if it punched her in the face." 

Marinette leaned on her forearms, chest heaving.  "The baby kicked me in the stomach," she told them.  "I don't wanna be pregnant anymore.  The cookie was, uh, interesting.  You guys can continue without me." 

Alya shot a tentative look at Marinette before biting into Chloe's cookie—and spitting it out over the island. 

"How much salt did you put in this thing?" she asked, reaching for the jug of milk.  "It feels like I swallowed an ocean." 

"Clearly your tastes aren't refined enough to sense greatness," Chloe sneered, snatching up a cookie of her own.  She took a bite, struggling to keep her face neutral for all of two seconds before gagging out the half-chewed remains.  "Alright, fine.  That was terrible.  But you still need to taste Adrien's." 

Alya couldn't even take a bite of Adrien's—the simple act of touching it to her tongue was enough to know that it was never going any further into her mouth. 

"Holy shit, that's horrible," she said, shuddering.  "It's so bad I don't even know what's wrong with it." 

Adrien pouted and snatched a cookie off the table, stuffing it whole into his mouth.  It took a few minutes of almost-gagging and faces that Alya wished she was recording, but he did manage to swallow it. 

"It wasn't that bad," he insisted.  Chloe caught his eye with a raised brow, and he sighed.  "Fine.  It sucked.  Clearly we're both equally useless at baking." 

Chloe nodded.  "So do we just throw out the rest?" she asked, and Adrien nodded.  They turned back to the island to collect the rest of the cookies, only for Nino to freeze, the only cookie left from the two dozen they'd made on its way to his mouth, cookie crumbs stuck in his stubble. 

"I've had worse," he said, stuffing the last cookie into his mouth and barely chewing before he swallowed.  "None of you lived with Kim during his baking stage and before his hardcore learning-to-be-a-dad stage.  Makes these taste like something from Marinette's parents' place." 

********* 

"Let's get this slumber party going!" Adrien flopped onto the couch, swinging his arms wide. 

Nino scoffed, collapsing onto the ground with a fresh bottle of wine.  "Slumber parties are for nerds," he pointed out.  "This is a sleepover." 

Marinette, re-emerging from the bathroom with freshly brushed teeth, sprawled out on the couch, head cushioned in Adrien's lap.  "I really hate the baby right now," she said, grimacing at yet another Miraculous worthy kick from AJ.  Adrien offered her a sympathetic look and began massaging her belly.  "I'm done with being pregnant.  Like, this can just stop.  Right now, please." 

Alya spread the Monopoly board on the table.  "Maybe you should have thought about that before you got drunk and hooked up with Adrien," she pointed out, and Marinette rolled her eyes. 

"I'm really not in the mood to get lectured on safe sex."  AJ landed another several kicks in a row, and Marinette was really wishing the next four months could pass in a second.  Which gave her an idea. 

"Hey, Chloe."  She tilted her head, staring sideways at her friend.  "Let's make a deal." 

Chloe paused in her task of sorting the mess that was the stack of Chance, Community Chest, and Property cards.  "What kind of deal?" 

"The kind of deal where you get to be my OB/GYN."  Marinette ignored the look Adrien was sending her. 

Chloe dropped the cards, her face lighting up.  "I'm in," she said without any hesitation.  "What do I have to do?" 

Marinette closed her eyes against another awful kick.  "Deliver the baby," she said.  "Right here, right now." 

"No." 

Marinette sighed, finally glancing up at her—boyfriend?  Partner?  Had they actually had that conversation yet?—Adrien and scowled.  "I wasn't asking you." 

"No." 

This one came from the person she was actually asking, and she turned her head to pout.  "But Chloe..." 

The look Chloe was giving her was enough to make Marinette sink back into Adrien to avoid being fully in its path. 

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng," she started, sincerely unimpressed.  "You are twenty weeks pregnant.  Statistically, your baby will not survive, and, if we're doing a C-section in your living room with basically no medical supplies, chances are you won't either, especially since me and all my untrained assistants are drunk.  Plus, I'm pretty sure killing you and your baby goes against our truce.   So, no, I'm not going to deliver your baby." 

Marinette held her pout for another few moments before a particularly hard kick had her curling further into Adrien for comfort.  "Fine," she sighed.  "Somebody make me the thimble and let's start this stupid game." 

"We can't start until Chloe finishes sorting the cards," Alya pointed out.  "Which we wouldn't have to do if the Dupain-Cheng-Agrestes actually sorted them before putting them away like normal people." 

"We haven't played since the last time we played with you," Adrien said, rolling his eyes and not commenting on the ways being called the Dupain-Cheng-Agrestes made his heart race.  "And you were the one who put them away, Alya." 

Alya waved a hand in dismissal.  "Technicalities." 

"No," Chloe scoffed.  "That means you need to help, since it's your mess." 

Alya sighed, and, together, it only took them a few minutes to sort the cards, and then the game was on. 

*********

Even Adrien’s hand massaging her stomach wasn’t stopping AJ’s fit of rage, and Marinette let out a groan as she threw the dice at the ground, listening to their clatter as they rolled somewhere under the coffee table. 

“Seven,” Alya gamely read, moving the thimble around the board without asking, for which Marinette was thankful.  Adrien’s lap was comfortable, and she was pretty sure she was going to puke if she sat up.  “You got a Chance.  Want me to read it?” 

“Please.” 

“Go directly to jail.  Do not pass Go, do not collect 200 euros.”  Alya tutted, moving the thimble again.  “Bad luck, Mari.” 

Marinette, for once in her life, did not actually care that this was the fourth time she’d been thrown in jail in the hour or so since they’d started the game.  She could care less about winning Monopoly, unless that win meant AJ would finally respect her and stop beating her up.  That would be nice. 

But, as it was, babies didn’t care about Monopoly, or even about the common decency of not beating up your mother, so Marinette was left without any options to relieve her pain. 

“Yes!” Nino crowed, pumping a fist in the air.  “Park Place!  Hit me up, banker!  I’d like to buy me some prime real-estate!” 

“Can’t you leave something for the rest of us?” Chloe whined, even as she accepted his money and handed him the card.  “You own, like, half the board.” 

Nino shot something back, but Marinette didn’t hear as the perfect plan was working itself out in her mind. 

“Nino,” she said, interrupting his speculations on the perfect places to put his hotels.  “Nino, come here.” 

Nino stood, stumbling a bit as he made his way to the couch.  “What’s up?” 

Marinette raised her legs straight in the air and pointed to where they’d been resting.  “Sit.”  Nino shot her--or Adrien, she couldn’t really be bothered to tell and their faces were more or less in the same spot anyway--a look, but complied, and Marinette dropped her legs in his lap.  “Hands.”   

She made a grabby motion with her own, and he handed them over just as AJ gave a particularly painful kick.  She quickly pressed Nino’s hands against her stomach, and let out a blissful sigh as the kicking stopped on cue. 

“What am I supposed to be feeling?” Nino wondered, staring down at her.  “If you made me sit here just so you could rub it in my face that your baby’s never let me feel it kick-” 

“It won’t stop kicking,” Marinette told him.  “And it’s gonna make me puke.  So you get to sit there and make sure it stops.  Because I love you even though the baby doesn’t so that makes you my new favourite.” 

Adrien snorted, and Marinette looked up to scowl at him.  He wasn’t the one being attacked.  He didn’t have the right to laugh.  His no longer massaging hand moved to her hair, though, so she forgave him. 

Nino just sighed, settling into the couch.  “If I have to be the baby repellent, Alya needs to pass me my drink.” 

“I think Monopoly’s over,” Alya pointed out as she handed Nino’s swamp-watered-concoction of alcohol to him, “since the three of you are out of commission and it’d pretty much just be me and Chloe playing.  We should play something we can all play.  Like Truth or Dare.” 

“Or Twister!” Chloe added from where she’d already started packing up the game. 

“I think that’s still a game only you and Alya can play,” Adrien said.  “Unless Marinette lets me up since she’s got Nino now.” 

“No.”  She shook her head, relaxing further into his lap and his hands. 

“Right, so it’d just be you and Alya,” Adrien confirmed.  “Which would pretty much be the same as still playing Monopoly.” 

Chloe shrugged.  “I’d be down for two person Twister,” she assured them, glancing suggestively at Alya.  “Way more fun than two person Monopoly.” 

“No!” Marinette said again, louder this time, turning her head to send Chloe and Alya a glare.  “I’m not gonna watch you have Twister sex in my living room.” 

She could feel Adrien laughing under her, but at least he had the decency to be quiet, unlike the others. 

“Wait,” Nino said, and she turned her glare on him as his hand slipped from its spot.  “If you guys are having Twister sex, I want in.” 

“No.” Marinette turned up the intensity of her glare.  “I will literally puke if you do that.” 

Nino grinned.  "Fine, no Twister sex," he agreed, hand back in its defensive position. 

"At least, not yet," Chloe amended, winking at each of her friends. 

Marinette couldn't find it in her to care that they might have Twister sex in her living room after she went to bed, or about the discussion on what to actually do since sixty percent of their game players were out of commision, because AJ was actually leaving her alone.  Or, at least, AJ was too scared to kick with Nino on guard, but she really didn't care about the reasoning there either. 

And, with the pain in her uterus and surrounding organs significantly less than it had been, combined with Adrien's soothing strokes through her hair, she was finding it harder and harder to keep her eyes open. 

It didn't take long before the great Truth Or Dare vs Literally Anything Else, Alya, We Always Play That Game debate was interrupted by a snore. 

Adrien smiled down at Marinette's peacefully sleeping face and gently brushed her bangs out of her eyes. 

"Oh, Ladybug, this is sickening," Chloe sighed, rolling her eyes.  "You're seriously in love with her, aren't you, Adrikins?" 

"More than anything."  Adrien's grin grew distracted as he stared down at Marinette's face, and Nino punched him in the shoulder with the hand that wasn't currently fending off baby kicks. 

"I still can't believe it took you almost dying to get you guys to confess your feelings," he laughed.  "It's going in my speech at your wedding, by the way." 

Adrien turned his smile on his friend, imagining that day.  They'd be at the altar, Marinette in something gorgeous she'd designed herself, the bridesmaids in pink, him in a suit or maybe something more casual, if that was the theme they were going with.  The baby would be there, probably in the audience with Sabine, or maybe even his father.  It would be spectacular, and amazing, and he'd finally get to call Marinette his wife. 

But there was just one problem, he realized, turning back to Marinette.  She'd rejected his proposal. 

But, a voice pointed out, one that sounded like a hybrid of Nino and Plagg's voices, she did say that if something romantic was happening between you, she'd say yes. 

Which left one question: 

"Nino, how long should I wait to propose?"