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Chapter Text

Marinette waved and cheered enthusiastically until the newlyweds were out of sight. Alya and Nino couldn’t have looked happier, or more in love, as they headed off for their honeymoon in the Caribbean. They were going to spend the next two weeks in a beach house on a tiny island without internet access where they could enjoy perfect weather, a warm ocean full of tropical fish, and each other with no distractions from the outside world.

Nino had been very insistent about the no internet part. He was usually completely supportive of Alya staying obsessively on top of, and contributing to, the news cycle in her role as Paris’ most trusted reporter on the city’s superheroes and supervillains. However, during their honeymoon, he wanted her all to himself.

Gradually, the crowd on the steps melted away, leaving Marinette standing alone in her bridesmaid’s dress. Which was so typical of her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have a boyfriend. She did. They’d been together almost as long as Alya and Nino had. Over that time period, Alya and Nino had gone from sweethearts to lovers, got engaged, moved in together, and now were married. Meanwhile, Marinette’s relationship with her boyfriend had barely progressed at all since they’d first started dating when they were fourteen. Or rather, when she was fourteen and he claimed to also be fourteen and she had to hope that wasn’t one of the many lies he told her to hide his identity. They’d been a couple for years now but she still didn’t know his real name or what he looked like without a mask. 

When they were Ladybug and Chat Noir, the city’s primary superheroes, he was everything she could possibly wish for in a boyfriend: brave, funny, loyal, smart, and endlessly romantic. She truly loved him. She considered their superhero partnership to be as much of a committed relationship as any marriage. But sometimes, like now, it would be really nice to have a boyfriend who could be at her side when she wasn’t Ladybug.

Her family and friends thought that she was dating someone she’d met in a MMORPG and still knew only by his gamer tag. Lately, they’d started hinting that, after nearly a decade, maybe it was time for her to either find out who he really was and meet him in person or else dump him and find a real boyfriend. She was running out of excuses for why she refused to do either of those things.

They weren’t wrong about the MMORPG or the gamer tag, although that wasn’t how she’d met Chat Noir. 

Back when she’d first admitted that she was in love with Chat Noir and agreed to be his girlfriend, she’d been so giddy with infatuation that she hadn't been able to resist bragging to her best friend Alya that she now had a real, official boyfriend, and he said the most romantic things! She'd claimed to have met him in an online game because couldn’t think of any other way to explain why she didn’t know his name or have any pictures of him. 

Unfortunately, Alya's response had been, “Endless Empires? I love that game! Nino and I play it together all the time! You and your new boy-toy have to form a party with us so we can meet him and find out if he’s good enough for you!”

Fortunately, Chat Noir's reaction when she finally confessed to the mess she'd gotten herself into was, “I love video games! I've never played any online ones before but, if it means I get to spend more time with you, sign me up!”

These days, they spent more time slaughtering virtual monsters and building pixelated castles together as PinkKnittingFairy and GoldenGoose13 than they did fighting akumas and making out as Ladybug and Chat Noir. TheAuburnAvenger and DJCineNoir joined them for most of the monster-slaying quests and built their castles right next door. When the four of them weren’t gaming, they shared a group chat and sent each other one-on-one text messages. Marinette sometimes suspected that Chat Noir talked to Nino even more than he did to her. She’d heard the boys refer to themselves as “best friends” on more than one occasion despite not being able to share any details about their real lives.

Nino and Alya had really wanted to invite “Goose” to their wedding but he’d had to refuse because he couldn't give them an address to send the invitation to without revealing his identity and couldn’t read the invitation or attend the wedding without learning theirs. He’d made it seem like no big deal at the time, but Ladybug had seen the regret in his eyes when he’d brought it up during their next akuma fight. He’d really wanted to come. But secret identities had to stay secret, no matter the cost.

As bitter as it was to be alone at her best friends’ wedding reception, it was even more bitter knowing that Chat Noir would have been here with her to share this irreplaceable moment in their friends’ lives if he could. The most painful part of being a superhero was having to keep the most important parts of her life secret from the people she loved. In both directions.

Lately, especially while helping out with the preparations for Alya and Nino’s wedding, she’d been feeling the limitations of her relationship with Chat Noir more and more. She loved Chat Noir, and she loved their partnership. Usually that was more than enough for her. But, in her heart of hearts, she wanted more. She wanted to share a home with the man she loved. She wanted to get married and maybe, someday, have children. She wanted to introduce her boyfriend to her family and friends. Tell him everything that was going on in her life. Have sex.

Frankly, that last one had been bugging Marinette a lot lately. Kissing Chat Noir was delicious. Sometimes they kissed for hours. But that was as far as they could go. The high, stiff collars of their suits didn’t even allow necking. 

The one time she’d given into temptation and carried a blindfolded Chat Noir to her room so that they could detransform and take things further, her parents had almost walked in on them. If her father had shouted “Marinette” instead of “Cherie” as he came up the stairs, or if he hadn’t shouted at all, Chat Noir would have learned her identity. After that scare, they’d agreed never to try that again.

In the last few weeks, Marinette’s curiosity about sex had reached a fever pitch. Alya and Nino had decided to abstain from sex completely for the month before their wedding, partially to make their honeymoon more special and partially because the rush of wedding preparations and flood of relatives flying in from other countries for the wedding didn’t leave them with any alone time. As a result, the sexual tension between them had built up to the point where it was uncomfortable to be in the same room with them. It had made Marinette curious just how good sex must feel if not having it made Alya suffer visible withdrawal symptoms.

So she’d made a pact with Chat Noir that they would both lose their virginity at the earliest possible opportunity and then report back on what it was like. He’d been reluctant at first, saying that she was the only woman for him but, in the end, he’d admitted that he was curious too. 

Marinette was sure that anyone as charming as Chat Noir would have no trouble finding plenty of women willing to sleep with him, which meant that she’d better find someone too if she didn’t want to hear about what a great time he’d had and then have to admit that she’d completely failed at the mission she’d assigned to both of them.

Well, here she was at a party in a beautiful dress with her hair elegantly styled and her makeup perfect, surrounded by attractive young men. Some of them wouldn't even be in France a week from now. If she wanted to hookup with someone for a meaningless one-night stand, she wasn’t going to get a better opportunity than this!

Marinette marched to the bar to order herself some liquid courage.

“Vodka!” she demanded. At Max, Markov, and Noël’s startled looks, she added meekly, “...and cranberry juice.” 

She’d forgotten for a moment that the volunteer bartenders for the wedding reception were her former classmate Max, his robot Markov, and Nino’s little brother Noël. She didn’t quite have the nerve to order shots of hard liquor from them.

Max poured her drink and handed it to her. “Here you go, Marinette. Twenty-five percent vodka, seventy-five percent cranberry juice.”

“Thanks.” Marinette smiled at him despite her embarrassment. “How do you like bartending?”

“It’s like a chemistry experiment,” Max said earnestly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s interesting to see everyone’s reactions.”

“Ask for something more difficult next time, Marinette,” Markov said. The little robot’s electronic face displayed a smirk. “I know more than ten thousand named drink combinations.”

“We have, like, a hundred different bottles back here,” Noël said. “If you can name it, we can make it.”

As Marinette stepped away from the bar, a man took her place and ordered, “Give me a golden martini in the prettiest glass you’ve got.”

“You need it to be in a pretty glass?” Marinette asked, raising her eyebrows as she turned to look up at him.

And stared in disbelief. His face was unreal in its beauty. His artfully styled hair was as golden as butter. His eyes were vividly green even in this less-than-ideal lighting. Marinette caught herself staring at him in slack-jawed aesthetic appreciation and snapped her mouth shut.

“My friend does,” the beautiful man said. “She asked me to get her drink.”

Of course someone that good looking would be taken! Marinette shoved down her totally unreasonable disappointment and said brightly, “Your girlfriend is lucky to have such a caring boyfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend,” the man said carelessly. “But fetching drinks for her is a small price to pay for an invitation to the Ladyblogger's wedding. I’m a huge fan!”

Max handed him a golden cocktail in a sparkling glass garnished prettily with fruit on a stick. “What do you want for yourself?”

The man’s perfect eyebrows knit in thought and then relaxed into a self-deprecating smile. “I have no idea. I don’t want to keep my friend waiting, so I’ll just take this for now. Thank you.”

Marinette sipped her drink as she watched him vanish into the crowd. 

The next person in line nudged her aside so he could order his drink. Oops! Marinette quickly moved further away from the bar to avoid blocking traffic. 

The guy who’d nudged her aside was kind of cute. She was pretty sure he was one of Alya’s cousins, which meant that he’d be returning to a different continent in the next day or two. Perfect for the extremely short-term relationship she had in mind! Except that he was Alya’s cousin. If she hooked up with him, he might tell his mother, who might tell Alya’s mother, who might tell Alya, and that would just be weird. Besides, he looked a little like Alya, which would make it doubly weird. No! Bad idea!

That guy with the slicked back hair leaning against the bar on the opposite side from Marinette - what was his name again? - had a reputation for being willing to sleep with practically anyone, so he probably wouldn’t say no if she propositioned him. But she might run into him at Alya and Nino’s apartment afterward. He often visited Nino to work on video editing group projects, or just sit around sipping coffee and talking about camera angles, themes and whatever other stuff media studies majors talked about. That would be so awkward! What if he thought that just because she wanted to do it with him once, that meant that she was interested in doing it with him again? Gross!

Oh, what about that guy in the stylish vest over by the buffet? She’d never seen him before, which meant that she might never have to see him again. She took a step toward him, and then a second, smaller step, and then a third, miniscule step. She needed more liquid courage if she was going to do this! She downed the rest of her drink as quickly as she could manage, wincing at the burn. When she looked up from her glass, a blonde woman had taken her target’s arm. Marinette thought she might be one of Alya’s friends from the university newspaper. The man must be her date.

Come to think of it, maybe her best friends’ wedding reception wasn’t the best place to find single young men that she would never have to see again after all.

Maybe if she got drunk enough, she wouldn’t care. 

She headed back toward the bar. 

Max had grown up to be surprisingly good looking…but no. No! Even if he hadn’t been more interested in robots than in girls, she couldn’t bring herself to think that way about anyone she’d gone to elementary school with. 

Lost in thought, she collided with the same impossibly handsome man from before. He grabbed her arm to steady her and gave her a friendly smile. 

Marinette smiled back. 

The man’s face suddenly lit up with an expression of astonished delight. “I know you! I didn’t recognize you at first because your hair and makeup are different, but you’re Marinette!”

“And you’re…” Marinette frantically tried to remember if she knew him. Surely she would have remembered meeting someone this good looking, but there was something strangely familiar about him. Actually, now that she thought about it, she was certain she’d seen his face before, but the context of where she’d seen it completely escaped her. “I’m sorry,” she had to admit with embarrassment. “I know I’ve seen you before, but I can’t remember where I know you from.”

“I’m…Adrien.” He watched her carefully for a reaction.

Marinette frantically searched her memories, but she still couldn’t place him. One of Nino’s friends? No, he’d said that the girl who sent him for a drink was the one who’d been invited. Had Marinette seen him at her fashion design school? He was good looking enough to be a model, but, when she ran through the list of everyone who’d modeled in the student fashion shows in her head, she didn’t find him on it. 

But she knew she’d seen him before somewhere! Part of her mind was trying to tell her that he was someone she saw on a daily basis even as the rest screamed that she definitely did not know anyone with the face of an angel who dressed in…oh, wow, was that a designer suit? A really expensive looking designer suit? It was a tribute to how distracting his face was that it had taken her this long to notice his clothes because the lines of that suit were the stuff of daydreams. It fit him so well that it gave the impression that an amazingly talented fashion designer had designed it specifically to match his eyes and then a very skilled tailor had sewn it onto him by hand. 

“We don’t know each other,” the man reassured her. Oddly, he seemed pleased rather than annoyed by her lack of recognition. “I recognized you from all the times you’ve helped the heroes defeat akumas, like Evilustrator and Sole Crusher. I read about it on the Ladyblog. Just a couple weeks ago, you gave Chat Noir cheese so that he could lay a trap for Mr. Rat.”

Marinette relaxed, and even preened a little, at his admiration. “I did do those things,” she admitted.

“I’m very impressed,” he said sincerely.

“It comes from having had so many classmates akumatized,” Marinette said with a laugh. She did not say that it came from secretly being Ladybug, which was the real reason.

“We actually have met before, although I wouldn’t expect you to remember,” he told her shyly. “Years ago, at a play, I noticed that the girls in the seats beside mine were about my age. Then one of them mentioned that she’d just uploaded videos of the Mime to the Ladyblog. I realized that I was sitting beside the one and only Ladyblogger! You were the friend she was talking to. After that, I always remembered both of your faces. You sometimes work as a waitress at catered events, right? I’ve seen you at parties. And you like to write in public parks.”

“Sketch,” Marinette corrected him blankly. “I’m a fashion designer.”

“You are?” Adrien looked even more amazed.

“I made this dress,” Marinette waved her empty glass vaguely to indicate the bridesmaid’s dress she was wearing. “Alya’s dress too. And the other bridesmaid’s dresses. And Nino and Noël's suits.”

“You made them? Marinette, they were spectacular! I was impressed by how they were each designed to match the style of the person wearing them but still perfectly coordinated. I know enough about fashion to know that’s hard to do. You designed them?” 

“It’s mostly a matter of picking the right fabrics,” Marinette said humbly. “I’m just glad that I managed to get them all finished in time for the wedding. It was a close thing!”

“If anything was rushed, it didn’t show.”

Uncomfortable at so much praise from a stranger, Marinette changed the subject. “So, have you figured out yet what drink you want to get for yourself?” She took several meaningful steps toward the bar.

He trailed after her. “I’m not sure,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t drink very often. Do you have any suggestions?” 

“Markov,” Marinette said. “What drinks should we order?” She pointed at Adrien and then herself.

“What flavours do you like?” Markov batted the question back to them.

“Is milk an option?” Adrien asked politely after a long pause.

Marinette raised her eyebrows at him, surprised both by his choice and by his sudden reserve. The enthusiastic Ladyblog fanboy from before had been replaced by someone whose poise was as perfect as his hair. 

“Yes,” Markov chirped happily. “I have ninety-three drink recipes that involve milk. For a secondary flavour, would you prefer coffee, mint, chocolate, carmel, butterscotch, or any of a variety of fruit flavours?”

“Hmm…” Adrien said thoughtfully. His eyes widened slightly in panic but otherwise his expression remained perfectly composed.

“If you can’t pick just one, you always come back for the others. That’s what I plan to do,” Marinette suggested. “What do you have that’s sweet?” she asked the bartenders. 

Fortunately, the bar wasn’t as busy as it had been earlier, so Markov was able to take the time to come up with personalized lists of drinks that Adrien and Marinette might want to try.

“I admit I had my doubts about milk-based drinks at first,” Marinette admitted to Adrien, “but now I kind of want to try some.”

“Your drinks all sound delicious too,” Adrien returned the compliment. “Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll even be able to get through these.” He ruefully held up his own list.

Marinette proved her own lack of alcohol tolerance by offering with a giggle, “I’ll give you a sip of mine if you give me a sip of yours.”

Adrien looked tempted but, before he could reply to her offer, a shrill voice shrieked, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, get away from my date!”

Marinette turned to stare in horror at her least favourite person in the whole world (with the possible exception of Hawkmoth). “Chloe?” she whispered in disbelief. She turned back to glare at Adrien. “You came here with Chloe Bourgeois?” she demanded accusingly.

“Yes?” Adrien said meekly. “You…uh…know each other?”

“Chloe and I were classmates in middle school,” Marinette growled, glaring at Chloe. 

“This girl was my patsy in middle school,” Chloe confirmed with a smirk. “I almost missed her when she got sent to some weird school halfway across the city for high school. None of my high school patsies were ever quite as satisfying to trample underfoot.”

“Alya thought you might have matured in the years since we went our separate ways. I told her you’d never change, but she sent you an invitation anyway because she thought it would be sad to leave you out when she was inviting the rest of our old classmates. I see that I was right about you.”

“Why should I change when my life is perfect?”

“Go ahead and keep making everyone around you hate you. I don’t care. You’re not my problem anymore.” Marinette turned to walk away.

“Adrikins doesn’t hate me, do you Adrikins?” Chloe cooed cloyingly.

“What did you do to Marinette, Chloe?” Adrien asked seriously. 

“Oh, nothing much,” Chloe said airily. “Just put her in her place. She was so annoying!”

Marinette whirled back toward Chloe. “You call putting rotting garbage and cockroaches in my locker ‘nothing much’?” 

“I made Sabrina do that. I’d never touch anything so icky!” Chloe confided to Adrien.

“She did that five separate times! Then there were the times she planted jewelry in my locker and accused me of stealing it. I almost got expelled!”

“You should have thanked me for all the days off you got during your suspensions.”

“She put paint on my chair. It ruined my favourite pair of leggings!”

“Don’t forget all the times I threw your homework in the trash. The teachers were so mad at you!” Chloe laughed nostalgically. 

“I haven’t forgotten,” Marinette said darkly.

“Do you remember when I made Sabrina steal your pathetic little diary and read it to everyone in the courtyard?”

“Do you remember when she spent a day with her hand trapped in a box because I’d boobytrapped my diary in case she ever tried to do it again?”

“Do you remember the time I convinced your boyfriend to give you a box of spiders and you thought it was a box of jewelry?”

Marinette flinched. 

Chloe cackled triumphantly. “You should have seen her face, Adrikins. It was priceless!”

“You did all that, Chloe? To Marinette?” Adrien asked reproachfully. “I didn’t know you could be so mean.”

Chloe abruptly stopped laughing. Marinette stared at him in surprise.

“All that and a lot more,” Marinette said. “Every time a teacher tried to discipline her, she threatened to have her father fire them, so they let her get away with anything and everything.”

“I think you owe Marinette an apology,” Adrien said sternly.

“You don’t apologize to the dirt under your feet,” Chloe retorted equally sternly. “Dupain-Cheng here may have tricked you into thinking that she’s worth something by wearing a fancy dress but, trust me, she’s beneath your notice. You don’t know her like I know her.”

“That’s not true,” Adrien said defiantly. “I may not know Marinette, but I know she’s done things that make her worthy of respect. Even if that wasn’t the case, no one deserves to be treated the way that you say you treated her.”

“You don’t understand because you never went to school,” Chloe whined. “You never had to mingle with the proletariat.”

“Chloe…” Adrien said warningly.

“Speaking of mingling with the proletariat, this party is lame! Let’s go, Adrikins.” Chloe flung her empty cocktail glass away and stomped off, her high heels clattering angrily on the wooden floor.

Adrien dove to catch the glass out of the air before it could shatter on the floor and apologetically placed it on the bar counter. He looked around the room with a quiet, regretful sigh and, shoulders slumped, started to walk after Chloe.

Impulsively, Marinette caught his arm. “You know, you don’t have to leave just because she did.”

“But I’m her plus one.”

“Who cares? You’re here now, and we like you. Right, guys?” she asked the bartenders. 

Max shoved his glasses up his nose to better give Adrien an impressed stare. “I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Chloe like that!”

Adrien gave an embarrassed shrug. “She won’t do anything bad to me. I’m her best friend. But I know she can be…a bit overbearing with other people.” 

“How can you be friends with someone like that?” Noël asked. “I mean, you don’t seem like a total rich snob. No offense.”

Adrien shrugged, not showing any signs of offense. “We’ve always been friends. Our parents are friends, so we’ve known each other our whole lives.”

Markov’s electronic face shifted from a serious expression to a smile. “If you’re staying, would you like the first drink on the list I prepared for you?”

Adrien looked to Marinette for approval. She smiled. 

“Yes,” he said daringly. “Yes, I would.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll ask my chauffeur to take Chloe home and come back for me later.” 

Chapter Text

Two hours and five rounds of drinks later, Marinette and Adrien were swaying to the music in each other’s arms. It was less slow dancing than propping each other up. 

Marinette giggled, “This feels so weird! I’ve never been this drunk before!”

“Me neither!” Adrien giggled. “Everything is wobbly!” 

“Wobbly bobbily!” Marinette sang.

They both laughed so hard that they stumbled and had to clutch each other for balance to avoid falling over.

“I like you, Marinette,” Adrien said. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you too.”

“I mean it! You’re so nice! And funny! Can we be friends?”

“Of course we can! We already are!”

“Oh good!” Adrien hugged her tighter in relief. 

They swayed to the music some more.

“Your eyes,” Adrien suddenly, gravely announced, “are blue.”

“Yes, I know,” Marinette said. Feeling this was not an adequate response, she added, “Your eyes are beautiful. I mean, green! Very green!”

“Your eyes are bluetiful too. Beautiful.” He gazed into them thoughtfully. “Usually I don’t care about beauty. I know so many beautiful people.” He leaned in close and whispered in Marinette’s ear like it was a secret, “Boring, mean, beautiful people.” He swayed back enough to look her in the eye again. “But I like your face. It’s cute. And funny.”

“You think I’m funny-looking?” Marinette exclaimed indignantly.

“In a good way! You’re very pretty. Bluetiful! But you make these faces…” Adrien tried to mimic one of Marinette’s exaggerated expressions but couldn’t maintain it as he burst into giggles.

Her entire body felt like it was blushing.

“I love your face,” Adrien giggled.

“I love yours too,” Marinette managed to squeak through a suddenly tight throat.

They went back to swaying silently to the music. Marinette slowly regained her cool and, with it, her confidence. 

“Say, Adrien,” she said slyly, “since we’re friends, can you do me a teensy, weensy favour?”

“Name it!”

“Okay, this is going to sound weird, but hear me out! I have a boyfriend but only, like, online. Since we can’t do, um, physical stuff together, we promised each other to do it with other people. So we could find out what it’s like. So, um, would you…havesexwithme? But just for one night, no strings attached?”

Adrien stared at her in astonishment. 

Marinette cringed. “Is that too weird? Do you hate me now?”

“No! It’s just…what are the chances? I’m in the exact same situation! It must be much more common than I thought!”

“What! Really?”

“Yes! Exactly the same! My girlfriend told me to lose my virginity with someone else since I can't do it with her.”

“Your girlfriend?” Marinette echoed in shock. “I didn't know you had a girlfriend.”

Adrien leaned in close and melodramatically put a finger to his lips. “Nobody knows. It’s a secret. Shh!” His breath smelled like cocktails. “But I can trust you. You’re Marinette! You’re good at keeping secrets. You’ve never spilled Chat Noir’s secrets.” His eyes widened in alarm. “Or Ladybug’s! No superhero secrets! Not that I know that you know…” He frowned as he tried to untangle his own sentence. “...secrets,” he finished lamely.

“If I did know any, I wouldn't tell you,” Marinette joked with a giggle.

“You wouldn't even tell Alya,” Adrien said admiringly. “Or, if you did, you convinced her not to report it, which is even more amazing.”

“If there's one thing I'm good at, it's keeping secrets,” Marinette said, a little bitterly.

“If I agree to…to the favour you asked, it has to be a secret,” Adrien said, deadly serious. “I mean it. You can never tell anyone.”

“I have to tell my boyfriend,” Marinette protested.

“I mean, you can't tell anyone that you did it with me.”

“Yes,” Marinette agreed quickly. “And you won't tell anyone that you did it with me either. It'll be animus. Anonymeus.”

“Anonymous,” Adrien helped her out.

“Yeah, that,” Marinette agreed.

Adrien said pensively, “When my girlfriend told me to do this, I didn’t think I could ever make love to someone other than her. Not to mention the need for secrecy.” He tenderly tucked a strand of Marinette's hair behind her ear. “But, y’know, I think maybe I could do it with you. But just to find out what it’s like. My girlfriend is my one true love.”

“My boyfriend is mine!”

“I’d never cheat on her. But she told me to do this.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s just gaining life experience,” Marinette was quick to agree.

“Yes, that's exactly what my girlfriend said!”

“There won't be any feelings involved. It will be purely physical. And just once.”

“But we'll still be friends afterwards, right?” Adrien asked plaintively. 

“Of course we will!” Marinette hastened to reassure him. “After sharing all those drinks, we're friends for life! Platonically perfect friends.”

“Oh good,” Adrien breathed a sigh of relief and then kissed her.

It was the first time anyone other than Chat Noir had kissed Marinette. Surprisingly, it didn't feel all that different. But why should it? Kissing was kissing after all. There were only so many ways mouths fit together.

The main difference was that Adrien's mouth tasted like cocktails, which Chat Noir's mouth never had. Adrien's last cocktail had been so delicious that Marinette had been reluctant to return it to him after taking her sip. Now, she deepened the kiss to get a second taste of it.

Marinette had been scared that kissing a stranger would feel scary or gross, but it didn’t. The way Adrien’s arms wrapped around her and the way his body fit against hers felt natural, even comforting. 

Adrien kissed her right below her ear. Marinette’s back arched at the delicious sensation. His mouth moved down her jaw, leaving a trail of little kisses. Marinette hummed in pleasure. 

Then his mouth dipped lower. Suddenly, the sensations were no longer comfortingly familiar. Her neck felt very bare under the brush of his lips. Adrien seemed to feel it too. His hands tightened on her shoulders and his breathing grew as ragged as hers. When he reached the base of her throat, he stared down at her chest and whispered huskily, “Your collar bone is very shapely.” He traced it with his thumb. Marinette shivered at the intimacy of the touch.

“So is yours,” she gasped and then realized that his neck and collarbone weren’t visible. “I mean, probably.” She let the wave of embarrassment wash over her and then tried to save the moment by hooking a finger in his cravat, giving it a gentle tug, and saying in her most seductive voice, “Shall we go somewhere more private so I can find out?”

Adrien visibly gulped. He looked good wearing her lipstick. “My car is outside,” he offered with a slight bow and an expansive wave.

Marinette graciously took his hand. They wove through the crowd and out of the reception hall. The crowd had thinned significantly by this point so, in theory, they could have walked straight through it but, in practice, their path was anything but straight.

On their way out, they grabbed one more round of drinks, this time in plastic shot glasses.

Marinette stumbled as the warm light of the reception hall was replaced by fading twilight and the floor turned to stairs under her heels. Adrien, whose footwear was much less precarious, put an arm around her to steady her. She put her arm around his waist to steady herself more. They wove down the street (despite the lack of obstacles in their path) exchanging sips of their final drinks and commentary on how good they tasted. 

Marinette gave a squeak of fright when she was suddenly confronted by a very large, scowling man with a face like a grizzled gorilla.

Adrien seemed much less intimidated. “This is Marinette!” he announced happily. “She’s coming home with me.”

The gorilla’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Adrien,” Marinette hissed urgently as she tried to pull him away from the potential fight. She did not want to have to turn into Ladybug in order to swoop in to save him when she was this intoxicated.

The large, ugly man opened the back door of the car he was standing beside and made a gesture that seemed to suggest he wanted them to get in. Marinette backed a step away, which was as far as she could go with Adrien’s arm still around her.

“Marinette, this is my chauffeur. He’ll take us to my place…if you still want to?”

“Your chauffeur?” Marinette suddenly remembered that he’d mentioned having one earlier, back when Chloe had left. Smart of him to arrange for a ride so he wouldn’t have to drink and drive or take public transit while too drunk to guard against thieves (as she’d originally planned to do). Seen in this new light, both the car and the man looked much less scary. 

She slid across the car's wide seat to the far window and buckled herself in. Adrien took the seat opposite her. As the car started into motion, he took her hand.

There was something very intimate about the way their ungloved fingers intertwined.

As the street lights passed by outside the car's windows in a mesmerizing rhythm, Adrien brought her hand to his lips. It was such a Chat Noir gesture that, as the darkness combined with the alcohol in her bloodstream to make her vision go hazy, she could almost believe that it was her dear kitty sitting across from her. That gleam of pale hair, that silhouette of broad shoulders, surely that was just what an unmasked Chat Noir would look like. The brush of his lips on the bare skin of her hand set off butterflies in her stomach. The good kind of butterflies. 

He leaned as close to her as their seat belts would allow and whispered too softly for the driver to overhear, “This is kind of a weird request, so please feel free to say no, but can I call you ‘My Lady’ while we do this?”

Marinette grabbed his face and kissed him hard. It was awkward since they had to lean diagonally to reach each other across the empty middle seat, but he didn't pull away.

“Was that a ‘yes’?” he murmured uncertainly.

“Yes. Can I call you ‘My Kitty’?” she breathed in his ear.

“Yes! Oh, My Lady, you read my mind!”

Sometime later, the car came to a halt. The kisses stopped as Marinette’s partner unbuckled their seat belts and gently pulled her from the car. As soon as she was free of its confines, she threw her arms around his neck and went back to kissing him. He pulled her body tight against his now that there were no seat belts to keep them apart.

She would have been happy to just stand there and kiss him all night but, after a far-too-short minute, he took her hand and tried to lead her toward the building that was looming in the background. Marinette made a sound of discontent because she wanted more kisses, but she stumbled after him obediently until she tripped over something. A stone step, maybe?

The delicious man holding her hand, who wasn’t really Chat Noir but didn’t mind her pretending that he was, caught her before she could fall. He scooped her up in his arms as easily as Chat Noir would have done in the same situation and carried her up the staircase. That put her in easy reach of his cheek, so she kissed it. Then she became fascinated by the shape of his ear. Usually, Chat Noir’s ears were covered by his hair. No, this wasn’t Chat Noir. This was…Adrien? She was pretty sure his name was Adrien. But his arms felt safe, like Chat Noir’s. She rested her head on his shoulder and let her eyes fall shut.

There was a door, and more stairs, and a soft surface under her back. A bed? When the arms holding her tried to pull away, she clung to his neck, murmuring, “I love you, My Kitty.”

Lips pressed gently against hers. “Do you still want to do this?” his beautiful voice asked hesitantly. “If you’re too sleepy, that’s fine too.” He sounded disappointed but sincere.

Marinette snapped awake. Adrien. One night stand. Right. 

Although, looking up at his impossibly handsome face in the moonlight, she wasn’t certain that she wasn’t dreaming. 

“I want to do this,” she replied huskily. 

She reached for his cravat and used it to pull his mouth back down to hers. Her hands told her that it was made of real silk, lightweight and of the highest quality. She took a moment to marvel at its softness before untying it and setting it aside with the care that such fine fabric deserved.

That gave her access to his neck. She kissed his jaw even as she unbuttoned his shirt to give herself access to more of his throat. All her years of studying buttons and button holes paid off because she was able to make quick work of it despite her distraction and the alcohol-induced clumsiness of her fingers.

“I was right. Your collar bone is very shapely,” she giggled, and kissed it.

Adrien groaned in pleasure and attacked hers in return. It was Marinette’s turn to gasp in surprised pleasure.

“You…have…the most…adorable…neck…I’ve ever seen,” Adrien growled in between kisses. 

“More adorable than your girlfriend’s?” Marinette teased.

Adrien stopped kissing Marinette and looked slightly guilty at the reminder of his girlfriend. “I’ve never seen her neck,” he admitted.

“Because you only know each other online?”

“Yes.” He still looked guilty.

“I’ve never seen my boyfriend’s neck either. People always told me that I was missing out by not getting to experience necking. I guess they were right.” She gave Adrien’s throat a light kiss.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to keep going?”

Adrien hesitated. His eyes drifted from Marinette’s face to her neck and then lower. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I want to.” His eyes returned to hers, asking for permission and absolution.

Marinette studied his disheveled hair and open collar in the moonlight. She’d done that to him. She’d undone this perfectly put together man. It made him look irresistibly sexy. 

“Me too,” she whispered. She rolled on top of him. “The dress has an invisible zipper in the back.”

Chapter Text

Someone beside Marinette let out a pained groan. The bed moved under her as the person shifted position. Marinette burrowed her face deeper in the pillow. She was not ready to wake up yet!

Wait. Why was there someone in bed with her? And why was the pillow so thick and the bed so soft? This wasn’t her bed!

Marinette sat up abruptly, and immediately regretted it. All other concerns vanished in the face of the nausea that roiled in her stomach. She looked around the unfamiliar room urgently. “Where’s a toilet? I’m going to…”

The blond man stared at her in alarm for only a moment. “The bathroom is over there.” He pointed to a distant corner of the implausibly large room. He winced and put a hand to his forehead.

Marinette tried to untangle herself from the sheets and stand up but her head was spinning and it was taking all her concentration to keep her nausea under control.

Seeing her distress, the man sprang across the bed, scooped her up in his arms, and ran for the bathroom. Yesterday’s drinks must have still been affecting her brain because distance seemed to telescope as if he was carrying her across a stadium rather than just a room. The jostling made her nausea worse but she managed to swallow it back until, thankfully, just in time, there was a toilet in front of her face. Marinette poured the contents of her stomach into it. 

That mostly consisted of cocktails. She’d been too busy yesterday, first with the wedding and then with Adrien (whose name she’d just remembered!) to eat any proper meals.

Adrien held her hair back as she vomited convulsively but then muttered, “The smell!” and added his own contribution to the toilet bowl.

When he was done, Marinette weakly reached up and flushed the toilet. 

Another urgent physical need announced itself. Marinette groaned in shame, but she didn’t have any dignity left to protect, so she pulled herself up onto the toilet and peed. When she was done, she flushed the toilet again and collapsed onto the tiled floor in a puddle of abject misery. “That was disgusting. I’m disgusting,” she groaned.

She heard the sound of Adrien peeing. “It may have been a mistake to have so many drinks,” he acknowledged. “That was the first time I’ve had more than two in a single evening.”

“Me too.” Marinette found that she could almost bear to talk to him if she hid her face in the darkness under her arm and pretended that she wasn’t lying stark naked on a stranger’s bathroom floor.

The toilet flushed a third time. A warm hand tentatively touched her shoulder. “Are you okay, Marinette?”

“No.” She curled into a tighter ball. “My stomach is still queasy, I’m naked, and my head hurts.”

“Mine too,” Adrien said, sounding like he was genuinely in pain. “I’ll get us some water. I’ve heard that it helps with hangovers. You can use the shower while I’m gone.” A warm hand tenderly stroked her hair and then the sound of bare feet walking back and forth on tile was followed by a door gently closing.

Marinette sat up and looked around. Adrien was nowhere in sight. She crawled out of the nook that held the toilet and stared in disbelief at the rest of the bathroom. It looked like something you might see in an interior decorating magazine, not in real life. It was massive. There was a clawfooted bathtub, a separate, black-tiled shower, and a counter wide enough for six people to brush their teeth side by side. Unlike her own small, cluttered bathroom counter at home, the only things on this one were a soap dispenser, a toothbrush in a glass, and a folded white towel. A laundry basket under the sink provided the only sign that this room was actually lived in.

A flutter of red appeared in the corner of Marinette’s vision. “Please don’t say anything, Tikki,” Marinette begged her kwami. “I know it was a really stupid thing to do. I know!”

“He put that towel and the make-up removal pads on the counter for you,” the little magical creature that granted her super powers told her non-judgementally.

Usually Tikki was quick to scold if she felt Marinette was being irresponsible, and she had been strongly against Marinette’s one night stand plan. Maybe she felt like Marinette was already suffering enough to have learned her lesson. 

Just as Tikki had suggested, there was a box of makeup removal pads on top of the towel. Looking in the huge mirror above the sink, Marinette winced. Her makeup was smeared beyond redemption all around her eyes and mouth. It was not a pretty sight. She quickly wiped it off as best she could. Tikki grabbed her own pad and gently scrubbed at any spots that Marinette missed.

Now looking somewhat less like a horror movie clown, Marinette turned to the shower. As intimidating as it was to touch anything in this opulent room, it would be worse to not be finished showering by the time Adrien got back. The shower had no curtain to hide the occupant from the rest of the room. 

Absent-mindedly noticing that Tikki had discreetly vanished again, Marinette unsteadily made her way to the shower’s controls and turned it on. As the hot water poured over her skin and down the drain, it carried away some of the disgusting feeling with it. Even her nausea and headache eased. She cupped her hands to catch the water and drank it down in large gulps. 

Despite how wonderful it felt, she didn’t linger. As soon as she was thoroughly rinsed, she turned off the water, grabbed the towel Adrien had left out for her, and wrapped it around herself. The towel was as luxurious as the rest of the bathroom. It was as soft as if it had never been used before and large enough to cover her from armpits to knees. Not being naked made her feel a lot better.

Gripping the towel tightly at the top to make sure it didn’t come unwrapped, she cautiously opened the bathroom door…and almost tripped over a pile of clothes. She grabbed the clothes and retreated back into the bathroom to look them over. The pile was topped with white cotton socks and briefs, followed by a black t-shirt, a belt, and blue jeans. All of them bore Gabriel Agreste’s designer logo. Even the underwear. They were very clearly men’s clothes, Adrien’s clothes, although it was equally clear that he’d left them there for her to wear. She couldn’t help smiling because it was kind of endearing that he didn’t have any women’s clothes to offer her. 

Although he did have makeup removal pads, which was…interesting. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

The t-shirt turned out to have subtle gold, green and purple stripes across the chest. The underwear felt odd but at least it was clean. The jeans were loose around her waist, snug around her hips, and way too long, but once she pulled the belt snug and rolled up the cuffs of the jeans a bunch of times, they weren’t too bad. The socks were a bit too big but basically just socks.

She towel-dried her hair as best she could and then cautiously ventured out into the main room. It was…wow… Marinette turned in a slow, disbelieving circle to take it all in. 

It was so massive that it made the bathroom look small by comparison. A large desk with three computer monitors, a couch in front of a wide screen TV, and a king sized bed completely failed to fill the space. A grand piano stood in the middle of the floor. A spiral staircase led up to a second floor lined with bookshelves. Arcade games filled the wall nearest the bathroom. The opposite wall was…was that a climbing wall? And a basketball hoop?  And a skateboarding ramp? 

One wall appeared to consist entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows. It gave an unobstructed view of the sun rising over Paris. As beautiful as all that natural light was, this morning she would have preferred a bit less of it. Wincing at sunbeams trying to drill holes in her skull, she turned her back on the windows.

The only part of the room that wasn’t immaculately tidy was the bed. The bedding was in complete disarray and the floor around it was littered with clothes. Her clothes. Her fault. The only thing spoiling this picture-perfect room was her. 

Although Adrien hadn’t been complaining last night. She smirked a little at the memory.

Not that she could remember it clearly. She had vague memories of kissing Adrien, of wriggling out of her dress, of helping him strip off his clothes, and of crawling under the covers, but, after that…nothing. Wasn’t sex supposed to be a mind-blowing, life-changing experience? How was she supposed to report back to Chat Noir on what it had been like when she couldn’t even remember it? Had she missed her only chance to experience it because she’d been too drunk to form memories?

She wanted to bang her head against a wall but, instead, she walked over the bed and started straightening out her poor dress. She’d probably never have another occasion to wear it, but she’d put a lot of work into it. It deserved better than to be tossed on the floor to get wrinkled and dirty. While she was at it, she picked up her shoes, stockings and panties. The stockings were ruined by a massive run up one leg. Hairpins were scattered everywhere. She picked up as many of them as she could find and stuffed them in the pocket of her borrowed jeans. She found some elastics on the floor too and used them to tie her hair back in pigtails, which made her feel much more like herself.

She found her phone in the pocket of her dress. The battery was dead. 

The pocket also contained a box of condoms. The box was unopened. 

She tried not to panic. Maybe Adrien had his own condoms that he preferred to use. Failing that, he’d claimed to be a virgin so he probably didn’t have any STDs, and the probability of getting pregnant after having sex just once was really quite low. In any case, there was nothing she could do about it now. 

She buried her face in the soft mattress in despair. What was the good of being prepared if, at the key moment, you were so drunk that you forgot all about your precautions?

She could do something about the phone at least. She hunted around the bed until she found Adrien’s charger and plugged her phone into it. As soon as it started to show signs of life, she powered it on. Delayed text messages started flooding in. Her friends had wanted to tease her about the cute guy she’d been dancing with. Her parents were alarmed that she hadn’t come home.

She ignored the messages from her friends and sent her parents a quick, reassuring message, “Sorry, had too many drinks, crashed at a friend’s house. I’m fine.”

Adrien came into the room, carrying a tray. “These are hangover remedies,” he announced. “The kitchen staff insisted on making them for us when I asked for water. I mean, they made them for me. They don’t know that you’re here.”

“You have a kitchen staff?”

“Yes.” 

“Oh,” Marinette said, and then couldn’t think of what else to say.

Just how rich was this guy? And why had someone like him agreed to sleep with someone like her?

Wasn’t alcohol supposed to make you see potential hookups as more attractive than they really were? Because Adrien looked just as good as he had last night. Well, maybe he had the faintest hint of a sickly pallor under his golden tan. 

If she did end up pregnant, at least the kid would be good looking, she thought hysterically. She shoved the thought down with a reminder of how low the probability was of that happening. 

Adrien was wearing the shirt and pants from last night minus the suit jacket, vest and cravat, which were draped neatly across the foot of the unmade bed. His hair was tidy again. He looked as picture-perfect as everything else in the room except her. 

He smiled at her as if the sight of her did not offend his eyes. “Please help yourself to any of these you want while I take a shower.” He put the tray down on the coffee table in front of the TV and then added in a less scrupulously polite tone, “I warn you, some of them smell terrible.” 

He vanished into the bathroom. A minute later, she heard the shower turn on. 

For lack of anything else to do, Marinette wandered over to look at the tray of tiny, murky drinks. She picked one up, sniffed it and winced. Adrien hadn’t been kidding about the smell. She drank it anyway in a spirit of penance. Her tongue hated the weird combination of flavours, but her stomach settled a bit.

There was a video game console plugged into the TV. Marinette knelt down to get a look at the game cartridge. “You play Mechastrike?” she asked Adrien in delight as he came out of the bathroom. He was wearing a white overshirt open over a t-shirt and jeans identical to the ones he’d given her and had a towel draped around his neck.

“It’s my favourite after Endless Empires,” he replied.

“You play Endless Empires too?” Marinette asked in astonishment.

“With my girlfriend. And some other friends.” 

Adrien sat down on the couch and picked up one of the hangover remedies. He sniffed it, winced, and then drank it anyway. He leaned his head back against the couch and put an arm over his eyes to protect them from the sunlight. “By a strange coincidence,” he said conversationally, “my other friends, the ones I game with, got married this weekend too. I wasn’t able to make it to their wedding because I don’t know them in real life, but going to Alya and Nino’s let me imagine what their wedding might have looked like.”

“That’s sad,” Marinette said sympathetically. 

He shrugged without removing his arm from his eyes.

“Um, so…” Marinette stood up. “Last night was great. Really! But I shouldn’t overstay my welcome.” She gave a nervous laugh. 

Adrien abruptly sat up and stared at her imploringly. “You don’t have to go yet, do you? I have lots more hangover remedies we haven’t tried yet. We could watch a movie while we wait to see if they work. Or play Mechastrike? At least stay for breakfast. Please! My schedule is totally empty today. It would be nice to spend the day with a friend.”

For someone so gorgeous, he managed to sound surprisingly pathetic.

“There’s nowhere I need to be either,” Marinette admitted cautiously. “And that one hangover remedy I tried did kind of work. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Adrien’s face lit up in a way that made him look even more unfairly beautiful. “I don’t mind at all.”

Marinette reminded herself firmly that the one night stand was over. They were just friends now.

She sent a quick text message to her parents letting them know that she was staying at her friend’s house a little longer for movies and Mechastrike. 

Her parents sent back, “have fun!” followed by the Mechastrike emoji.

Marinette and Adrien picked out a movie from Adrien’s extensive collection and put it on. Sampling each other’s hangover cures was much less tasty than sampling each other’s drinks had been the night before, but they had just as much fun commenting on the flavours. 

After the movie, Adrien made another trip to the kitchen and came back with a heaping stack of pancakes and a large glass of orange juice, which they split. They played five rounds of Mechastrike before Adrien, tired of losing, suggested switching to the arcade games. After the arcade games, they played foosball. (Yes, Adrien had a foosball table in addition to all the other stuff.) They climbed the climbing wall and swung from the zipline. (Yes, he had a zipline in his room too.)

Marinette collapsed, laughing, back onto the couch. “Well, the good news is that my hangover is completely gone. Your room is insane!”

“It’s nice to have someone to share it with,” Adrien said sweetly. “Most of this stuff isn’t nearly as much fun to do alone.”

“Yeah, one-player foosball wouldn’t be much of a game,” Marinette agreed.

Adrien nodded with feeling.

Chapter Text

“So, what should we do next?” Marinette asked cheerfully, looking around the room to see what they hadn’t tried yet.

“Well, um…” Adrien trailed off uncertainly.

“What?” Marinette asked, instantly wary at his tone.

“So…you know how last night we agreed to…um…”

“Have a one night stand,” Marinette filled in for him.

“Yeah. Was what we did last night enough to satisfy the terms of the agreement, or do we still need to, you know, have sex?” He looked away, blushing.

“We didn’t have sex last night?” Marinette asked in astonishment.

“I mean, it depends on your definition…”

“I don’t remember it clearly, but I assumed…I mean, since we woke up naked…”

“I didn’t. I still had pants on.” Adrien’s ears were turning very red and he was avoiding her eyes. “I don’t remember it all that clearly either, but…I think we fell asleep before we could do much more than kiss. Or maybe the more accurate term is ‘passed out’.”

“Oh.” Marinette blinked as her mental picture of the previous night rearranged itself. Relief flooded her. That was a much less scary explanation for the unopened condom box. “So…you’re suggesting that we…correct that? Now?”

“No! Not necessarily! I just…I’m not sure how one night stands work. I’ve never done this before.”

Marinette laughed ruefully. “Neither have I.” She dragged her hands down her face. “Wow! Well, the one thing I’m sure of is that we’re doing it wrong.” She laughed again.

“Is there anything I can do to fix it?” Adrien asked apologetically.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she hastened to reassure him. “It’s just…I like you. A lot. I’m not sure I can do anything like that with you now, sober, without it feeling like cheating on my boyfriend.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “My girlfriend ordered me to lose my virginity, which I technically haven’t done yet, but she did say that I shouldn’t develop feelings for the other person. I don’t think I can face doing it with someone I don’t like though. It’s a dilemma.”

“She probably didn’t realize what an awkward position she was putting you in. I know I didn’t before I tried to go through with it.”

“You think she’ll forgive me?”

“I’m sure she will.” Marinette put her hand on top of his and gave him a warm, reassuring smile. 

Adrien’s breath caught. A thrill shot up Marinette’s arm at the skin-to-skin contact. She snatched her hand back. They both stared at their hands and then at each other in a shared, unspoken understanding that they were both failing at platonic friendship.

“I made things awkward,” Adrien said remorsefully. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t have much experience with friendship.”

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, trying to mean it.

She’d been fighting a desire to kiss Adrien all day. Well, maybe not when she was still nauseous, but, as her hangover and embarrassment had faded, her longing to touch him had increased. Which was why she’d been avoiding touching him. For instance, they were currently seated on opposite ends of the couch with a safe distance between them. Not that a similar distance had stopped them from kissing in the car. She’d been able to mostly suppress her inappropriate desires because they’d agreed that, after one night of gaining life experience, they’d be just friends, but now that he’d put the possibility of more back on the table, it was a lot harder to ignore how much she wanted to do it.

This was the first time she’d been seriously tempted to cheat on Chat Noir. She’d always known that she could get away with it if she wanted to since he didn’t know anything about her real life, but she’d never wanted to until now. Sure, there had been a few cute boys who had given her momentary pangs of longing, but any attraction she'd felt towards them paled in comparison to her deep love for Chat Noir. 

The attraction she felt toward Adrien was on a different level. Maybe it was because she knew what it felt like to kiss him. Or because he was so good looking. Or because he shared her love of video games and swinging from heights. Or because he’d been so unfailingly kind to her all day. Whatever the reason, her body yearned for his in a way that she’d thought she could only feel with Chat Noir. 

It was probably because she’d kissed Adrien. Tikki had been right. The one night stand plan had been a terrible idea from the start. 

In some ways, the attraction she was feeling toward Adrien now was even more intense than the way she’d felt when she’d first fallen in love with Chat Noir. They’d been so young, and there had always been akumas to fight when they were together, and real life responsibilities to return to afterward. They’d never had the chance to just hang out together for hours like this. They’d always been separated by masks, both literal and metaphorical. Their love had been rooted in teamwork, fun, and romantic gestures rather than in true intimacy.

Maybe part of the problem with Adrien was that she’d fallen into the same pattern of having fun together without revealing anything real that she followed with Chat Noir. Maybe if she wanted to shift her relationship with Adrien to normal friendship, she needed to interact with him the way she did with her normal friends.

“So, my friend,” she said jovially, “tell me something about yourself.”

Adrien’s face brightened. “What would you like to know?”

Marinette sternly told her heart to stop racing. Adrien couldn’t help that his smile was so beautiful. It wasn’t even a flirtatious smile.

“Hmm…do you have any hobbies besides video games and wall climbing?”

“I’m part of a fencing club,” Adrien offered. He mimed lunging and parrying with a sword.

“I have a friend who’s into fencing! I mean, a friend besides you. Do you know Kagami?”

“She’s my fencing partner!”

“Oh!” Suddenly the pieces fell into place. “You’re that Adrien. That’s where I know you from! I’ve cheered for you at fencing tournaments! I just didn’t remember what you looked like because you usually had your fencing mask on.” An earlier memory suddenly struck her. “Wait, if you’re Kagami’s fencing partner, were you the boy who saved Ladybug from Riposte?”

“Don’t you mean the boy Ladybug saved from Riposte? But, yeah, that was me,” Adrien admitted shyly. “I’ve been in the Ladyblog a few times myself.”

“I was so impressed! You tackled Ladybug out of the path of Riposte’s attack. Not many people would have the courage to do something like that. Riposte’s blade was so magically sharp that it might have been able to penetrate the heroes’ invulnerability although, fortunately, that was never put to the test. You may have saved Ladybug’s life!”

“She probably would have been fine even if I hadn’t done that. I mean, she’s Ladybug!” Adrien said self-deprecatingly, but he looked pleased by the praise.

Marinette stared at him in awe. Discovering that he was the friend of a friend had made her feel for a moment like normal friendship with him was possible, but discovering that he was the boy from the fight with Riposte had swung the needle back toward attraction so violently that she was now worse off than before.

She tried again. “What else do you like to do for fun?”

“I don’t know if I’d say it’s for fun, but I play the piano.” He gestured to the grand piano in the middle of the room. “Would you like me to play something for you?”

“I would!”

Adrien moved to the piano bench. Marinette breathed a secret sigh of relief at the increased distance between them.

Then Adrien started to play. He played so beautifully that her jaw dropped. This was the boy she’d been kissing last night? 

As beautiful as it was, though, she was suddenly, painfully reminded that he moved in the same social circles as Chloe Bourgeois.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Adrien asked musingly.

“We’ve already established that you can trust me with secrets,” Marinette joked weakly.

“I prefer Jagged Stone’s music.”

“Me too!” she gasped in surprise. “I mean, what you’re playing is beautiful. No complaints at all! But I love Jagged Stone’s music. Did you know that I designed his album cover? The one that smells like leather and sweat?”

Adrien’s fingers crashed to a discordant halt on the piano keys. “No! I thought I’d paid attention to everything to do with you, but I somehow missed that.” He ran to a shelf and grabbed a CD case. He pulled out the booklet and flipped through it. “Designed by Marinette Dupain-Chang,” he read in astonished admiration. “Wow! Marinette, you’re amazing!” He closed the booklet and stared at the cover art in awe.

Marinette couldn’t help grinning.

Adrien returned the CD to the shelf, ran back to the piano, and started playing one of the songs from that Jagged Stone album. Marinette laughed in delight and sang along. After that, they sang a couple more Jagged Stone songs and then ones by Clara Nightengale and Juleka Coffaine.

“No more! My voice is giving out,” Marinette laughingly protested when Adrien asked what they should play for their next song.

Adrien obligingly closed the lid over the piano’s keys. His face was shining with joy. “That’s the most fun I’ve had playing the piano in…well, ever!”

“It was fun!” Marinette agreed enthusiastically.

“What do you usually do for fun? What are your hobbies?”

“Oh, you know, fashion designer stuff mostly. Sewing, sketching, making all kinds of things.”

“If they’re all as amazing as the things you made for the wedding, I’d love to see more of your work.”

“I have pictures of some of my stuff online,” Marinette offered.

Adrien immediately went over to his computer and logged in. “That reminds me, I bet you’d like this website I discovered recently. It’s for a new designer label. It’s still small, but the designer is very talented. When you see the clothes, you want to wear them.” He clicked on a bookmark and then stepped away from the computer to offer her the chair as the website loaded.

“You have a fashion website bookmarked?” Marinette asked in amusement. Outside of her fashion design college, she hadn’t encountered many men who would do that. Not many women either, for that matter.

Then she saw the website. She halted in her tracks, halfway through reaching for the chair, and stared in disbelief.

“What do you think?” Adrien prompted her eagerly. “Simple and comfortable but très chic, right?” He looked to her for approval. When he saw her face, his own face fell. “But what do I know? I’m not a fashion designer.” 

“This is a setup, isn’t it?” Marinette said coldly.

Adrien’s brows pinched in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I should have known it when you were so good at kissing despite claiming to have only had an online girlfriend!” She stabbed a finger at him. “This is some elaborate prank Chloe and you came up with to humiliate me, isn’t it? You were planning to, what, make me fall in love with you and then laugh at me for being gullible enough to think that someone so perfect could possibly be real? Well, you overplayed your hand! You were already stretching it. I mean, suuuurrrrrre a drop-dead gorgeous, obviously rich guy is nice, funny and totally into me, and likes exactly the same video games and music that I do. That was already more than a bit implausible, but we’re talking about Mechastrike and Jagged Stone. You could just have good taste in more than clothes. But there is no way, no way, that you just happened to have my website bookmarked.”

“Your…this is your website?”

“Oh don’t even try to pretend you didn’t know that.”

“You designed all of these?”

Marinette gave an exasperated sigh. She plopped into the desk chair, took a screenshot of the website’s logo, opened a paint program, pasted in the logo, flipped it upside down, and used the paint bucket tool to fill in one of the swirling lines that made up the background pattern.

“It spells ‘Marinette’,” Adrien breathed in awe.

“Like you didn't already know that,” Marinette scoffed.

“I didn’t!” Adrien protested. “I really didn’t know it was your website.”

“You just bookmark the websites of all the new, up and coming designers?” Marinette said sarcastically.

“The ones I like,” Adrien flattered placatingly. He opened other bookmarks, which also led to the websites of designer labels. “But yours is my favourite.”

“You did an amazing job with the advance preparation. I’ll give you that,” Marinette acknowledged grudgingly.

“How would I have prepared anything in advance? You were the one who propositioned me,” Adrien pointed out.

“I don’t know!” Marinette threw her hands up in the air. “But you must have, because no one is as perfect as you’re pretending to be. So drop the act already. I’m not falling for it!”

Adrien’s mouth opened and closed a few times but no words came out of it. She’d rendered him speechless. For a moment, he looked confused and hurt. Then his expression became pleasantly neutral except for his eyes, which darted in thought. Marinette watched him suspiciously. 

Finally, a slow grin of pure delight spread across his face. “I can’t drop the act because I already dropped it. Do you remember when I accidentally made that joke last night, around the second or third round of drinks? ‘When I told you crème de menthe would be tasty, I mint it?’ And then you said that you were currantly enjoying your black currant drink very much?”

“Of course I do,” Marinette acknowledged grudgingly. “I remember most of the other flavour-related puns we made after that too. What’s your point?”

“That’s when I stopped trying to act perfect in front of you. Ever since then I’ve been on my very worst behavior. If I was trying to act perfect, would I have drunk so much I threw up? Or lost my grip on the zipline and crash landed on the couch? Or joked about the kitchen staff trying to poison me by feeding me motor oil? Or confessed that I like rock music more than classical? Even with all that, you still thought I was perfect?”

“I threw up first. And what’s wrong with liking rock music more than classical?” Marinette demanded, determined to take offense.

Adrien spread his hands. “Nothing I did today was an act. This is the most unmasked I’ve been with another human being since I was a child. If you like this version of me, you like me.”

Marinette studied him, unsure whether or not to believe him.

“How would I fake what games I own or what songs I know how to play on the piano?” Adrien pointed out. 

Marinette didn’t have an answer to that.

“I admit that it was Chloe who first sent me the link to your website, but she had nothing but good things to say about it and, based on what you said to each other last night, I’m guessing that wouldn’t be true if she knew it was yours?”

“No,” Marinette admitted. “She destroyed my first fashion label, the one I tried to establish under my own name. That’s why I used an obfuscated label this time.”

Adrien winced. “I didn’t know she did that.”

Marinette shrugged angrily and looked away.

Adrien took a step closer to her, his eyes imploring. “I don’t blame you for finding it implausible that we have this much in common. I find it implausible too. I mean, I bookmarked that website because it helps me relax after a long day. Looking at it makes me feel happy. And now it turns out that the designer behind it is the same amazing, lovely woman who befriended me last night? I thought you were just playing my favourite games and singing my favourite songs with me because you were being nice, but they’re your favourites too? Is this really happening? It feels like some kind of too-good-to-be true vision except that those usually involve my girlfriend.”

“Or the person who was akumatized if they happen to be a rabid fanboy,” Marinette corrected absentmindedly, most of her mind occupied with trying to process everything that he had just said.

“But the rabid fangirls are never very tempting, whereas you are,” Adrien commented. “I suppose it could be a vision designed to make me cheat on my girlfriend. I mean, I’ve always admired you, Marinette, for being so fearless in the face of akumas, and for being such a good friend to Kagami and your other friends. A vision where you turned out to also be a talented fashion designer, skilled at wordplay, and interested in sleeping with me…not to mention able to kick my butt in all my favourite video games, climb like a spider, and sing all my favourite songs off the top of your head…Well, obviously, I would find that irresistible. Which is why I failed to resist it.” He closed his eyes and frowned in concentration as if trying to break free of the vision.

Marinette pinched her own arm. “It isn’t a vision,” she said thoughtfully. “Too long, too detailed, too wide a range of emotions. An akuma-induced vision would never include everything from waking up nauseous to playing video games.” She nodded decisively, confident in her diagnosis.

“You really are an expert on akuma attacks, aren’t you?” Adrien said admiringly.

“Uh, no more than anyone else in Paris!” Marinette laughed nervously. “On second thought, the indoor zipline is surreal enough that maybe this is a dream after all!”

“No, it’s just a way to provide the golden goose with exercise without needing to let him out of his gilded cage,” Adrien muttered bleakly. “Can’t expose him to the outside world or he might stop laying golden eggs for you.”

“Golden…goose…” Marinette echoed blankly.

He couldn’t be. Sure, his hair was the same butter-yellow as Chat Noir’s, but the way it framed his face was completely different. His eyes might be green, but not the same green as Chat Noir’s.

“Sorry, Marinette. I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Adrien apologized, looking horrified at the slip. “I feel like I can tell you anything, but that doesn’t mean you want to listen to me complain.”

“No, no, complain all you want. But, um, tell me…does the number thirteen have any special significance for you?” 

“My birthday is September 13th,” Adrien offered with a shrug.

“And, uh, you said you play Endless Empires? With your girlfriend?” 

It had to be a coincidence! Under the mask, Chat Noir was someone normal, like her, not some impossibly handsome rich guy who was friends with Chloe Bourgeois! Or, at least, that’s what she’d always assumed.

Adrien’s eyes sharpened. “Is knitting one of your fashion-design-related hobbies?”

Marinette stared at him. “Not so much anymore. Sewing is faster. But, when I was little, I dreamed of becoming the knitting fairy.” 

Adrien grinned ecstatically. “A pink knitting fairy?”

“Well, pink is my favourite colour,” Marinette managed breathlessly. 

Adrien blinked several times. “How did I never see it before? So that’s how you knew… When you said… Oh, wow, if I hadn’t rescued you then…You were already in the building before it was sealed!”

Ignoring his incoherent spluttering, she grabbed his right hand and studied his ring. It looked like a signet ring with no signet. She hadn't paid much attention to it before but, now that she looked closely, the shape was suspiciously similar to Chat Noir's ring. 

“Kitty?” she breathed. 

She still couldn't quite see him as Chat Noir, but the evidence was undeniable and only piling up higher with every word that left his mouth.

Adrien lightly, disbelievingly ran a hand over one of her pigtails and then touched her earring. “My Lady?”

Trembling, she nodded.

“No wonder we’re so perfect for each other,” Adrien said with a breathless laugh and hugged her.

No longer needing to resist temptation, Marinette kissed him. Now she knew why he was so good at it.

Kissing quickly turned to necking. Adrien breathed in her ear, “Do you want to finish what we started last night?”

Marinette started shedding her borrowed clothes so fast that she tripped trying to yank the rolled-up jeans over her foot. Adrien caught her before she could fall and carried her to the bed. “You look good in my clothes, but even better out of them,” he joked.

“You talk too much, Kitty,” Marinette laughed.

He obediently put his mouth to work on tasks that didn’t include talking.

Chapter Text

Later, after they’d clumsily, joyfully made a start at satisfying years of pent up sexual frustration, Adrien nuzzled his nose into the messy remains of one of Marinette’s pigtails and murmured, “Elope with me. If we use the flight powerups, we can be in Scotland in under an hour.”

“Scotland?” Marinette repeated incredulously. 

“They don’t require posting bans weeks before getting married. In fact, if you’re in Scotland then all you have to do is tell people that you’re married, and you’re married!”

“That can’t possibly be true.”

“Well, these days, if you want it to be legally binding, you also have to file some paperwork, but it’s still a much faster process than getting married in France. Eloping to Scotland comes up all the time in old English novels. I always thought it sounded romantic.”

“You would, silly Goose,” Marinette laughed.

“So, will you?” Adrien propped himself up on an elbow so that he could look down at her. His eyes were surprisingly serious.

“You mean it?” Marinette gasped. “We can’t!”

“Why not?”

Marinette spluttered. It was such a ridiculous question that she couldn’t instantly answer it. “Well, for one thing, that would be using our powers for personal gain, which is prohibited.”

“Then we can take the train instead,” Adrien suggested implacably. “I’d have to look up train schedules, but I bet we could make it there by tonight and then get married tomorrow.”

“Just…run away to Scotland? Without telling anyone? What if there’s an akuma attack?” 

“Then we could use our flight powerups.”

“What about my work?”

“Call in sick. That’s what I plan to do.”

“I’m self-employed, so my schedule is flexible but…but…I’ll fall behind!” It was a weak excuse and she knew it.

“You can work on the train.”

“I suppose, but…”

“Marinette, if you don’t want to marry me, you can just say no.” Adrien looked down at her with big, sad kitten eyes.

“Of course I want to marry you! But can't we have a normal wedding in a year or two like normal people?”

“Now that I've finally found you, I want to make it clear to the whole world that I'm yours and you're mine before anything, or anyone, can separate us.” His eyes burned with passion.

Marinette thought about how, as superheroes, death was always just one fatal mistake away. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes. Let’s do it. Let’s elope. I'm tired of wedding planning anyway.”

Adrien kissed her deeply and then bounced out of bed, still stark naked, to look up train schedules.

Marinette flung an arm over her eyes. “This is insane. I don’t even have normal clothes to wear, let alone a wedding dress.”

“We can buy everything we need on the way,” Adrien sang out cheerfully from in front of the computer. “The Startrain leaves in an hour and a half. I’m buying us tickets now.”

Marinette climbed out of bed (feeling a bit sore in unmentionable places but not at all unhappy about it) and resignedly started putting Adrien’s spare clothes back on. She hesitated over the identical black t-shirts, decided it didn’t matter which of them she’d previously been wearing, and picked one at random. She threw the other one to Adrien along with his white overshirt, the jeans that didn’t have their cuffs rolled up, and a random assortment of underwear and socks. He obediently began covering up his glorious body again. Marinette sighed in regret at the necessity.

“If anyone had told me I’d be dressed head to toe in designer clothes on my wedding day, this is not what I would have pictured,” she joked.

Adrien slapped his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of it earlier? If you don’t mind wearing styles that are a few years out of date, I bet my mother’s old clothes would fit you.”

“Your mother?” Marinette asked nervously. “Is she going to be okay with us eloping like this?”

“She’s dead,” Adrien said gently, “so I can almost guarantee that she won’t try to stop us.”

Marinette put her hands over her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!”

Adrien smiled at her tenderly. “I’m glad that I’m finally able to tell you. She died a long time ago, before I even met you. I still miss her, of course, but I’ve had time to grieve and move on.”

Marinette hugged him anyway.

“My father, on the other hand, will definitely try to stop us if he catches us, so we’ll need to be very quiet.”

Marinette nodded and mimed zipping her lips.

Adrien took her hand and led her out of his bedroom and along an elegant walkway overlooking a vast marble atrium. Marinette didn’t remember it at all from her entry into the house. She truly must have been drunk out of her mind.

Adrien took her deeper into the house to a bedroom that was more-than-spacious by normal standards but nowhere near as vast as his room. He grandly opened the closet doors, flipped a light switch, and waved an arm to invite Marinette inside.

Marinette stepped into the walk-in closet and quietly gasped. It was packed with some of the most elegant clothes she’d ever seen, carefully protected by transparent plastic covers.

“Is it really okay for me to take these?” she whispered.

Adrien nodded and whispered back. “They’re just gathering dust now. She would have wanted you to have them.”

Hesitantly, Marinette picked out enough clothes to get through two days in unpredictable weather. She felt especially weird about borrowing Adrien’s dead mother’s underwear, but the alternatives were to continue wearing Adrien’s underwear or to put her own filthy panties back on. Adrien helped her fold all her ill-gotten gains into a travel bag that was also in the closet.

They got back to Adrien’s room without seeing another living soul in the vast emptiness of the house. Presumably, there were kitchen staff somewhere, but Marinette hadn’t seen a kitchen during their expedition either.

Adrien quickly threw a couple changes of clothes into his own travel bag while Marinette retreated to the bathroom to clean herself up and change into one of the elegant pants suits she’d borrowed.

When she emerged, Adrien looked her over approvingly and then ostentatiously offered her his arm. “Shall we, My Lady?” 

Smirking, Marinette took it. “We shall.”

Instead of leading her to the front doors, as she’d expected, Adrien led her out a second floor window onto a stretch of roof and then, with the help of an overhanging tree, over the fence that surrounded the property.

“Why are we sneaking out like thieves? Do you really live here?” Marinette asked, only half joking.

“If we avoid the security cameras, we’re more likely to make it onto the train without anyone trying to stop us,” Adrien said casually as if it was totally normal for a grown man to sneak out of his own house.

Marinette was starting to wonder just what kind of family she’d agreed to marry into. But there was no answer to that question that would stop her from wanting to marry Chat Noir, so maybe it didn’t matter.

Adrien put on a pair of sunglasses and then took her hand again. “There’s a subway station just around the corner.”

As they rounded the corner of the fence, Marinette got a good look through the bars to the house she’d just left. She stared. She’d known it was big based on the interior but the huge, stately mansion surrounded by spacious grounds that met her eyes was beyond anything that she could have imagined, especially since the streets surrounding it told her that it was not on the outskirts of Paris, as she’d assumed based on its size, but right in the heart of the city. And it looked familiar.

She was right on the verge of reconciling her superhero’s roof-level knowledge of the city with her current ground-level view, when they reached the subway station, and she saw Adrien. He was everywhere: soaring on angel wings above a bottle of cologne, standing with his hands in the pockets of his stylish suit, talking to a tiny version of himself projected out of an Alliance ring. Nearly half the ads in the station featured Adrien. 

She’d been vaguely aware that Gabriel Agreste tended to use blond, male models in his ads in the same way that she’d been vaguely aware that he tended to use feather and angel motifs, but she’d always been more interested in the clothes than in the model wearing them. Now, she realized that the ads hadn’t used blond, male models, plural. They’d all featured the same blond, male model. Adrien. Who had the same name as Gabriel’s signature cologne. Which was also the name of the default AI avatar in the Alliance rings that Gabriel Agreste had partnered with Tsuragi Industries to create. An AI that looked suspiciously like a younger version of the man standing beside her.

She’d thought yesterday that his face looked familiar but…but… “Adrien,” she said in a strangled voice. “What’s your last name? I never asked.”

“Agreste,” he admitted. “My name is Adrien Agreste.” He shrugged as if resigned to the fact that all good things must come to an end.

“I see,” Marinette said faintly. 

She looked back toward the mansion. The Agreste mansion. The one she had stared at hundreds of times as Ladybug because she was a huge fan of the man it belonged to.

“Any relation to Gabriel Agreste, the famous fashion designer?” she asked in a tone that would have been casual if it didn’t come out so thin and shrill.

“He’s my father.”

She recalled how they’d just been sneaking through that mansion because Adrien’s father would “definitely try to stop” them if he found out that they were planning to elope.

She did not scream, but it was a near thing.

“So, the whole time we've been partners, you were the son of Gabriel Agreste?” 

Adrien’s eyes narrowed in silent laughter. “I’ve been his son my whole life.”

Marinette nodded woodenly. Then she nodded again, and again. She couldn’t seem to stop nodding. “I see. All these years, you’ve been living in that mansion with the man who inspired me to become a fashion designer. Your face has been plastered all over the city.” She waved an arm at the ads covering the walls. “And I, your girlfriend, had no idea?”

“I wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted so badly to tell you all about my life, but we ‘can’t know anything about each other.’”

“Oh no!” Marinette slapped her hands to her cheeks. “That’s true! We’re not supposed to know anything about each other! This is terrible!”

Adrien embraced her. “Is it? I think it’s wonderful.” He kissed her cheeks and then the bridge of her nose.

A subway train pulled into the station. Adrien let go of her just long enough to grab her hand and pull her onto the subway. Marinette let herself be dragged, too dazed to put up any resistance. Once they were on, Adrien backed her up against a pole and put his arms around both her and the pole so that they were secured against the inertia of the train. He went back to showering her face with little, soothing kisses.

It was one of Chat Noir’s favourite ways to calm Ladybug down when she was on the verge of panic. It turned out to work just as well without their masks. She closed her eyes and tucked her face under his chin. For a few minutes, all the scary complexities of their revealed identities went away. It didn’t matter that the fabric against her cheek wasn’t skintight leather. She was in her boyfriend’s arms, safe and loved. 

They got off the subway at the train station but, instead of heading to the Startrain’s platform, they wandered in the other direction until they found a charming little cafe.

“You’ll have to pay,” she warned Adrien. “I only put enough money in my pockets before the wedding for the bus fare home. And, for the last couple months, I’ve been too focused on preparing for the wedding to take on much other work, so my bank account is a bit low.” She raised her chin defiantly. 

“What’s mine is yours,” Adrien said without hesitation. “I may not be as rich as my father, but paying for meals is no problem. Or anything else you want. Do you want to get a sketchbook so you can work on the train? Maybe some clothes that are more your style?”

Marinette relaxed. “I may take you up on that since rushing off on this trip was your idea. But not until after we eat.”

He reached across the cafe table and took her hands. “Marinette, you're going to be my wife. What's mine is yours. Really! Spend as much of my money as you want. There's nothing I'd rather spend it on than making you happy.”

Knowing Chat Noir, she couldn't doubt that he meant it. 

“Some day I'll be such a successful fashion designer that you'll be spending my money instead,” she claimed with weak bravado.

“I have no doubt of that,” Adrien declared warmly.

They were halfway through their meal when Adrien's eyes suddenly went wide. “Wait! If you're my fairy, then DJ and Avenger are…”

“Nino and Alya,” Marinette confirmed.

“I made it to their wedding after all.” Adrien gave a disbelieving laugh.

“You certainly did.”

“TheAuburnAvenger is the Ladyblogger?”

“Yup.” Marinette grinned. “She's going to be just as astonished when she learns your identity. I mean that GoldenGoose13 is Adrien Agreste. As funny as the look on her face would be if she discovered your other identity, I think we'd better continue to keep those ones a secret.”

“Yes,” Adrien agreed seriously.

“Speaking of your gamer tag, you always told me that it meant that you were a silly goose with golden hair but, back in your room, you said something about a gilded cage?” She frowned at him in concern.

“I was just being morbid for a moment. Don't worry about it,” he said carelessly and gave her a reassuring smile.

Her frown deepened. “Adrien…” 

Despite her worry, it still gave her a thrill to be able to call him by his real name.

He looked around. “We can talk about it on the train if you really want to. We're too public here.”

Postponing conversations until they were out of earshot of civilians was nothing new for them, but the fact that he was still doing it when they weren't in their superhero identities, combined with the nature of the subject he didn't want to talk about, deepened her worries.

“Okay, but we are going to talk about it later,” she said sternly.

They ate in silence until Adrien pulled out his phone, looked up all the information he could find on Nino, and started reading bits of it to Marinette excitedly.

“Yes, I know,” she said in fond exasperation more than once. 

She was in the middle of telling him a story about a film her middle school class had made where Nino had been the director, Alya the screenwriter, and Marinette the costume designer, and how Chloe had almost ruined the whole production, when a young woman walking past the cafe suddenly stopped in her tracks, stared, and took a picture of them on her phone. 

Marinette barely noticed. People taking pictures of them while they were on dates was a routine occurrence. However, Adrien slapped (more than) enough cash down on the table to pay for the meal and said, “Let’s walk while we finish our sandwiches.”

Marinette obligingly stood up, sandwich in hand, and followed him down the street. She crammed the last bite into her mouth in time to have empty hands when they entered an art supply store further down the street. Adrien somehow made the remainder of his sandwich vanish even more quickly but without ever looking like he was stuffing his face. Marinette was still surreptitiously chewing when a crowd of people ran past the store in the direction of the cafe. Some of them were carrying signs with pictures of Adrien on them.

She swallowed before asking Adrien, “Were those your fans? Does this happen to you a lot?”

“You know how it is. I’m just too attractive for my own good,” he joked.

It was the kind of thing he always said when their fans got overenthusiastic like this, but it hit differently given that they were out of costume.

“You certainly are,” she joked back, scratching him under the chin.

She was no stranger to fame but, whenever it got to be too much to deal with, she’d always been able to jump out of reach of all the reporters or fans and turn back into plain, ordinary Marinette whom they wouldn’t give a second glance to. What would it be like to deal with that kind of stuff in both identities? 

“Are there really that many people who are that obsessed with fashion models?” she asked in disbelief as the tail end of the crowd ran past.

“Yes,” Adrien said, “although, in my case, the high society connections and acting roles contribute too.”

“High society connections? Acting roles?” she echoed.

“I love that you don’t pay attention to that kind of stuff,” he said with an amused smile, “but I’m kind of a celebrity. For instance, I played Chat Noir in the animated movies, and later the live action movies. Also in Clara Nightengale’s music videos.”

“You did not!” she exclaimed indignantly, meaning that he’d better not have endangered his secret identity in such a stupid way.

“I’m afraid so. My father volunteered me for the roles and I couldn’t say no. It worked out surprisingly well. If anyone ever says that I look or sound like Chat Noir, I have an easy excuse for why they think that.”

Marinette groaned, appalled, but the Ladybug and Chat Noir movies had been coming out for years and his identity remained undiscovered, so he’d clearly gotten away with it.

“What do you think of this sketchbook?” Adrien asked, holding up one with a cover design involving fairies.

She ended up going with a simpler, spiral bound sketchbook and a box of pencils with different levels of hardness. Before they left the shop, she got Adrien to take off his white overshirt and tuck it in his travel bag. Then she artfully messed up his hair and drew a mustache on his upper lip with the softest of her new pencils. “Pencil moustaches are very Parisian,” she joked.

“Does it suit me?” He struck an exaggerated pose.

“Well, at least it makes you a bit less recognizable,” she said with a shrug before taking his arm and walking out of the shop.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think we have enough time left for clothes shopping before we have to be on the train,” he said regretfully.

“That’s fine. I like these clothes,” Marinette said, unconcerned. “Your mother had excellent taste.”

“Yes, she did,” Adrien agreed nostalgically.

There were a few small clusters of his fans wandering disconsolately around the train station, identifiable by the signs they were still carrying, but they managed to sneak past them and onto the Startrain without being spotted again. 

Chapter Text

It turned out that Adrien had booked them a private compartment. Marinette meant to spend the trip designing, or finding out more about who her boyfriend-turned-fiance was without his cat ears, or both, but Adrien’s neck was just too kissable, and he seemed to feel the same way about hers.

It was only when the train plunged below the English Channel that she realized how much time had slipped past. She reluctantly tore her lips from Adrien’s and looked him in the eye. 

She was startled all over again by his lack of slit pupils, but his human eyes were so beautiful that she didn’t object at all to the change. His lips were reddened and a little swollen from kissing. There was no trace left of the moustache she’d penciled on his upper lip. She had a sneaking suspicion that she might have licked it off without noticing. His hair was even wilder than it had been when he stepped onto the train. It made him look, other than the eyes, like the boyfriend she knew and loved. 

She almost melted back into lovesick goo at the sight, but forced herself to be firm. “We promised we’d talk about this. Golden Goose. What does the name really mean?”

He made a sound of protest and tried to go back to kissing her, but she held up her hand to block him.

“Tell me.”

He sighed and reluctantly sat up. “It isn't as big a deal as you seem to think.”

This was an obvious lie. If it wasn't a big deal, he wouldn't have resisted talking about it. Instead of calling him out on it, she said, “Now that I don't have to avoid asking you about anything that might reveal your identity, I want to know everything about you.”

He looked gratified for a second before his expression turned reluctant again. “I don't really know why I picked that username. It just felt right.”

Marinette nodded encouragingly.

“I guess…it's about how much my father values me.”

“The way the farmer in the story valued the goose that laid golden eggs?” Marinette asked neutrally.

Adrien shrugged uncomfortably. “My father loves me, but he also loves how good I am at selling his designs.”

“They're good designs.”

“Yes, he's very talented,” Adrien agreed eagerly. “And hard working.”

“I admire him a lot.”

“So do I!”

They smiled at each other, pleased to have come to a mutual understanding.

“But you feel like your room is a gilded cage?” Marinette asked in concern.

Adrien groaned. “I shouldn't have said that. It's a really cool room, right?”

“Yes, but…”

Seeing that she wasn't going to let this go, Adrien sighed. “When I was younger, I really wanted to go to school like other kids, but my parents thought I would get a better education if I had private tutors. They were right, of course. I got an excellent education. But it meant that I didn't have a reason to leave my room very often, so I started thinking of it as a gilded cage. I may have been a bit melodramatic as a teenager.”

“What, you, melodramatic?” Marinette laughed, playfully bumping her shoulder against his.

He grinned. “Hard to believe, I know.”

Marinette leaned her forehead against his. “Don't worry, my love, I'll give you reasons to leave your room now that I know where to find you.”

“You were already my favourite reason. Don't worry, that cage hasn't been able to hold me since the day I first got this ring.” He held up his hand to show off the ring that allowed him to transform into Chat Noir.

Reassured and touched, she kissed him. After that, there was little more conversation before they reached London. 

They had to run most of the way from the Startrain to the train that would take them from London to Edinburgh, but they made it onto their second train before it left the station. During that leg of the journey, Adrien asked Marinette all sorts of questions about her family, friends, dreams, fears and hopes. The hours flew by and, almost before they knew it, they were in Scotland. 

Adrien had booked a reservation for them at a hotel within walking distance of the train station. They checked in, claiming to be newlyweds who had come to Scotland for their honeymoon. The receptionist congratulated them enthusiastically and suggested places they should see during their visit. Marinette just nodded and smiled. She was fairly fluent in English, but not to the point where she could handle unfamiliar accents. Fortunately, Adrien seemed able to understand everything the receptionist said and to make himself understood in return.

After dropping off their bags in their room, they explored the city hand-in-hand. It had a similar mix of old and new buildings to Paris, some of them rivaling Paris’ monuments for grandeur, but it felt smaller and more rugged than their own beloved city and, of course, it had no Eiffel Tower.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Adrien said, looking around with interest at the picturesque shops lining the street they were walking down. 

The buildings were very old but the signs and merchandise were very new. The juxtaposition was charming. There were similar, equally charming streets in Paris, but the fact that they weren’t in Paris, or even in France, gave this one a fascinating novelty. The shops were all closed because it was a Sunday evening. There were a few people visible in the distance, going about their daily lives, but otherwise they had the street to themselves.

“I mean,” Adrien continued. “I’ve travelled to other countries before, for photoshoots or business meetings. But I never had the time during those trips to just wander around enjoying the scenery like this. Even in Paris, I’ve rarely taken the time to just walk through the streets.” 

“I can see why, if you get swarmed by fans every time you try,” Marinette said. She’d long since accepted that she couldn’t walk a block at ground level as Ladybug without having someone ask to take a selfie with her.

Marinette bent to sniff some flowers in a window box outside a shop that might once have been a house. As she straightened up, she said thoughtfully, “My grandmother loves to travel. She sends us post cards and photos from new places all the time. I’ve mostly only travelled outside France to visit relatives, or on school fieldtrips. I did make it to Milan's fashion week a couple years ago. That was amazing! Usually, though, I hate to leave Paris because, you know, something might happen while I’m gone.”

“I always kept the city safe in your absence, didn’t I?” Adrien said proudly.

“You certainly did.” Marinette kissed his cheek. “But I hated to put that burden on you more often than I had to. I couldn’t help worrying about what might happen to you while I wasn’t there to watch your back.”

“Having a partner makes everything better,” Adrien agreed, kissing her cheek in return.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Marinette kissed his lips. 

When they resumed their amble down the street, Adrien remarked conversationally, “My father used to travel all the time. Since my mother died, he’s barely left the house except for business meetings too important to avoid but, before that, he used to travel the whole world with Natalie, his assistant. My mother told me that she used to travel with them too before she got too sick, but I don’t remember that time. I don’t know why they travelled so much. I don’t think it was just for pleasure, but some of the places they mentioned didn’t seem like places people typically travel to for business. Maybe it was for design inspiration? I don’t know. They never gave me a clear answer when I asked. Sometimes I wished I could go with them but, even if I could have talked them into taking me, which I doubt, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave my mother by herself.”

Marinette gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

“I think I’d like to see the world with you,” Adrien said. “Maybe we could take the horse miraculous with us in case we need to get back to Paris quickly.”

“Maybe,” Marinette said doubtfully. “I don’t know if we could get permission, but…I think I’d like that too.”

As they reached the end of a block, they got a clear line of sight between the buildings to a spectacular sunset. They stopped in their tracks to admire it.

Marinette said softly, “It was around this time yesterday that I bumped into you at the party. What a difference twenty-four hours can make!”

“This is the first time I've ever had your company for twenty-four hours straight,” Adrien replied happily.

“It's been a lot, hasn't it?” Marinette said with a rueful laugh. “And now we're here!” She threw out an arm to indicate the foreign country surrounding them.

“This has been the best twenty-four hours of my entire life,” Adrien declared.

“Even the hangover?” Marinette teased.

“Worth it,” Adrien said smugly.

“I’m scared,” Marinette admitted. “There are reasons why we aren’t supposed to know each other’s identities. But I can’t bring myself to regret it. At least not yet.”

Adrien squeezed her hand reassuringly.

They ate supper at a restaurant that defied Scotland’s reputation for having terrible food. When the server asked if they wanted to see the drinks menu, Marinette shuddered and shook her head. “Not tonight.”

“My bride’s beauty is intoxicating enough,” Adrien declared sappily.

“Newlyweds, are ye? And French? That’d do it,” the server commented, managing not to roll his eyes.

When they climbed into bed that night, Marinette asked anxiously, “Is it okay if we just…sleep? I mean, I want to do more. I do! But everything’s sore - my lips, my neck, my, uh…” She glanced down at her lap. “...everything! I never realized that we were taking advantage of our invulnerability when we kissed for hours, but…well…”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to say anything because I’d never turn down anything you want to do but, um, yeah. Me too. But we can still cuddle, right?”

“Absolutely!” Marinette snuggled into his arms. They both let out sighs of contentment.

In the morning, Adrien made a phone call, “Good morning, Natalie,” he said in the pained voice of someone with a stomach ache. “I’m not feeling well. Can you please cancel all my appointments for the day?”

His eyes went wide and his face went pale at whatever the person on the other end said in response. It was a lengthy response. Marinette couldn't make out the words but she could hear the coldness in the woman's voice.

“I’m sorry. You’re right,” Adrien said wretchedly. “The truth is that there’s something I want to do today that I can only do on a weekday. It’s very important to me. Please let me take a vacation day, Natalie. Just this once! I promise I'll be back at work tomorrow. Please don’t tell Father yet! I’ll talk to him myself when I get back.”

Marinette watched him in alarm. The only time she’d ever seen her kitty grovel like that before was when a particularly deadly akuma had her at his mercy and Chat Noir was begging for her life. Back then, she'd taken advantage of the distraction he provided to escape from the akuma's clutches. Now, she had no idea what she could do to improve the situation.

It wasn't just that he sounded miserable. He seemed strangely muted. Despite his obvious desperation, his voice was contained, polite, not purring and throbbing with every passing emotion like it usually did. He was standing with perfect posture even though the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see him. Where was Chat Noir’s fluid, feline grace? 

Now that she thought back, he’d been like this at the wedding reception before he'd had enough drinks to loosen up. She'd thought then that it was because he was shy around strangers, but Chat Noir was never shy. He was never this deferential to authority figures either. Who was this Adrien, and why was he so scared?

“Yes, I promise. Thank you, Natalie!” Adrien said with abject gratitude. 

He pocketed the phone and told Marinette, “Pictures of us together at the wedding reception are all over the news. So is the picture of us at the cafe. Natalie hasn’t brought them to my father’s attention yet but she said that she’ll have to do so if I let my relationship with you interfere with my work.”

This raised more questions than Marinette could easily put into words. She started with the simplest one. “Was that the same Natalie your father used to travel with?”

“Yes,” Adrien said. “These days, she helps him run the business and organizes my schedule.” 

Marinette had been learning all kinds of things about her fashion idol in the last day or two that she’d never thought to wonder about before. She wasn’t sure how to feel about some of the new information.

“Why would pictures of us be ‘all over the news’? There’s no way that they could know that we’re Ladybug and Chat Noir. Are you that much of a celebrity as yourself?”

“I’m afraid so,” Adrien said with a self-deprecating smile.

The people with the signs had certainly seemed to think so.

Marinette started to pace. “There’s no point in asking who took the pictures. That party was full of journalists and film junkies. At least half of the people there must have had high definition cameras in their pockets, and probably a quarter of them would have had the connections to sell the story if you’re as big a celebrity as you say.”

“Especially since I never date and I never get drunk,” Adrien agreed with a nod. “Behaving in a way that was so out of line with my public image was bound to attract attention.”

“Are you going to get into a lot of trouble because of me?” Marinette asked apologetically.

“I regret none of it,” Adrien told her reassuringly. “But we should make the most of today because, when we get back, I’m probably going to be so grounded that I’ll barely be able to sneak away for akuma attacks.”

“Grounded?” Marinette echoed indignantly. “You’re an adult!”

“Kept out of the public eye until the scandal cools off?” Adrien offered weakly as an alternative phrasing.

Marinette frowned in concern. “Yeah, my parents aren’t going to be very happy with me when they find out about all this either.” Deciding that the damage was already done, and that she too regretted none of it, she shrugged. “You’re right. Let’s make the most of today!”

They browsed the clothing shops, remarking over how fashions did and didn’t differ from Paris. Marinette bought a simple white dress, pretty white shoes, and new underwear. Adrien joked about buying a kilt but, in the end, settled for a tartan cap and matching tartan vest over a crisp white shirt, dark wool pants, and new leather shoes. They also found matching gold rings with a striking celtic knot pattern.

It took some time to get the paperwork sorted out because the officials weren’t thrilled with foreigners showing up without advance notice wanting to get married on the spot but, in the end, they were able to exchange vows, rings and kisses.

“I often felt like our partnership was a kind of marriage, but I’m glad to make it official,” Marinette commented, admiring her new wedding ring, as they returned to their hotel to check out and grab their bags.

“I feel the same way,” Adrien agreed.

Chapter Text

Marinette spent the train ride back to London sketching Scottish-inspired designs while telling Adrien more stories about growing up with Alya and Nino. In London, they bought fish and chips from a street vendor and ate them while wandering around taking pictures of themselves in their wedding clothes in front of London landmarks. They made it to their private compartment on the Startrain for the trip back to Paris with time to spare and spent most of the trip cuddling interspersed with bursts of making out. 

“I know we said we’d keep our clothes on, but just undoing a couple buttons couldn’t hurt,” Marinette panted, fingers already playing with the top button of Adrien’s shirt.

He clucked his tongue and playfully brushed her hand away. “If I let you start on my buttons, before I know it you’ll have my pants off.”

“But it isn’t fair!” Marinette whined. “Your clothes cover so much more than mine!”

“Have I mentioned how much I like this dress?” Adrien pressed his lips to her collarbone and then reached for the hem of her skirt.

A small screen on the wall of their compartment that neither of them had paid attention to until now crackled to life. “Hello, citizens of Paris, I am Prime Queen,” announced the blue-skinned akuma on the screen.

Marinette and Adrien shot to their feet, instantly alert, all thoughts of making out forgotten.

“Gabriel Agreste has threatened my network with a defamation suit for our coverage of his son Adrien’s recent…indiscretions. I will prove to the world that our coverage was accurate!”

“Looks like we’ll be using those flight powerups after all,” Marinette commented, pulling hers out of her purse.

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, but he didn’t sound as happy about it as she would have expected.

Marinette put a hand on his arm. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been responsible for an akumatization, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. All we can do is try to set things right.”

He nodded. “I knew Father would be angry when he found out what we’ve done. I guess he found out.”

Marinette squeezed his arm in a gesture of solidarily. 

He gave her a weak smile. “You’re right. All we can do is to try to set things right.” 

Marinette double-checked to make sure the door of their compartment was securely locked. “Ready to switch identities?” she asked nervously. She’d never transformed in front of another person before.

“Ready!” Adrien replied excitedly. 

They simultaneously spoke their transformation phrases.

“It really is you,” Ladybug said in a tone of wonder. “I mean, I knew that, but…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”  Chat Noir looked her up and down admiringly. 

Smirking, Ladybug took a step closer to him. “I have to admit, I kind of missed the black leather and cat ears.” She flicked his bell. “Although I like your real face. A lot.”

“I did warn you that I was gorgeous.” Chat Noir’s ears flicked happily. 

“I always assumed you were lying, or at least exaggerating. After all, I had no way to fact check you.” Ladybug slid her hands around the back of his neck. 

“My wife,” Chat Noir whispered, and kissed her.

Ladybug kissed him back, but then pulled away reluctantly. “We need to get to Paris.”

Chat Noir silently held up his flight power-up. Ladybug did the same with hers. She swallowed it as she dove out of the window of the moving train. Before she hit the ground, her regular suit was replaced by her Cosmobug one, which included an air-tight helmet and rigid wings. She soared upward with Chat Noir, in his Astrocat form, right at her heels.

In suits designed to handle interplanetary distances, flying to Paris took them mere minutes. 

Ladybug spent that time laying down the ground rules of their new relationship. “As Ladybug and Chat Noir, nothing changes. We don’t tell people we got married. We don’t suddenly become more affectionate.”

“Or less affectionate,” Chat Noir agreed cheerfully.

“When we’re together outside the suits, we don’t talk about superhero stuff, not even when we’re alone. No ‘my Lady’ or my Kitty’. If we get used to saying those things when we think we’re alone, we might slip up where people can hear us.”

“So, basically the same rules as in Endless Empires.”

“Exactly. It worked to keep our gaming friends from figuring us out, so hopefully it will work in real life too.”

“I don’t want people to find out our online identities either.” Chat Noir sounded like he was frowning although his helmet hid his profile. “They might try to connect with us through the game. That would make our little kingdom a lot less peaceful.”

“Okay, so no using ‘my Fairy’ or ‘my Goose’ either. We’ll have to come up with a whole new set of endearments.”

“Sounds fun.” Now Chat Noir sounded like he was grinning. “Look, there’s the city up ahead, my Marinette, my wife, my love, my blue-eyed princess.”

“I shouldn’t need to point this out, but we also don’t use the real life endearments when we’re in our superhero forms,” Marinette mock-scolded him.

“Yes, my Lady,” Chat Noir replied, laughter dancing in his voice under a pretense of meekness.

When they got to Paris, every outdoor TV screen or digital billboard in the city was displaying the image of Prime Queen shoving a microphone in Marinette’s parents’ faces.

Ladybug hid her dismay, remembered that she didn’t have to hide her identity from Chat Noir anymore, and then decided that she still needed to hide her reaction to avoid giving away her identity to the rest of the city. She swerved in mid-air toward her family’s bakery.

“...don’t understand why everyone’s saying she seduced this boy,” Tom Dupain was saying. “If there was any seducing going on, it must have been him who seduced her. Marinette’s never done anything like this before. She has a boyfriend! Online only, but she’s always said he was the only one for her.”

Sabine Cheng broke in, “If she has decided to start dating someone in person, we’ll support her decision of course. I hope that’s all that’s happened, but we can’t help worrying because she didn’t tell us anything about her plans. She sent us a message the morning after her friends’ wedding to let us know that she’d spent the night at a friend’s house and wanted to stay there longer to play video games but, since then, nothing!”

“And she didn’t tell us that the ‘friend’ was a boy!” Tom howled.  “How dare he take advantage of my innocent little girl!”

“Marinette, if you see this, please call us,” Sabine begged. “We’re so worried about you!”

Ladybug bit her lip in guilt. Chat Noir regarded the nearest giant image of Tom Dupain’s face with dread.

“There you have it, folks,” the golden skinned akuma announced. “Marinette ‘slept’ at the house of ‘a friend’ the night after she was seen with Adrien Agreste, and she hasn’t been home since!” She emphasized the quotation marks by making air quotes with her fingers. “We still don’t know for sure whether the suit she was wearing in the photograph of the lunch date is one that belonged to Emilie Agreste, as this network speculated earlier, but it seems that it wasn’t one she changed into at home!” 

She stepped into the Dupain-Cheng family’s TV screen and suddenly the view switched to a different living room. Prime Queen was now standing in a small apartment, facing two young women on a sofa, one small and blonde, the other tall and black-haired. “Now, let’s talk to people who were at the party.”

Rose gave a squeak of fright. Juleka put an arm around her protectively.

In the skies above Paris, Ladybug swerved away from the bakery toward the apartment building where Rose and Juleka lived. Chat Noir followed her lead a second later.

Prime Queen leaned toward the young women on the sofa with a predatory gleam in her inhuman eyes. “You were both at the party where Adrien Agreste was photographed talking to Marinette Dupain-Cheng, yes?”

She held out her microphone toward them. The frightened girls nodded.

There was something odd about the microphone. It was shaped almost like a rolled-up piece of paper, complete with markings down the side that vaguely resembled printed words.

“Did you see them together there?” Prime Queen asked.

Rose brightened. “Oh, yes, it was so cute!” She clasped her hands in excitement. “I’d planned to talk to Marinette at the reception since we hadn’t caught up in a while, but she was sitting with a man, the one who’s in all the photographs you’re asking about, and they looked so happy together that I didn’t want to interrupt. I’ve never seen her so into anyone before!”

“Never!” Juleka agreed.

“And he was just as into her! I was so happy that she’d finally found someone who could make her smile like that!”

“So this wasn’t a brief interaction?”

“Oh, no, they were inseparable all night. It was like they were in their own little world.” Rose clasped her hands in front of her heart sentimentally. 

“Do you think she seduced him for his money?” the akumatized reporter asked.

Juleka shook her head emphatically as Rose exclaimed, “No! I doubt she even knew who he was. I certainly didn’t! I think she fell in love.”

Juleka looked Prime Queen straight in the eye. “Two lonely people found each other. That’s something to celebrate. Leave them alone.”

Prime Queen turned away from her interviewees toward the screen. “Two eye witnesses have confirmed that this story was not fabricated. Adrien Agreste did dance the night away with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

She stepped back through the young couple’s screen and emerged in a plush bedroom where a blonde woman stood indignantly with her hands on her hips.

“Chloe!” Chat Noir exclaimed. He swerved toward the Grand Paris Hotel. Ladybug followed.

“It’s about time you got to me,” Chloe said with a huff. “Those last two were obviously lying to protect that scum Dupain-Cheng. Of course she was after him for his money and connections. She’s a fashion designer! Of course she knew who he was! What better way could there be for a talentless designer to try to cheat her way to the top than by tricking the son of Paris’ greatest designer into going on a date with her? She’s shameless. Utterly shameless!”

“You are a friend of Adrien Agreste. Is that correct?” Prime Queen asked, looking nonplused at how Chloe had jumped ahead of her intended script.

“I’m his best friend,” Chloe declared. “Poor Adrikins is way too naive to recognize a scam artist. I never should have brought him to that party, no matter how much he begged!”

“He begged to go to that party?” Prime Queen asked, surprised.

“Something about ‘wedding of the Ladyblogger’, blah, blah, blah.” Chloe tossed her hair dismissively. “I only attended that lame party because he wanted to go to it, and I left early because it was soooooo lame. I thought he was right behind me, but Dupain-Cheng must have already gotten her claws into him by then. If I’d had any idea things would turn out this way…” Her face scrunched up in hatred before she made a conscious, visible effort to smooth it back into beauty. 

“Does he often use his money and connections, not to mention his looks, to seduce women?” Prime Queen asked.

“No!” For a moment, Chloe looked genuinely lost. “Adrikins has never shown any interest in dating anyone before now. I mean, if he was going to date someone, it would obviously be me, right? But I gave up on that years ago when I figured out that he was probably asexual. Then, this! It makes no sense!”

“The plot thickens,” Prime Queen told her viewers. “Everyone who knows them says that this behavior was out of character for both Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but nobody denies that it happened.”

She stepped back through Chloe’s massive TV screen into a much less ornate and more cluttered bedroom. 

Ladybug groaned. “I have no idea where that is!”

“Me neither,” Chat Noir admitted morosely.

A photograph of Marinette and Adrien sitting at a cafe table appeared in the upper right quarter of the magically hijacked screens. In it, Adrien was wearing sunglasses and casual, perfectly tailored designer clothes. Marinette was wearing a white pants suit and had her hair up in a bun. (Pigtails had felt too informal to go with such an elegant outfit, and she’d had no shortage of hair pins.) To an expert eye, it was obvious that the suit hadn’t been tailored to her measurements, but it fit well enough. Both of them looked blissfully happy and obviously in love with each other. 

“Are you the one who took this photograph?” Prime Queen asked the girl sitting on the bed.

The girl scuttled backward with a squeak of fear until her back was pressed against the wall. “Yes?”

“Tell the viewers about what you saw that day.” Prime Queen held out her microphone.

Ladybug groaned. “This isn’t working! She keeps jumping from place to place too fast for us to catch up with her. We need a better strategy. Lucky charm!” She pulled her yoyo off her hip and flung it up in the air. 

As the yoyo returned to her, a piece of red paper fluttered down from the sky. She caught it.

Chat Noir looked over her shoulder. “A train ticket? The numbers match the one we’re supposed to be on right now.”

“Of course!” Ladybug exclaimed. “Let’s head back to the train.”

On the screens below them, the girl being interviewed was saying, “Actually, I did see them one more time after that, but I didn’t say anything because I felt bad about ruining their lunch date. It was long enough ago now, though, that it shouldn’t matter if I tell you. They got onto a train.”

Chat Noir shot ahead of Ladybug as they came in sight of the open window of their train compartment so that he could dive through it first. His wings vanished in a shower of green sparkles at the exact moment when they would have hit the window frame. By the time Ladybug shot through the window, detransforming into Marinette with equally precise timing, Adrien was in the perfect position to catch her as she rolled straight into his lap. 

“Gotcha!” he teased.

She grabbed his face, pulled it down to hers, and kissed him. 

However, before he could kiss her back, she sprang to her feet. “We need to get our story straight before she gets here. I think we should reveal that we’ve been dating in Endless Empires - that makes all of this a lot easier to explain - but we’ll keep our gamer tags a secret so that we don’t get swarmed by your fans in game.”

Adrien nodded. Rising to his feet, he leaned against the doorframe as he appreciatively watched her pace.

Marinette continued, “We’ll say that we arranged to meet in person for the first time at our friends’ wedding. Alya and Nino are off the grid right now so they can’t contradict our story and, when they get back, I’m sure they’ll be willing to go along with it.”

Adrien caught her around the waist on her next circuit of the tiny room. “A perfect plan as always, my L-lovely bride.”

Marinette smirked at him to let him know that she’d noticed his last-moment substitution.

Adrien rubbed his nose against hers. “Our in-person meeting went so well that we decided to elope.”

Marinette laughed. “That part isn’t even a lie.”

“Can I have my cheese now?” a high pitched, gravelly voice gripped.

“Plagg?” Marinette asked, staring at the tiny, black creature in wonder.

Adrien reached into his travel bag and tossed a wedge of cheese to his kwami.

Marinette hurriedly reached into her purse and pulled out a macaron. Tikki swooped out of hiding to take it.

“My one night stand plan worked out after all,” Marinette couldn’t resist gloating.

“Only because you somehow managed to pick Chat Noir for it,” Tikki pointed out.

“It was a dumb idea, but you got away with it. That’s what counts,” Plagg said, licking cheese off his whiskers.

“Don’t encourage them!” Tikki glared at him.

“No time to talk. That dame with the microphone will be here any second,” Plagg said piously before swooping to hide behind Adrien.

Tikki gave an exasperated sigh and also swooped out of view. Adrien stared after the little red kwami in amazement.

“Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” Marinette asked seductively, wrapping her arms around Adrien’s neck.

“About…here.” Adrien bent down until his mouth was a breath away from hers.

Marinette closed the gap.

They soon got so absorbed in kissing that they forgot that they were supposed to be laying a trap for an akuma, so when Prime Queen dramatically appeared out of the screen on the wall, their startled shrieks and the guilty way they jumped apart were genuine.

“I’ve finally located you! Now we can get to the bottom of this!” Prime Queen crowed triumphantly.

Adrien put a protective arm around Marinette’s shoulders.

“You are Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” Prime Queen held out her microphone toward them.

“Yes,” they both said, not quite in sync.

“Given that you’re together now, is it safe to assume that you were also together at the wedding of Nino Lahiffe and Alya Cesaire two nights ago?”

“We were,” Marinette said defiantly.

“And we’ve been together ever since.” Adrien looked down at her fondly.

“Was that the first time you’d met?” Prime Queen asked.

The couple exchanged glances. 

“It was the first time we’d met face-to-face,” Marinette said, “but we’ve been playing Endless Empires together for years.”

“And dating almost that long,” Adrien said.

“But only in game,” Marinette said. “I didn’t know who he really was. I only knew how much I liked him.” She smiled up at Adrien.

“I’m sure you can understand why I might want to keep my identity a secret,” Adrien said to Prime Queen and, by extension, the viewers.

“Alya and Nino play on the same server as us,” Marinette said, “as well as being my friends in real life.”

“When they told us they were getting married, I wanted to be there to see it, so I decided that the time had come for me to finally meet my best friends in person,” Adrien switched seamlessly from truth to lies.

“It was such an important moment in their lives, he didn’t want to miss it,” Marinette said.

“It also made me realize that I wanted that kind of relationship with the woman I loved,” Adrien said. “I wanted to do things with her that we couldn’t do online.”

Marinette stared at him in wonder. “I felt the same way! I felt like their relationship had progressed over time but ours hadn’t.”

“When we finally met face-to-face, it was…it was perfect,” Adrien breathed. “We had even more in common than we ever realized. For instance, in all the years we were dating, we never knew that we shared an interest in fashion, but it turns out that she’s a fashion designer!”

“And he’s, well, look at him!” Marinette gestured up and down to indicate the perfection that was Adrien. “He always told me that I’d be blown away by his good looks when I finally met him, but I thought he was joking!”

Adrien looked smug.

“It also turns out that we like all the same video games and musicians!” Marinette added, not wanting to focus exclusively on his looks.

“Did you know that Marinette designed an album cover for Jagged Stone?” Adrien asked proudly. “Because I didn’t until yesterday.”

Prime Queen looked both pleased and a little overwhelmed by the flood of information. “Where have you been for the last day?” she finally managed to interject.

Marinette and Adrien exchanged looks again.

“In Scotland,” Marinette said, tapping Adrien’s tartan vest.

“We eloped,” Adrien said, holding up his hand to show off his wedding ring.

“You…you did what?” Prime Queen spluttered.

“We got married,” Adrien rephrased.

Marinette held up her own beringed hand as further proof.

“When you'd only truly known each other for a few hours? Doesn't that seem a bit hasty to you?”

“I know,” Adrien said pensively, “but I didn't want to wait. Marinette thought it was crazy too, but I managed to persuade her.”

“I didn't put up much resistance,” Marinette said, amused. “I think it took you literally a minute to talk me into it.”

“Why did you decide to take such a huge step without even telling your parents?” For a moment, Prime Queen wasn’t speaking as an akuma, or even as a reporter, but as Marinette’s mother’s best friend.

Adrien, who didn’t know about her connection to Marinette’s family, grimaced and said, “Well, you saw how my father reacted. I doubt he would have given us his blessing.”

Reminded of her mission, Prime Queen was suddenly, entirely an akumatized reporter again. “You heard it here first! This scandal has taken a surprisingly wholesome, if reckless, turn.” She glared at Marinette with almost maternal concern. “This was not a seduction between strangers but a virtual relationship turned physical. However, everything my network reported about it has been confirmed as true. Therefore, there is no grounds for a defamation suit. Do you hear me, Gabriel Agreste?”

As Prime Queen began to shrink and flow into the screen on the wall, which suddenly showed a view of Gabriel Agreste’s face, Marinette knocked the microphone out of her hand. The moment the akuma was on the other side of the screen, looking back in shock, Marinette tore the microphone in half. It made a sound like ripping paper. As a purple butterfly fluttered out, Adrien caught it in his cap, slammed the cap down onto the floor, and stepped on it to make sure the butterfly stayed trapped. The screen went dark. The broken pieces of microphone in Marinette’s hands turned into the ripped halves of a letter threatening to sue for defamation. Adrien moved to stand in front of the screen, blocking its view of the rest of the room just in case it wasn’t as dead as it looked. 

Crouching, Marinette quickly transformed into Ladybug, purified the butterfly, and threw her lucky charm ticket into the air with a whisper of, “Miraculous Ladybug!” 

A wave of magical ladybugs swept through the room, cleaning Adrien’s cap, putting it back on his head, and repairing the letter. Then they swept out the open window, carrying the letter away with them, and went to go repair the rest of Paris.

Marinette detransformed and stood up. “I suppose that saves us from having to explain everything to our parents,” she said ruefully.

“But I’m sure being attacked by an akuma did nothing to improve their moods,” Adrien said apprehensively.

Marinette leaned her head against his shoulder. He put his arms around her. They stood there for a long time, lost in separate thoughts, but taking comfort from each other. 

Chapter Text

Marinette hugged Adrien tight as her subway train approached the platform. “I’d invite you to come home with me, but I’d better let my parents get all the yelling out of their system before I introduce you to them.”

“What do you think they'll do to punish you?” Adrien asked apprehensively.

Marinette shrugged. “Nothing I don’t deserve. I mean, I turned my phone off a day ago because I didn’t know how to explain that I’d decided to elope with a guy I met at a party. They must have been worried sick!”

“We’ve been dating since we were fourteen,” Adrien pointed out. “It isn’t that unreasonable for us to decide to get married.”

“My parents are used to me vanishing for hours at a time without a believable excuse, no thanks to, y’know, the secret responsibilities we share, but vanishing for two whole days is definitely a new record. How about you? What will your father do to you?” 

Marinette tried not to think too hard about the fact that his father was Gabriel Agreste, or that her favorite fashion designer had threatened to sue a TV network merely for reporting Adrien's association with her.

“Like you said, nothing I don't deserve.” Adrien gave her a bright, reassuring smile.

“What is he like? When he's not angry, I mean,” Marinette asked curiously.

Adrien looked down the tunnel to the subway train that had just come into view from around a bend. He pulled Marinette into a tight hug. “I don't want to let you go.”

“I don't want to leave you,” Marinette replied, hugging him back. 

But he did let her go, and she did leave him to step onto the subway.

“I love you!” Adrien called after her.

“I love you too!”  Marinette called back as the doors closed between them. 

They waved frantically until they could no longer see each other.  

“Back to real life,” Marinette sighed regretfully, leaning her forehead against the glass.

Her phone pinged. It was a message from GoldenGoose13 saying, “I miss you already.”

“Miss u 2,” she texted back.

As Marinette walked home from the subway station, she found it hard to believe that the last few days had really happened. Everything felt so normal. The street looked just as it always did at this time of day.

However, her ring finger was still wrapped in gold celtic knots and her lips (among other parts) still felt bruised from overuse. At the thought of Adrien, her bruised lips curved up in a silly, infatuated grin. 

She hesitated before unlocking the door of her home, but delaying this confrontation wouldn’t make it any easier. 

She climbed the stairs and stepped timidly into the living room.

Her parents threw themselves at her with cries of, “Marinette!” “Cherie!” “You’re home!” “You’re safe!”

Marinette hugged them back. “I’m sorry! I should have told you that…Actually, I don’t know what I should have told you, but more than I did!”

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” her mother said, almost tearfully.

“Where’s that boy?” Her father glared around suspiciously.

“I told him to stay away until you’d had a chance to yell at me,” Marinette said. “So, go ahead and yell. I deserve it.”

“If he was a real man, he’d be here to face us and protect you,” Tom huffed.

“He’s got his own father to apologize to,” Marinette pointed out.

Sabine’s brows pinched. “Gabriel Agreste? The fashion designer you like so much? He did seem very angry.”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed. 

“Is this Adrien boy really your online boyfriend?” Tom asked. “And his father is the one you collect books about?”

“Yup,” Marinette said. “I find it hard to believe too, but he really is.” The infatuated smile took over her face again. “Wait until you meet Adrien! He’s just the loveliest person, inside and out! He’s so, so wonderful! Papa, he might be a match for you at Mechastrike! And you'll love his sense of humor!”

Tom looked intrigued and somewhat appeased.

“It sounds like you truly love him,” Sabine said gently.

“I truly do.” Marinette flung her arms out and twirled around to vent her excess feelings. “I know what I did seems crazy, but he’s the one! I’m certain of it! I regret nothing! Except that you got hassled by an akuma because of me.” Her high spirits deflated at the thought.

“She didn’t hurt us,” Sabine said.

“And, because of her, we got to find out everything you weren’t telling us,” Tom said sternly.

Marinette hung her head apologetically. “I really am sorry for making you worry. I won’t do it again.”

Sabine’s indulgent smile said that she didn’t believe that for a second. Vanishing without explanation was a part of her daughter’s character that she’d learned to accept.

“It’s a parent’s job to worry.” Tom hugged her again, so hard that he lifted her off her feet.

Marinette tolerated the bear hug for several seconds before saying, “Papa, put me down so I can give you guys the British souvenirs I brought back for you.” 

“Good morning, love of my life!” Marinette cheerfully texted GoldenGoose13 the moment she woke up the next morning. 

She waited a minute but, disappointingly, he didn’t respond. That wasn’t uncommon, but she’d hoped he’d be better about checking his phone than usual considering their new relationship.

Speaking of not responding to messages, she was in no position to criticize anyone else for slow response times right now. Cringing with dread, Marinette began going through all the text messages and emails she’d received over the last three days.

The oldest messages were about the wedding: how happy Alya and Nino looked, who was crying tears of joy, compliments on Marinette’s dress designs, etc. Then there were messages from friends at the wedding reception teasing her about the hot guy she was dancing with. Later ones asked if she got home safely. They got increasingly worried at her continued silence. More recent ones asked if that was really her on the news and wanted to know how the heck this had happened. Marinette sent out apologies and reassurances both individually and in a mass email where she did her best to explain the situation. It took her all morning.

Alya’s email address was the first one she typed into the To: field of the mass email even though she knew that Alya wouldn’t get the message for nearly two weeks. She really missed being able to talk to her best friend. If there was ever a time when she needed someone to celebrate with her, sympathize with her, and give her good advice, it was now, right at the moment when Alya was completely out of reach.

Adrien finally responded to her good morning text just as she was about to go downstairs for lunch. He apologized for his slowness to respond, saying that he’d been at work and joking that he wasn’t allowed to have his phone on him while he was working because it might ruin the line of his pants. They exchanged increasingly silly, over-the-top declarations of love for the next ten minutes before Adrien apologetically said that his lunch break was almost over and went silent again.

After her own lunch, Marinette sat down at her computer to compile a list of all the design work she needed to catch up on now that she wasn’t occupied with preparations for Alya and Nino's wedding. However, she couldn’t resist doing a quick internet search for Adrien’s name first. 

It turned up thousands of results and, at least in the first ten pages of results that she checked, none of them were about some other Adrien Agreste. He really was a celebrity! He had fan clubs all over the world, possibly even as many as he did as Chat Noir! An image search turned up modeling photos going back to when he was an adorable thirteen year old. There were also pictures of him playing Chat Noir in movies. He hadn’t been kidding about that either. According to the internet, he spoke seven languages fluently, had won national-level fencing medals, and had played the piano in symphony concerts, all while being the face of his father’s brand. How had he found time for all that? She’d barely been able to keep up with schoolwork on top of her superhero responsibilities!

The more she read, the more she wanted to know. She took notes on everything he’d ever said he liked to eat or wear so that she could make them for him. She downloaded so many pictures of him that she had to organize them into subfolders, and then subfolders of subfolders. She flipped through all her old fashion magazines to find pictures of him that she could cut out. There were lots. She found entire articles written about him too. Had he really been there right in front of her all this time and she’d just never bothered to notice?

Adrien himself was not a good source of information. She messaged him all afternoon about the things she was discovering about him, but he responded only in rare bursts and only with more apologies about being unable to get away from work and elaborate declarations of his love for her. 

Every once in a while he did answer some of her questions, which just made it more glaringly obvious that he was ignoring the rest. Questions that got answers included, “Which Mechastrike character is your favourite?” and “Would you like me to make you a batch of passionfruit macarons?” Questions that got ignored included, “What did your father say when you got home?” and “How's your day going?” Requests like “Tell me about your mother,” and “Drop by anytime, even if you can only spare a few minutes, so my parents can meet you / so I can take your measurements for the shirt I’m planning to make for you / so I can kiss you,” also got ignored. 

At first, Marinette thought that she was flooding him with so many messages that he couldn’t keep up with them. Then she thought maybe he was evading all the personal questions out of habit even though they no longer needed to protect their identities. 

Then she started to get worried.

There were three akuma attacks the day after she returned from Scotland. Chat Noir didn't show up for any of them. Although, to be fair, that might have been because they were all Mr. Pigeon and none lasted more than five minutes.

After the third one, she slumped onto a park bench and remarked to Mr. Ramier, “Still no Chat Noir.” 

It was past supper time by then and GoldenGoose13 still wasn’t responding to her messages any more quickly than he had been during typical working hours. 

“He is allergic to feathers,” the freshly deakumatized man pointed out, “and you did an admirable job of defeating me even without his help.” He buried his face in his hands. “I’m very sorry for putting you to so much trouble. I just don’t know what’s gotten into me today!”

“Rough day?” Ladybug said sympathetically.

“No more so than usual, other than the akumatizations themselves. That’s what I can’t understand.” He twiddled his long fingers nervously. “I don’t mean to shift the blame off myself, but I think perhaps Hawkmoth himself is having a bad day.”

Ladybug sat up straighter. “Why do you say that?”

“This most recent time, I tried very hard to keep my calm and turn him down, but he yelled at me so ferociously that I gave in more out of fear of him than out of my usual indignation at the mistreatment of pigeons. He even forgot to ask me to steal your miraculous. He just ordered me to rain down destruction on the city.”

“That’s…unusual,” Ladybug said thoughtfully, “and interesting.” Although she had no idea how to take advantage of it.

Mr. Ramier stood up. “I’m going home. I will close my curtains and strive to not even think about anything that could upset me for the rest of the evening. Hopefully, that will be enough to prevent me from imposing on you again.”

“Thank you,” Ladybug said. She got to her own feet. “See you around.” She threw her yoyo so that it snagged around a flagpole and used it to swing away.

“We still haven’t met that ‘Adrien’ of yours,” Marinette’s father pointed out, as he had every time he'd seen her since she’d eloped.

“I knooooow!” Marinette moaned. “It’s been three days now and still every time I try to contact him, he takes an hour or five to respond and then it’s, ‘Sorry, Marinette, I have an appointment in five minutes,’ or ‘Sorry, Marinette, I have to get back to work as soon as I finish eating.’ It doesn’t matter if it’s 8 am or 8 pm, he’s always too busy to come visit me! He won’t give me any specifics, but I think his father has been making him spend every waking moment working as punishment for causing a scandal, or to keep him away from me, or both. I didn’t think it was possible to ground a twenty-four-year-old, but I guess it is if you’re also their employer.”

“Or maybe he’s scared to face the father of the girl he seduced!” Tom flexed a genuinely impressive bicep. He might be well-padded with fat, but his weight only added to his strength.

“You are terrifying.” Marinette kissed his cheek affectionately.

“Kitty, have you been avoiding me?” Ladybug couldn’t help asking when Chat Noir finally showed up (late) to an akuma fight. She’d meant to play it cool but the words just slipped out.

“I haven’t, I swear!” Chat Noir declared. He spun his baton to block an attack that had been aimed at her. “I just have to make up for the day of work I missed by working extra hours for the rest of the week.”

“Surely you’ve made up the time by now!” she exclaimed as she used her yoyo to rip down a banner and drop it on the akuma’s head.

“It’s not really a specific number of hours. I just haven’t had any free time. For instance, to get away for this fight, I had to pretend to take a shower. I hope we can wrap this fight up quickly so I don’t end up wasting too much water!” He jumped down to take advantage of the akuma’s temporary blindness.

Ladybug blinked as she realized that, when he said that he hadn’t had any free time, he meant it a lot more literally than she usually did when she used the same phrase. She remembered wondering how he found the time to achieve so much. Maybe this was a clue to the answer?

She startled back to alertness when Chat Noir tossed the akuma’s bracelet at her. It disintegrated as it flew through the air until all that was left behind was a purple butterfly. She quickly purified the butterfly and repaired the damage the akuma had caused.

Chat Noir cheerfully jumped back up onto the rooftop beside her. He breathed in her ear, “I want to go somewhere private and kiss every centimeter of your skin, but you said not be any more affectionate than usual when we’re in costume.” He brushed a quick, casual kiss over her lips and turned to go. 

Ladybug caught his hand. “I miss you. Come to me when you can. Do you know where I live?”

He nodded. “From our rooftop chats.” 

“My parents told me to invite you over for brunch on Sunday at ten. Do you think you’ll be able to make it?”

“I’ll try,” he said doubtfully.

Her grip on his hand tightened possessively. “This is the first time we’ve seen each other in days. Do you really have to leave so soon?” 

He gave her an anguished look. “If I stay away much longer, someone might break into the bathroom to see what’s taking me so long. I’m already late for a fitting.”

“Okay,” Ladybug said sadly and let him go.

Instead of instantly taking advantage of his freedom, he pulled her into a quick hug and said tenderly, “Don’t worry. With the amount of public attention our elopement got, there’s no way my father can undo it without causing an even worse scandal. He’ll have to let me be seen with you sooner or later.” And then he was gone.

Ladybug stared after his retreating form, and worried.

Marinette was startled awake when the skylight above her bed opened and a dark figure, silhouetted against the night, peered down at her.. 

“I know we’re not supposed to use our powers for personal gain,” Chat Noir said uncertainly.

“Get in here!” Marinette pulled him into the bed beside her. She started stripping him of his clothes almost before the green sparkles of his detransformation had revealed them. “There’s one good thing about having been kept apart so long,” she commented. “I’m all healed up from losing my virginity. You know, they say it only hurts the first time.”

Adrien blinked at her, startled, but then grinned. “I’ve heard that too. Shall we find out if it’s true?”

Marinette’s answering kiss was a clear affirmative.

Before the sun was up the next morning, he left her with a whispered, “I love you,” and a quick kiss on her groggy forehead.

Chapter Text

On Sunday morning at ten, Adrien showed up with a photographer in tow. “I hope you don’t mind,” he whispered as he kissed Marinette’s cheeks. “The only way I could manage to accept your invitation to brunch was by turning it into a photo op.”

“The perils of marrying a model,” she joked. “I’m just glad you were able to make it.”

The camera flashed in her face.

“Hello,” she said to the photographer.

“Pretend I’m not here,” he replied.

Marinette shrugged and tried to do as he asked.

Tom stepped out of the bakery so that he could loom over Adrien. “So, you’re my new son-in-law, are you?” He menacingly slapped a rolling pin into his opposite hand several times.

Judging by Adrien’s face, the intimidation attempt was super effective. 

The photographer took a photo.

Adrien said politely (with only the faintest wobble of fear in his voice), “You must be Tom Dupain, Marinette’s father. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand for Tom to shake.

Tom crushed it in his own massive paw. Adrien managed not to flinch. 

The photographer took a photo.

Tom let go of Adrien’s hand and turned to go back inside. “I made a vol-au-vent for you.”

Adrien looked like he was trying to decode the threat hidden in Tom’s statement as he followed his new in-laws into the bakery. Then he saw the tower of stuffed puff pastries artfully arranged in the center of the table. “Oh, wow, these look amazing!”

The photographer must have agreed because he took pictures of the tiered tray from several different angles.

“Sit down,” Tom said gruffly. “Tell us about yourself.”

Marinette took Adrien’s hand and guided him to the seat beside hers. Tom and Sabine took the seats on the opposite side of the table. The photographer stayed standing.

Adrien was clearly on his very best behavior in front of his new in-laws. She’d never seen her kitty sit up so straight or radiate such an air of polite reserve. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

Adrien squeezed back before saying simply, “My name is Adrien Agreste, and I’m madly in love with your daughter. I have been since the moment I first laid eyes on her.”

“You mean a week ago?” Tom said, unimpressed.

“Uh, no.” Adrien winced at his mistake. So did Marinette. “I meant, since the moment I first laid eyes on her character.” He paused for only a moment before continuing so smoothly that Marinette wouldn’t have been able to tell he was improvising on the spot if she hadn’t known the true story of how they met. “Endless Empires has a very complex character generator. It’s easy to unintentionally create ugly characters if you don’t know what you’re doing, so most new players keep their character designs close to the defaults. I admit that’s what I did. That’s why I was so intrigued when I encountered a character that looked completely unique, and completely beautiful, but moved like the player hadn’t mastered the controls yet. She knocked me right off my feet!” He winked at Marinette. “Literally and figuratively. After she apologized, we agreed to team up to fight the first monster. By the end of that fight, I knew I was in love. Her solution was so unique! To this day, every time I fight by her side I’m always amazed by the creativity of her tactics.”

Tom softened slightly. “I know what you mean. Marinette is an amazing tactician. I’ve been playing against her for years, but she can still catch me by surprise. Just when I think I’ve got her on the ropes for once, Wham! Bam! And my health bar is gone!”

Adrien nodded enthusiastically. “I played Mechastrike against her for the first time last weekend. I used to think I was good at that game, but she wiped the floor with me!”

“You’re used to playing against the AI,” Marinette pointed out smugly. “I don’t play like the AI.”

“You certainly don’t,” Adrien said admiringly.

Tom cleared his throat and summoned up his scowl again. “You say you love and admire Marinette, but you haven’t been acting like it. Dragging her to another country to get married without a single person she knows to witness it, and then abandoning her afterward…that’s not the act of someone who values her. That’s not how marriage works.”

Adrien hung his head in shame. “I know. If it was up to me, I’d spend all day every day with her, but my days have been booked solid from 6 am to 10 pm all week.”

Marinette frowned in concern. “You’ve been working sixteen hours a day? Isn’t that illegal?” 

“It wasn’t all work. The schedule included things like meals and piano practice too. The problem was that my father assigned people to supervise me to make sure that I didn’t try to slip away. He doesn’t usually do that. He’s very angry. I’m almost certain that I can eventually convince him to let me be with Marinette, but it’s going to take time.” 

“You’re a grown man!” Tom slammed a fist into the table. “You don’t need your father’s permission to spend time with your wife!”

Adrien’s eyes went wide, first in alarm at the violent gesture, but then in surprise at the new idea. “But…”

“You think Marinette would let me separate her from the people she loves? No! If I tried, she would move out.”

“Move out?” Adrien echoed as if the thought had never crossed his mind. His eyes went even wider. “We could! Marinette, would you like to get a house of our own? One where we can live together, just the two of us?” 

“Of course I want that,” Marinette said. “I’ve been dreaming of someday sharing a house, children and pets with you since before we even started dating.”

“Children?” Adrien echoed. If his eyes could have gone any wider, they would have. Then a slow smile crept onto his face. “Yes, I think I’d like that. Someday. And a hamster? Like we always talked about?”

“Yes!” Mariette agreed enthusiastically, but then she sighed. “Realistically, though, a house in this part of Paris is probably way out of our price range. Even a tiny, shabby apartment in a less central location is more than I can afford. I don’t know about you.” 

Adrien frowned. “Good point. Father will likely cut off my supply of money if I try to move out. Then how would I pay for our house?”

“Don’t you have your own money?” Marinette asked. “I mean, you’ve been working professionally as a model since you were thirteen and an actor since you were fourteen, right? That’s what I read online. And not on a small scale. Both your advertising campaigns and your movies were wildly successful. You must have earned a lot of money from them, and I didn’t see anything online about you spending it wildly. Although, of course I won’t judge you if you did! It was your money to spend however you chose!”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. “I’ve never really paid attention to money. I was always free to spend as much as I wanted, but I never found much to spend it on besides games, DVDs and CDs.” He leaned over and whispered to Marinette, “And cheese. I buy a lot of cheese.” He winked.

“That still can’t add up to more than, what, a few hundred euros a month?” Marinette calculated. “Whereas an average model typically gets paid that much per day for a one-off job or, if they work for the designer year round, they’d earn a salary of maybe a hundred thousand euros a year, depending on their level of experience, their looks, and how much the designer can afford to offer. A model with your level of fame should be earning…I don’t know. But considerably more than that!”

“Maybe even enough to afford a house in central Paris,” Tom suggested avariciously.

“But I work for my father,” Adrien pointed out. “I’m not a typical employee. I’m part of the family. People don’t get paid for contributing to the family business.”

“They absolutely do,” Marinette said.

“We pay Marinette for every hour she helps us out in the bakery,” Tom said.

Adrien looked thoughtful. After a moment, he said primly, “I’ll look into it. Maybe I’ve been accumulating money all this time without knowing it.”

“I’m sure that must be the case,” Marinette said earnestly, unwilling to believe that Gabriel Agreste would cheat his own son. “I mean, not that I’m after your money! But you did say you wanted a house where we could live together. And, even if we don’t buy a house, or anything else, you should still know how much you’re being paid.”

“That’s just part of being an adult,” Tom declared. “You’ve got to keep track of your finances and stand up for your rights!”

Adrien nodded meekly, looking overwhelmed.

“Would you like a biscuit, Adrien?” Sabine asked as a gentle reminder that they were supposed to be eating brunch.

“Yes, I would,” he said politely but very sincerely. He looked the biscuits over with hungry, happy eyes before choosing one and biting into it with an expression of pure bliss. 

The photographer’s flash went off in his face.

Marinette kissed her new husband goodbye. It was a long kiss because she didn’t want to let go of him, but a restrained one since her parents were watching. 

“See you later,” Marinette said reluctantly.

“Yes, see you later,” Adrien echoed just as reluctantly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Marinette clung to him for a few more last, desperate seconds before forcing herself to let him go.

“Goodbye, Mr. Dupain, Mrs. Cheng,” Adrien said politely. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” Sabine said.

“Take care of yourself, son. And get things straightened out with your father!” Tom ordered.

Adrien nodded before getting into the car that was waiting for him at the curb. The photographer got in too, and the car drove away.

“So, that was Adrien,” Marinette said with a mixture of nervousness and pride once the car was out of sight. “What did you think?”

Her parents exchanged looks.

“He seemed like a very nice boy,” Sabine said. “Quieter than I expected from your descriptions.”

“I think he was just scared of Papa,” Marinette said with amusement. “I’ve never seen him so polite.”

“He might also be different in person than he is online,” Sabine suggested. “People sometimes are. You haven’t spent much time with him in person yet.”

“Maybe,” Marinette said doubtfully. 

She tried to remember whether she’d gotten that impression from the things she’d pieced together about Adrien from her online research, but so much of what she’d seen had been modelling photos or shallow interviews that it had been hard to get any real sense of his personality from them.

Thinking back, he’d been quiet and restrained at the wedding reception too, when talking to people other than her, at least until he’d downed a few drinks. He’d seemed pretty much like his usual self when he was talking to her though, both at the party and in his room the next day. After they’d discovered each other’s identities, on the train and in Scotland, he’d been entirely himself. 

She shook off her worries. So what if Adrien was a little shy around strangers in a way that Chat Noir wasn’t? Marinette was less confident than Ladybug too.

“He needs to grow a backbone,” Tom huffed. “You always said that he was recklessly brave, but I guess it must be easier to stand up to digital monsters than to real people. After all, digital monsters can’t really hurt you. If he wants to be married to the most beautiful, talented, wonderful girl in the whole world, he needs to do more to prove that he’s worthy of you!”

Marinette bit her lip. The fights that had prompted her to call Chat Noir “recklessly brave” hadn’t been against digital monsters, but she couldn’t say that. 

Instead, she said, “Gabriel Agreste is known for being as demanding of others as he is of himself. It must be hard to go against the wishes of someone like that, especially if they’re also your only family. I can’t blame Adrien for wanting to repair his relationship with his father. I know I couldn’t bear it if the two of you were ever too mad to forgive me.” 

Marinette’s parents hugged her.

“We could never be that mad at you,” Tom sniffled.

“When did you get so wise?’ Sabine praised her daughter.

“I had good role models,” Marinette returned the compliment.

Mere hours after the brunch finished, the celebrity news website that the photographer apparently worked for posted an article about Adrien meeting his new in-laws. By the next day, the photos had spread like wildfire across social media. 

Marinette had thought she was used to public attention. As Ladybug, she was on the news multiple times a week. Even as Marinette, she’d made it onto the news for winning design or video game competitions, or for getting caught up in akuma attacks or protests against pollution or government corruption. Ladybug and Chat Noir’s relationship had been the talk of the city when they first became an official couple, and people still seemed to have a bottomless hunger for gossip about it.

The difference was that people almost unanimously thought that Ladybug and Chat Noir belonged together. They did not feel the same way about Marinette and Adrien.

After an hour of Marinette doomscrolling through comments that seemed divided roughly evenly between people who thought she was Adrien’s true love and people who thought she was a man-stealing whore, Tikki placed herself in the path of Marinette’s mouse. “Enough,” the little kwami said. “It doesn’t matter what these people think. You know the truth.”

“Yes, but…”

“What would Alya say if she was here?” Tikki asked sternly.

“She’d tell me to ignore the haters because they’re just sad little people who will never do anything half as awesome as the people they’re hating on.”

“Exactly,” Tikki nodded sagely.

“Still…” Marinette looked back at the screen.

“Marinette,” Tikki said sternly.

Marinette closed the browser and opened her design sketchbook. 

“It could be a lot worse,” Marinette said with false cheer. “The original article put a positive spin on everything, and only half the people in the comments hate me.”

“That’s true,” Tikki agreed.

Marinette didn’t manage to come up with a single design she was satisfied with that day.

Chapter Text

“Good news!” Adrien texted Marinette on Tuesday. “Father has agreed to meet you.”

“What!? How!?” Marinette immediately replied.

“He asked me who designed the dresses for Alya’s bridal party. I think he was impressed when I said it was you.”

Marinette flung herself backwards onto her chaise, hugging her phone to her chest. Her favourite fashion designer had seen her designs and he was impressed. This was her wildest dream come true.

She’d better not mess it up! 

“When? Where?” she texted Adrien urgently.

“The meeting is at 8 am tomorrow morning. I’ll come pick you up at 7:30. Wear something you designed.”

“I’ll be ready!” she promised.

It required waking up hours earlier than usual, but Marinette managed to be flawlessly dressed and made up by 7:30 am the next morning.

The moment she stepped out the front door of the bakery, dozens of cameras flashed in her face and what seemed like hundreds of voices shouted at her. Adrien’s long, silver car was parked by the curb barely more than a meter away but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make it past the crowd to reach it.

Adrien sprang from the back seat of the car and flung his arms around her. Suddenly, she didn’t care about the crowd. All she cared about was holding onto him now that she finally had him back in her grasp.

“I think I saw more of you before I knew who you were than I have since we got married. I miss you,” Marinette said quietly as cameras flashed and voices yelled around them.

“I know,” Adrien murmured miserably. “I miss you too.”

Marinette released him and took a determined step toward the car. “But this is our chance to change that. Let’s go talk to your father.”

The yelling voices, if possible, grew even louder.

Adrien’s chauffeur, whom she vaguely recalled as a menacing, gorilla-like figure from a drunken hallucination, stepped out of the car and growled at the crowd. Surprisingly, he still looked like a menacing, gorilla-like figure even though she was now sober. 

The crowd meekly backed up a step and grew quieter. 

Part of Marinette was horribly embarrassed at meeting the man again after the kind of first impression he must have formed of her, but her gratitude to him for cowing the crowd, and her eagerness to meet Gabriel Agreste, won out. She seized the opportunity he’d provided her to run to the car and slide into it, Adrien right behind her. The car aggressively forced its way past the journalists, fans, and curious bystanders. 

“We were only waiting outside your door for a few minutes, but I guess that was long enough to draw attention,” Adrien sighed, looking around resignedly at the people pounding on the car’s windows or yanking at its doorhandles. 

“This is insane!” Marinette stared in horror at the frantic faces just on the other side of the glass. She felt like these people wanted to tear her apart with their bare hands. 

“It’s worse than usual,” Adrien conceded, seeming far less concerned than Marinette.

Finally the car pulled free of the crowd. Several people tried to chase it but they couldn’t keep up. 

Marinette slumped back against the car’s plush upholstery in relief. 

Which brought back memories of the last time she and Adrien had been in this backseat. She tried not to blush at the memory of how she’d sloppily made out with him when she hadn’t even known that he was Chat Noir! Now, she looked out the window to avoid meeting his eyes because she felt so guilty at cheating on him even though, as it turned out, she’d done it with him.

Adrien didn’t seem to share her embarrassment. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. When she glanced at him, startled, he gave her a lascivious wink.

She couldn’t help smiling.

Far sooner than she expected, the car drove through the gates of the Agreste mansion and stopped in front of the front steps. She’d never realized quite how close that mansion was to her house since she’d always peeked at it as Ladybug rather than as Marinette. She could easily have arrived here on foot…if not for the crowd of predatory reporters…and the locked gate…and what a disaster it would be if she tripped in her high heels and got her outfit dirty right before her meeting with Gabriel Agreste!

Come to think of it, she should probably be very grateful that Adrien had picked her up in the car. 

But maybe, once this insanity was over and her life returned to some semblance of normality, she could walk over here on a regular basis. Adrien would probably give her the keycode to the gate if she asked. 

Unless she messed up this interview so badly that his father forbade her from ever setting foot anywhere near Adrien ever again.

Adrien led her into the house and up a different staircase than the one that led to his bedroom. It ended in an imposing pair of tall, black doors. Adrien knocked on them. 

“Come in,” a steely male voice came from within.

Marinette gulped and checked over her outfit one last time. Adrien opened the door just wide enough for them to walk through, and they stepped inside.

Marinette found herself standing in a spacious office with striking monochrome decor. Black and white photographs of Adrien at various ages in modelling poses decorated the walls. An enormous portrait of a woman with blonde hair and green eyes painted in the style of Gustav Klimpt dominated the far wall of the room. Based on her recent internet research, Marinette was pretty sure that the woman was Adrien’s late mother, Emilie Graham de Vanily.

A tall, thin, white-haired man in a striking designer suit stood in front of the portrait watching them expressionlessly over a computer monitor. Marinette recognized Gabriel Agreste from photographs in books she’d read about him. He looked older, and colder, than he had in those photos.

“Father, this is Marinette,” Adrien said bravely. “My wife.”

“You designed these?” Gabriel asked without preamble. He gestured to the computer screen in front of him. 

Marinette timidly walked up to him so that she could see what he was looking at. It was one of the wedding photos Alya had posted to the Ladyblog from the airport just before shutting off her internet connection for the duration of her honeymoon. The photo showed the bride and groom, Alya and Nino, surrounded by their bridesmaids and best man: Marinette, Alya’s three sisters, and Nino’s younger brother. All of them looked radiantly happy and (although Marinette didn’t want to brag) perfectly colour-coordinated.

“Yes, I did. I sewed them too,” Marinette said proudly. “I also made this outfit.” She gestured to the one she was wearing.

Gabriel studied her with a grim expression. “It seems that you do own at least one decent set of clothes.” 

Marinette couldn’t help grinning at his praise, no matter how faint.

“Which begs the question of why you felt the need to steal my wife’s clothes!” He glared at her.

Marinette abruptly stopped smiling. “I didn’t want to take the time to pick up clothes from home. That would have required explaining things to my parents, which might have caused us to miss our train.”

Gabriel Agreste pursed his lips. “Or, more likely, they would have tried to stop you. As I would have if I’d known your intentions.”

Marinette couldn’t deny that.

Gabriel pulled up the picture of Adrien and Marinette eating lunch at the cafe by the train station and stared at it with loathing. “I personally designed that outfit for my beloved Emilie, so you can imagine how I felt seeing it desecrated by a thief.” 

Adrien stepped forward as if he could physically shield Marinette from his father’s anger by placing his body between them. “I told her to take Mother’s clothes. You know that Mother would have been happy to lend clothes to Marinette if she was still here to ask.”

“Do I?” Gabriel asked dangerously. “You think your mother would have been happy about you bringing a drunk, naked girl into our house?”

“I wasn’t naked,” Marinette muttered.

“I think mother would have been happy that I found true love,” Adrien said defiantly. “I think that she would have liked Marinette. I think you’ll like her too if you give her a chance. She’s a very talented fashion designer.” 

Gabriel’s eyes raked Marinette from head to toe and back again. “She does have talent,” he conceded reluctantly. 

Under other conditions, such a statement from Gabriel Agreste would have made Marinette’s heart soar. Now, she just watched him warily.

Gabriel stepped out from behind the desk and, hands clasped behind his back, walked over to look up at one of the photographs of Adrien. “I thought at first that you might have lied to Adrien about having designed the bridesmaids’ dresses, and the rest of the set, but Ms. Cesaire seems like the type of person who would be far less likely to buy a designer wedding dress than to accept her best friend’s offer to make one for her. I also looked into your credentials. You were one of the top students at your school of design the year you graduated. And yet you claim not to have known that Adrien was my son when you began your relationship with him?”

“I had no idea,” Marinette said fervently. “When I discovered who he was, I nearly changed my mind about eloping with him.”

“Yet you went through with it,” Gabriel Agreste accused her icily.

“If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said that I’d do anything to earn your good opinion,” Marinette said respectfully, “but there are a few things I value even more, and my relationship with Adrien is one of them.”

Adrien smiled at her in surprised delight. Marinette smiled back, enthralled by his beauty.

Gabriel continued looking up at the photograph. “My lawyers tell me that I cannot simply get your hasty marriage annulled without your consent. My brand managers tell me that attempting to do so would only create more bad publicity. What will it take to buy your consent?”

Adrien stepped between them again. “Nothing you can offer would convince me to give up Marinette. There is nothing more precious to me than her.”

“That goes for me too!” Marinette said quickly.

Gabriel twisted his wedding ring back and forth on his finger in a silent gesture of annoyance. Finally, he turned around to look at them again. “It seems that you have Adrien entirely in your grasp and I am powerless to do anything about it. What are your intentions now that you have us at your mercy?”

“It’s not like that!” Marinette protested. “I love Adrien! While it’s true I’ve admired your work ever since I was old enough to know what fashion design was, that has nothing to do with why I married him. All I want is to share my life with him and do my best to make him happy. I just want to be his wife.”

Adrien said defiantly, “And all I want is to be a good husband to the only woman I’ve ever loved. You, of all people, should be able to understand that, Father.”

Gabriel winced and looked toward the portrait of his late wife. “What would you say about all this if you were here, Emilie?” he muttered forlornly under his breath.

He turned back to Marinette. “You’re not going to demand a position in my company?”

Marinette answered carefully, “If you want to take advantage of my talents, I would be honoured to devote them to our family’s business. If not, all I ask is that you stop trying to keep Adrien and me apart. My own label has already been bringing me as much work as I can handle, and some excellent press. I’m confident in my ability to succeed without your help.”

Gabriel looked thoughtful as he considered her words. Instead of answering her directly, when he finally spoke, he addressed Adrien. “I don’t approve of the rushed, thoughtless way you’ve gone about all this, but you could have done worse in your choice of partner.”

“Marinette is amazing,” Adrien agreed.

“When I met your mother, I knew right away that she was everything I could ever want,” Gabriel reminisced. His expression turned stern again, “although we at least waited a few months before getting married.”

Adrien said levelly. “I’ve known that Marinette was the woman I wanted to marry since before I was fourteen years old. When I saw an opportunity, I seized it.”

“Since…” Gabriel froze so abruptly in surprise that he forgot to maintain his usual elegance. “...since you were how old?”

“I met her a few weeks before my fourteenth birthday. It was love at first sight. Every moment I’ve spent with her since then has only made me love her more. I’ve been in love with her for ten years now, and I intend to love her until the day I die.”

“That’s not possible! I would have known.”

“You never asked.” There was an uncharacteristic edge in Adrien’s voice.

The men locked eyes in a staring contest of sorts that Marinette didn’t know how to interpret.

Gabriel was the first to look away. “I’m not the parent your mother was,” he said regretfully.

Adrien said nothing.

Gabriel’s fists clenched. “I would do anything, give up anything, to make it so that we never lost her. You shouldn’t have had to grow up without a mother!”

“But I did grow up,” Adrien said gently. “And now I’m ready to move into a house of my own with my wife.”

“Move…move out?” Gabriel repeated. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” Adrien said simply. 

The two men exchanged another long look.

“This is not the time to discuss it. I have another meeting scheduled,” Gabriel said brusquely. He strode back to his computer.

After several seconds of being ignored, Marinette decided that they’d been dismissed. “It was an honor to meet you,” she called a little shrilly and headed for the door, pulling Adrien with her by the hand.

As soon as the doors were closed behind them, Marinette slumped against them, emotionally exhausted.

“That went better than I expected,” Adrien said, sounding pleased. 

“You think that went well?” Marinette asked incredulously. “I mean, he didn’t forbid me to ever come near you again, but…”

“Exactly,” Adrien said cheerfully. “Since you’re here anyway, would you like to come to work with me?”

Marinette straightened up. “I would love to!”

Chapter Text

During the drive to Adrien’s workplace, which turned out to be a film set where they would be shooting a commercial, she sent her parents a message to let them know that the meeting with Gabriel Agreste had gone well enough that she would be spending the day with Adrien.

She had great fun following Adrien around for the rest of the day, watching him work and chatting with the people around him. Somewhat to her surprise, they all seemed to accept her right to be there. They seemed to take it for granted that, when she’d married into the Agreste family, she’d married into the company too.

Adrien was even more reserved with his co-workers than he had been with her parents. Marinette was starting to suspect that he wasn’t just shy with strangers. Was it possible that her boisterous kitty was really this quietly proper in real life? His perfect posture never slipped for a second, and he didn’t joke or brag to his co-workers even once.

When she’d first discovered his identity, she’d thought that being a rich and famous super model explained why he was so vain and self-aggrandizing as a superhero, but clearly that wasn’t the whole story. Maybe, without a mask hiding them, he thought his looks spoke for themselves?

Marinette had made pretend commercials as part of her classwork at her school of design, but this was the first time that she’d had a chance to observe a real, professional team in the process of making one. She loved it. Mostly, she observed from the sidelines, but there were a few times when she got to join in on the fun.

While Adrien was getting last minute adjustments made to his outfit, Marinette helped the seamstress by holding the fabric in place while the seamstress stitched. 

“Thank you!” the seamstress said. “Some tasks really require more than two hands, don’t they?”

“Too true,” Marinette agreed.

Adrien waited patiently until the new stitching on the adjusted seam was securely tied off and then stole a kiss from Marinette.

While Adrien was getting his makeup done, Marinette idly sketched the makeup artist in an outfit that would suit her better than the one she was actually wearing. When the makeup was complete, she gave the woman the sketch. 

The woman went from puzzled to surprised to delighted as she realized what she was looking at. “This is gorgeous! Do you mind if I have it made?”

“Please do!” Marinette said with a delighted grin of her own.

When the photographer wanted more passion from Adrien during the photoshoot, he pulled Marinette in front of the camera and told Adrien to hold her hand and look into her eyes. “Sì! Sì! Amore!” he shouted, sounding pleased with the results.

Marinette was glad she’d worn her best clothes today.

Adrien’s chauffeur drove them back to the mansion for lunch. Like the rest of the mansion, the dining room was massive and made of marble. The table was so long that the two place settings at one end of it looked almost absurd.

“I’m not stealing your father’s lunch, am I?” she asked nervously when Adrien waved her to take one of the two chairs with plates in front of them.

“No, he always eats in his office,” Adrien quickly reassured her. “That plate is for you.”

During the meal, Adrien spent so much time gazing at Marinette adoringly that she had to laughingly remind him more than once to eat. 

“It’s just so nice to have you here sharing a meal with me!” he said earnestly.

After lunch, Adrien took a quick shower to wash off the makeup while Marinette explored his room and tried not to blush at the memories the sight of it brought back.

They spent the afternoon at Gabriel Agreste’s head design studio. It was everything Marinette had ever dreamed it would be, and she’d dreamed about this particular studio a lot over the years. 

After Adrien had given her a tour of the building and introduced her to the employees, the two of them closed themselves off in an office that had Adrien’s name on the door and a spectacular wooden desk topped with an expensive-looking computer inside.

“Privacy at last!” Marinette draped her arms around Adrien’s neck as he closed the door. 

“Unfortunately, I have things that need to be done before tomorrow, so I need to actually work today,” Adrien said regretfully. 

Then he kissed her anyway.

Marinette returned his kiss enthusiastically before saying, only a little disappointed, “That’s okay. I have work I need to catch up on too.” She pulled out her sketch pad.

Marinette had a whole pile of things that she’d promised to people but hadn’t gotten around to making yet, first because of Alya and Nino’s wedding and then because of everything that had happened with Adrien. She’d been trying hard to catch up on them for the last week and a half. She’d managed to finish most of the stuff that was already designed and only required sewing, plus a few of the most routine designs, but every time she’d tried to work on anything that required true creativity she’d ended up crumpling up all her sketches in disgust. 

Now, she suddenly felt so inspired that designs poured out of her almost faster than she could sketch them. Maybe it was because she’d spent the whole day up to this point watching one of the greatest design studios in the world in action. Maybe it was because Adrien was sitting on the other side of the desk from her, no longer hidden from her by a mask, or kept away from her by his father’s disapproval, but finally, truly, completely hers. In any case, she got more work done that afternoon than she had during the previous week and a half.

They ate supper together in the same oversized dining room where they’d had lunch. The food was excellent even if the space was intimidating.

“Your father won’t be joining us for supper either?” Marinette asked, a bit disappointed, when she saw that, again, there were only two plates.

“He’s probably still working,” Adrien replied casually.

After supper, Adrien declared her a “much more attractive audience” for his piano practice than the one he’d had supervising him for the last several days. Marinette still couldn’t believe how beautifully he played (although she did feel mild regret that they couldn’t switch to rock music like they had the first time he’d played for her).

“I should probably go home now,” she said reluctantly when the colours of the sunset had faded into darkness outside the wall of windows. 

Adrien took her hands. “Stay here with me tonight?” he begged. 

Marinette barely hesitated. “Yes.” 

She sent her parents a quick text to let them know she wouldn’t be home that night.

“You know I love sharing your bed, but this one is a lot more comfortable,” Adrien pointed out smugly as he pulled her toward it. 

“My bed is a bit narrow for two,” Marinette conceded.

“And hard,” Adrien said.

“Being hard isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Marinette purred suggestively.

“It is for mattresses,” Adrien retorted. “For other things though…” He trailed off into a suggestive purr of his own as he started unbuckling his pants.

“Have I told you that you get up too early?” Marinette growled at Adrien the next morning.

“Daily,” he laughed. “Sorry, I tried to slide out of bed without waking you, but I guess I haven’t got the hang of it yet. You can go back to sleep if you want, my sweet night owl…or you can join me in the shower.”

Marinette forced her eyes open. “That second option just might be worth getting up for.”

“I do have a good shower,” Adrien said smugly.

“And an even better body.” Marinette chased him to the bathroom so that she could get her hands on it again.

Later, a freshly cleaned, towel-wrapped Marinette looked down at her clothes in dismay. “Ugh, I guess I have no choice but to put these back on. At least they’re normal clothes this time.”

“You can borrow mine or my mother’s again if you want,” Adrien offered.

Marinette shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I prefer my own even if they are wrinkled and dirty.” She started to put them back on though putting dirty panties onto her clean body made her shudder with disgust. “I can change into clean ones as soon as I get home.”

“Do you have to go home?” Adrien asked, his kitten eyes begging her to stay.

“I do,” she told him apologetically. “Even if I didn’t need clean clothes, I need to spend today working at home. I got so much design work done yesterday, thanks to you, but today I need to translate those designs into patterns.”

“You should keep some clean clothes here. And sewing supplies. In fact, you should keep all of them here. Move in with me Marinette! As you can see, I have more than enough space.” He waved an arm at the expanse of the massive room. “I can clear all my stuff out of those closets by the stairs so that you can store your clothes and supplies in them. Maybe move some arcade games…” He studied the corner of the room between the stairs and the windows with analytical eyes.

“Move in here? But…”

“I know we talked about buying a house of our own, but that will take time. I don’t want to wait! Besides, this place is fortified against intruders. It will be safer for you to stay here until the media frenzy dies down.”

Marinette bit her lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He pulled her into a reassuring hug. “It will get better, I promise. All we have to do is not give them anything to report on. We’ll be so steadfastly devoted to each other, so respectable, that they’ll lose interest.”

Marinette let herself sag into his embrace. “I remember what it was like when we first started dating as Ladybug and Chat Noir. At first, there were so many people coming up to congratulate us and take pictures every time we went on a date that we couldn’t enjoy the dates. Then the news media got bored with being happy about us getting together and switched to treating any picture of us frowning as evidence that we were about to break up even when it should have been obvious that those frowns were aimed at an akuma.”

“But eventually they just accepted that we were a couple and let us go on dates in peace,” Adrien pointed out encouragingly.

“Sort of. People still interrupt our dates with requests to take selfies, and gossip about every detail of our relationship though.”

“That’s still better though, right?” Adrien said hopefully. “Maybe not perfect, but better?”

Marinette sighed. “I guess so.” She tucked her face under Adrien’s chin as she silently, morosely contemplated their situation. At length, she concluded, “You’re worth it. Besides, if I achieve my dream of becoming a massively successful fashion designer like your father, this is the kind of fame that comes with it. Even if you’d turned out to be a normal guy, we could have ended up with this level of public scrutiny if my label took off.”

“At least we already have practice dealing with fame as superheroes, and now we have a quiet place where we can be alone together.”  Adrien gestured to his room.

Marinette looked around the room and tried to picture living in it. “I don’t know about moving in with you here. I’d never even imagined living in a place like this until you suggested it a minute ago! I need time to think about it.”

“Take all the time you need.” Adrien kissed her forehead. “I’m so greedy that I want every minute with you that I can get, but I’m not selfish enough to expect you to uproot your whole life for me. My invitation will remain open whether you choose to accept it now, in a month, or not until I have a house of my own to offer you.”

Plagg shouted, “Tikki is not allowed to put her sugary snacks in my cheese cupboard!” The little black kwami hovered over a cupboard with his little arms spread out protectively. 

Marinette startled. Logically, she knew that Adrien had a kwami, just like she did, and that she should expect that kwami to pop up out of nowhere, just like Tikki did, but she wasn’t used to it yet.

Tikki swooped down at Plagg to retort, “I don’t want my delicious treats contaminated by the stench of your cheese anyway!”

“Um…” Marinette said. “I’m not sure we can live together, Adrien. We may need to keep these two separated. They are opposites after all.”

“Like matter and anti-matter?” Adrien asked, eying the two kwamis with dread.

Plagg snorted. “She loves me. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Tikki rolled her eyes at him but then addressed the humans sweetly. “Don’t worry. Plagg and I have been partners for millenia. We may bicker, but we’re actually close friends. We can live together if you choose to.”

The look Plagg gave Tikki was almost fond. “Just as long as you don’t let her touch my cheese.”

“Who would want to touch your stinky cheese? Not me!” Tikki said loftily.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Plagg taunted.

Adrien gave the kwamis a bemused look. “You probably can’t tell because Plagg has a weird way of showing affection, but I think he really likes Tikki,” he told Marinette.

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed, equally disconcerted. “Tikki may sound like she’s scolding Plagg, but she’s actually being playful. I think she must really like him too.”

“So they’re less matter and anti-matter than they are an old married couple?” Adrien asked in awe.

“I think so,” Marinette said, staring in astonishment as the kwamis chased each other around the room. “Tikki, do you want me to move in with Adrien so that you can live with Plagg?” she asked.

Tikki came to an abrupt halt in front of Marinette. “That’s up to you, Marinette. I would never try to influence such an important decision.”

Plagg landed on Adrien’s head. “You should move in with this guy so he stops whining all the time about how lonely he is. I may be awesome at foosball and video games but he really needs another human to play against.”

“Plagg!” Adrien protested.

“And all the longing sighs about how much he misses you…You have no idea what I’ve had to put up with over the years,” Plagg continued relentlessly. 

Adrien turned blushing cheeks and apologetic eyes toward Marinette.

“My holder is just as bad,” Tikki said. “She spends hours every week just staring at pictures of him.”

“Tikki!” Marinette gasped at the betrayal.

Adrien’s expression changed from humiliation to delight.

A knock on the door sent both kwamis into hiding. “Adrien, you’re already behind schedule,” a woman’s voice called sternly from the other side of the bedroom door. “Your breakfast has been waiting on the dining room table for the last ten minutes. I assume Marinette will be eating with you?”

“Yes, she will. Sorry, Natalie, we’ll be right there,” Adrien called back. 

He gallantly offered Marinette his arm. She took it with an amused smile.

Chapter Text

Marinette was shocked at the sight of the bakery when Adrien dropped her off in front of it. Not only was a remnant of the predatory crowd from the previous day still lingering around the building, but there was graffiti spray painted on one of the bakery’s windows. The crude drawing was clearly meant to depict Marinette, and it was not flattering. 

The journalists (or fans, or whoever they were) sprang up excitedly as the car pulled up to the curb. One yelled, “What do you say to people who accuse you of creating unrealistic expectations for online relationships?” 

Another yelled, “How did you coerce Gabriel Agreste’s employees…” The end of his question was drowned out by so many other shouting voices that it became impossible to distinguish any individual words.

Marinette flung herself out of the car so fast that Adrien barely managed to get out of her way in time and ran into the bakery before anyone could intercept her. Once she was behind the protection of the door, she leaned back out and blew Adrien a kiss. He blew one back to her, got back in the car, and drove off.

“Have those people been out there the whole time I’ve been gone?” she asked her mother in dismay.

“Yes,” Sabine said, looking annoyed. “I don’t like these ones. The ones who were here last week bought croissants and asked their questions politely. These ones are scaring away our customers.” Her frown deepened as she looked around the empty bakery.

It took a lot to ruffle Sabine’s serenity, and she rarely had a harsh word to say about anybody. For her, such open criticism indicated a level of anger that would have had another person screaming in rage.

“What do you mean ‘the ones who were here last week’? Were there journalists here last week?”

“Oh yes,” Sabine said. “There have been journalists here to ask us questions about you every day since your relationship with Adrien became news. You just didn’t see them because you were always up in your room.”

She glanced toward the TV, which was displaying a journalist interviewing someone Marinette vaguely recalled meeting yesterday over a caption that read, “Gabriel Agreste employees love Marinette”

“I’m so sorry! This is all my fault!” Marinette moaned. 

“It’s not your fault, sweetie. And, like I said, I didn’t mind telling the polite, professional journalists all about you. Your father and I are very proud of you.”

Marinette looked at the faces peering in at them through the spraypainted window. They looked hungry, and not for croissants.

Marinette ignored her mother’s protest of, “Sweetie, don’t!” as she marched out of the bakery and shouted, “Hey, loiterers! Leave my parents and their customers alone! Go home if you’re not here to buy baked goods.”

“Answer our questions!” one of the loiterers shouted back.

“Yeah!” another one agreed. “If you answer our questions then we’ll be happy to go home.”

“Does that go for all of you?” Marinette asked, glaring around at them.

There were nods and mutters of agreement, some more reluctant than others.

Marinette put her hands on her hips. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

She was immediately surrounded by a tight circle of cameras, phones, and microphones. It took all of her courage not to cringe back. She reminded herself that she’d done plenty of press conferences as Ladybug, most of them in front of crowds much bigger than this one.

Their questions hit her like a wall of noise. She held up her hands in protest. “One at a time! You!” She pointed to the woman who had made the offer to go home if she answered their questions. The rest grudgingly quieted.

“You visited Gabriel Agreste’s studio yesterday. Does that mean you will be the next head designer when he eventually retires?”

“Gabriel Agreste has agreed to let Adrien and me be together. We haven’t discussed anything beyond that.”

“But you visited his studio,” the woman tried to pin her down.

“I spent the day with Adrien. After we got his father’s permission to be together, we wanted to spend time together even if Adrien had to work during it.”

“Then why are you not with him now?” a man demanded.

“I have work of my own to catch up on,” Marinette said simply. She held up her sketchbook for illustration.

“Are those the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?”

“Yes.”

They waited a beat for her to elaborate. She didn’t.

“How is Adrien in bed?”

“Th-that’s none of your business!” Marinette spluttered.

“You agreed to answer our questions.”

“That one’s too personal! Adrien may be a celebrity, but our private lives are still private.”

“Oh, don’t play coy now. You obviously want attention or you wouldn’t have eloped the way you did.”

Marinette spluttered in disbelief. When she regained the ability to put together a coherent sentence, she asked, “Tell me, is there any way I could have married Adrien that would have been less attention seeking?”

“You could have not married him,” a woman pointed out.

“He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. He’s been my boyfriend since we were fourteen. Not marrying him was never an option,” Marinette said fiercely.

There were echoes of, “fourteen?!” and furious scribbling in notebooks.

 “You know, the way you’re dodging the question makes it seem like he’s terrible in bed,” the man who’d originally asked the question taunted.

“He’s spectacular!” Marinette retorted. “Not that I have anyone else to compare him to.”

There was more eager scribbling in notebooks.

“What do you love most about Adrien?”

“Oh, so many things that it’s hard to pick one!” Marinette tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t hint at Adrien being Chat Noir, which meant that she couldn’t mention his courage or the way he always had her back. “He makes life fun. I love his sense of humour.”

There were disbelieving mutters of, “Sense of humour? Adrien Agreste?”

“He’s smart, and talented, and so romantic! He’s just an absolute sweetheart!” Marinette clasped her hands to her heart as she thought of the man she loved. 

“Why did you decide to elope?”

“When Adrien suggested it, I thought he was so caught up in the excitement of finally meeting each other that he didn’t want to wait more than a day to get married. Now, I’m starting to suspect that he was worried you lot would scare me off if he gave me time to realize what I was in for.” Marinette made a face at them. “I’ve answered your questions. Now clear out so customers can get to the bakery without you guys intimidating them.”

“But…”

Marinette put her foot down. “I mean it. Leave my parents alone.” 

They grudgingly lowered their cameras and microphones. 

“See you later,” one of them called.

“Yeah, see you later,” another echoed.

“What? No!” Marinette spluttered. “Stay away! That was the deal!”

“We promised to go home. We never promised not to come back. Thanks for the quotes. They’re gold!” a man laughed.

Marinette’s shoulders slumped as she realized that she’d only made the problem worse by talking to them. Adrien had said that the key to making the media frenzy die down was to avoid doing anything newsworthy. She hadn’t really understood what he meant until now. She’d thought that it was enough to just avoid doing anything scandalous, but she should have realized that she needed to avoid giving the reporters anything to talk about at all. Now that their strategy of hanging around the bakery had proven successful, there would probably be even more of them here tomorrow. She’d messed up.

Ladybug didn’t have this problem. When Ladybug offered a message of reassurance or disclosed facts, public anxiety quieted. Journalists treated Ladybug with respect. And they never, ever followed her home.

“Maman, I think I just made a big mistake,” Marinette admitted as she shuffled back into the bakery.

Sabine pursed her lips without saying anything.

“I’m putting you in danger just by being here,” Marinette said mournfully. “I should leave.”

When Adrien had said it would be safer if she lived with him, she’d thought he’d meant that it would be safer for her, but maybe it would be safer for her family too.

“No!” Sabine exclaimed in dismay. “I told you, it’s not your fault!”

“It is,” Marinette said sadly. “Adrien asked me to move in with him, behind the gates of his mansion, protected by his security system. I think I should take him up on his offer.”

“We don’t want you to leave!” Sabine protested.

Tom charged out from the back of the bakery, where he’d been too busy baking to catch the start of the conversation. “What’s this about Marinette leaving?” he shouted in alarm.

“I’m moving in with Adrien,” Marinette said firmly. “When I do, those people will hopefully stop harassing you.”

“We’ll protect you! You don’t have to leave!” Tom protested. He snatched up a bread paddle and waved it menacingly to demonstrate his ability to protect Marinette.

“I know,” Marinette said fondly. “But you shouldn’t have to, and…and I think I want to. Move in with Adrien, I mean. I did marry him. I think…I think I’d like to live with him.”

“Are you sure?” Tom asked piteously, his paddle drooping.

Marinette looked at the stressed but loving faces of her parents, and then at the graffiti on the window. She thought about what it had been like to spend the previous night in Adrien’s bed (without being too drunk to appreciate it). She remembered how happy the kwamis had looked when they were playing together, and what Plagg had said about Adrien being lonely. 

She smiled reassuringly at her parents. “I’m sure. It will take me a few days to make the arrangements, but I think it’s time for me to start my new life as a married woman.”

“If that’s what you want…” Sabine said uncertainly.

“It is,” Marinette said firmly. 

She strode up the stairs to her room before her confidence could crack.

Her room was filled with warm light tinted by the coloured paper she’d put over the windows years ago and cluttered with a lifetime’s worth of toys and other decorations that she’d made herself. The sight of it, after a day away, was as comforting as a hug from her younger self.

The bed was unmade and there were clothes and sewing projects scattered everywhere. She’d had to get up so early yesterday that there hadn’t been any time for tidying up. Now, as she started to put things away, she tried to decide what she should pack up to take with her into her new life and what she should leave behind.

“I’ve never lived anywhere but here, Tikki. It’s going to be strange living somewhere else. And even stranger since the place I’m planning to move into is a giant, gated mansion. ”

“It will be a big adjustment,” Tikki acknowledged.

“Everything’s changing so fast!” Marinette wailed. “What if Adrien and I discover that we don’t like living together? What if Gabriel Agreste changes his mind about letting me be with Adrien once he gets to know me better?”

“From what Plagg’s told me, you probably won’t see much of Adrien’s father even after you move into his house.”

Marinette considered that. “When he didn’t show up for meals yesterday, that wasn’t because he was unusually busy, or because he was avoiding me?”

“Plagg told me that Adrien sometimes goes months without sharing a meal with his father.”

Marinette pictured what that echoingly empty dining room must feel like when it had only one place setting. She pulled out her phone and texted Adrien, “Okay, I’ll move in with you.”

He sent back line after line of celebratory emojis.

Chapter Text

“Alya! Alya!” Marinette jumped up and down, waving her arms frantically.

Adrien hesitated for only a few seconds, looking around the airport lobby nervously, before following her example. “Nino! Nino!” he yelled, waving his arms.

Alya and Nino looked exhausted as they walked through the security gate into the lobby, but they brightened up as soon as they saw Marinette.

“Marinette!” Alya shouted. She charged through the crowd with Nino in her wake, dropped her carry-on luggage at Marinette’s feet, and threw her arms around her best friend. “I have had the best two weeks! You can’t even imagine! I mean, I’m glad to see you, of course, but there’s a part of me that wishes I could have stayed there forever.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m so happy your honeymoon was everything we hoped it would be.” Marinette’s grin was so wide that it threatened to split her face in two.

“It was. It really was,” Alya said passionately. “All that and more. But the flight home was sooooooooo long. I’m exhausted! And jetlagged! Please take us home and tuck us into bed right away, dearest, sweetest Marinette.” She held up her steepled hands in a comically exaggerated plea. 

Marinette laughed. “You might want to collect your luggage first.” 

“If we have to,” Alya mock-whined.

Adrien had watched this whole exchange with a grin of incredulous delight. Nino was eyeing him warily, not happy about this stranger taking such an interest in their group.

“I should make introductions!” Marinette said. “Guys, this is Adrien. My, um, my husband.”

“Your what?” Alya narrowed her eyes at Marinette, waiting for the punchline.

“But you know him better as GoldenGoose13,” Marinette continued, undeterred.

“What?” Alya gasped.

“Goose?” Nino stared at Adrien with new eyes.

“He made it to your wedding after all. I bumped into him at the reception after you left and then, well, stuff happened,” Marinette said breezily.

“We eloped,” Adrien clarified.

“You…you, what?” Alya gasped. “No, don’t repeat yourself. I heard you.” She put a hand to her forehead. “Of course you did. Why not?” She groaned. “I am too tired to deal with this!”

“What she means to say,” Nino corrected, “is, ‘Hello, Goose - I mean, uh, Adrien? It’s good to finally meet you in person.’ That goes for me too, by the way.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too…Nino,” Adrien said, studying Nino’s face with shining eyes. “You know, for the longest time I wondered if the ‘DJ’ in DJCineNoir was your initials. I came up with so many theories of what that might stand for: Dominic-Jean, Daniel Jardin. I wasn’t even close.”

“No, it stands for disc jockey,” Nino agreed, “because I wanted to be either a DJ or a film director when I grew up. And now I’m both! Although only on a small scale.”

“That’s awesome!” Adrien enthused.

“How about you?” Nino asked. “What does ‘GoldenGoose’ stand for?”

“Nothing really,” Adrien said. “The goose that laid the golden eggs, I guess. It just felt like a good username.”

“Cool, cool,” Nino said. “Man, this is crazy! I’d finally given up on ever meeting you, and here you are!”

“Here I am!” Adrien agreed.

“And you hooked up with Marinette!”

“I did!”

Alya said smugly. “I don’t know why you guys resisted meeting in person for so long. It clearly went well.”

“Unbelieveably well,” Adrien agreed, kissing the top of Marinette’s head.

“And two weeks later, the world still hasn’t ended,” Marinette said with a deranged grin.

Alya and Nino laughed at her joke. 

Adrien, on the other hand, nodded solemn acknowledgement of her justified fears although his happy grin undermined his attempt to look serious.

“So…Adrien?” Nino waited a second for confirmation that he’d remembered the name right. “Where do you live? Am I allowed to ask that now?”

“In Paris,” Adrien replied easily. “It turns out that Marinette and I were living in the same neighbourhood all this time.”

Nino’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “I used to live in that neighbourhood too! So did Alya! You mean that if we’d met in person sooner we could have walked to each other’s houses?”

“In terms of distance, yes, but…I probably wouldn’t have been able to for other reasons,” Adrien said uncomfortably.

“Like what?” Nino asked curiously.

“Let’s just say there were reasons I never revealed my identity before now.”

“I thought Marinette was the one who insisted we hide our real identities because she was paranoid you’d turn out to be, I dunno, a serial killer or something,” Nino joked.

“I had my reasons too,” Marinette said, “but that wasn’t one of them! I never thought you were a serial killer!” 

Adrien grinned. “I never thought you were a serial killer either.”

Alya snorted in amusement. “Now that we’ve established that none of us are mass murderers, I think the luggage carousel is…” She looked up at the signs covered in arrows pointing in various directions. “...this way,” she announced and strode off in that direction.

The others followed her lead.

Alya looked back over her shoulder. “Adrien, you look familiar. Have I interviewed you?”

“Yes,” Adrien said eagerly. “I’ve been involved in akuma fights a few times.”

“I thought so!” Alya said triumphantly. “Let’s see…Adrien…Adrien…Adrien…” She abruptly halted in her tracks and turned around to stare at Adrien. 

He gave her a wary smile.

“No way,” Alya breathed. “Oh, wow! I don’t believe this! You’re…you’re Adrien Agreste. Aren’t you?”

Adrien’s smile turned sheepish.

Nino frowned in confusion. “Is he famous or something?”

“Nino, darling, have you ever owned an Alliance ring?” Alya asked. “Or seen an ad for ‘Adrien the fragrance’? Do you remember the name of Marinette’s favourite fashion designer?”

Nino’s eyes went wide as he studied Adrien’s face. Then he noticed an advertisement on the airport’s wall. He looked back and forth between the advertisement and the living man in front of him several times. “No way!” he echoed.

“Yeah!” Alya agreed.

Nino stared at Adrien. “That’s you?” He pointed to the advertisement. “And you’re our Goose? And you married Marinette?” 

“Yes,” Adrien said simply. 

He proudly put an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. She put an arm around his waist in return and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

Alya tapped her own forehead in thought. “Adrien Agreste married an ordinary, if talented, aspiring fashion designer. Eloped, no less! How is this not front page news?”

Marinette glanced up guiltily at a TV screen that was showing a close-captioned news broadcast to entertain bored people waiting for their flights. It was currently displaying a picture of Adrien carrying a dressmaker’s dummy out of the bakery, Marinette right behind him with her arms full of fabric. The headline at the bottom said, “Is Marinette moving in with Adrien?”

Alya followed her gaze. The hand she had pressed to her forehead switched from tapping to rubbing as if at a sudden headache. “I turn my phone off for two weeks - two weeks! - and I miss my best friend becoming headline news by ELOPING with ADRIEN AGRESTE? Marinette, can’t I leave you alone for two minutes without you getting into trouble?”

Marinette pointed out weakly, “You’d been gone for at least ten minutes, maybe even twenty, before I bumped into Adrien.” 

Alya looked entirely unimpressed.

“I sent you an email explaining everything?” Marinette tried. “A few of them, actually.”

Alya pulled out her phone and looked at it with dread. “How many hundreds of messages do you think I’ll find waiting in my inbox when I turn this thing on? And how many of them are going to be about you?”

“Probably a lot,” Marinette acknowledged.

Alya sighed wearily and put the phone back in her pocket without turning it on.

Marinette flung out an arm dramatically. “What was I supposed to do? Not marry the love of my life just because he turned out to be kind of a celebrity?”

“‘Kind of a celebrity?’” Alya echoed in disbelief. “Marinette, do you not know who he is?”

Adrien looked extremely smug as he said gently, “She really didn't. She hadn’t figured out my last name when she agreed to marry me and, even after that, she was surprised when we were chased by my fans.” He smiled at Marinette adoringly. 

“I thought you were supposed to be an expert on Gabriel Agreste,” Alya accused Marinette.

“His designs, not his personal life!” Marinette protested.

“How big of a celebrity is he?” Nino asked.

“Okay, fine, I guess we’re doing this,” Alya sighed. She straightened into her on-screen announcer pose. “Gabriel Agreste is the richest man in France and one of the top fifty richest people in the entire world. Adrien is his sole heir.”

Marinette looked at Adrien who shrugged acknowledgement that it was true.

Alya continued, “Because of the Alliance rings and the cologne ads, I’d be surprised if there’s anyone alive who hasn’t seen Adrien’s face and heard his name. On top of that, he’s a movie star, and an Olympic fencer. He was voted Paris magazine’s hottest bachelor five years in a row.”

“Three,” Adrien corrected her. “Chat Noir beat me the second year, and the only reason he didn’t beat me again after that was because a rumor spread that Ladybug and Chat Noir were secretly married.” He winked at Marinette. 

“I remember how smug Chat Noir was the year he won,” Marinette said faintly.

Alya stomped her foot to regain their undivided attention.“My point is that any one of these things would be enough to make him at least moderately famous. Put them together, and he’s a household name. Except in your household, I guess.”

“And mine,” Nino muttered.

“I’m still less famous than Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Adrien said modestly.

Marinette hugged him. “You can’t get away from it for a minute, can you? You probably don’t even know what it feels like to live a normal life out of the spotlight.”

“You give me glimpses of it,” Adrien said tenderly. “All of you do when we’re gaming together.”

“I’m sorry for ever calling you lazy and irresponsible. I had no idea how much you were doing!” Marinette apologized to him.

“No, no, you were right,” Adrien reassured her. “I had so much fun when I was with you, being anonymous and escaping from my regular life, that I went a bit overboard. It made me a bad partner.”

“You were never a bad partner!” Marinette exclaimed. “I mean, maybe you picked some inappropriate times to joke around and flirt during those first few months, but I was always, always glad to have you as my partner. Besides, you quickly got a lot better at knowing when to let me concentrate and when to provide comic relief.”

Nino stared at them, wide-eyed. “So that’s what the fairygoose dynamic looks like in real life. You guys sound totally the same as online, but now I can see you, not just your characters! You really are Goose, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said with a shy smile. “It’s amazing to see you guys in real life too. I can’t believe that I’ve been gaming with the one and only Ladyblogger this whole time and I didn’t even know it! I’m a huge fan!”

“Wait, no,” Alya protested. “You’re Adrien Agreste. You’re not supposed to get starstruck at meeting a very minor celebrity like me. That’s so backwards!”

“He is though.” Marinette grinned. “That’s how he ended up at your wedding. He was so eager to see the wedding of the Ladyblogger that he convinced Chloe Bourgeois to bring him as her plus one.” She made a disgusted face as she spoke Chloe’s name before immediately switching back to grinning. “If anyone asks, though, he was there because he wanted to meet his gaming buddies in person. The official story is that you invited him to your wedding so we could all finally meet him. That’s what we’ve been telling people. You’ll back us up, right?”

“We did invite him to our wedding so we could all finally meet him,” Nino pointed out. “He turned us down.”

“But can you please pretend that he accepted the invitation?” Marinette begged. “It makes everything so much easier to explain.”

Alya frowned. “Wait a minute. If he didn’t know who we were and you didn’t know who he was, how did you guys end up together?”

Marinette gave an embarrassed cough and turned rather red. Adrien smirked.

Alya tapped a foot impatiently. “Well?”

Marinette twisted her hands together nervously. “Is it too late to claim that we arranged to have our first in person meeting at your wedding reception but didn’t tell you in advance because we didn’t want you to be disappointed if things didn’t go well?”

“Is that what happened?” Nino asked uncertainly.

Alya gave Marinette a piercing stare. “No, or she wouldn’t have phrased it like that. How did you guys end up together?”

Adrien’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Would you believe that our attraction to each other is so strong that we managed to connect even without recognizing each other?”

“Connect?” Alya echoed suspiciously.

“We agreed to share a few drinks,” Marinette said brusquely.

“She said she would be my friend,” Adrien added happily.

“And then you figured out each other’s identities and agreed to be a lot more than just friends?” Nino asked eagerly.

After a moment of hesitation, Marinette exclaimed, “Yes, that’s exactly what happened!”

Alya shot Marinette a look that meant she’d heard the lie in her voice but, instead of pressing her, she shrugged and started walking in the direction of the luggage carousel again. “I’ll get the real story out of you later,” she threatened good naturedly. “Right now, I’m too tired to care. Welcome to our group, Adrien. If it turns out that I’m actually asleep and this is some kind of crazy dream, we can all laugh about it the next time we’re online. I mean, Goose secretly being a world famous, fabulously rich super model? What are the chances?”

“I guess it does sound implausible,” Adrien said.

Marinette's grip on Adrien tightened protectively. “Supermodels need friends and fun just like anyone else.” 

Nino gave Adrien a friendly slap on the shoulder as he walked past him to catch up with Alya. “I’d never thought about it before, but I’m sure that’s true.”

Adrien smiled at him hopefully.

Nino shook his head thoughtfully. “Man, I have so many questions for you I don’t know what to ask first!” 

“Ask me anything,” Adrien offered. 

Nino strode along in silence with a thoughtful frown for several seconds before asking, “If you grew up in the same neighbourhood as us, why didn’t you go to our school?”

“I was homeschooled,” Adrien said. 

“Oh, yeah, that would do it,” Nino agreed. “Do you like dance clubs? Because I’d love to take you to the one I DJ at now that I can tell you which one it is.”

Adrien relaxed as he realized that Nino’s questions weren’t going to be about his life as a celebrity but questions that had piled up while they were hiding their identities from each other. “I love to dance!”

“Awesome! We’ll drag Marinette and Alya along too.”

“Yes!” Adrien agreed.

Struck by another thought, Nino asked, “Why was it always so hard to convince you to see movies in the theatre when it’s only, like, two or three subway stops away?”

“If I wanted to go to the movie theater, I had to sneak out of my house without getting caught by my father or my fans, and then watch it alone. Most of the time, it was easier to just wait for the movie to come out on DVD.”

Marinette was suddenly very glad that she had gone on so many movie dates with Chat Noir as Ladybug. 

Nino frowned. “So, those times I told you to watch a movie as soon as it came out so we could discuss it, you had to sneak out of the house?”

“Totally worth it,” Adrien declared stanchly.

Nino smiled uncertainly.

In the distance, someone shouted excitedly and someone else shouted indignantly. A group of people carrying pictures of Adrien's face and other placards were pushing their way through the crowd.

Adrien gave a disappointed sigh.

“Sorry about this,” Marinette said to Alya and Nino before grabbing their arms and pulling them into the nearest store. Ducking behind a shelf, she started pulling things out of a bag and handing them to Adrien: a sweater, a cap, a pair of glasses.

“I wanted to meet you as myself,” Adrien explained as he quickly put on the things she’d handed him, “but now we’d better make ourselves less recognizable if we want to make it out of here without getting swarmed by my fans.”

Marinette pulled off the elastics holding her pigtails and used one of them to put her hair up in a single ponytail instead. She replaced her overshirt with a cardigan and tied a wrap-around skirt over her leggings. Finally, she pulled the cap off Nino’s head and put it on Alya’s instead, grabbed Alya’s carry-on luggage and walked out of the store with it as if she was a passenger herself.

Adrien took her hand with a proud grin as she merged back into the flow of people headed toward the luggage carousels. Nonplused, Alya and Nino followed them.

Marinette said conversationally when they’d caught up with her, “The important thing is to change our silhouettes and colour schemes enough that we don’t resemble what they’re looking for at first glance. Beyond that, the trick is to wear something that will blend in with the people around us. At first, I made the mistake of trying too hard to hide our faces with sunglasses, motorcycle helmets, things like that, but it turns out that just makes us eye-catching in a different way. With these disguises, we should look like ordinary, slightly rumpled travellers.”

“Isn’t she amazing?” Adrien sighed adoringly.

“Have you been doing this kind of thing a lot lately?” Alya asked.

“You have no idea!” Marinette groaned wearily.

“This is what happens when I go out in public,” Adrien said apologetically. “I’m making things more difficult for the rest of you just by being here, but I wanted to come with Marinette to greet you.”

Marinette waved to the cluster of people with Adrien signs still hunting through the crowd. “It isn’t your fault they act like this.” 

“We’re glad you came,” Nino said reassuringly. “We’re really happy to finally meet you. Right, Alya?”

“Yeah, totally!” Alya agreed. She glanced back at their would-be pursuers with a sparkle in her eye that said she was having fun.

The disguises held long enough for Alya and Nino to claim their luggage. However, just before the foursome made it to the airport’s parking lot, someone shouted. “Wait, that’s the Ladyblogger, which means…yes, that’s Marinette! And Adrien Agreste!”

“Run!” Marinette shouted. She dashed into the parking lot with Alya’s carry-on luggage bouncing on its little wheels behind her. Alya laughed as she ran by Marinette’s side, suitcase in hand. Adrien and Nino, despite being burdened with the heavier luggage, were only a step behind.

Marinette wriggled a hand past her skirt into the pocket of the shorts underneath, pulled out the keys of the rental car, and pressed the little button urgently. The trunk of one of the cars ahead of them popped open. Everyone quickly but efficiently got the luggage stowed in the trunk and then flung themselves through the car’s doors just before their pursuers caught up with them. Marinette reversed out of the parking space. People scattered out of her way. She shot toward the parking lot exit.

“Woohoo! What a rush!” Alya exclaimed. “And here I thought I was going to be half-asleep during the drive home.”

“That was crazy!” Nino laughed disbelievingly. “Dude, this is your life?”

“This is my life,” Adrien agreed. He looked around at the people he now shared it with, his eyes warm with happiness. 

“You should come visit us,” Marinette invited. “Adrien’s house has to be seen to be believed!”

Adrien offered eagerly, “We could play some non-online games, or maybe shoot some baskets? Or watch a movie? We also have a climbing wall and a zipline if you like that kind of stuff as much as Marinette and I do.”

“And those are just a few of the more notable features of our bedroom,” Marinette laughed. 

Alya’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “This I’ve got to see.” 

“Yeah, it’s so cool that we can finally hang out in person. I can’t wait!” Nino grinned and offered Adrien a fistbump.

After only a moment of surprised hesitation, Adrien bumped his fist against Nino’s and smiled back. 

Adrien said bravely, “If my father objects to the noise, maybe that will give me an opportunity to talk to him about the possibility of Marinette and me getting a house of our own.” 

Marinette grimaced. “Although we might as well already be living by ourselves given that I haven’t seen Gabriel Agreste once in the time I’ve been living there so far. It’s such a massive building that, as long as we don’t blast music at concert volumes or something, I don’t think we need to worry about disturbing him.”

Alya laughed. “Remember who you’re talking to. You hear that, Nino? No blasting music at concert volumes.”

“Awww,” Nino pouted jokingly.

“Please say you’ll come,” Marinette begged. “I need someone to boggle with me at how insanely huge and luxurious the Agreste mansion is. Adrien’s too used to it to be impressed. And, if that isn’t enough entertainment, Adrien has shelves and shelves of games, CDs and DVDs that he’s been wanting to share with us for years.” 

Alya held up a hand in a slow-down gesture. “Just give me a day or two to recover from jet lag and deal with the flood of messages that I’m sure is waiting for me, and then I’ll be all over that! We can also discuss your media strategy at the same time. Not to brag or anything, but I am kind of a pro at guiding public reactions to breaking news. About superheroes anyway. Celebrity gossip isn’t usually my thing, but how different can it be?”

“I’m so glad you’re back! I missed you so much!” Marinette exclaimed, her eyes prickling with tears of relief. Adrien grabbed the steering wheel to keep them on a steady course until she could blink them away.

“Me too,” Alya said. “Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t give up a minute of our time at the beach, but now I'm rested, relaxed, and ready for new challenges! Which you are clearly offering me!”

Nino studied Adrien thoughtfully. “I have a feeling that life is about to get very interesting.”

Adrien’s eyes shone with excitement. “I have a feeling it’s going to be fun!”