Chapter Text
Marc sits, admiring the red-haired boy from across the classroom. Today, Nathaniel was wearing his signature paint-stained overalls, with his miraculous hair clips on one side instead of the other. Marc admired his boyfriend as Nath begrudgingly helped Alix and Marinette do something sciencey—I don’t know, it’s not like I pay attention.
He twirled his pen between his fingers, pretending to read the same sentence in his notebook for the fourth time while very obviously not doing that. Nathaniel kept pushing his goggles up his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a faint streak of blue powder on his cheek.
Marc bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling.
God, he’s cute.
Nathaniel shot him a look, quick and subtle, like he didn’t want anyone else to notice—and raised an eyebrow. Marc immediately dropped his gaze, shoulders hunching as if he’d been caught doing something illegal instead of just staring at his boyfriend like he was a museum exhibit.
A second later, his phone buzzed.
Nath 💥🎨: stop looking at me like that
Marc glanced up again. Nathaniel was trying very hard to look annoyed while failing miserably, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Marc typed back under the desk.
Marc 📚🖊: like what
Nathaniel turned back to Alix, muttering something while scribbling a formula on her paper, then glanced at his phone again.
Nath 💥🎨: like you’re about to propose in the middle of chemistry
Marc’s ears went warm.
Marc 📚🖊: maybe I am
Nathaniel froze. Actually froze.
Marinette nudged him. “Nath? You good?”
He startled, nearly dropping the marker. “Y—yeah. Totally. Science.”
Marc had to press his fist to his mouth to keep from laughing.
Nathaniel risked another glance at him, this one longer, softer, and mouthed, after class.
Marc nodded instantly.
Whatever was coming next, he already knew one thing for sure:
It was going to be interesting
The bell rang five minutes later.
Marc packed up faster than was socially acceptable.
While Nathaniel just slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door like he wasn’t very deliberately walking in the exact direction of the art room.
Marc followed, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it always did when they were about to be alone.
The art room was quiet when they slipped inside, sunlight slanting through tall windows, dust motes floating lazily in the air. Half-finished canvases leaned against the walls, and the smell of paint was comforting in a way Marc couldn’t explain. It felt like Nathaniel. Messy and bright and soft in places most people didn’t notice.
Nathaniel shut the door behind them.
Marc barely had time to blink before Nath grabbed the strap of his backpack and tugged him forward just enough that their shoulders bumped.
“You said you were gonna propose in chemistry,” Nathaniel muttered.
Marc grinned. “I said maybe.”
Nathaniel’s ears went pink. Immediately. Like a switch had been flipped.
Marc noticed everything.
“Well?” Nath crossed his arms, trying (and failing) to look intimidating with a smudge of blue still on his cheek.
Marc reached out without thinking and wiped it off with his thumb.
“You had paint on your face.”
Nathaniel froze again.
“…Oh.”
Marc pulled his hand back, suddenly aware of how close they were. “Sorry. I didn’t ask.”
“No—no, it’s fine,” Nathaniel said quickly. Then, quieter, “You always do that.”
Marc tilted his head. “Do what?”
“Fix me.”
Marc blinked. “I— I don’t—”
Nathaniel looked at him for a second, then sighed and leaned his forehead against Marc’s shoulder.
Marc’s brain stopped functioning.
“You’re distracting,” Nathaniel mumbled.
Marc gently rested his chin on Nath’s hair. “You’re the one who texted me.”
“That was a mistake.”
“You texted first.”
Nathaniel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer.
Marc blinked. “Nath—?”
Nathaniel grabbed the front of Marc’s hoodie and tugged him forward just enough that their foreheads bumped
“You can’t joke about proposing and then just—” he stopped, exhaled sharply, “—walk away.”
Marc’s heart tripped over itself.
“That’s not what I—”
Nathaniel kissed him.
It wasn’t dramatic. Or movie-perfect. It was quick and nervous and warm, like Nathaniel had done it before he could talk himself out of it.
Marc froze for exactly half a second.
Then he kissed him back.
Nathaniel made a small sound, surprised, pleased, and slid one hand into Marc’s sleeve, fingers curling around his wrist like he needed something solid.
Marc leaned in, smiling into it.
Safe. Quiet.
The art room door slammed open.
“What is going on in here?”
Marc jumped back so fast he nearly tripped over a stool.
Nathaniel looked like he’d been struck by lightning.
Standing in the doorway was a tall man in a dark blazer, glasses perched low on his nose, a folder tucked under one arm.
-The principal.-
His eyes flicked between them... then narrowed.
“Explain.”
Marc’s mouth opened.Nothing came out.
Nathaniel swallowed. “We—”
“I don’t recall asking for physical displays of affection in school facilities,” the principal snapped.
“We weren’t—” Marc started, then stopped, because yes. They absolutely were.
The principal sighed sharply through his nose. “You two,” he said, pointing at them. “Office. Now.”
Nathaniel’s fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for Marc.
But He didn’t.
They walked down the hallway in silence, the sound of their footsteps too loud, the walls too bright. Other students glanced over. Someone whispered.
Marc stared at the floor.
He could still feel Nathaniel’s hand on his sleeve... That somehow made it worse.
Inside the office, the principal shut the door behind them.
“Sit.”
They did.
Nathaniel’s knee bounced. Marc folded his hands together so tightly his knuckles hurt.
The principal set the folder on his desk.
“You want to tell me why I walked into the art room and found two students engaged in inappropriate behavior?”
Marc forced himself to breathe.
“We were just kissing,” he said quietly.
The principal’s eyebrow twitched. "That is not acceptable conduct.”
Marc opened his mouth again, but Nathaniel spoke first.
“People kiss at school all the time.”
The principal looked at him sharply. “Do they?”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said, voice thin but steady. “In the hallways. After class. Outside.”
Silence.
The principal tapped his pen once.
“This isn’t about other students,” he said. “This is about you.”
Marc’s stomach dropped.
Nathaniel went rigid.
“…Sir,” Marc said, carefully, “we weren’t disrupting anything.”
The principal leaned back in his chair. "I will be contacting your parents.”
Marc’s chest tightened.
Nathaniel’s breathing hitched.
“For now,” the principal continued, “you’ll both remain here until I decide on disciplinary action.”
Marc glanced sideways at Nathaniel.
Nathaniel didn’t look back
But his foot shifted, Just enough to brush Marc’s shoe.
And tha -somehow—kept him from falling apart.