Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     “I have an idea.”

     Alya looked up from her place at their little table. Bent over an array of papers and open folders, a pencil in one hand and the other raked back into her hair both to hold it out of her eyes as well as keep her face from hitting the surface because of gravity or despair, she did not look receptive. “Huh?”

     “It is not a good idea.”

     Her eyes narrowed. She pushed herself upright, grimacing as the movement of her spine realigning in a healthy manner seemed to cause pain. “Then, by all means, let’s hear it. By the way, what are we talking about?”

     “My complete and pathetic lack of love life.”

     “Oh, good,” she chirped, checking her coffee mug to see that it, and a second one sitting nearby, was empty. 

     Marinette wandered around the space— though space was a bit misleading— that constituted their living room, hands fiddling. “I’m going to need your help, though.”

     “Oh, good,” Alya repeated, this time with none of the even faux-glee. Her attention returned to the papers spread out before her. “And how exactly am I helping you with your complete and pathetic lack of love life?”

     “Well, really, it doesn’t even have to be you!” she cheered, a new idea sparking. A whole fibonacci sequence of questionable ideas were spiraling outward to form one incredibly ill-advised scheme. “If you wouldn’t mind giving me admin access to the LadyBlog—“

     Alya’s gaze returned to her roommate, eyes no-longer dazed by exposure to adult homework. “No.” The word was flat and firm, like a squirrel that had gotten a little too brave where roads are concerned. 

     Her hands fluttered upwards in absolutely useless cover. “It was just a suggestion, to keep you out of—“

     “No, Marinette, I mean no.”

     Her anxious movement stopped, lips vaguely pouted in confusion. Alya set the pencil down heavily and ran her hands back over her hair before looking up with what could charitably be called skepticism. 

     “Requiring the LadyBlog, in any form, is an automatic disqualifier because it means it’s not you doing something, Mari.”

     “Okay, but hear me out—“

     “Absolutely not.” She stood, coming around the ugly green couch to glare all the closer. “There will be no ‘hearing out,’ but do tell me your thoughts, because I’d love to know exactly how outrageously bad an idea this is.”

     Marinette scowled. Her arms crossed as she plopped down onto the couch. “You’ve been in a relationship for over a decade, Alya. You never have to be lonely or horny or question what the hell is wrong with you or if you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life.”

     Alya slouched. “Fair. So, what’s the idea?” 

     “I already know someone who can be trusted to know what I’m doing, that I’m not flaking or cheating when I can’t be somewhere I’m supposed to be. Someone kind and honest and gentlemanly, handsome and of pure heart. And not part of the team.”

     Her lips were pursed as she whittled down the possibilities, as if playing twenty questions. She tapped her finger against them a series of times, brow furrowing in several different patterns before she shrugged. “Okay, I give up. Who is he and why do you need the LadyBlog?”

     Marinette smiled with an aura of accomplishment. “I need to find Catwalker.”

Chapter Text

     So you’re just going to put it out there, like a fucking lost cat poster meets personal ad. Chat Perdue: Ladybug seeks former superhero for rooftop banging and mini-bugs.

     She had been receiving this sort of message irregularly through the last few days, whenever Alya thought up a new way to phrase her feelings on the matter. Not to mention bursting into her room to put voice to them, at home. She’d done that so violently the night before that Marinette, embroidering details on a blazer, had put the needle halfway through her own finger. 

     That’s now going to be my exact phrasing, thank you. 

     She sighed, slipping the phone into her purse to give it a time out.  

     “How are you going to be sure it’s really him? There will be a lot of men that will claim it, to get a shot with you.”

     Her brows raised. “You think so?”

     “I might be one of them,” Luka grinned as he set a cosmo down in front of her, returning from the bar with their second round. 

     “You’re one of the few people I know it wasn’t.” She smiled into her first sip. “And don’t you already have someone for every day of the week?”

     “I can always make time for you, Mare.” 

     Her head shook with a smirk. 

     “Seriously, though. You’re going to get a lot of responses. Thousands of guys, even women, probably. What’s your plan to figure it out?”

     She pursed her lips as she thought. “I’ll just have to ask questions that only he’d know. Things that happened during the battle, things that were said.”

     His brows rose over a rocks glass, the whiskey lazily swirling around one huge square of ice. “It was… ten, eleven years ago? You still remember details so clearly? You sure he will?”

     “One day as a superhero? I’d hope it would make an impression. And no, I don’t remember details from most battles. That one, I do.”

     Luka smiled sadly. “It was that special to you, huh?”

     Marinette inhaled slowly. “Chat Noir had quit. And Catwalker… I knew I couldn’t keep working with him because he was… so distracting.”

     She wasn’t exactly sure what his expression was, then, it was too full of nuance. Still, she tried to tease out the hints she saw there: surprise, disappointment, happiness, nostalgia? 

     “He was perfect,” she admitted, spinning her glass slowly around on the table with her palms on the stem, watching the way the artsy lights of the bar played in the liquid. “I couldn’t focus at all. And he made me appreciate Chat Noir all the more.”

     He laughed. “Because he’s so imperfect?”

     A smirk tugged the side of her mouth upwards. “Because he’s the perfect partner for me.” 

     Luka leaned onto crossed arms on the little, elevated table. “Well, then why not Chat?”

     Her eyes opened so wide they seemed to bulge out of her head. “No!”

     He chuckled. “Not that perfect a partner, then.”

     “Perfect for what we do, I mean!” Marinette took a deep interest in selecting the perfect olive from the little bowl between them, attempting to ignore the heat in her cheeks. “Discounting the rules of this whole thing that make it an absolutely not, absolutely not! He drives me insane with his so-called humor and his lacksidasical approach to… to everything!”

     “Which balances you, that’s the entire point. In relationships, too.”

     Her poking of the olives became more predatory. Luka watched with entertainment. 

     “So, assuming he answers your call, and you’re able to identify the actual Catwalker out of all the replies, what’s your plan?” 

     Marinette sighed, shoulders slouching. She gave up on the olive hunt without ever making a choice. “I don’t know. I guess, I hope he’s as dashing in real life as he was in the suit and I hope he likes me.”

     “And isn’t married.”

     Her entire body slouched, head hanging over the table. “And isn’t married,” she whined. “Or gay or a gigantic tool or a total douchebag.”

     It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about the possibility. She had thought of all the possibilities, and a fair number of impossibilities, too. Alya and Luka surely knew her well enough to know that. Her anxiety and paranoia were infamous. She had everything mapped out, forever. 

     Except, life didn’t follow her maps. 

     “Look, I know it’s pretty much a one in a million shot,” Marinette admitted. “But, in my life, those are favorable odds.”

     Her friend, her teammate, even her love, smiled sadly. She was asked out with regular frequency, it wasn’t as if she had a problem with finding romantic prospects. It was that relationships and being a secret superhero didn’t mix, and she’d tried enough times to know. 

     “Think about it, the only ones of us who have been successful in long term things are in their long term things with teammates.”

     “I’ve thought about that a lot, Mare.”

     The two of them seemed to be forever dancing around each other, one would get brave when the other got shy. After all, he knew her identity, understood all of her quirks. But, despite how many times she had nearly caved, she wouldn’t allow herself. She couldn’t care about any of her Holders more than the others, and she didn’t want him to care more about her— pretending that he didn’t, already. Being preoccupied by the fate of someone you loved, in the middle of mortal battle, wasn’t an option for Ladybug. Knowing that he understood it, and her, so completely only made her regret that even more. 

     “I just… I just need something to be different in my life.”

     His hand covered hers as he leaned across the small table. “I understand, I know.”

     She nodded, a little. 

     Luka sat back. “So you’re really thinking about revealing yourself to someone? A civilian?”

     A shrug. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. Maybe eventually, if everything’s perfect. Because he’s not strictly just a civilian. Even if it was one battle, a decade ago.”

     “It’s something.”

     “It’s something.” She sighed. “It’s a bad idea, for one thing.”

     He chuckled. “Alya giving you hell?”

     “Non-stop. Yeah, I know it’s sort of nuts, but I am curious about him. I always was. And I realize that it will probably come to nothing— either he won’t respond because he doesn’t see it or moved away or doesn’t want to or is dead or—“

     “Let no one say you’re fatalistic,” Luka tossed out over the rim of his drink. 

     “And even if he does and hasn’t or isn’t, maybe he’s married or a jerk, maybe I was wrong about him and I won’t like him at all.”

     “Maybe.”

     “And maybe he won’t like me!”

     “Maybe.”

     She scowled, sipping her cosmopolitan as angrily as someone could sip something pink. 

     “Mare, I say this with absolute affection, but: you’re completely insane.”

     She hmphed, only making him grin. 

     Luka laughed, gesturing to her totality. His gestures much smaller than hers were, though. “Seriously, you’re nuts. I think it’s time to try the meditation thing again.”

     “That was a disaster,” she reminded him, of the time a couple years before— and a couple years before that— when Luka had forced her to sit down, fold her legs, and meditate. When staring at the wall to empty her mind didn’t work, he’d taught her box breathing. When that hadn’t worked, he’d tried to guide her. Things always ended up with Marinette listing all the things she should be focusing on instead, and a moderate amount of hyperventilation. 

     “Well, this time, I think we should try some light benzos. Maybe heavy benzos.”

     Her brows raised. “So, tranquillizing me?”

     “Couldn’t hurt.” 

     She set her chin on a hand, pouting. “And if he sees my thing and decides to answer and isn’t a tool, who the hell would want to deal with these neuroses?”

     Luka looked doubtful. “If you’re really going to do the who would ever want to be with a loser like me thing, I want you to know I take deep personal offense.”

     Marinette sighed, her gaze falling. She turned the glass some more. “Because this is already stupid and uncomfortable, I’m going to say something that probably isn’t supposed to be said, and I might be completely wrong about, anyway.”

     He smiled, sadly. “I’ll say it for you, then: the only reason we aren’t together is because I’m on the team.”

     She nodded, both hurt a bit by a painful truth finally being spoken, and a bit weirdly comforted by the fact she hadn’t been wrong. 

     “I know you wouldn’t allow it, so I’ve done my best to never consider it a possibility.” His voice became unusually gravelly, emotion didn’t usually leak through when he had decided to hold it back. “And I know no one could replace me, with Sass. I’d rather have my friend be safe and alive than be mourning my wi— whatever.”

     She blinked back tears, throat suddenly tight as she realized that his somewhat endless parade of lovers might not be because he was adventurous so much as he was trying to fill an empty space they both knew she couldn’t fill. 

     Marinette closed her eyes, chin tucked into her shoulder to hide from he and everyone else in the bar. 

     In her loneliest times, or the loveliest moments they had spent together, she had wished he could be replaced, as Viperion. Just to make it… okay, to try to have something. But just as strong as the urge was the immediate flush of guilt. The Miraculous found their way to those meant to wear them, and Viperion was invaluable. No one could possibly replace Luka, with his natural intuition and empathy, and even considering it showed that she was willing to open the team up to danger, just to have some sort of true companionship.

     “I’m sorry,” he whispered, fingers sliding over her crossed arms. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

     Goosebumps raised immediately, and spread out from his touch. “I’m the one that brought it up,” she muttered. 

     “I’m sure he won’t be a tool,” Luka chuckled as he withdrew, forcefully changing the mood. “Anyone chosen to be one of us has to be compatible with you. Most especially so, for that position. When it comes to the Miraculous, everything happens for a reason. I’m sure that entire episode, with Chat quitting, was meant to show you both how important your partnership is, how perfect. How strong, even when less than perfect. And maybe, also, it was meant to highlight this other person to you.”

     Marinette had gingerly brushed away her tears as he spoke, and she tried to laugh. “If so, taking this long to realize it doesn’t speak well of me.”

     He grinned. “Well, maybe you’re both very minor tools.”

     “Mmm hmmm.”

     A bartender attempting a fancy twirl of a vodka bottle fumbled it into a loud crash, and Marinette jumped halfway out of her seat. Luka, while having the same superhero-honed reflexes, didn’t. Maybe she could use some meditation. 

     “So, when is this humongous mistake of an experiment going to begin?” he prodded, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

     “Tomorrow,” she sighed. “Might as well get it over with.”

     He chuckled, nodding. 

     Marinette slowly twisted the glass again. It seemed she was using it more as a fidget object than a drink. “So… obviously… you learned about me a long time ago. And…” She couldn’t actually seem to say it. 

     “And Chat,” he affirmed. 

     It was such an intensely strange idea, that Luka knew the identity of Chat Noir. He knew what he looked like, when just a normal person; how he dressed, how he walked, how he spoke. Was Chat aware? Had he told him, had they become friends? Did they sit over a couple drinks and talk, just like this? 

     Why did the thought make her so uncomfortable? 

     “Yeah. Did you… you know, did you know who Catwalker was?”

     Luka took a long swallow and shook his head. “No. Only the one battle, and I wasn’t even there.”

     “Oh, yeah,” she muttered, feeling stupid. 

     Feeling pretty stupid, all around. 

     He smiled sweetly and tipped his drink to tap against the rim of hers. “I’m sure he’s going to be fantastic, Mare.”

     Of course, what if he was fantastic, and expected her to be, as well? Someone who was, basically, Ladybug at all times? A woman who was a CEO or a high-powered lawyer, someone who commanded every room she entered. Not… not her. 

     Marinette let out a miserable whine, her head falling into her hands. Luka only laughed. 

Chapter Text

     “I would just like to reiterate—“

     “For the twelve-hundred and third time.”

     “—That I do not agree with this.”

     “Well noted.”

     Rena Rouge hmphed. She was suited up because they were on a rooftop, someplace impersonal where they wouldn’t be uninterrupted. And Ladybug’s heart was flying, at roughly twelve-hundred and three beats a minute, because, despite her insistance, she was terrified of doing this. She had twelve-hundred and three doubts. But something did have to change in her life, and this was the only idea she had. 

     “Alright, well, you ready? No going back.”

     “I’m ready!” I am not at all ready. 

     “Okay.” Her friend raised her phone, landscape mode, and sighed out a count down. “Three, two, one.”

     As soon as Rena Rouge began the cast, the Marinette personality snapped out of existence and was replaced by Ladybug. Her shoulders straightened, she smiled and waved. 

     “Hey there, Paris, Ladybug here!” 

     Rena Rouge’s eyes rolled. As if she could be misidentified. 

     “So I have sort of a unique request, today. Quite a while ago a hero named Catwalker became my partner for one single battle. Now, I’m looking for him; the person who was Catwalker. Please don’t read anything into this, Chat Noir isn’t retiring, and he is absolutely irreplaceable. However, I’d like to find the person who did, briefly, replace him. And since we don’t know who each other are, even amongst the team, I can’t find him on my own. So, well, if he was you, email me. Use [email protected], and in the subject line, type the name of the person I suspected had been Akumatized, for the battle we fought together. This is nothing fiendish, I promise. I’d just like to know you, that’s all. I hope to hear from you soon, Catwalker. Thanks!”

     Rena touched a button on her phone and sighed. “Alright, well, it’s out there. No going back.”

     Ladybug was standing not nearly as tall as a moment before, now filled with twelve-hundred and three regrets. “How was it?”

     Her friend’s eyes were on the screen, surely gauging the metrics of viewers or something. Maybe even getting the first reactions. Did people see it for what it was: a pathetic plea for companionship?

     “Rena?”

     She looked up, tucking the phone away. “It was fine. Yeah, it was good.” A pitying smile appeared on her lips and her hands appeared on Ladybug’s shoulders. “You did good. This is just going to be an adventure we have no control over, and we’re both control freaks.”

     Ladybug smirked. “What were you looking at, just now?”

     Rena turned in the direction of home. “Live viewers and replays.”

     She bit her lower lip as she followed, hands randomly opening and closing as a way to vent even a tiny bit of her horrible, useless energy. “And?”

     The Fox looked back over her shoulder with a grin. “If he’s alive, he’ll see it.”

     Adrien Agreste was sitting in a folding chair off to the side of a set, a man hovering in front of his half-closed eyes, when his phone chimed an alert. He had very few alerts set— for fresh stories on Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Hawkmoth. He dared to open one lid completely as the makeup guy blotted and brushed his features to an impossible ideal, raising his phone to something close to eye-level without interrupting the work being done. 

     The notification was from the LadyBlog, his favorite source because Alya did not mess around. 

     Live feed. 

     His earbuds were already in place for an audiobook, and so he switched directly. A sigh escaped his lips, one any person would be able to recognize as lovelorn, even if their vocabulary didn’t include that exact phrase. The makeup artist, Laurent, raised a brow but at least pretended not to snoop. Ladybug was up high, of course, the ribbons of her twin ponytails fluttering in the breeze.  Her face was filled with a sort of excited, anxious energy that he rarely saw, and it made his entire body tingle. 

     “… Chat Noir isn’t retiring, and he is absolutely irreplaceable.”

     That tingle wasn’t so great anymore, as he struggled for context. 

     “However, I’d like to find the person who did, briefly, replace him. And since we don’t know who each other are, even amongst the team, I can’t find him on my own. So, well, if he was you, email me. Use [email protected], and in the subject line, type the name of the person I suspected had been Akumatized, for the battle we fought together.”

     Adrien brushed away Laurent, too preoccupied to be able to sit still, and set into a random pace around the set, the towel protecting his shirt from the makeup still in place.  

     “This is nothing fiendish, I promise. I’d just like to know you, that’s all. I hope to hear from you soon, Catwalker. Thanks!”

     He dragged his finger back across the screen to restart the video. His pulse was pounding over the sound as he replayed, again and again. Each time he listened or watched a slightly different way, attempting to pull some sort of information from her mannerisms. The thing was, he didn’t really know these mannerisms. She was… girlish. There was a hint of a blush across her cheeks, a sort of underlying giddiness that rarely made an appearance. 

     Adrien couldn’t breathe. 

     He pushed into a bathroom, locking the door behind him once he checked to make sure it was empty. “Plagg.”

     The tiny black monster appeared through a wall, looking groggy. “Huh?”

     “Look at this,” he said, thrusting the screen into his face so violently that Plagg had to phase to avoid being hit. 

     He yawned, stretched, scratched as the video played, then offered an apathetic “huh.”

     Adrien’s jaw dropped open, his arms flung wide. “Well?”

     “Well what?”

     “She wants to meet me! For real!”

     “I’m pretty sure she wants to smoosh body parts with you,” he corrected. “You humans are transparent.”

     His watch beeped to alert it had recognized his heart rate was in workout range as his eyes widened. “What do I do?”

     He shrugged. “Just don’t do it in front of my cheese.”

     Adrien’s arms fell to his side. “So it’s not a problem to tell her it was me?”

      “It’s not you now, and it’s never going to be you again, so sure. If you’re not too much of a poulet.”

      He scowled. “I’m not—“

      No, he actually was feeling pretty chicken, at that moment. 

      Had she ever taken the clue from the name, that he was a model? Would she freak out, to find it had been Adrien Agreste? Or would it just make her want to smoosh body parts more?

      He nearly dropped his phone switching to the email program, but shortly paused. Should he give away that tidbit, immediately?

      “No,” he answered himself aloud. If she could be mysterious, he could be as well. At least for a while. He created a new email address— or tried to, finding that at least eight iterations of Catwalker were taken: Catwalker, Catwalk3r, C4twalk3r, PattesDeVelours… And he couldn’t exactly use an @Agreste address, for this specific scheme. 

      “Okay,” Adrien muttered, having successfully registered ChatQuiMarchait. His hands were shaking as he typed, remembering to make the subject line Chat Noir, smiling as he recalled how concerned she had been about him. 

     “Remember,” Plagg yawned, “you’re Catwalker, not Chat Noir.”

     “Yeah yeah, no puns.”

     “Chat charming, if you can manage it one more time.”

     He scowled. “I’m very charming!”

     “Uh huh.” The Kwami disappeared the way he had come, in the direction of his duffle bag. 

     Cher Ladybug, it was the most fantastic surprise to see your video, as I’ve thought about the evening we shared many times over the years. Though I knew I wasn’t meant to remain your partner, being such for a few hours was the honor of my life; and every time I watch you save the soul of city as much as its citizens, I cherish that time ever more. Yet I figured, it being one battle so long ago, you’d forgotten me. I imagine you will have more questions, to be certain that I actually am the person I claim to be, and look forward to your reply. —Catwalker

     Adrien read it over ten or twelve times, ensuring it didn’t give away too much or too little, was the correct tone, and didn’t have any embarrassing spelling or grammatical errors. Then, breathing himself brave (and dizzy), he brushed his thumb over envoyer. 

     “Okay!” he proclaimed. “Okay. Okay? Okay.”

     He had always thought Catwalker would be the most likely way he’d have a shot with Ladybug. She and Chat Noir were friends— fantastic, incredibly close friends, but he was absolutely not a sexual possibility in her world. And Adrien Agreste, she had seemed to blush around him over the years, but he’d never managed to ask a superhero for her phone number in their often-frantic meetings.

     But reaching out to Catwalker… it was as unexpected as it was exciting. He’d hoped against hope that it would happen, in the days and months afterwards, but had long given up. He had a million questions, a million hopes. A million dirty thoughts, thanks to Plagg, but had to get back to his shoot. And now he had every reason to smile. 

     Adrien was Paris’ most desirable bachelor, as the magazines never allowed him to forget. One, the year before, had branded him Paris’ Gentleman Playboy across the cover, over photos taken with half a dozen lovers he’d had. It wasn’t that Chat Noir was forever pining for his Lady, he’d given up hope on that a long time before, it was that there was no reason to get all that close with anyone. 

     Close was dangerous, when you had a secret life. A secret you could never tell, an evil that was always trying to hunt you down; these things didn’t allow close. Not in a way that would ever allow a happy ending, anyway. 

     But Ladybug? 

     Ladybug, the princess of his fairytale, the costar to the happy ending in his head. No matter how long ago he had lost hope, he still believed it was possible. The problem was, Chat Noir had a secret life, as well. 

     Catwalker was the key, he had always known that. And it seemed that Ladybug had just figured it out as well. 

     “Holy shit,” one of the stylists muttered, as the other gathered the first outfit for the shoot. “Ladybug just did a stream… she wants to find the guy who was Catwalker.”

     That inner glow started all over again, preoccupying him through the otherwise annoying delay as nearly everyone on the set watched the video and set into conversation surrounding it. 

     “Who could blame her? Guy was sex on a stick.”

     Damn straight. 

     “Waaaaaaay hotter than Chat Noir.”

     Adrien scowled. 

     “I didn’t know we could just, like ask to meet him. Hell, let’s go!”

     “I don’t think you can.”

     “I got the feeling he wouldn’t be into Ladybug.”

     His brows raised. 

     “If he’s gay I would turn him straight.”

     “It he’s straight I would turn him gay.”

     A ripple of laughter passed around the set, and Adrien gave Fabrice a half-smirk. Great as the guy was, not likely. 

     His attention faded out as he sank back into his own thoughts. Thoughts of her, sitting on a roof somewhere, over a red and black-spotted laptop, her bluebell eyes widening as she read his email and knew….

     Because she only existed on rooftops. And walked around with a Ladybug-themed laptop. Dumbass. 

     Hopefully, though, at least the last part would be true. 

Chapter Text

     “Mon Dieu.”

     “Hmmm?” 

     Marinette stared at the screen, jaw hanging slack. She had not allowed herself to check the special email the day before, not wanting to turn into some pitiful thing hitting the refresh button over and over in hopes of a reply. 

     That wouldn’t have been a problem. 

     “Eleven thousand, three hundred, and eighteen,” she muttered in disbelief. “Eleven thousand replies!”

     Alya grumped some sort of reply, continuing her coffee making routine. 

     “How could there be eleven thousand replies? He was one person!” Her hands raked back into her hair. “Eleven thousand, three hundred and seventeen people are full of shit!” 

     “He might not even have replied, you know,” her friend yawned, poking at the coffee maker as if that  would hurry it along. 

     “And he might not even have replied!”

     Luka had been right— Luka was pretty much always right, thanks to his literally super-intuition, but she hadn’t imagined so many people would think they could lie their way through a conversation with Ladybug! Would think that she would want to have a conversation with them, after finding they’d lied! 

     Alya leaned around her as she passed to retrieve a mug, and hit refresh. 

     “Eleven thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven!” 

     Yeah, Alya was laughing at her. 

     She scrolled down, seeing a disheartening number of correct answers as subject lines. Some had answered wrong, and some had completely ignored her request, instead filling it with I’ve always loved you! or it’s my dream to meet you or I have one day to live and my dying wish is to kiss you. 

     There were three hundred of those. 

     “What the hell is wrong with people?”

     Porcelain chimed from the direction of the dishes cabinet. “Not everyone is as innocent as are you, my dearest Marinette. Thankfully, because I’d be out of a job if they were.” 

     I’m making a public booty call to a fellow superhero, hardly innocent. 

     “I tried to tell you this wouldn’t be so straight forward. And if you find him in that hay stack, and he’s not a tool, meeting him safely and alone will be a whole other thing. And then, if he’s not a tool and not a troll, sleeping with him would be—“

     “Oh my god, shut up!”

     Her friend sat, brows raised as she stirred her mug to turn the beverage within into a perfect match to her skin tone, cafe au lait. 

     “I’m sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her face. “You were right. Luka was right. Everyone’s right, except me.”

     “Girl, you shut up. This is happening, and I’m sure he won’t be a tool or a troll or a toxic misogynist. Come on, this couldn’t be easy!” She laughed. “What would be the fun if it were?”

     Marinette scrolled and clicked with notably more pressure then necessary. “It would be fun in that nothing in my life is easy and a change would be really, really nice.”

     Alya leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’d get bored if it were.”

     “Hard disagree.” She sorted the emails by subject line, and went to the Chat Noir section. So, so many! She was exhausted just scrolling over them. “This is going to be impossible.”

     Okay, she had to figure out a system. Delete everything that didn’t have Chat Noir as the subject? Obviously the most direct route, but she felt guilty for ignoring people who only wanted to communicate with her. Being a public figure and a role model, of course there would be hundreds— thousands— that would want to ask her things or share their feelings and frustrations with the person who hadn’t yet managed to defeat Hawkmoth. She was already doing something selfish, she didn’t have to make it any worse by dismissing anyone who wasn’t her key to what she wanted. 

     Marinette sighed, rubbing her face once more. “Is there any more coffee?”

     “Help yourself.”

     She was not a fan of coffee, but black tea was not going to give her the sort of energy she needed for this. Hell, plutonium probably wouldn’t even give her the sort of energy she needed, but she’d have to make do with what was around the house. 

     “Video’s been watched one-point-four million times,” Alya noted, “and climbing. Quickly. So look at it this way: the vast majority of people who watched did not email you.”

     “What comfort,” she muttered, first filling roughly one-third of her mug with cream and sugar, before pouring the wretched brew over top. “Luka told me this would happen, I had more faith in people.”

     Her friend cackled. “Well, then I get to drop a double I told you so on your adorably naïve ass.”

     She grumped. Due at the bakery in a few hours, Marinette hardly had time to sit around all day shifting through the avalanche of emails. She was overwhelmed and annoyed, but beneath those most glaring of emotions was a hope that, somewhere in there, was him. 

     If so many people had seen it, wouldn’t he? 

     Sitting back down with a mug of caffeinated sludge, she refreshed the mailbox, whined, and then again sorted by subject line. They fell in by time stamp, the first ones to be sent at the top. She wasn’t sure exactly when the video had been made, but it seemed to have taken very little time for replies to begin. 

     Her eyes trailed over the senders, as she scrolled. All those names… did any of those names feel like Catwalker? Peter, Matthieu, Charles, Jonas, Tomas….?

     She went back to the top, and clicked.

     I’ve been waiting so long, Ladybug! Continuing the incredible time we had that night has been the only thing on my mind for years. Let’s get together. 

     Marinette deleted the message, along with the phone number attached. Not the right tone, at all.

     My most esteemed Ladybug: the sky has been the color of your eyes every day since we parted, and even the most frigid Paris winters could never chill me for that fact. My heart has been searching the city for yours ever since our all too short adventure, and today, finally, I have found you. 

     Her lips pursed. That one came from someone named Julian. It was… sort of right? A little much, but, maybe, it made sense? 

     Catwalker could’ve been a Julian. She flagged the message and continued on with a slurp of horrible, horrible coffee. The taste would wake her up more than anything. 

     Ladybug— Glad you finally realized that you and I are the dream team. Give me a call and we’ll hook up!

     “No.”

     Ladybug, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ll make you happier than any other man could. Please call me and let me show you the night of your life. 

     “You don’t know what I look like, and no.”

     Ladybug so sexy I want to take you on the Eiffel Tower and eat your beautiful pussy until you scream. I’ll make you cum so hard it’ll drip all the way down to the ground. 

     “Oh my god, no!” She couldn’t hit the block button fast enough. 

     Alya was cackling from her room. 

     “Shut up!” Marinette yelled, angrily clicking on the next message. This was very likely the worst idea she had ever had. 

     Cher Ladybug, it was the most fantastic surprise to see your video, as I’ve thought about the evening we shared many times over the years. Though I knew I wasn’t meant to remain your partner, being such for a few hours was the honor of my life; and every time I watch you save the soul of city as much as its citizens, I cherish that time ever more. Yet I figured, it being one battle so long ago, you’d forgotten me. I imagine you will have more questions, to be certain that I actually am the person I claim to be, and look forward to your reply. —Catwalker

     She stared at the screen, reading the message over again. Her finger, hovering over the trackpad, quivered. She could hear his voice, in those words. 

     The sender was only named as Catwalker, the address [email protected]. The cat who walked. 

     What did she reply? What did she ask him? Was this really it? Like half a dozen emails in and she found him? That was too easy, wasn’t it?

     Her mind raced as she searched for details of their battle, something only he could know. 

     Ugh, it had been one embarrassment after another. She had been out of her mind— extra out of her mind— since Chat Noir quit. She was scared and guilty and completely unbalanced, without her partner. And when the Sentimonster happened to take the form of a huge black cat, it had thrown her into absolute turmoil. That battle had been far from her finest hour. In fact, she sort of shuddered to think of the impression Catwalker had gotten of her. 

     And yet, he’d replied. He’d said… really nice things. 

     Marinette blew out a long breath, composing herself as much as an email. Respectful, but not too formal. Friendly, but not too casual. 

     M. Catwalker, thank you for your reply, and your kind words. Actually, I’ve been astonished (and not in a positive way) by just how many replies I have received. Many, many people claim to have been Catwalker, and yet your email stood out amongst them. And so, yes, unfortunately, please do tell me anything you remember that only you might know, just to put my mind at ease as to your true identity. Maybe, something about our first few minutes, just before the battle began? Thank you. And, thank you. 

     “Okay,” she murmured, proofreading. Nothing embarrassing. A nice change, for her. 

     She sent the reply, copied it for the previous contender, and set in to continue to wade through the replies. 

     Hawkmoth, it seemed, had other plans. 

     Marinette let out another long whine. 

     “Merde,” Alya swore. “Girl, I really have to get in. Can you, maybe…?”

     She nodded, standing with a stretch. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll let you know if things are bad.”

     “Thank you.” She ran over to kiss Ladybug on the cheek before they each left, via very different routes. 

     Even from stories above the street, Ladybug could see that the city was talking only about one thing that day: her video. Tabloids and legitimate newspapers alike were running the same cover story, each with slightly different screen captures of an anxious, blushing Ladybug, making an absolute fool out of herself. 

     Hawkmoth was going to give her shit about this, wasn’t he?

     “M’Lady,” greeted Chat Noir from a rooftop one street away from hers. “I happened to see a video of you, several hundred times. I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I—“

     “No, Chat. No, I wouldn’t.”

     “Okay.” He grinned his little fangy grin. “Then I won’t.”

     She might actually prefer Hawkmoth’s needling, over her partner’s. 

     Lovelorn was an unsurprisingly emo young man, who waxed on endlessly about his search for companionship while literally throwing reams of poetry at the two of them. He didn’t say anything about the video, but he also didn’t really have to. 

     She had been through plenty of ridiculous things over her tenure as Ladybug, but this was the first one she had manifested from absolutely nothing. Alya, who would certainly have coverage of the battle going on somewhere, no matter how busy, was doubtlessly laughing. 

     “So,” said Chat Noir, once more grinning, after they had dispatched with the Akuma and the young man formerly known as Lovelorn ran off to where ever he’d come from. Ladybug had leapt up to the nearest building to begin heading home, only to find a cat following. 

      “Chat,” she whined, “please.”

     His hands went up in surrender. “Hey, I was just going to ask how your day was going. Healthy partnership stuff.”

     Ladybug’s face went into her hands. 

     He chuckled, rubbing her back. “I’m not going to give you shit, Bugaboo.”

     She turned, leaning against his chest. “Feel free,” she muttered. “Everyone else is.”

     “There aren’t a whole lot of people out there that can understand us,” he cooed. “Why wouldn’t you want to seek out someone who could?”

     Ladybug sighed. She sort of hated how understanding he was, how easily he got it. She pulled back, just enough to look up into his bright green eyes. “I was at my worst, that battle. Really. I was beyond lost, with you walking away. I mean, with me pushing you away. I felt terrible about myself, about what I’d done to you, over so long. I’d thought, by handing out so many of the Miraculous, building this big, effective team, I was improving things. But I’d been chipping away at the foundations, while I did.”

     Chat sat down on the edge of the roof, his boots swinging carelessly. “It just happened quickly,” he explained. “And I was immature.”

     She scowled, joining him. “You had a very rational response, no matter what your age.”

     “I thought it always had to be about me. That’s ridiculous.”

     Ladybug touched his shoulder, squeezing. “It’s always about us. And I had to have that shoved into my face before I understood it. You quitting changed everything. I needed to be forced to see what I was doing. And I didn’t… I never meant to exclude you. I didn’t do it because you bothered me.”

     He grinned. “Sure about that?”

     She huffed. “Okay, so, maybe I didn’t mind having less puns in my life. But, also, I really did think that you’d like the break. I was running myself ragged, because I thought I had to. And it was sort of horrible. I didn’t realize that adding multiple people couldn’t even begin to balance against losing one.”

     Chat’s smile was soft, genuine. Completely free of mischief. That particular flavor was among the most rare, and she was always caught off guard by it. How much she liked it. 

     “I learned my lesson. I’m just sorry that you had to be hurt, in order for me to do so.”

     He shrugged. “This has all been a learning experience, m’Lady. It’s just one growing pain in a mountain of them.”

     “But it was the most important one.” Ladybug leaned over and kissed his cheek, then rest her head on his shoulder. “I’ve never not thought of you as my partner, since. You weren’t just a teammate like any other. You’re my other half.”

     His arm went around her shoulders, squeezing her gently. They sat like that for a few minutes, looking out over the once-more cheerful Paris morning. The stalemate had gone on forever, and it was never not exhausting, but being able to win back peace for the city, even for only a while, was still a victory. 

     “You know, if he ends up being a tool, I understand what you go through, and—“

     Ladybug pushed herself up. “Have a good day, kitty.”

     “I’m just saying, it’s been a long time, and he’s probably really out of shape, and I’m—“

     “Goodbye, kitty!”

     He chuckled. “Bon journée, Bugaboo.”

     She couldn’t help but smirk, though, as she made her way home. She really wouldn’t give up that idiot for anything, even with all the puns. 

     Dropping to a quiet street close to a nice little cafe, she transformed back into her boring everyday self. Some tea and a yogurt parfait would give her the strength to spend more time on the emails, certainly, although nothing made her feel fortified enough to look at the updated total. 

     “Bonjour,” she greeted the staff, opting for a small inside table by the front windows. Their attentiveness allowed her a few more minutes of stalling as she ordered her breakfast, before the lack of people outside to watch give her little excuse not to get back to it. 

     One email was highlighted as important. A reply from the possible Catwalker, the one she had sent a copy of her email to. Her heart picked up pace as she clicked. 

     Ma Ladybug, I admit that many details are lost to me now. It has been your essence, your eyes, that have been in the back of my head with my every breath. I know I was struck immediately by your poise, and the truth that the larger-than-life heroine could be just as astonishing up close as she is on the evening news.

     She frowned, not reading any farther. Poise was quite possibly the antonym to her state during her interactions with Catwalker, and even he had commented on it being understandable that she was upset by the departure of Chat Noir. It seemed Catwalker had not, in fact, been a Julian.

     “Merci,” she muttered as a glass of jus d’orange and a tea set was placed at her table.  

     A happy couple, likely tourists, walked by arm in arm. An elegant woman, a gentleman. Marinette watched them as they read over the menu posted in front of the cafe, speaking to each other with smiles and laughter. 

     It really shouldn’t be so difficult. Love and companionship, unhurried mornings arm in arm, actual poise. No matter how many elegant outfits Marinette designed and made, she never seemed to feel elegant in them. There was always at least some low-grade fumbling, in her head if not her body. Forever awkward, half-cocked, looking for places she could slip off to to transform.  

     Maybe it didn’t matter who she found, so much as who she was. 

     She blew on her tea, putting her sigh to good use as the couple moved on to the rest of their picturesque day. 

     ChatQuiMarchait had responded, as she read the last email. She didn’t even need to click on it before a bright smile broke over her entire being: the subject line read you were purrrrfectly delighted. 

      “It’s you,” she whispered. 

Chapter Text

     Adrien was floating. Truly, his feet were at least centimeters off the ground, even if no one else seemed to notice. 

     He was taking part in a panel discussion for a local community theater where he volunteered, mostly as an acting coach. It was being broadcast on the radio and online, bringing more attention to the organization while having a substantive conversation about the viability of community-based theater in a city where everything was focused on glamor and luxury. 

     He realized that, being a supermodel and having a fair number of feature films to his credit, he could quite possibly be the joke on the panel. However, he was focused on proving just the opposite. Knowing all about that sparkly side of Paris, he was the perfect person to expound on the benefits of having more intimate and nourishing options. 

     Well, he had been focused. Still, theoretically, was. But a very real and very wonderful distraction had formed over the course of the day, and he was struggling not to glance down at his phone every time he was not actively involved in the discussion. 

     LadyWhoBugs and he had been messaging for hours, after she had responded to his second email with both embarrassment and relief. He had convinced her that he was who he claimed, and after receiving that happy news, he suggested they switch to a messenger that would speed their communication as well as hide her identity. 

     And his, too. 

     Ever since, he’d been completely preoccupied. The little buzzes in his pocket shattered any concentration he might manage to scrape together for anything else. His assistant, with notes direct from Nathalie to help him prepare for this evening, had not been appreciative. 

     He was keeping up his Catwalker persona, but it was relaxing as their conversations continued. Plagg had been a little black godsend, firmly flicking his ear every time Adrien so much as dared switch to the emoji keyboard. Ladybug, though, had used her share; generally while making fun of herself and exactly how awkward she had been during the battle (the one and only, he kept reminding himself) that they had fought together. 

     His Bugaboo really did have a great sense of humor. Who knew?

     LWB: So, what has your life been like, since? I imagine having “I was Catwalker” on a resume would open up some impressive doors. 

     Adrien smirked, having given in to the pull to take a peak at his phone after the most recent buzz. 

     They hadn’t broached anything personal, of course, it only being… well, probably a hundred messages, by then. But they’d all been basic stuff: each being sort of amazed that they’d managed to connect so easily, talk about the long-ago evening they had worked together, general pleasantries. Slowly, he hoped, building towards something more organic— but he didn’t dare make that move. 

     “While I’m sure we are all appreciate Monsieur Agreste’s contribution to a great number of Paris’ industries, I don’t see how he has much stance to speak on these matters,” stated Hugo Dubois, a critic that had been invited to the panel to provide some balance. Adrien was sort of in the middle, literally and figuratively, along with the director of the theatre and the director of their outreach program. His attention was brought firmly back to his surroundings, though he carefully kept his expression from betraying his distaste of the comment. 

     “I have certainly benefitted from a strong local theatrical and film community,” he began, adding in a charming chuckle. “Although I do not deny that I’ve likely benefitted even more from my last name.” 

     The audience laughed along. 

     “However, no amount of private coaching and nepotism would mean much if there wasn’t any industry to join. I spend time here, as well as an amount of the money that films have paid me, because I realize that there is tremendous value in grassroots theatre. Value that cannot possibly be calculated in box-office returns. Because not everyone can be born into a family that will sweep them into this world, there has to be the opportunity for everyone to be able to discover the magic that is acting; or directing, or set or costume design, running lights or sound. This insures that not only does the arrondissement thrive, but Paris does, as well.”

     There was a wave of applause. 

     “Yes, few people that come across the stage here will end up on a set with me, or over in the West End of London, or on Broadway. That’s not the point. A lot of the productions are not worth the time of someone so illustrious such as you, Monsieur Dubois, but they bring joy to everyone involved. Not every space in the city or every Euro spent needs to, or should, be spent on something high profile.”

     “Thank you, Adrien,” said the director, after they had left the stage. “I appreciate your ability to be snide without being called snide. And your money.”

     He laughed.

     “You are our favorite puppet,” affirmed the outreach director. She was a somewhat funky, incredibly determined woman a few years older than he, who had been at the top of his list since he’d become involved with the organization. He had a thing for petite, dark-haired, headstrong women, it seemed. 

     They had quite nearly sealed that deal several times, but each were aware that it wouldn’t look fantastic for either of them, even if they had both been in their particular positions previously. After an especially intense make out session following a recent performance he’d attempted to reason that a lot more attention could be brought to her program if she happened to be seen leaving his apartment one morning. Walk of fame, he’d remarked cheekily. She had laughed and left him with a smile… and a hellacious case of blue balls. 

     “I’m feeling a bit used, here,” he said, pointing at them both. “It’s almost as if you don’t value me for me.” Adrien took a long drink of water. “Puppet,” he scoffed. 

     “All I meant was, I bet I could control you with one hand,” teased Annette into his ear as she passed to speak with a group waving her over. 

     “Why do you do this to me?”

     She grinned, walking away. 

     He shook his head, thanked several people for their complements, and pulled his phone out as he wandered towards the exit, gabbing his jacket on the way. At least the delay had given him time to consider his response to LadyWhoBugs, and how he may sway their conversation further. 

     CQM: I’ve managed to build a pretty decent portfolio without including that particular tidbit. Somehow I doubt “Superheroine” is on your CV.

     LWB: Indeed, it seems to have been left out.

     What was the most gentlemanly way to ask why she had wanted to get in touch with him? Something that couldn’t possibly seem as if he was inquiring about a hookup? 

     CQM: My life, since, is what you’d expect, I suppose. I don’t know exactly how different our ages are, but I was in high school when we met. So: university, career. Nothing nearly as exciting as you, I’m quite sure. 

     He bit his lower lip, intentionally leaving out any hints about relationships in hopes of drawing the question out of her. If she asked, it meant she had decided to look him up with romantic thoughts. 

     Adrien pulled forward the hood of his jacket, tucking as much of his hair as he could back into it. His driver had brought him to the event, but there had been no reason to have him wait around; it was an easy enough journey home via the Metro, and his appearance no longer had to be picture-perfect. 

     LWB: I’m sure there’s been more than that! There are certainly many hours you spend outside of work.

     He grinned, pretty sure that she was prying in what was hoped to be a less-obvious way. 

     The most direct line home was through Abbesses, Paris’ deepest Metro station, followed by a ride towards Mairie d’Issy, which passed beneath the Seine. The effect was that he lost signal, delaying what was likely a highly-anticipated answer. Maybe not the worst thing, over all. 

     CQM: Désolée, I’m on the 12, lost reception. Sure, the occasional girlfriend, volunteering, fencing. Like I said, not all that exciting. Et toi? What do you do, when not saving the world?

     LWB: Fencing! Now your suit makes a bit more sense. And there is nothing boring about fencing, I’ve gone to many a bout to support a good friend of mine. 

     Adrien smiled as he rose— his was the next stop. The thought that Ladybug could have been at one of his matches, even if it had been to cheer against him, made him feel intensely warm inside. 

     He very much wanted to make an observation of her observation of his suit, but as Plagg had been very often been reminding him, he was meant to be endlessly charming, and that sort of flirtation wasn’t befitting. 

     CQM: I notice you didn’t answer my question. 

     LWB: Ah, well, I’m meant to be mysterious!

     As he climbed the steps of the Metro station to the street, Adrien wondered if she was being coy or shy or, honestly, not intending to tell him anything about herself. Maybe he wasn’t living up to her expectations, already. 

     It was too early to ask about her intentions, even if they had been messaging for most of the day. Even if he was desperately hoping that he would be able to meet and spend time with her as Adrien, getting his hopes up too high was no reason to push her. Of course she would be guarded. Of course. There was zero chance that she would jump right in with the offer of a coffee. Just what were the chances that she would ever offer a coffee?

     Discomfort bothered at his insides. 

     Don’t get your hopes up, he told himself firmly. This doesn’t mean anything. 

     His place was unexpected, in that it wasn’t in an opulent, serviced building. No concierge, no doorman. It was what he thought of as modest, but what his best friend thought of as palatial. Then again, Nino’s apartment was roughly three square meters. 

     It was in an old building in the Latin quarter, where phenomenal education and research and discoveries had been happening for centuries. The stroll from the Metro was pleasant: past an ancient market, little parks and churches, and tucked away on a quiet, horseshoe-shaped street. It was removed from the bright, busy, glittering parts of Paris, and that’s why he loved it so. 

     A spacious two bedroom, his entire apartment was smaller than room Adrien had grown up in, and he used all of that space. The formal dining room was sacrificed to make room for a baby grand piano, the extra bedroom was part study and part gym. Tall bookcases made use of the high ceilings that the top floor afforded. 

     He sighed, sinking down onto the settee after slipping off his shoes. There was rustling in the kitchen— Plagg had shot off the instant he’d opened the door. 

     LWB: So, what is your career? 

     Adrien smirked. 

     CQM: Being mysterious.

     “You have a gross expression on your face.”

     He looked over to Plagg with a scowl. The little beast was floating halfway across the salon, a stack of those little red wax-wrapped cheeses on one hand like a waiter in a busy restaurant. The top one was tossed into his mouth, wax and all. 

     “Speaking of gross,” he replied, “you’re supposed to remove the red part before eating those.”

     Another one was ingested, in the same fashion as before. Adrien turned away before he gagged. Plagg’s satisfied belch didn’t help things. 

     Bleh. 

     “You used to get that same gross look when you were younger,” he said. “I’d hoped you’d grown out of it.”

     He hadn’t grown out of it. Of course he hadn’t. You don’t grow out of love with someone. Not love like this. It had simply… gotten dusty. Adrien Agreste, Gentleman Playboy of Paris, trying to find something to make him forget.

     LWB: Does that mean I’ll never get to meet you?

     He choked. Having been not eating nor drinking, he choked on his own saliva and spent the next few minutes coughing and sputtering. 

     Plagg floated next to him as Adrien drank directly from the kitchen faucet in hopes of calming his throat. “Did you just forget how to breathe?”

     “I might have,” he croaked, wiping his mouth. “And thanks so much for your concern.”

     One more round of cheese disappeared into the great black hole that was Plagg’s stomach. “I was pretty sure you weren’t actually dying.”

     His hands were trembling as he picked his phone up once more. How did he answer? Some way other than how he was most inclined: telling her he would meet her any time, any place, with any gift she wanted. The shirt off his back, the last breath of his lungs….

     “Ow!” Adrien batted at the kwami, who had flicked him firmly in the ear. “What the hell was that for?”

     He shrugged. “Figured there couldn’t be anything good in there.”

     A scowl was all the attention he would give the little beast, as his focus was fully on the message in his hands, and the woman on the other end of it. 

     CQM: I am forever at the Lady’s beck and call. 

     Good, right? Not too much, not too little. Catwalker-core. The Lady, not my Lady. Absolutely accepting of any offer she would put forward, but gentlemanly. Not leaping out of his skin with enthusiasm, like Chat Noir had always been. This was his one true chance to have something with the love of his life, and he couldn’t mess it up. 

     He groaned, falling back onto the settee. That sort of thought had to be ejected from this head: the love of his life. That was something Chat would say. More, would sing out to all of Paris from the top of Notre Dame, hand clasped to his chest. Ladybug was not a fan of such gestures. 

     That was been what the Catwalker persona he and Plagg had created was all about: moderation. Passion, but restraint. A gentleman, not a hopeless romantic. 

     Adrien Agreste had never had to put so much damn thought into things. Because he was Adrien Agreste, and people would fall all over themselves for the chance to work with him, to interview him, to have dinner with him. He had suffered greatly, in secret, in his younger years as he struggled to figure out who he was, when he wasn’t the boy whose smiling face was splashed all over the city. 

     He was awkward, kept in a carefully controlled environment where he didn’t have to think for himself. Wasn’t allowed to speak for himself. He learned lines and pieces of music, even fencing was a sport of choreographed moves. Interacting with people his own age, outside of perfect structure, wasn’t in his schedule. And so, when he had finally forced himself out into the world to attend school, he’d had absolutely no clue was he was doing. 

     Fortunately, most people were too busy gawking at his very existence to notice. 

     He’d figured it out, for the most part. And when he felt out of his depth, Adrien, the person, retreated to become Adrien Agreste. When in doubt, fulfill expectations. It was simple enough. 

     Ladybug, though, she had always short-circuited everything about him. Maybe, if they’d met a little later in his life, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to lose his head quite so obviously, but it had been his first day of school. His emotions were already a jumble, wildly excited just to exist. Add to that suddenly being made a superhero, and he was beyond raw. Meeting Ladybug had hit him in the face— literally as well as metaphorically, and he was done for. 

     So, other than the battle against Kuro Neko, and a handful of brief meetings as Adrien, he hadn’t met her. He had admired her from afar, as did all of the world, but she hadn’t been the motivation behind his every heartbeat for more than a decade. He had to remember that. 

     Ugh, and he had to stop thinking that way, in general. 

Chapter Text

     “Good morning!” Alya sang, startling Marinette awake on the couch. 

     She sat up with a squeak, then looked around through bleary eyes, finally focusing on her friend. She was grinning down at her, hands on hips. 

     “And what are you doing out here?”

     “Mmm,” Marinette grumped, rubbing a knot out of the back of her neck. 

     She had been sitting there when Alya went to bed, so she knew what Marinette had been doing. Curled up on the settee, messaging with Catwalker, she had been smiling and laughing for hours. And Alya, quite obviously, had been torn between adoring the situation or fretting over it. She would smile and coo, then suddenly burst out with this is still a bad idea, even if he’s funny! Every time Marinette was about to go to bed the conversation would take a new swing, and she found she couldn’t. Until, it seemed, her body had decided for her. 

     The phone had fallen onto the floor, its pink case was just peeking out from beneath the couch.

     CQM: I guess that means you fell asleep. I am, too. Beaux rêves, ma heroine. 

     She smiled. 

     “I miss anything big?” Alya asked, rummaging around in the kitchen. “Any major developments?”

     “No,” she said firmly, scrolling back through the messages and feeling a warm glow that almost evened out the few aches from sleeping on the couch. 

     She’d slept well, though. Lost in a dream of the battle they’d fought together, but with much more to it. More time, more talk. Sitting with their sides touching on the Eiffel Tower, her heart beating out of her chest. Not nearly so formal as they had been, finding the easily familiarity as their messages betrayed. 

     So easy. 

     It felt like she was talking to one of her oldest friends, in the way they fed off each other. Always laughing, never getting bored. They really did have chemistry, even though that one evening had been all business. 

     She wanted to meet him. 

      It had been, of course, a hopeful possibility when she came up with this idea, but she figured it would be a long way off— she had to be certain it was him, and he was good, and honest, and trustworthy. But it had been less than a day, and she was ready to pitch herself in headfirst. 

     Would it really be that big a deal? It wasn’t as if she would be revealing her identity. 

     There was work to do: day off from the bakery meant day on for herself. Currently, that meant working on a gown she’d been commissioned for by an opera singer. She’d gotten a lot of work from the performing arts women of Paris, mostly through word of mouth. One of her gowns had recently, and very surprisingly, been worn on a red carpet next to her juvenile crush, Adrien Agreste. At first glimpse she’d been overwhelmed to see one of her pieces in such a spotlight… then she had seen who her ballerina’s date was and been thrown into a mini vortex of confusion and anxiety and jealousy and depression— her neuroses, the ones Luka had brushed aside as being more than worth it. She’d spent so many years fantasizing of her own clothes laying haphazard on a bedroom floor beside Adrien’s, and suddenly she was picturing a gown she had made doing just that….

     Yeah, that was not long before this idiotic scheme had sparked. 

     “So, tell me all about— Mari?”

     She had already retreated into her room, expecting a continued inquiry from her roommate. Breakfast could wait, if it meant she could hide out for a while. 

     Marinette, MDC, had a very, very small shop in one of the sweet little passages of Paris: covered malls built a hundred years prior, which wound in serpentine fashion between other buildings. They were always richly tiled, with beautiful glass ceilings and details carved from wood or from stone. Her space was as small as they offered, only big enough to showcase one gown in the window and have somewhere to do fittings and deliveries that was not her apartment. Not large enough to work out of, however.

     So, her work space was her bedroom, and it took up most of that. She even had a loft bed, like in her parents’ home, because she was in sore need of the few square meters it afforded underneath. And she didn’t have people spend the night very often.

     Or, actually, ever. 

     As she organized the necessary tools and notions, Marinette felt a presence at her back. “Getting right to it?”

     She shrugged. 

     “Avoiding me?”

     Another shrug. 

     Her friend laughed softly, and embraced her from behind. “I’m only curious, that’s all. You know I love a good mystery.”

     “I’ll let you know when I figure out any of it.”

     “Seems to be a good conversationalist,” Alya observed, leaning back against the nearby desk. 

     She shrugged a third time. “He’s… nice. Smart, funny. Feels like a friend, already.”

     “What’s his name?”

     “No idea,” she admitted, heading to the sink to wash her hands before touching the piece or its pieces. “He emailed from an address with no name attached, same with messaging. I haven’t gone out of the way to ask, because what right do I have? Well, I asked what he does as a career and he told me it was being mysterious.”

     Alya laughed as Marinette passed her again. “That’s sort of adorable.”

     “Yeah,” she admitted, rolling a bit as she retook her chair. “We haven’t really talked about all that much. General stuff.”

     “Good vibes, though?”

     She nodded, glad that she was facing away. Her expression felt goofy, and her cheeks had always betrayed her emotions no matter how hard she tried to disguise them.

     It was silly, this little giddiness she had acquired over the last day. Just messaging with someone, someone she didn’t know at all. 

     “Alright, keep acting coy. I gotta get into the office, anyway.” Alya squeezed her once more. “Let me know how it progresses!”

     “No,” she called back, before focusing on the project in front of her. She was still in the pinning stage, fitting pieces to a dressform of her client’s measurements before moving on to cutting the ice blue silk the gown would be made of. 

     MDC had become known for modern fairytale couture, as a local magazine had termed it. Nothing too frilly or too fanciful, designs that could be worn to any event without looking ridiculous, and yet evoke the romance and promise of gilded pages filled with princes and ever-afters. 

     Theoretically, she could afford a less-minuscule studio, in a more visible location. But, Size and Visibility would bring with them many uninvited friends, whom Marinette was not yet ready to receive. 

     She wondered what Catwalker did, other than being mysterious. What sort of day was greeting him, this morning? Did he awaken with the sunrise and go for a run along the Seine? Did he sleep late, yawn into consciousness when the birds were already well underway with their day?

     Her phone buzzed, startling Marinette— dangerous, when she was holding several pins between her teeth. What a stupid end that would be for her: gasping in a few straight pins to skewer herself from the inside. She finished her immediate progress before checking the notification. 

     It was a photo, taken from beside an outdoor cafe table— there was an open seat on the other side and tables in the background, all in dappled morning glow. Atop the table was yoghurt and granola, and a hand casually wrapped around a cappuccino. A nice hand, attached to an arm clothed in what looked to be a quality button down shirt in a pleasant sort of spring green color. 

     CQM: I was just thinking how nice it would be to chat over a coffee with you, instead of an app. I hope you have a wonderful morning. 

     She held in a sigh, but only just. How nice it would be, to be on the other side of that table, her face kissed by the bergamot steam of an earl gray and gazing into… whatever color eyes. And wearing the Ladybug suit. 

     She did sigh, that time. 

     But he wanted to meet! Of course he did. And she did, too. A lot. Was that foolish, or was that the entire fucking point?

     LWB: Good morning. I may look a bit silly, though, sitting there in my suit. 

     CQM: You are anything but silly. But I’m sure we could find somewhere less visible. How is your day?

     Marinette returned the remaining pins to their cushion. And, hearing the front door close, ventured out to make herself a tea. As she set the kettle to boiling she looked back over that photo he had sent, trying to pick out any clues as to where it was. The background was out of focus, but she could tell it wasn’t a street, there were none of Paris’ signature while façades in the background. 

     A park? A park, it had to be. There were greens higher up, the gray of gravel low. Marinette smiled; she loved to dine in the parks, too. 

     LWB: Just getting to work. Your breakfast looks lovely. 

     She promised herself not to become distracted by him, this time. She had spent a shameful amount of time the day before at the bakery tapping away at her phone and blushing at messages, though her parents seemed not to mind; surely, just glad to see that their daughter was showing a hint of a romantic life. 

     Even if she wasn’t, not really. 

     Maybe? 

     Hopefully. 

     CQM: And what is it you do?

     LWB: Be mysterious ;)

     Adrien grinned. He had promised himself he wouldn’t jump straight back into messaging her, that morning, not wanting to seem too desperate, but that had fallen apart very quickly. Because all he could seem to think about was her, their conversations over the previous day, and how much he wanted more. Walking to the Tuileries, in a mood for peace and contemplation, it seemed every thought that crossed his mind was one he’d like to share with her. 

     He reminded himself not to be too forward, though. She, unaware that they’d been as close as two platonic people could be for more than a decade, could understandably get unnerved by his acting as if they had. 

     It was difficult. Sitting there with the smell of dew mixing with the flowers of the garden, and birdsong above the distant sounds of traffic, his most romantic side was fighting to come out. They’d had so many long, sweet conversations over the years, decompressing after battles or pausing for hot drinks during a cold patrol, he desperately wished that they could have one here, without their masks, just two people. 

     Well, without his mask, anyway. It was a step. 

     Later in the day many of the tables would be filled by tourists coming from the Louvre, or passing through the gardens after visiting Musée d’Orsay. So early, though, it was mostly locals taking a break from a jog or a morning stroll. Mothers chatted over crêpes with sleeping babies nearby in their prams. He liked it, here. His mother had liked it, here. She would bring him for lunch, they’d sit at one of the tables that bordered the duck pond, and he would get disapproving clicks from the servers as he tossed bits of his croque monsieur over the hedges to the waterfowl, as his mother pretended not to notice. 

     Those were nice times. Like all times, when she was alive. He wanted to share the same little things that made him happy, then and now, with someone else again. And because of Adrien Agreste or Chat Noir, that always was just a little out of reach. 

     This, despite very present issues with her secret identity as well as his, this seemed so much easier. 

     CQM: If you wouldn’t mind being slightly less mysterious, maybe we could take a coffee this evening? 

     Adrien swore under his breath— the message had snuck out of his thumbs while he was drifting. And the app showed that she had already seen it. Merde!

     For a little while— surely not as long as the several years it felt— she seemed to type, pause, type, pause, over and over again. And he was becoming dizzy from the lack of oxygen as he held his breath. 

     LWB: We shouldn’t be seen in public together. Everyone knows about that video, it would mark you as having been Catwalker. 

     His pulse kicked up, somehow, even faster. She wasn’t saying no, she was being pragmatic. As always. 

     CQM: I could find somewhere we could be certain we’d be alone, but still somewhere you’d be comfortable.

     As her cycle of typing and pausing betrayed her consideration, his thoughts raced. He absolutely could find someplace like that, but where? Someplace she wouldn’t have to come or go through a front door?

     LWB: Where? 

     He smiled. 

Chapter Text

     Ladybug wasn’t far from Sacré Cœur, which was a very good thing because she was having a very difficult time unsticking her feet from the ground. Well, tree. Well, butt. She was having a very difficult time unsticking her butt from the tree. 

     It was a tall tree, along one side of a small park sort of behind the basilica. On the other side of the arbor was a steep drop off to the neighborhoods below. She was well hidden from the children playing and the lovers lingering together. Unfortunately, the tree wasn’t nearly tall enough for her to be able to spy the man who should be, by then, awaiting her. Catwalker.

     You’re a freaking superhero. Stop being a coward. 

     She tried to come up with another instance in which she had been so nervous, and didn’t do very well. Her very first battle, during which she had been not only confused and overwhelmed, but had no interest in being a superhero, couldn’t exactly be compared to a semi-blind date. Romantically, there wasn’t anything similar. Well, unless one counted every damn time she had spoken to Adrien Agreste for the entirety of her teenage years. 

     This had been her idea. And not only had it been her idea, she had fought against Alya’s disapproval and inflicted a flare of jealousy on Luka in order to see it through. 

     So, she’d better see it through. 

     “Do I wear a dress?”

     Alya had looked at her, not for the first time throughout this saga, as if she were the stupidest person on the planet. “If you put clothes on over your suit, you actively equate your suit with nudity. Do you want to actively equate your suit with nudity?”

     So, no dress. Just the suit that had made her feel nude, at first, and now, thanks to Alya’s logic, did again. As she was about to meet someone she had a gigantic crush on. Someone she’d had a gigantic crush on, even before learning that she really liked talking with him.

     Fantastic. 

     Tikki would be physically trying to push her out of the tree, if she hadn’t been locked away in the suit. She was already late. He had to be just as anxious as she was, and she was keeping him waiting. Even more anxiety! 

     “Okay,” she whispered to no one but the crows. “Okay. I can do this. I can do this. Okay. Here I go… doing this. Now. Now.”

     “Caw!”

     Ladybug startled, looking over at one of the black birds in the nearby branches with a sort of indignation that made absolutely no sense what-so-ever. “You didn’t have to be so rude about it.”

     She pushed herself up, standing in perfect balance on the branch. “Maybe I should just look at this like it’s Adrien,” she mused aloud. “Because I was anxious about him for no good reason, and I’m anxious now for no good reason. And I grew passed that, and I’m going to get over this.” She nodded, and tossed her yo-yo out to fasten on the bell tower just behind the basilica. 

     It made sense. Because there was no way anyone could ever make her as stupidly anxious as Adrien Agreste used to, and she’d totally conquered it. She hadn’t fallen over in front of him for years. 

     She could do this. 

     There was nothing to be anxious about, anyway. They’d already communicated what felt like a thousand messages, and he made her feel incredibly comfortable. Surely, that would only increase, in person. 

     Halfway through the swing, though, she began to really hate the gravity carrying her to her destination. The one foe she couldn’t overcome. 

     Well, or anxiety. Apparently. 

     It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine. It’s going to be great. No one could make you half as anxious as—

     “Adrien Agreste?”

     He stood, his posture far too stiff to be as casual as he was attempting to project, sort of leaning against one of the arches that made up the balcony. His smile, the smile every girl in France— and especially she— had memorized long before, was more emotive than in the photos that used to fill her walls. 

     Adrien shrugged, biting his lower lip a bit, and offered a half dozen red and black roses with the motion. “Surprise?”

     I hyperventilated myself into passing out. Yeah. I fell out of the tree and landed on my head and these are the last few thoughts of my dying, squished brain. Yeah. It’s coming up with the most batshit, impossible—

     “Catwalker,” she said flatly, hitting her forehead with a palm as every time she had watched him strut down a catwalk punched her in the nose. “Oh my God.”

     He chuckled. “I’m not terribly clever.”

     “I very much doubt that.” Accepting the roses, Ladybug felt the most incredible warmth spread through her from the place their hands brushed. She had dreamed of this moment. Dreamed, daydreamed, for years. This, exact, moment. 

     And a lot of other ones. 

     Did Tikki hide her blushes? She really hoped Tikki hid her blushes. She hid how much her hair had grown.

     “Never imagined I could make a superhero blush like that,” he observed, his eyes shyly lowered. 

     Dammit. “You’re Adrien Agreste,” she easily explained. 

     “You’re Ladybug.”

     They each broke into laughter at the same moment. 

     “Alright, well, we’ve got that established.” He motioned for her to sit on one of the stone benches that followed the wide curve around the dome, and then sat beside her— though nearly a meter away. 

     Could he really be as shy with me as I was with him?

     “So….”

     “So,” she sighed, before remembering that this was not, indeed, a dream. Or a daydream, or a death… whatever… spasm. And, if it were, not a bad one. “The flowers were not at all necessary, but thank you.”

     He grinned. “Well, you might not ever want to see me again, and if that’s the case I’ll forever kick myself for not giving Ladybug red and black roses when I had the chance.”

     Her laugh, she hoped, wasn’t as manic as it felt. Never want to see you again? “I can’t imagine that will be the case.”

     Adrien’s cheeks reddened once more, and she found herself rudely pointing at them.

     “You’re not allowed to be anxious right now. With me, you’re not allowed to be anxious.”

     He smirked. “I’m not? Why?”

     “Because I’m the anxious one! We can’t both be anxious!”

     “Isn’t that the indication of a good first date?”

     Her laugh was absolutely a little manic. She desperately wished she had Tikki there to whisper in her ear, but if she did have Tikki present, Adrien surely wouldn’t be looking at her that same way. 

     “I’ve had a crush on you since I was thirteen,” he admitted, and her brain broke completely apart. “I’ve earned my anxiousness.”

     “I’ve had a crush on you since I was thirteen, don’t try to best me!”

     Adrien’s smile had never not melted her, and this one, more honest than any before, made all of her insides feel as if they were full of something squirmy. “You have?”

     She brushed back hair that wasn’t there to brush. It was a Marinette habit, but Ladybug didn’t have any reason for it. “We’ve met, before.”

     “I know, you didn’t ever notice the way I looked at you?”

     Her spirits sagged, suddenly. From the height they’d been a moment before, it was a deathly plummet. “I mean, me. And I could never seem to get a word out.”

     His eyes widened. Beautiful, soulful eyes, each golden fleck of which she had memorized long before. “Really?”

     “I don’t stand out so much, when I’m not wearing a mask.” She shrugged. 

     Adrien reached across the distance he had decided between them, and then scooted closer to hold her hand in his. “I don’t believe that at all. The sort of fire you have inside you, Ladybug, it has nothing to do with a mask. A mask couldn’t explain even a fraction of the things you’ve done.”

     She laughed weakly. “Being powered by an eternal, god-like creature doesn’t hurt.”

     “But she can’t do it by herself,” he whispered, his hands squeezing hers. “If she could, there wouldn’t be any human superheroes. She needs you. Think about that: an eternal, god-like creature needs you.”

     Ladybug stared. She stared, and she couldn’t stop. At some point, she at least managed to turn her gaze from his pretty, pretty face to the city spreading out below them. “I’ve never thought of it that way,” she admitted. 

     “Guess that means we’re still a good team.”

     She looked to him, her first love and her friend and one-time partner and brand new crush and… smiled. “I’m not anxious anymore,” she noted.

     He looked mildly accomplished. “Good. Now we just have to deal with me.”

     She realized, in all the years she had known Adrien, she’d never seen him this way. Human. 

     Of course, Ladybug knew he was much more than a supermodel and over-achiever. She had seen him struggle, he had admitted fears to her. This, however, was somehow different: grown, fully-formed Adrien, who had done so much and who was so much, with all of his walls down. 

     She had to remember not to know too much. Already having admitted that they had known each other, he might begin to search for her identity among his friends if she didn’t have enough questions, or held too many answers. “On one hand, I have so much to ask you. On the other, I’m realizing I know a lot of it.”

     Adrien sighed, his eyes rolling a bit. “The things you read about me, the photos you see… they’re fiction, Ladybug.”

     Her brows raised. “Not everything.”

     “I’m pretty sure I’ve never had a natural photo taken of me, in my life,” he said with a limp shrug. “Even the ones on the street, even those taken by friends, things that look candid… I can’t be candid. I’m always aware that I have attention, I’m always calculating how to look the best that I can. It’s not even conscious, it’s just what I am. What I’ve been created to be.”

     Ladybug frowned. 

     Adrien had told her, back when they were in collège, that he was tired of modeling, of the expectation it placed upon him of always being flawless. He even told his father so, but his father, and that conditioning, had won. 

     “Well, I’d like to get to know you. Adrien, not Adrien Agreste. Do you think that’s possible?”

     His cheeks warmed as his eyes lowered. “I’d really like to try. But,” he looked back up to her, “is it even possible for me to get to know you?”

     She drew her legs up onto the bench, wrapping her arms around them. It was already getting chilly. “There was a reason, above all others, that I wanted to find Catwalker,” she confided. “It’s because I know he can be trusted as much as I could trust any of my Holders, because he was one. And, in my life….” Ladybug drifted off, then smiled disarmingly. “I’d really like to try,” she amended. 

     His smile… it was breathtaking. “I’ll do whatever I can to be worthy of your trust, m— madame.” He stood and removed his jacket, then gently draped it around her shoulders. It was warm, it smelled like him. Like an embrace. 

     You already are. 

     “Did you ever tell anyone, about being Catwalker?”

     His head shook. “No, of course not.”

     She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Good. Please, continue to keep that secret. For your safety. Especially now.”

     Adrien nodded. “Absolutely.”

     Her shoulders sagged, beneath his jacket. “Doing this, it was selfish. And I haven’t done many selfish things— at least, I don’t think I have. But… well, I really wanted to know, and I couldn’t think of any other way to find out. Plagg couldn’t tell me, because Kwamis are unable to reveal the identity of their Holders, even past ones. Well, not during their lifetimes. But now Hawkmoth knows that I was looking for you, and I don’t want any way for him to find you.”

     “Even though I don’t have a Miraculous, anymore?”

     “He could use you to get to me.” Her eyes closed in shame. “I’ve put you in danger by doing this. I’ll absolutely understand if you’d rather not see me again.”

     A shy smile spread across his lips. “It would take far more than Hawkmoth to keep me from wanting to see you again.”

     They sat together, not too close and not too far, and chatted and laughed. It was so familiar, in one way, that she had to remind herself not to slip and be Marinette. In another way, she’d never sat with him like this, with his blushes and bashful, adoring eyes. When the Eiffel Tower lit up for the third time, she realized just how late it was getting, as well has how cold. 

     “So, has your curiosity been satiated?” Adrien inquired, looking more anxious than he had yet.

     A grin crept across her lips, no matter how she tried to hold it back. He was asking her out again, wasn’t he? Or, telling her that he was hoping that she would ask him out, again. 

     “Are you going to disappear into the aether after a handshake?”

     “Not at all,” she told him. “I am still quite curious.”

     He smiled, and the entire world seemed a bit dimmer by contrast. “Well, I am at your service.”

     She had to look away to hide how happy that made her. “I’m not sure you should keep renting out the top of Sacré Cœur, though.”

     Adrien chuckled. “Well, there are other landmarks. Arc de Triomphe or Tour Eiffel, next time?”

     Ladybug giggled, squeaking a bit. Oh my God I’m squeaking?! “I’m sure we can figure out something.” 

     She rose and Adrien immediately jumped to his feet, as if horrified that he hadn’t done so first in order to offer her his hand. 

     Adrien Agreste didn’t get nerves. He was unnaturally cool and collected no matter what the setting. He spoke in front of thousands of people, had addressed the damn EU general assembly, strutted down catwalks in front of the world’s foremost critics. But she got under his skin?

     “Thank you so much,” he said. Softly, but full of feeling. “Thank you so much, for reaching out.”

     “Thank you so much for responding.” And not being married or gay or a tool. 

     He bowed, just the way Catwalker had, and kissed her hand. Her knees had never been so weak. “It’s the pleasure of my life, Ladybug.”

     Her heart was beating so hard that she mistook the thumping in her ears for a helicopter and briefly worried they’d been spotted together. She was fourteen again, completely at a loss for words. She’d probably fall over, again, if she tried to move. 

     “I hope to hear from you soon.” His smile could’ve lit all of Paris as he backed a few steps, then turned towards the tight spiral stairs that lead down to the street. 

     Even with it taking her a few moments to remember how to breathe, and then, to manage to move to swing away into the shadows, Ladybug was long gone before Adrien, halfway down, let out a loud, echoing yessssss! 

Artwork by KaSi

Chapter Text

     Marinette burst through the door, startling Alya who was, as ever, hunched over her work at the table. Her arms went up, as if in triumph. “I am so happy!” she shouted at her loudest volume, despite it being nearly midnight.  

     Alya smirked, then laughed, and stood to embrace her. “Girl, your feet are barely touching the ground! I guess I owe a complete and total apology for all the shit I gave you?”

     Her face hurt, she was smiling so brightly. Her eyes were filled with happy tears. All of it, from the moment she had left him and turned back into Marinette. Her hands went to her friend’s shoulders, and she cried: “it’s Adrien, Alya!”

     Hazel eyes went huge, her jaw fell slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

     She shook her head, gleeful. “Catwalker was Adrien! No wonder he was so perfect! No wonder I couldn’t take my eyes off of him! Alya, do you know what this means? It really is meant to be!” She danced around the common area of their little flat, humming a fairytale tune, completely unconcerned with looking like an idiot. “I gave up so long ago, but it’s meant to be!”

     Alya’s arms were crossed casually as she watched the scene with more than a little entertainment. “This is… unexpected. Wow, yeah.” She shook her head in astonishment. “Incredible.”

     “It’s meant to be!” Marinette squealed from on top of the coffee table.

     “Okay,” Alya laughed, coming over to pull her down onto the floor, “let’s try to keep this celebration from causing structural damage.” She held both of her hands, glowing nearly as much as Marinette was with happiness for her friend. “I’m really, really excited for you, Mari.”

     “He’s had a crush on Ladybug since he was thirteen, he said!”

     Her brows raised. “Wow.”

     “He said he was more anxious than I was!”

     Alya sank down into the ugly gold easy chair next to the ugly green settee. Clearly, her mind was fast at work. And not just Alya’s mind, whip smart, with the eye for detail that had made her an internationally praised investigative journalist, but Rena Rouge’s mind. 

     She hadn’t been there for Catwalker’s battle. No one had been, just the two of them. Just Adrien. Of course she had seen the photos and videos afterwards, and it was hard to miss Ladybug’s smitten looks, if one knew the signs, but Marinette had never told her just how deeply he had affected her, how nice he had felt. Not as a replacement to Chat Noir, of course, but… as someone. And now she knew why. 

     Her hands went to her cheeks again, happy tears rolling over them. “I can’t believe it’s Adrien. But it makes so much sense!”

     Alya was staring off into nothingness, absently picking at her lip. “To think he was one of us… that’s wild.”

     She sobered, a bit. “You know, I tried to give him Sass, before Luka. He said he’d failed, over and over. Then he was the one to suggest Luka. I was so confused, because he had to be perfect to be one of us.”

     “That was before Catwalker?”

     Marinette nodded. 

     A shrug. “So, you were right. He just wasn’t perfect to have that Miraculous.”

     She recalled that Plagg, when talking her into allowing him to give out the Black Cat to another holder, said the person he would take it to had also been considered by Master Fu for it, originally. She wondered why he had chosen Chat Noir, instead. What could he possibly have that Adrien didn’t? 

     Then again, it was good that things had worked out the way they had. Because she could never know who Chat Noir was, and she absolutely couldn’t ever be in a relationship with him. It, actually, would’ve been sort of a tragedy if he had been chosen. Or even if he’d worked out with Sass! 

     This was perfect. 

     “So, this is obviously going to continue,” Alya observed. She seemed to have gotten over her own excitement. 

     Marinette frowned. “What do you mean?”

     Her lips pursed for a moment, but she only ended up shaking her head. 

     What was on Alya’s mind? She had thought there wasn’t any way she wouldn’t be happy about this. She had, after all, spent a good portion of their teenage years scheming on how to get them together.

     Her phone buzzed, and Marinette reacted as if in a quick draw. 

     CQM: The cold was absolutely worth it, but next time you aren’t talking me out of bringing something hot. 

     The photo was of one of his hands holding a mug of chocolat chaud. He was sitting in one of the chairs beside his gas fireplace, a finely knit throw over his lap. 

     To think that it had been Adrien’s hand, in that photo he had sent her from his breakfast. 

     She smiled, the glow reminding her why she hadn’t noticed that it had gotten so cold. That, and his jacket around her shoulders. Like an embrace. Marinette buried her nose in the little bouquet he had given her and sighed in pleasure. 

     LWB: I’ll bring a blanket. 

     “You think he’ll freak out?” Alya asked, finally putting voice to her thoughts. “To find it’s been you, if you decide to show him it was you?”

     Her spirits sank. What was she saying, that he might be disappointed to find out that Ladybug was his friend? 

     Although… she did have a point. Adrien had never asked Marinette on a date. He’d never looked at Marinette the way he had looked at Ladybug. He’d never brought Marinette flowers. 

     “Just… promise me you’re not going to rush this along, because it’s Adrien?”

     She scowled. No, she wouldn’t rush things along, just because it was Adrien. At that moment, in fact, she never wanted to take off her mask. 

     “I’m going to bed,” she muttered, suddenly feeling very heavy.

     As she changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth, Marinette reflected more quietly on the revelation of the day. She had been completely overwhelmed with excitement and dizzy with hope, but there was a lot more than that to consider, as Alya had gone straight to. 

     Catwalker being Adrien…. 

     She tried to think back to life at large, back then. Had he shown any hint that something so momentous had happened? She didn’t remember him being wildly, randomly excited at any point. How had it impacted him? Was he bolstered by it, or disappointed that he couldn’t continue? She did remember strong emotion in his eyes as he gave the Snake back to her, insisting that he couldn’t handle it. There had been disappointment, frustration, but also an intense overtone of failure. He had tried to hide it from her, but he’d been angry at himself. 

     She was glad that he’d had another chance. To prove to himself, more than anything, that he wasn’t a failure. 

     He had been so very calm during their battle, so reserved. It had seemed impossible that it was his first battle— but, it sort of wasn’t. Things made more sense, that way. 

     He was so incredible. 

     Marinette didn’t see him all that often, anymore. Occasionally, with Nino and Alya, and once or twice they had ended up at the same fashion function, but he had faded into the background of her life as much as he ever could. 

     An uncomfortable thought surfaced: he and the ballerina had been on a red carpet together only a few weeks before. Were they together, still? They had certainly looked happy, at the time. 

     She hated the feeling of jealousy. And she didn’t feel it often— the passing wish that she could be like one couple or another was nothing like the abrupt, churning discomfort that flared then. It made her squirm, as if something dark was burrowing around in her stomach. For as wonderful as she had felt, it was a sickening drop. 

     In her bed, Marinette scrolled back through their conversations, looking for any hint that he wasn’t single. Also, though, there was nothing suggesting that this was anything more two people connecting. The roses, in a little vase on her desk were, as he said, just for the opportunity to bring Ladybug red and black roses. 

     It certainly wasn’t something she could ask him. Not now. She’d seem insane. She just had to keep her hopes tempered. Well tempered. As always, she was her own biggest enemy. Even bigger than Hawkmoth. She knew Hawkmoth’s aim, his tactics. Herself… that was much more murky. 

     “Girl, I didn’t mean it like that,” Alya said gently as the door creaked open. “How could he be disappointed?”

     She shrugged. “Imagines Ladybug to be some exotic stranger, and she turned out to just be me.”

     “Just you. He thought you were fantastic, when we were kids. He was closer with you than anyone but Nino, he knew he could trust and rely on you.”

     “Nino and Kagami,” she muttered. 

     Alya sniffed. “And they didn’t work out. Like, in short order. This is now and you are so happy, remember?”

     Marinette sighed. “I’m just getting into my head. Like always.”

     Her friend smiled sadly, running her hand over her hair as she reached the top of the ladder on the side of the bed. “Yeah, and you need to stop it. This is incredible, a one in a million thing! Enjoy it.” She laughed. “No wonder you two worked together so well! 

     “No wonder he made me feel so comfortable.” 

     “Exactly! You see? There was a reason it never happened, back then. It was so it could happen now, when it can really be something!”

     She shook her head. “I can’t get that into my head. He’s… he’s everywhere, you know? Playboy of Paris. He and Inez were just together, he might not be single. And, even if he were—“

     Alya smirked. “Girl, playboy means he’s always single.”

     “Exactly,” she sighed. “He’s… a collector. And Ladybug would be a good addition to his collection.”

     Her friend scowled. “You know Adrien isn’t like that, Marinette. He’s just not found the right person, yet. Or, realized he’s found her. You said he’s had a crush on Ladybug forever! Be Ladybug, the confident, incredible person you were never quite able to be with him because you were too busy fawning. Let him fawn over you.”

     She managed a little smile. Alya had a point, as ever. She had always been so desperate for Adrien to like her, of trying to be the perfect person for him in all ways, she often fractured into nothing but doubt and anxiety. Now, she knew, he did like her. She didn’t have to try, didn’t have to cram herself into an unknown mold. She could just be. Be Ladybug, someone who had no reason to doubt herself. She was strong, capable, confident. 

     “Yeah, see? You know I’m right.”

     Marinette laughed. “You’re right.” 

     Alya leaned over and kissed her on the head before disappearing down the ladder. “Sleep well, Marinette. I can imagine you’ll have some wonderful dreams tonight!”

Chapter Text

     Adrien’s fingers tapped against the table top. He stilled them as soon as he noticed, but it was the fourth time he had done that, so it wasn’t likely to take. 

     Ladybug was… seventeen minutes late. And she wasn’t at a battle, because he wasn’t at a battle, and it’s not as if she had to sit in traffic. His heart was in his throat. He’d never been stood up before, and if Ladybug was the first person to do so he might just melt down into a puddle of nothing. 

     There had been a battle that morning, and it had been almost torturous to not be able to look at her the way he wanted. He had always adored her above all others, and now that things were actually happening… he could barely contain himself. 

     Plagg hated it. 

     The venue for their date (this absolutely was a date— or so he was reasonably sure, after another two days of messaging constantly) was the rooftop cafe of one of Paris’ luxury department stores, one with an expansive view of the city and the Seine. He couldn’t seem to stay away from the roofs with her. Also, though, it afforded relative privacy. The cafe was closed on Mondays, but, as with obtaining access to the dome of Sacré Cœur off visiting hours, a lot of money made almost anything possible. 

     So it was just the two of them— or would be. The table was already set, an extra pot of tea was being kept warm over a tea light on a cart nearby where all of the food was being kept under silver. The staff, only enough to prepare and serve for the two of them, was under strict orders not to interrupt. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any leaked photos of this. If she ever showed up. 

     His fingers were tapping again. 

     She wasn’t going to stand him up. All of those messages— hundreds!— and no hint of hesitation from her side. Just the opposite, they seemed nearly as comfortable already as Ladybug and Chat Noir, mentioning and laughing about the most random things. He hadn’t stopped smiling for days.

     And that smile sparked anew, as his well-trained ears picked up the sound of her yo-yo unreeling, somewhere behind him. A cool wash of relief flowed through his veins. Her steps were silent, even as she sprinted across the roof to explode into his peripheral vision. “I am so sorry!”

     He stood to faire la bise with a chuckle, then pulled out her chair. “No need, I’ve been enjoying the view.” 

     Ladybug’s eyes twinkled in evening light as she looked out across the city. “You certainly do know how to find some fantastic ones.”

     Adrien shrugged, doing his best to look humble as he sat once more. “I sort of figured you probably enjoy them.”

     “And they’re pretty private.”

     “And they’re pretty private,” he conceded. “By the way, no one should be interrupting us; everything’s been delivered already. Although I can also absolutely send for something if you’d like.”

     She blushed. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, thank you. This is already amazing.”

     He shrugged again, hoping he wasn’t trying too hard. It was difficult to find that line, when you were head over heels and ungodly wealthy. Nothing special, to him, could be a once-in-a-lifetime thing to her. But, also, how could he communicate those things, without seeming like an asshole? He was privileged, fantastically so, but he had always done his best to remain as down to earth as possible. His best friend helped a lot with that. Still, he had no solid frame of reference. 

     “So, having no idea what you like, other than not-coffee, there’s tea, wine, hot camembert with honey, a seasonal salad and soup. And some dessert, if you’re so inclined.”

     She wasn’t looking at the table, though, or the covered dishes nearby. She was looking at him, with each corner of her mouth tugged up just enough to make him desperately want to know what she was thinking. 

     It had been physically painful, the day before, not to ask to see her again that night. Spending time with her, real time, out of his suit, was incredible. When they weren’t on patrol, when they weren’t at work. When they were together because they wanted to be. 

     When she called him Adrien. 

     She had actually managed to beat him to it when she asked, that morning, when he might have some free time in his schedule. He had responded my schedule will always be free for you, and then went to work figuring out something suitable. 

     “What?” he finally asked, when he couldn’t take her quiet gaze any longer without blushing mercilessly. 

     Ladybug smiled, though her eyes fell. She smoothed a napkin over her lap to have a place to focus. “I want you to know that I value you for who you are, on a personal level. How incredible you were during that battle, and all the talking we’ve done… but I have to admit that once or twice during the last few days I’ve had a weird I’m texting Adrien Agreste moment.”

     He reached across to cover the hand she had placed back on the table with his own. How strange a life he lead. “Please, just think of me as Adrien.”

     “Like the cologne?”

     He broke into laughter, and she looked a little accomplished. She had seen his quiet distress at the person he was being identified as a product, always, and managed to make him laugh at it. His amazing bugaboo. 

     “We’re both presented as someone we can’t possibly live up to,” she said gently. “When I reached out to you, to Catwalker, it was because I thought you might be able to understand me more than others, and just that, just some understanding is…. But I had no idea how true that would be.”

     His hand slid around hers, squeezing. He wanted to tell her that she was everything people thought about Ladybug and so much more, but he also did understand how exhausting it was when people thought you to be something you simply aren’t. It wasn’t quite imposter syndrome, it was an ad campaign of fantasies and you were just a person. 

      “There aren’t a whole lot of people that I’ve ever thought could understand what it’s like to be me,” he told her, and felt her hand squeeze back.  For a moment, he swore, he saw her eyes sparkle with an extra sheen in the glow of the sunset. 

     I am so desperately in love with you, Ladybug. 

     He poured her choice of beverage, tea, and set the domes covering the camembert appetizer and fresh bread between them. Uncovering the former, his soul briefly left his body. 

     “Plagg!” Ladybug cried out, thankfully before Adrien could react. The beast was laid back across the ramekin that had held the warmed cheese, so full and happy he looked drunk. “Are you following me?”

     The kwami startled to attention, his eyes widening in panic as he looked from the one of them to the other. A stutter Adrien was certain he had never heard before emanated from the little bastard. 

     He really should have known better. Even with a very stern talking to and a bevy of cheese, earlier. 

     “Oh, um, master… yeah, you know, we’re always attuned to you and I happened to….” He turned his attention to Adrien. “Oh, uh, Catwalker. It’s been a minute.”

     “Not okay, Plagg,” Ladybug growled. “Go back to Chat right now.”

     His ears wilted with a nod and the idiot had enough sense not to fly directly into the messenger bag hung over the back of Adrien’s chair. Instead, he floated off into the distance. 

     Little punk!

     But thank goodness that she had said something before he had, and come to the conclusion that she had. 

     Although, of course, Adrien was probably just about the only person in the world that she knew Chat Noir wasn’t. 

     “I’m so sorry,” she sighed, rubbing hands over her face. “You didn’t have him long enough to know, but Plagg is very much food-motivated. Cheese, specifically.”

     Adrien chuckled. “It’s no problem, other than having no appetizer. Funny to see him again.”

     “Now I have to wonder just how often he’s lurking around,” she muttered, eyes narrowed in the direction Plagg had left. 

     “Well,” he attempted to refocus her attention, “we still have the bread. Should go nicely with the soup.”

     Ladybug smiled, back with him again, and nodded. 

     “When Chat gave him up, I went through a hundred different ways I would find a new holder for Plagg. But none of them would work, because I can’t know who my partner is. Eventually, he suggested that he be trusted to deliver the Miraculous to someone.” Her gaze was far away, looking somewhere through the steam of the cup of tea she held between her hands. “He said that the Guardian who chose Chat and I had nearly chosen someone else for him, and he would take it there.” She looked up at Adrien as he placed her bowl of soup at her place, uncovering it to find, thankfully, Plagg had only eaten the cheese. “Did you know? That you were nearly chosen, before?”

     He shook his head, sinking back into his own seat over his own soup. “No, no idea. That’s… strange to think about. Amazing, but strange.”

     “I wonder why it was that he went with Chat.”

     Adrien shrugged. “I imagine he realized it would be difficult for such a public person to have a secret identity.”

     Her lips pursed, she nodded. Just as her spoon was nearly dipped into her bowl, Ladybug paused. She studied him anew. “I guess I didn’t consider that, when I chose you for the Snake.”

     That old familiar ache returned to his chest, as he remembered his failure. Failures. So many of them. 

     “Viperion seems to be the perfect person to have that Miraculous.” He hoped that she would move on from the subject quickly. She was too astute for him to be able to hide that scar for very long. 

     She nodded. “He is. He’s invaluable. And I guess both he and I have you to thank, for that.”

     He shrugged, stirring his soup absently. “It made sense. Luka is a unique, pretty phenomenal person.”

     “Yes,” Ladybug agreed, and the hint of stars in her eyes set his heart to pounding. Sweat prickled his underarms in a strange sort of fight-or-flight response. 

     Was this what jealousy felt like? In the past, the distant past, when he had first fallen for her and let her know how he felt, she had told him her heart belonged to someone else. Even then, he hadn’t felt anything like this, nothing so agressive. It had been much more disappointment, pain. 

     Adrien retreated into his head, stomach now churning. He rewound through memories, searching for any indication during any of their battles that there was anything more between she and Viperion than any of the others. 

     No, there couldn’t have been. He would’ve noticed right away. 

     Wait. 

     She’d had a crush on him since she was thirteen, she said. Was it possible that he had been...? 

     No. No way. She wouldn’t say her heart was captured by someone she didn’t know, a random celebrity crush. Someone like Ladybug was far too rational for something like that. 

     Also, though, maybe she had just been feeding him a line. 

     “This is incredible,” she remarked, after the sipping the soupe au pistou, filled with spring vegetables. “The bread is delicious, too, and I’m difficult to impress with baked goods.”

     He smirked. “Why is that?”

     Her mouth opened, but she hesitated. “Oh, I’m just… a fan of carbs, I guess.”

     Adrien chuckled. “Well, I deserve no praise for this, although I do enjoy cooking. My mother loved to cook and I used to love to help her.”

     Ladybug observed him with a sweet, sad look in her eyes. “Your mother was an astonishing person, by all accounts.”

     He nodded, though his presence had slipped far away. “She was.”

     More and more, though, she faded in his memory. He watched her films and her interviews in an attempt to keep her bright and clear, but he had begun to wonder if those things were subtly changing his recall of the actual person. 

     But he snapped out of his ennui, having no intention of letting their conversation falter because of him. “So, what are your hobbies?”

     “I…” 

     Adrien did his best to hide a knowing grin, but the corner of his lips betrayed him. He understood that, when your entire life has revolved around keeping your secret, sharing even little things about yourself couldn’t be easy. Even if they’d be meaningless. 

     “I… like… to read?” She nodded, seeming to decide it was acceptable. “I like to read.”

     He let out a laugh, which only seemed to annoy her. Not calling her bugaboo when her face pinched that way was nearly impossible. “You like to read.”

     “What’s so funny about that?”

     “Because you chose the most obvious, common, easy thing you could come up with.”

     Her eyes narrowed. “That is not true. The most obvious thing I could’ve said was I like to stare at my phone. I doomscroll all day. I binge Netflix. I play some stupid matchy matchy game,” she said, thumbs pantomiming. “I—“

     “Okay, okay,” he surrendered, hands up. “Forgive me. I only meant to say: please don’t feel the need to tell me something calculatedly vague. I have no intention on trying to figure out your identity by assembling crumbs.”

     She smirked, appearing to relax somewhat. “Well, I do like to read, though I guess I haven’t really been able to set much time aside for it for a while. I sketch. I make… things.”

     Adrien chuckled, but he wouldn’t press her further. 

     “And what about you? Other than the stuff everyone knows?”

     “I do read a lot. History, sociology, anthropology. I’ve been actually writing music for a while, not just playing it.”

     Her brows raised. “Wow, really?”

     He shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “That’s not to say it’s any good. I’m not planning to ever—“

     “Would you play it for me?”

     A smile broke out across his lips. For her interest in him, for her trust that it wouldn’t be horrible, and because it meant she wouldn’t be opposed to visiting his apartment. “Well, we’ll see. That’s a very high bar, I’ve never played them for anyone before.”

     “I am very comfortable at heights.”

     I am so desperately in love with you, Ladybug. 

Chapter Text

     “So?”

     Marinette blushed, her cheeks— as ever— answering for her as she ducked into the back room of the bakery. 

     “Good things, then,” Luka laughed from the screen of her phone. He looked to be taking a coffee somewhere, surely one of his favorite cafes at the top of Montmartre. 

     “I… um… I’m sorry I haven’t, you know, haven’t updated you at all,” she said, circling the big work table in strange configurations like a wounded honey bee. “It’s, yeah, it’s good things. But I’ve been afraid that it would also, for us, be sort of… um… uncomfortable?”

     His brows raised as he sipped from one of Paris’ omnipresent Cafés Richard mugs. “How do you mean?”

     She turned, changing her direction. She took a few steps up the stairs in the back of the room, then came down them again. Luka, of course, had known well of her young crush on Adrien Agreste, and always been understanding and supportive. She was probably more uncomfortable telling him than he would be, hearing it. 

     “As long as he’s a good guy, like I said—“

     “It’s Adrien.”

     Luka’s expression fell flat, emotionless, and stunted. Only the movement of a serveur in the background suggested that their connection hadn’t suddenly frozen. 

     Okay, maybe she wasn’t more uncomfortable than he was. 

     “Adrien?” he finally seemed to manage. “Cat— was Adrien Agreste?”

     She laughed awkwardly. “Um, yeah.”

     His gaze wandered, betraying that his thoughts were racing away from his little cafe table. “You’re sure that it was actually him? You couldn’t have been fooled?”

     Marinette scowled. “What, like I decided it was him because I’d want it to be? No! We chatted for days before I even knew it was him! He actually hid it from me until we met in person!”

     Luka sighed. He was biting his lower lip, a rare anxious habit. Luka, mister meditation, didn’t get anxious. For the first time, really, it seemed as if her most pessimistic vision of how things could go had come true. He was deep into his own head, and it didn’t seem as if anything good could possibly be in there. 

     “Luka, I—“

     His eyes came back to her, and he smiled. “Oh, no! I’m sorry, Mare, I just got a message. That’s a wild coincidence, it really is. I’m glad you’re happy. Gotta go.”

     She held the phone steady for a few moments even after he had ended the call, confusion settling heavy on her shoulders. She might not have a fraction of his intuition, but she knew Luka. She didn’t need any, to know that this revelation had shaken him to the core.

     She just didn’t understand why. 

     “Adrien.”

     He startled, having been happily absorbed in reading back over his messages with Ladybug. Not for the first time, either. He’d soon have them memorized, surely, like a script. 

     He was used to people calling his name, but familiar tones were more rare. As was seeing the speaker: a tall man with long turquoise hair, currently pulled back under a slouchy beanie, who pushed off the wall he had been leaning back against, apparently waiting. “You and I need to have a talk.”

     “Luka!” he greeted him with the surprise and affection he had felt a split second earlier, before his mysterious and oddly serious request. “Hey, it’s been a minute, how are you?”

     His old friend took the relaxed handshake, but his eyes— ever intense— were staring into him in a way that was all business. It was strange, as well as uncomfortable, because they barely saw each other. Occasionally their old group would get together, and occasionally they’d end up at the same function and enjoy the opportunity to catch up, but Luka’s aura at that moment spoke of something intimate and exceptional, and Adrien didn’t have a clue what he was about to say. 

     “Everything okay?” he asked with an awkward chuckle. 

     Luka was still staring. Not just into him, through him. Like he was reading the lines of code that made up Adrien Agreste. 

     “Ummm… can I help you?”

     “Catwalker,” he said flatly, and Adrien’s pulse rocketed so high he felt a brief head rush from the change. 

     At least he didn’t completely freeze up. “What?” 

     “Like I said, we need to have a talk.”

     “Umm….” He looked down at his watch— for the time, although it was fantastic to notice his heart rate was so rapid— and was thankful that being early had been so deeply engrained into him. Adrien turned back towards the door to his building. “Come on, I’ve got a few.”

     The elevator, like most elevators in old Parisian buildings, was small. It didn’t help his discomfort, as they slowly rose towards the top floor. 

     “Who told you that?”

     Luka’s brows rose. “How many people know?”

     “One.”

     “Guess it was her, then.”

     He kept his head down— he never kept his head down— when the elevator slid open, when he unlocked his door, and when he sat down in the apartment he had just left. 

     Luka was one of the teammates whose identities Adrien knew: he was Viperion. Adrien, actually, had suggested he be given the Miraculous of the Snake. So he didn’t know, exactly, why he felt so unnerved that Luka knew that he had been Catwalker, it certainly didn’t endanger either of them.

     The man was pacing, the quiet intensity he’d held before— pretty much ever since Adrien had met him— had dissolved. 

     “I’ve always had a lot of affection for you, Adrien,” he said, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, as he continued to pace in his long-legged stride. It didn’t seem like a way someone would start a good conversation. 

     “I’m glad?”

     He stopped, and fixed him with his haunting gaze. “You asshole!”

     Adrien sat back, brows raised. 

     Luka’s head dropped into his hands. “You absolute piece of shit, she was looking for Catwalker because she can’t be with someone who’s on the team!”

     Adrien stared. Partially because he had absolutely no idea what to say, partially because he had no idea what Luka was about to say, and partially because he was sort of jealous that Ladybug apparently hung out with Viperion to talk about her love life. 

     Luka stared back, his hands apart as if he was presenting something. Or, it seemed, waiting for Adrien to. 

     “So…?”

     “You’re Chat fucking Noir!”

     He sprang up, all of his muscles seeming to go taut at the same time. He thought he’d known what fight or flight felt like before, but ten battles-worth of adrenaline had just dumped into his bloodstream. “Hey—“

     Luka’s hand slapped onto his chest, holding him back. “Fuck you, I’ve known since Wishmaker.”

     Adrien’s brow furrowed, his panic thrown off course as he went into his mental card catalog of Akuma battles. “That was like twelve years ago.”

     “Yes it was, so don’t bullshit me!” His expression was wild, unrestrained. Wholly unrecognizable. “You stupid, selfish idiot!” Luka pushed him, but not strongly. More in frustration than anger.

     Adrien stumbled backwards a meter and watched, dumbfounded, as Luka fell heavily into an easy chair. He threw his hat down and ran shaking hands back through his hair. When he looked back up, his eyes had an unusual sheen across them. 

     “She can’t be with anyone on the team, Adrien. She won’t. She thought Catwalker would be the perfect person, because he could be trusted like a team member, but wasn’t.” His head shook. “Why the hell was it you? You quit!”

     He sighed, sagging back down onto the settee. “I did. And I didn’t want to come back. It was all Plagg’s doing.”

     Luka huffed. 

     “It was me,” affirmed the kwami, appearing. His ears were wilted, a sort of physical contrition that was rarely, if ever, seen. But Luka held his hand out to quiet him. 

     “It doesn’t matter.” He turned his attention back to Adrien. “But you have to end this, right now.”

     The words felt like a kick to the chest. Immediately, he felt every bit as defensive as he had when his identity was revealed. “Whoa, no!”

     One callused finger pointed severely at him. “Don’t be pissed at me, Adrien, you got yourself into this. It’s up to you get yourself out. The longer you wait the worse it will be, for you both.”

     “I really don’t see what the huge deal—“

     The look in Luka’s eyes shut him up. The slouch of his body. The way he looked completely, utterly exhausted. Adrien, suddenly, understood. But his friend looked away. 

     “It’s a hard and fast rule, for her,” he said, smooth voice turned gravelly. “Caring about anyone on the team more than any other— caring about someone on the team like that. It would put everyone in danger, including herself. Because… love isn’t rational, and we have to be.” 

     “Luka….” He couldn’t seem to say anything more. How could he? He was completely ignorant. “You and she…?”

     His head shook. “It’s not possible. That’s her decision and I respect it. There are things more important than our little lives. For now.” He swallowed heavily. “You can’t do this to her. If you really do care about her—“

     “I love her!” He was up, on his feet again. Now, he was pacing. “I’ve loved her since the day we met!” Turning back to his teammate, he lobbed a grenade he knew, already, was a dud. “And she said the same thing!”

     Luka sighed. “That doesn’t matter, Adrien. Love isn’t an asset, in our game. It’s a liability. It’s a choice she made years ago, and has stood by.” He leveled his gaze at him and pronounced what felt like a death sentence. “And you can’t take that choice away from her.”

     He blew out a long breath, face in his hands. He had almost convinced himself that hiding his identity from her was the same thing she was doing to him, only inverse. It wasn’t true, though, because he knew she had another identity. 

     “You need to end it,” Luka said again, his voice weaker. “It’s already going to tear her apart. You need to end it before it gets any worse.”

     His hands were rubbing together, anxious and uncomfortable. He twisted his ring. “What if I tell her?”

     “Then she’ll be the one who ends it.”

     Adrien felt as if he weighed four times what he had just a few minutes before, when he had been headed out for a day that was full of promise simply because she was out in it, somewhere. 

     “What was your idea?” he asked, though somewhat more gently than expected. “How were you thinking this would go?”

     He could only seem to shrug, but his shoulders sagged down farther than they had been, before. “I was just thinking that, finally… I had a chance at true happiness.”

     His friend sighed. Still, he knew, his friend. 

     “Don’t think I haven’t… I know I’m lying to her. I know, and I hate it. I feel terrible. But we messaged and we met and… it’s everything!”

     Luka picked his beanie back up, and pulled it down over his hair as it shook. “It’s not only you two, though. Catwalker was the antithesis of Chat Noir, and, in that, he showed her Chat’s true worth. Now, at some point, she’s going to find out they were the same person. She puts so much importance on that night, that event. What do you think is going to happen, Adrien, when she realizes that it was based on a lie?”

     He could’ve melted into a miserable puddle, right there and then. Luka wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already known, and maybe that was the worst part: he hadn’t been ignorant. 

     “I can’t do anything about something that happened so long ago,” Adrien pleaded. “Catwalker was so different from Chat Noir because he was more me, more ‘Adrien.’ Chat was the person I wished I could be, when every second of my life was choreographed.” 

     “When is she supposed to learn about that side of you, then? It’s a full half of your personality being hidden from her.”

     Adrien didn’t have any answer for that. He didn’t have any answer for a lot of things— he was treading water. 

     “I’m really not trying to shit on you, I’m trying to help you. Both of you, and all of us. Because, when she finds out, it’ll end the two of you on both sides of your lives, and it’ll open the team up to tremendous danger.”

     Yeah, he hadn’t really looked at things that way. 

     “You know her too, then,” Adrien stated weakly. “Who she is, when she’s not Ladybug. Is she… is she as different as I am?”

     Luka pushed himself up, and for the first time the hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. “Not at all. She’s the same person, no matter what she’s wearing. The only thing the suit changes is how much she believes in herself.”

     He looked up at him— at Viperion, whose wisdom and intuition and empathy had surely kept them alive more times than he could imagine. “Are you going to tell her?”

     “No. It’s not my place, Adrien. I admitted to her years ago that I knew her identity because it was something she needed to hear at the time. I’ve never told her anything else I’ve learned or done or seen as Viperion. It’s part of my job.”

     “You know,” he said, standing and trying to regain some of his usual attitude in a sort of Chat Noir knee jerk, “you’ve never thanked me for suggesting you for that position.”

     Luka sniffed as his hand fell onto the doorknob. “I’m as likely to punch you for that as hug you, man.”

     Gulp. 

     He looked at him for a long moment, pity shining in his eyes. “I’m here for you. But you need to end this, and you know it.”

     Adrien let out such a deep breath when the door shut that his head spun. He fell back into the couch with a mixture of dizziness and desolation. 

Chapter Text

     I’ve never been here before I’ve never been here before I’ve never been here before. 

     Ladybug stood across the street from Adrien Agreste’s apartment, hidden in the shadow of a ledge of chimneys, steeling herself. 

     It had been a while, Adrien didn’t have others over very often. But she was still more familiar with the flat than she should be. She had to remember not to seem in any way acquainted with any of his belongings, with the layout. 

     She had spent the last few days sorting the things she knew from the things that everyone knew, even going so far as to spend an hour the evening before at the table with Alya over a glass of wine, dividing things into two columns on a piece of notebook paper. Her best friend had been more than happy to take a break from her own work to do so, especially as it pertained to Marinette being on a date with him. 

     It had been before noon, the day after they had their rooftop dinner, when he messaged. Marinette had nearly jumped out of her chair and just barely held in a shriek of excitement, when her phone chimed with its special-set alert. 

     CQM: I had a fantastic time again last night, thank you. 

     LWB: Why are you thanking me, you put it all together!

     CQM: It wouldn’t have been nearly as nice without you.

     She had considered changing his contact name, but decided to leave it as it was— different app or not, she couldn’t risk getting her Adriens mixed up. 

     Adrien!!!

     It was three days before they each managed to be free— it had been a long time since Marinette had his schedule memorized, but it seemed to be reasonably busy, even in the evenings. There was a soirée he had to attend as part of his public persona, and then a scheduled dinner at the manor with his father, with the purpose of reviewing a recent photo shoot. 

     But on Thursday you can have my undivided attention. The weather forecast wouldn’t allow an outdoor rendez-vous, and so he had offered his flat. And I’m a decent cook. 

     She had been looking at the photos of him— of Catwalker— constantly over the previous week. Photos, the few short videos. It was crazy how, knowing who he was, she could now clearly see it. Adrien, of course! The suit was half historical fencing kit and half prince— who could it be but Adrien Agreste? Dreamy green eyes, hair tinted to match. 

     How had she looked so many times before, and never seen it? How had she not recognized his eyes or his voice, that night? 

     “Kwamis fuck with your head,” Alya had said, when Marinette puzzled this out loud. “Girl, you know how obsessed I was with Ladybug, and I never had even the slightest hint that it was you. Once you told me, yeah, it seemed obvious.”

     It made her wonder… part of her had always thought that she would recognize Chat Noir, if she ever bumped into him— the real him— on the street. Now, she realized she might have already, and never known. 

     “I’ve never been here before,” she reminded herself out loud as the distant Eiffel Tower began to sparkle to mark the top of the hour. Ten— not too late, but dark, so that it was less likely she would be seen entering his place. 

     Ladybug blew out a long, calming breath, and swung across the street to land one of the balconies off his salon, whose tall, hinged windows were cracked upon. She knocked on one lightly, calling out a greeting as she stepped one foot inside. Whatever he had made smelled incredible. 

     Adrien appeared from the kitchen— not that she had any idea of the layout of the place, of course— with a bright smile. “Bonsoir.” 

     It was a struggle not to grin like an idiot. “Bonsoir,” she replied, coming inside completely. 

     He shut the doors behind her; the forecasted rain had not yet materialized, but cool gusts of wind promised it wasn’t far away. With a voice command, all of the glass turned perfectly opaque black, and Ladybug marveled. She never had any idea it had that ability. But, she supposed, someone with such a public life would look for as much privacy as he could, when he could. 

     “You make it difficult to be a gentleman when you have no coat I can offer to take.”

     She laughed. “I don’t believe you have any problem being a gentleman, no matter the circumstance. It smells amazing in here!”

     He blushed, ruffling his hair a bit. “Ah, well, we’ll see how it tastes. May I get you an aperitif? Or are you hungry?”

     “A bit hungry,” she admitted, yet feeling a bit drained by an especially demanding Akuma that had struck that afternoon. “It’s been a busy day.”

     He nodded. “Mine, too. Alright, food it is.”

     “Your home is lovely,” Ladybug said, looking at it with new eyes as he lead her towards the kitchen— since the formal dining room had been sacrificed for a home for his piano, surrounded by a significant library of glass-fronted bookshelves. He didn’t, she knew, have people over in any substantive way very often, obviously prioritizing his personal peace. There was also what was surely more of a reading nook than anything else, a comfortable leather wingback chair in front of the fireplace, which he had sent her a photo from after their first meeting. Other than that, the salon boasted a large state-of-the-art television and sound system with at least one video game console hidden in the cabinet below, a luxurious couch and chairs. 

     He thanked her for the compliment, though seemed a little embarrassed. Uncomfortable with the display of wealth, maybe? Even though nothing was wildly flagrant. 

     Well, maybe the original Pissarro hanging over the fireplace. 

     “I, uh, was a bit more concerned with having space for some passions than entertaining. Hope you don’t mind eating in the kitchen.”

     “I don’t mind at all,” she said, thinking of the cramped little apartment she shared with Alya, the table so small that, if Nino was over, they all sat on the floor around the coffee table to have enough room to eat together. 

     Adrien’s kitchen, alone, was larger than all common areas of her apartment, and it had appliances of even higher quality than her parents’ bakery. Rather than simply owning them because he could, however, it seemed that they were put to good use. There was an extensive collection of spices mounted on the backsplash, a rainbow of powders all at varying heights in their glass bottles. Oils and vinegars, as well, lined up beneath them along the counter. 

     These were things she had never before noticed of his home, things that spoke to the intricacies of the man that lived there. She had not paid attention to them during previous visits, because Marinette had grown up. No longer did she dream about Adrien Agreste and the fairytale life they’d share together, no longer did she obsessively catalogue every tiny detail of the model and his quirks. 

     The table, large enough for four, was set with bread and wine— bread that she recognized. True, Paris had thousands of boulangeries, but a baker always knows her craft. She couldn’t help but smile. 

     “Since you’re ’a fan of carbs,’” he said with a grin as he went back to the oven, “I had to pick up bread from a friend’s bakery. It’s the best in the city, and I refuse to entertain any other opinions.”

     “I’ll be the judge of that.”

     He chuckled. 

     “Marinette,” Alya sighed, after they’d spent half an hour mostly laughing through their list-making, “doesn’t having to do all of this… doesn’t it really make it obvious how messed up a situation it is?”

     “What else am I supposed to do?” she’d asked her friend. “Tell him who I am? Cut it off, just because I know him? How is it really any different than if it were anyone else?”

     “Because you wouldn’t be lying like this to anyone else.”

     “My mother’s recipe,” Adrien said as he carefully drew a rich green cocotte out of the oven, where it had been kept warm. “She was much more than just an actress.” 

     Ladybug gazed up at him dreamily as he set the dish down on a silver trivet in the middle of the table, but Adrien didn’t notice. 

     She wouldn’t feel any differently about him if she were anyone else beneath her mask, and isn’t that what mattered? Being able to overlay the boy he had been so easily onto the man he now was, knowing how his mannerisms had and hadn’t changed, that wasn’t the reason she felt so warm inside. If they had met for the very first time the week before, and if she’d never heard his name or seen his face before, none of that would change what she was feeling in that moment. 

     “Tell me more? About her?”

     He smiled. “Incredibly gentle and kind, very much a humanist. Yet, with incredible inner strength. Only one or two people I’ve ever met, since, have come even close.” 

     The way his eyes shied away from hers, Ladybug felt her cheeks flush. Could he, honestly, be talking about her? 

     “When I remember her,” he said, sitting down across the table, “it’s just like… pure light.”

     “It sounds as if you take very much after her.”

     Adrien demurred, removing the lid from the cocotte. Inside was a beef bourguignon, classic French comfort food. Perfect for a stormy night, she thought, as she picked up the sound of the wind building outside. She loved the thought of sheltering with him there, warm and safe. 

     Even if she was the last person to need defending, it would feel nice to know she was truly secure with someone. 

     “What about your family?” 

     She shrugged, not so much concerned about revealing hints to her identity so much as gloating about a happy home. “Just parents and me, simple. I am very fortunate, though, we’ve always been quite close.”

     Adrien smiled warmly for her. “Do you think they’ve ever had any… suspicions? About you?”

     Ladybug drew a long breath. “I don’t think so. I hope not. And not, you know, for me. For them. They’d go mad with worry. And it could also open them up to… my father’s already—“ She stopped short, realizing what she was about to reveal. 

     Although, by the count on the LadyBlog, there had been more than a thousand people Akumatized since the beginning of Hawkmoth’s reign of terror, so it wouldn’t exactly be a fatal hint. 

     She really hated that stupid page, but Alya refused to abandon it. Journalistic integrity, or something. Nevermind that it was a record of their failures, updated weekly, and furthermore kept by her lieutenant. Haunting her, always. 

     Not that it wouldn’t haunt her, even if unpublished. 

     “Ladybug?”

     She startled slightly from her unpleasant thoughts, which it seemed had risen far enough to her surface to concern her dining partner. 

     “Are you alright?”

     A laugh was attempted with a nod, as if she hadn’t just dipped her toes into the deep pool of doubt and regret that forever sloshed about in her mind. “Yeah, of course. You’re one of the few people in the city that’s never been Akumatized, aren’t you?”

     The corners of his lips wavered. “Many more than a few. Without you, this entire city would be in ruins.” 

     “That’s my Kwami’s power, it has nothing to do with me.”

     He gave a soft, pitying smirk. “My point still stands, though. And no, I’ve never been Akumatized. I was turned into a pigeon once, though. Particularly unpleasant, since I happen to be allergic to them.”

     She couldn’t help but laugh, at his expression and his tone. 

     “Flying was fun, though.”

     At that, Ladybug’s lips, her mood, her entire soul seemed to sink. 

     “I—“

     She shook her head, cutting off his apology or his confusion or whatever he was about to offer. “I suspected that those who were affected by Akumas remembered it, but I suppose I’ve gone out of my way not to ask.”

     Adrien scowled. “I—“

     “I just….” She couldn’t say it, the words were too sour. 

     “The ones who’ve been killed,” he said it for her, and Ladybug’s eyes closed in pain. “Do you know, suicides in Paris have fallen since Hawkmoth appeared? Specifically since the attacks became more violent, since there have been deaths, the rate of suicides in the city has fallen.”

     Her eyes opened, if only so she could regard him strangely. It was an odd thing to say, an odder thing to know. 

     “Some subset of those people affected had been in deep depression, before it happened. People struggle every day, they would whether or not Hawkmoth existed. And some of those considering volunteering for death happened to lose their lives in an attack, were brought back by your power, and they decided they wanted to keep living. You gave them a second chance.” 

     Her eyes fell, gaze on the cut crystal of her wine glass and the way the it refracted the deep red hue within it. 

     “You’ve literally saved lives, Ladybug, and not just in the traditional way. You’ve given people purpose they didn’t have before.”

     That was… bizarre. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. 

     But she didn’t have time, anyway. 

     Ladybug sighed, her shoulders sagging as reality blanketed her with the call of duty. A reminder that she wasn’t the sort of person that would have a nice, quiet dinner date. Two Akumas in one day was a rarity, it was almost as if Hawkmoth could sense that she was enjoying herself and had to put a stop to it— had to remind her that she didn’t have the luxury of that sort of life. 

     “I have to go.”

     A sort of panic painted Adrien’s face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

     “No, it’s not you.” She pushed herself up, aching to have to leave the table and the food and the company. And more, to remind the company that she had requirements that could whisk her away at a moment’s notice. “There’s an Akuma.”

     He rose. “You just sense it like that?”

     She nodded. 

     Adrien came around the table to her side. “That’s amazing. I guess I always thought you’d, I don’t know, get a call or something.”

     Ladybug found herself smirking. “A call from whom? Hawkmoth?”

     He chuckled and ruffled his hair a bit. “Ah, yeah, I’m not sure.”

     She smiled at his embarrassment, though it still wasn’t much of a smile. “I’m so sorry to have to leave. You did all of this for me, and—“

     His hands cupped her shoulders and he looked into her eyes with an intensity she had never seen on him before. “You don’t have to apologize to me, not for this. Ever. You’re my hero, how could I possibly be bothered if you have to leave because of that? I just hate that it means you have to go out into the storm and be in danger.”

     She realized that one of his thumbs was caressing her arm, and the combination of the sensation and his words and his eyes filled her with a warmth that, she knew, would protect her against the storm outside. “Thank you.”

     Adrien smiled. “Hopefully I can get a rain date?”

     Ladybug laughed. “Absolutely. The sooner, the better.”

     He seemed to glow. “Be careful. Good luck.” Adrien leaned forward, and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

     She’d been right, she barely felt the storm. Leaping from one of the tall windows of the kitchen, the squall line driven in over the land from the sea battered her with gusts that seemed designed to hold her back from the fight, but she sliced through it with as much heart as she had on her first day as Ladybug. 

     Even being slammed to the street by a Rena Rouge-shaped projectile didn’t have much of a negative effect on her mood. 

     They tumbled along the Champs Elysees for meters before springing to their feet separately. Rena, with a swear. 

     “Merde, sorry.” She twirled her flute around, regaining her balance. “And, sorry for the interruption.” 

     “Not like he doesn’t know it’s always a possibility,” Ladybug replied, actually smiling as she took in the scene. What appeared to be a giant falcon was hovering over an equally large nest atop the Arc De Triomphe, with any team member that managed to scale the building being immediately sent on an arial journey with a slap of a wing. 

     “That’s quite a grin you’re wearing, Lady.” Rena Rouge was smirking. 

     She laughed, spinning up her yo-yo to take a flight of her own. “I just realized, this was the first time I’ve ever had to leave a date without having to lie!”

     No, she really wasn’t bothered by the rain. It would’ve been coming down in sheets, if it were actually coming down. The wind, however, had it pitched nearly sideways. Ladybug took her cue from the way the rain behaved and anchored her yo-yo on a building to the right of the Arc. She sensed the drops battering the side of her body, sensed the wind turning what would usually be an easy glide into a turbulent flight, but she didn’t feel them. 

     This was what it felt like to live your life without fear! She didn’t any longer have to be terrified that an Akuma would spark to set fire to her private life. She really could have a love and be Ladybug! 

     The course of her swing took her exactly where she needed to be, and Ladybug released the yo-yo’s hold at the precise time for the combination of her momentum and the wind to land her just meters from the cover of the gargantuan monument. 

     “Man, am I glad you’re here, LB,” said Carapace, who was standing perfectly beneath the Arc and doing his best to ignite Shelters around their ejected teammates. The intense focus on his face told her that the droplets running down its side of it were not of the rain. 

     “Hey,” called Viperion as he jogged across the pavers in escape from the storm. “I’ve tried this a dozen ways now, and….” His voice trailed off as his eyes met hers, and she realized that she was going to have to force the smile off her face, lest she confuse her team into believing she was gleeful about the battle. Viperion, at least, knew that she wasn’t simply losing her mind. 

     “Ladybug.” Pegasus stepped from a Voyage to her left. “I was able to portal onto the roof while our opponent was distracted by the others.”

     She turned towards him, fully snapping into business mode. The others were gathering, either returning from impromptu flights or just arriving at the scene. “What’s the lay of the land?”

     He bowed his head in a nod at her acknowledgement. “The Akuma has taken the form of a falcon, its wingspan roughly thirty meters. The coloring is off the natural, of course, it’s much more of a ginger than any I’ve ever heard of, but I didn’t notice any other supernatural changes.”

     “So it’s just the man-sized talons and the beak the size of a voiturette we need to worry about,” chuckled Chat Noir, who had appeared behind her. He twirled his staff with a bright grin. “No problem, let the cat handle this bird.”

     “That’s not advisable!” hollered Pegasus as Chat bounded out and upwards into the rain.

     “Moron,” Viperion muttered, crossing his arms beside Carapace as he looked around frantically with a swear. Fortunately, even through the noise of the storm they were able to hear Chat Noir’s cry as he was batted off to the south, down Rue D’Iéna, because his black suit was nearly invisible in the downpour. 

     “Shelter!” Carapace shot a bulb of protection around the cat, making his landing as soft as possible. Again, he swore. “Wayzz is going to need a fuel up real soon.” 

     Ladybug pulled a macaron from her yo-yo and handed it to the Turtle-wearer. “Find a place.”

     “Bet,” he breathed, dashing off. 

     “As I was saying,” Pegasus continued, “the falcon is substantial, and she’s guarding her nest.”

     “Her nest?” She had seen a nest, of course, on her approach, but Ladybug had sort of imagined it was just part of the scene. 

     He nodded. “A nest ten meters in diameter, two meters deep, and made with small trees, it seems. Inside are three girls.”

     She drew a slow breath. “How—“

     “I estimate five, eight, and thirteen years. They look terrified, of course, but in good health. The size and construction of the nest will not make it easy to get to them, even if the falcon were distracted.”

     “Whew!” Chat had scampered back and whipped his head around to shake out his waterlogged blond spikes. Bunnyx and Purple Tigress were collateral damage and each protested loudly. 

     Ladybug tuned out the bickering that had begun at the edge of the group. She didn’t like it when kids were involved, and further hated to think of them so exposed during such a tempest. Her priority was to get the girls to safety and to comfort and then deal with the Akuma, but she also didn’t imagine it would be possible to do things in that order. 

     “Gotta be a parent,” Rena Rouge noted. 

     “Pigella—“

     “Present!”

     Ladybug smirked. “I want you to get to those girls and give them a morale boost.”

     Tigress stepped forward. “I can Klout through the nest, I’ll go with her.”

     She nodded, deciding to ignore the spontaneous wrestling match that seemed to have sprung up between Chat and Bunnyx. Like two siblings sharing the backseat of a car for too long. 

     “It’s not that easy, though.” Carapace returned to remind them. A sudden gust blew across the huge roundabout they were at the center of, causing all to wobble against its thrust. Bunnyx and Chat tumbled sideways.

     “No, clearly we’ll have to make a very big distraction.”

     Bunnyx had managed to get her footing and was shoving Chat’s face down into a puddle with a triumphant whoop. Ladybug considered telling them to pay attention, but a growl and the movement of turquoise in her periphery told her that it was being taken care of. 

     “A big threat from one direction could cause her to hunker down, though,” King Monkey observed. 

     “Why can’t Pegasus just Voyage in and grab them all?”

     “It would take too long. You’ve seen how fast that thing is.”

     Viperion had yanked Chat Noir up out of the puddle by his collar. “Can you not manage to take anything seriously?”

     Ladybug noticed how quickly Chat’s ears wilted and he came in line, his head hanging. He moved away from the Snake holder and was silent. That was odd. They’d never seemed to have any quarrels, in the past. 

     “We don’t want her so intimidated that she grabs them and flies off, though,” someone argued. 

     “True. Better hunkered than gone.”

     “How would we all get up there at the same time, though?”

     The wind shifted, sending an unearthly and deafening howl through the space. That chilled her, the wail like the screech of the tormented dead, surrounding them all. 

     “Okay,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the tumult. “We need to get her to rise clear of the nest, but without trying to take off. If we can do that, then Pegasus can drop Pigella in to comfort the girls, and Carapace to keep them all under a Shelter.”

     “I’m not letting her go up there alone,” Tigress stepped in. 

     “She won’t be alone, and she’ll have a Shelter.”

     The tiny woman in pink leaned against the much taller one in magenta, reassuring her. Sometimes, watching the two of them, or Rena Rouge and Carapace, Ladybug saw the benefit of having a love on the team; someone who could comfort and cheer you on like no one else. 

     For her, though, who had to be responsible for them all equally at all times, it wouldn’t work. As quickly as those pangs of loneliness hit, the shot of reality always followed. Thankfully. 

     “So, those two are in the nest,” Chat Noir said, his tone now perfectly serious. “The rest of us attack from the front?”

     Pegasus shook his head. “Most from the front, but a few from towards the back. Surprise her, that’ll get her to lift for a moment.”

     “How do we all get up there, though?”

     “Does it sort of seem like bullshit that no one gets to have the power of flight?”

     “Did any of you get any idea of where the Akuma might be?” she asked, pondering the question of movement while she addressed the biggested question of the evening. 

     “No.”

     “Nothing.”

     “I was mostly busy tumbling through the sky.”

     So it was Ladybug and Chat Noir responsible for boosting most of the team up to the top of the Arc, she from the front and he from around the right— four o’clock. Or, as he suggested, four seventeen. She and her group lifted off first, he a couple seconds later, just long enough for the falcon to be certain she was only being attacked from one angle before being hit from the side. Inside the nest, through the thick construction of branches and trunks, Ladybug could see the three girls cowering together, the oldest covering the others while crying. 

     Mom! Maman, please stop!

     The ruse worked, the bird lifting in surprise to turn towards Chat. Immediately there was the spark of a Voyage, followed instantly by a bloom of green. The falcon turned her attention to the Shelter and the children inside it, first scraping at it with her talons and, with a great screech of rage, she took wing so to bring her beak around to peck at the glow. 

     Even Ladybug, being certain of how resilient the Shelter was, winced with each violent impact. Every flap of wings keeping the fiend aloft was like a hurricane blasting down upon them, spraying the rain straight into everyone’s face. 

     She pitched out the yo-yo, lassoing one of the legs of the bird, while blinking against the onslaught in hopes of seeing something that could hold an Akuma. There were no rings on the talons, no ornamentation anywhere on the falcon that she could find. And she had to find it, for everyone. For those girls, and for the great bird of prey above them, her feathers the same lovely ginger of her daughters’ hair and her panicked eyes a hauntingly human green. 

     There was another spark in the nest, and the Shelter and everything within fell out of sight. The scream from the bird drowned out the wind, the rain, and all the internal chatter in Ladybug’s head. She dove, striking at the empty surface of the Arc with confused, frantic scratches of talons. The girls, almost certainly, were beneath the Arc or hidden under trees not far away, but their mother bird couldn’t seem to understand that they’d gone, and blood was beginning to weep from her feet around the talons. 

     She should swing up and around the bird, pin its wings to its side, and immobilize it on the roof until they could figure out how to release the Akuma. There was a blur of yellow to her left that said Vesperia was thinking to use her Venom for the same end. Ladybug began to run to flip up and over the falcon, when the wings extended to their full width, and with a flap that blasted everyone off the roof, the falcon, and Ladybug, shot into the sky. 

     The storm’s intensity increased immeasurably, wild currents assaulting them from one side and then another, sending the bird into a desperate attempt to stay aloft, and sending Ladybug into a uncontrollable spin on the end of her line. The lights of Paris twirled around her so quickly they became orange and white circles. 

     “Easy there!” 

     She was yanked— up or down, she didn’t know which— and the horrible twisting stopped. Ladybug instinctively grasped on to the things closest to her: feathers and a friend. 

     “Can’t say I haven’t often wanted to fly off with you on a whim,” Chat shouted, his flirt slightly wounded by the volume at which he had to say it to be heard. 

     She did her best to right herself on the ever-moving surface. “If I vomit, I want you to know it’s because of that line, and not the spinning!”

     He laughed. 

     The falcon seemed to be getting her bearings, she was beating her wings a little less frenetically to hover. Below them the Arc glowed in the center of l’étoile, a twelve-pointed star of streets reaching outwards. Even without the rain, Ladybug had a feeling they were too far up to be able to see their teammates. 

     “It’s times like this I can’t help but wonder if these suits really do make us indestructible,” Chat Noir said, his attempt at a casual quip ruined by the clear fright running through his voice. 

     “I’d prefer to not find out.” Ladybug threw her yo-yo out again, tying the both of them to the bird’s back. He was behind her, and now that he didn’t have to hold onto the feathers anymore, he held on to her. She told him he was secure and could relax. 

     “I know, I’m just holding you!”

     “You look like a drowned rat,” she said, looking over her shoulder. His careless gold hair was stuck to his forehead and cheeks, plastered down by rain and wind.

     “I’ve always thought my hair looked very fetching slicked back.”

     Ladybug couldn’t help but smirk, even as she turned her attention back to where it needed to be. “There’s nothing on her. Did you see anything on her? Where the hell is the Akuma?”

     There was only purring in her ear. 

     “Chat, I swear to God—“

     “Cats purr when distressed too, okay? And I’m recalling how a regular falcon can dive at 320 kilometers an hour, so….”

     Her eyes opened wide. “Wha—?”

     It was around that time that all of Ladybug’s internal organs attempted to escape through her mouth, as the bird seemed to have spotted something worth chasing. All she could do was try to flatten herself forwards as much as possible to keep her head from getting ripped off by the simple air they hurtled downwards through. Trains she had taken hit speeds that high, and this felt considerably faster than any of those. Combined.

     Her vision went fuzzy, went dark on the edges. Chat’s arms tightened around her and she grasped onto them as well. If they hit the ground, or anything, at this speed, they were finished. Suits or not. 

     The bird’s path flattened out, she thought she saw smears of grass and trees around them. Her brain seemed to return partially to her body, just before everything abruptly changed. Again.

     They were tumbling, she and Chat Noir, their arms around each other to keep them together. The impacts hurt, but sodden grass was certainly well-preferable to road. 

      A great splash deadened their momentum, and the two came apart. Limbs flailed in confusion to find air or earth, while her body felt as if it was still spinning. Even though she hadn’t breathed in, water had still forced itself into her nose and was burning her head. 

     She was yanked in a direction that turned out to be up, and found herself standing in a shallow pond with Viperion’s assuring hands on her sides. Ladybug sucked in a deep breath, but felt no relief. All of the forces that had played upon her body in the last few minutes finally took their toll and she heaved up everything in her stomach with gusto.

     “You alright?” her teammate asked gently, rubbing her back as she spit out the last taste of red wine and stomach acid. 

     “Where’s Chat?” She looked around, but her vision was still dancing and the world was filled with shadows.

     “Here,” came a huffed response from the direction of indelicate splashes. “I’m here.”

     The three of them made it to the edge of the pond, with Chat trying to steady her but needing to be steadied, himself. The cat fell onto the grass and lay there, gasping, as Ladybug forced herself towards the group of her teammates, illuminated on a path nearby. A trio of girls were in the middle, around an unconscious woman with red hair. 

     Bunnyx held up a framed home sweet home cross stitch that looked to be a hundred years old, and then broke it. Ladybug had to focus hard to throw the yo-yo true enough to capture the released Akuma, but once she did the woman awoke and her daughters tackled her with hugs and kisses. 

     “What…? What happened?” The victim looked around, confused to find her family on a pebbled pathway in the midst of a rainstorm, surrounded by superheroes. 

     “An Akuma,” Rena Rouge told her kindly, reaching out to help the woman to her feet. “But you and your daughters are safe, and that’s what matters.”

     The green eyes closed against tears and she wrapped her arms around her children. “We were… we were evicted, a few days ago. I lost my job and couldn’t… all we have left is our car and the things inside of it. And we were driving to find a safe place to park tonight and someone hit us in this rain… he said it was my fault… he saw that we’re obviously living in the car and said that I’m a horrible mother, and as soon as the flics arrived they’d take my girls away from me….”

     Ladybug placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder to break the unkind stream of thoughts, and handed her the repaired home sweet home. “Madame, I assure you, no one will separate you.”

     “Everyone goes through hard times,” Carapace offered, adding his comfort. The rest of the team did the same, and in short order the little family was at the middle of a big circle of love. 

     “I know someone,” Chat Noir said as he rejoined, using his staff to bolster himself, “who I’m sure would like to help. Let’s get somewhere dry and see what can be done.”

     The woman and her girls, all so similar with their fiery hair and emotional eyes, sobbed out their thanks to the team. But Chat stepped aside, briefly, with Ladybug. 

     “Doing okay?”

     She sagged against him in a weak, thankful hug. “Yeah. Thank you.”

     His lips pressed against her waterlogged head. “Good. So did you end up puking from the line, or…?”

     Ladybug smirked. “No. Not this time.”

Chapter Text

     Adrien’s jaw dropped open. “I don’t believe it.”

     Ladybug let out a gleeful cheer, her arms up in success. “Believe it!”

     He narrowed his eyes at her, pretending not to be absolutely in love with the little victory wiggle she was doing at the other end of the settee. “No, this isn’t fair. You’re literally a superhero. I’m calling it a draw.”

     She laughed. “I’m not a superhero of video games!”

     He shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure that suit gives you superhuman reflexes, at the very least. I lost before the game began.”

     “So you admit, you lost.” She pointed at him with a grin. 

     “I’m calling it a draw,” he repeated. “A friendly match, no winners or losers.”

     “Whatever will allow you to sleep at night,” she allowed. “Though I imagine you let me win and are attempting to save face.”

     “No, there was none of that,” he chuckled, tossing his controller onto the coffee table. “I may be a gentleman, but some things are sacred.”

     “Are you undefeated, then?”

     He smirked. “Not quite, there’s one person I’ve never been able to beat.”

     She wiggled two fingers at him with a smile. 

     “No winners or losers,” he reaffirmed. 

     If she was anyone else, anyone else, he would’ve made a quip about being happy to have a rematch once she took off the suit, but he was pretty sure he was physically incapable of saying something so direct to Ladybug. Even someone else on the team— Bunnyx, Vesperia, Ryuko— no problem, if he were so inclined. But Ladybug, no way. He wanted her so badly and adored her so completely that he seemed to become mute and stupid when he even thought about making an advance. If he in any way diminished himself in her eyes, if he hurt his chances to continue these hours with her, he would never forgive himself. 

     He’d desperately wanted to see her the day before. He desperately wanted to see her every day, multiple times, but especially after their truncated dinner, he was longing for more. However, that evening’s battle had been brutal on them both, and so he was actually relieved when she’d responded to his early text hoping she was recovering well by saying that she needed to take the day to do just that. That battle had been savage, but it had also been the second of the day. Add to that he had spent several hours afterwards getting the victim and her family into a hotel and setting up six months in a furnished apartment, and he was exhausted. So, the day they’d decided to take before seeing each other again had allowed him to be back at one hundred percent. She, probably, as well.

     “Well, I guess we’ll have to find something else to do,” Ladybug said simply, setting her controller beside his. “I wouldn’t dare hurt your pride further.”

     Adrien laughed. “There’s no shame in a draw.”

     She smirked. 

     He tapped his lips in thought. “Well, all video games are obviously out. Board and card games, too.”

     “How could I possibly have an advantage with those?” 

     “Not taking any chances. There’s always a film— anything not starring me.”

     Ladybug grinned. “Why is that?”

     “I hate watching myself,” he admitted. “Hate seeing the advertisements, the interviews, the films.”

     She shifted, drawing her legs to the side. She leaned against the back of the couch, but it had also shifted her a bit towards him. They got a little closer, each time, and his skin was crying out for the day when she would settle into his arms. 

     He hoped. 

     “Why?”

     He shrugged, gaze falling a bit. “Because none of those are me. Even when I’m not getting an acting credit, I’m playing a role.”

     She was studying him, he could feel her acute attention. “When are you you, then?”

     Adrien drew a breath. It shouldn’t be such a difficult question to answer. “With my father, I suppose. With my best friend. With you.”  

      Warmth appeared on his face, and seemed to spread from there to his entire being. Even through the strange fabric of her suit, comfort flowed. She cupped his cheek, caressed it with her thumb, and when he dared to look up his breath was taken away. The emotion in her eyes, in Ladybug’s eyes, it seemed impossible that she was really looking at him. 

     “That means so much to me.”

     He covered her hand with his, pressed it more firmly against his skin. Just for a moment. “How couldn’t I trust you more than anyone else?”

     Her lips fluttered downwards. “I don’t deserve that, just because I wear a mask.”

     “The mask has nothing to do with it. It’s you.”

     Her expression slipped into the unreadable, the sort of look she never wore with Chat Noir. It caused the hairs on his arm to stand on end in anticipation, even before that hand on his cheek drew him closer. 

     Time slowed. They were there, lips centimeters apart, for it seemed nearly as long as he had dreamed about just that. The heat of each touched, then melted together, and so did they. 

     It felt so natural. So perfect! All anxiety, even all awe dissipated instantly, because it was fantastically right. This was what he had been waiting his entire life for, and he gave himself to it absolutely. And so did she. 

     In that moment, Adrien felt as if he was complete for the first time. He’d never been so comfortable with who he was, all doubts erased. If Ladybug could kiss him this way, he had to be a good person. There was nothing else he could ever want. 

     The slightest pause opened between them, each gauging the other and hoping for no hesitation. 

     There wasn’t. 

     It was a tender exploration, now that they’d crossed that line. Of the way their lips fit together, of the way their bodies brushed. Hands, touching more firmly as comfort grew.

     “I used to fantasize about this,” she muttered against him, and Adrien sat back to stare in surprise. Ladybug giggled and blushed, but didn’t demure. “Turns out it’s better, in real life.”

     He laughed, stupefied, and pulled her close.

     It was strange to feel her mask, to be against each other and yet for she to be hiding. The sensation of her fingers sliding up his arm was heavenly, but he would do anything for those fingers to be ungloved. 

     He couldn’t exactly share with her most of his fantasies, as they’d involved rooftops. Involved his partner, and not simply the woman half the city certainly was in love with. 

     Wait…. 

     “I would’ve given anything to kiss you, after the Akuma. Watching you fight up close, your poise under pressure, the look on your face when you literally turn evil into good… I’ve never felt anything like that.” 

     She was thinking of one Akuma, as she laughed self-consciously. He was thinking of all of them.  

     “My poise slipped a lot, during that battle.” Her hand slid down over his chest, the pressure of it supremely comforting. “You completely distracted me.”

     Adrien grinned, thinking back to that night and relishing the knowledge that she had been preoccupied by him the way he had always been preoccupied by her. 

     There was a hint of sour in the memory, though. 

     “You could’ve asked me to stay on, you know.”

     Ladybug let out a soft laugh, a nostalgic look filled her eyes. “Aside from almost certainly making it impossible for me to focus, ever, having someone who stood out in so many ways with me for one battle made me realize exactly how much I needed Chat Noir.”

     Adrien melted, inside. 

     “That he really is my perfect partner. Sometimes he drove me— still drives me crazy, but I’ve never doubted him, since. And I shouldn’t have, before.”

     Her words made him feel warmer even than her touch. Years of doubt and worry, being afraid that he didn’t live up to the most important part of his life, they all resolved in an instant. It was all he could do in that moment not to tell her that he loved her— and only managed to hold back because it would certainly seem odd that he made his declaration as she expressed her appreciation for another man. 

     “Well,” he said, caressing her cheek, “I’m honored that I could serve an important purpose, and to know that I couldn’t continue for such a good reason.”

     She was looking deep into him, but for what he wasn’t sure. “I’d always wanted you to be one of us, you know. That’s why I chose you for the Snake.”

     Adrien’s eyes, and spirits, fell. That day was still one of the most painful ones of his life— it had months of failure squeezed into it. 

     And he really didn’t want to think about that, when the present felt so good. He told her as much. “Here and now is more than I could ever hope for.”

     “Same,” she murmured, her lips brushing his again. 

     This was real, he marveled. Her curiosity, their anxious but comfortable exchanges, their little dates. It wasn’t just a passing interest; she actually felt something for him. 

     He’d always known it was there! Hidden or muddled, of course, but there was something special between them. 

     Their touch evolved, the conversation between their lips deepened. Interest turned into exploration, as tongues flicked at each other and hands moved. And Ladybug, she slid onto his lap! Facing him, straddling him, a kind of close that sitting beside each other couldn’t provide. Her body against his, and, in that suit, all of her curves on display. 

     With her physical shift, everything moved. Their breaths became heavier, desire surged. She cupped the back of his head to press him forward to her. There wasn’t any talk, they were communicating a different way. 

     Still, how should he touch her? What could she feel, through that suit? He’d never done anything like this in his own. In battle, in life, they seemed to afford sensation when you wanted it and protection when you needed it. He had no idea what it would provide, in a moment like this. If he slid his hands down her back, to her waist and lower, was it the equivalent of clothing or of skin? 

     And why the hell was he overthinking this so much? 

     One of each’s hands met, fingers wove together and squeezed. Ladybug sighed, sagging. “Oh, this stupid suit!” She looked down sadly to their hands. “I can’t even touch….”

     Adrien was looking at their hands as well, red and black against his skin. It was a dream, in one way. It another….

     “I can make it completely dark,” he said. It was reflexive, without thought, and as soon as the words left his mouth he felt like a sleaze. 

     Of course, it wasn’t like she was nude under there, he wasn’t trying to get her clothes off. Just the opposite, he was trying to get her into her clothes! More comfortable, more modest! 

     Yeah, that’s it. It wasn’t just a desperation to feel her skin— even only that of her hands. 

     Ladybug bit her lower lip in thought. 

     He was asking a lot, he realized. Adolescent crush or not, he was someone she barely knew, and she’d have to trust him not to be looking to gain her biggest secret. To have no reservations about he being a good, honest person. 

     “Okay.”

     His mind stopped, all thoughts completely arrested.

     “Maison,” Adrien choked out, “complètement sombre.”The apartment sank into utter, total darkness, and she sank against him. All of his senses prickled, and not only because of the loss of one. She shifted a bit over his lap, only becoming closer. 

     “Please close your eyes for a moment. There’s a glow when I take it off.”

     “They’re closed.”

     She drew a deep breath, drew courage for a monumental few words. “Tikki, spots off.”

by KaSi

     Pink flared beyond his closed lids, but Adrien waited a few moments longer before daring to open his eyes again, finding a complete void. 

     “I’ve never done this,” she marveled. Speaking, he thought, more to herself than to him. 

     Adrien’s fingers went first to her face, before any more tempting places. His thumbs slid across her cheekbones, across her forehead, and she let out a soft sigh, understanding— touching her face without its mask. 

     She wasn’t Ladybug, anymore. 

     Their kiss began all over again, ever more tender. Thoughtful, present, whole. The skin of her fingers considered the texture of his own: his jaw, down his neck. Adrien felt a soft sweater upon her, an open cardigan, and as she slipped out of it he fell somehow even deeper in love, for he knew it wasn’t only physical layers she was shedding. 

     Ladybug, the strongest, most formidable woman on the planet, was soft and warm and exposed to him. Him!

     Her hand was against his chest, again. Pressing, but also testing. Finding the details of his shirt, curious. 

     “I like the feel of your skin,” he admitted. The feel, the warmth. Something so simple as the brush of a hand, something he’d never been able to experience in all the years they’d been so close. 

     “I like yours, too.” She ran her hand down his arm to his own, and slowly moved it to the buttons of the blouse she wore. “I’d like to feel more of it.”

     Not becoming hard had already been an incredible struggle, and as he acquiesced, carefully removing each tiny circular barrier between them, Adrien couldn’t help but swell beneath her weight. 

     Nooooo! Certainly she’d realize this was going too far, too fast, that he really was just a man, after all, and—

     Ladybug— the woman who was Ladybug— let out a soft moan and sank down heavier against him. 

     Oh my God. 

     He’d just finished with her blouse but had no chance to slide it off of her, because her fingers were at the buttons of his own shirt. Moving quickly, with purpose.

     Could she really want me as much as I want her?

     He could barely shrug out of his shirt before Ladybug grasped the bottom hem of his undershirt, peeling it upwards. Her mouth met his the instant it had cleared his face, and she moaned against him as her hands touched bare chest. 

     “Ladybug,” he sighed, wondering if this could only be one of his fantasies, if he had just become really good at imagining a pillow clutched to his chest was warm and breathing. 

     “Adrien,” she whispered back, close and wonderful and real. The most incredible thing!

     One of his hands went to her waist, the other cupping the back of her head. There was still fabric, a silky camisole. He slipped beneath it, impatient, and she let out a breath of relief against his lips. Her weight settled fully onto his lap— even more, she shifted her hips to rock against the bulge that had formed there. 

     “You’re allowed to say no to me,” she said shyly.

     Adrien laughed— laughed! It was outrageous in the moment and surely going to break the mood and probably offend her, but he couldn’t contain it. That had been the stupidest thing anyone had ever said in the history of the universe. 

     “Um?” She had slumped back, no longer pressing against his chest, or anywhere else. 

     He chuckled, squeezing her waist. “I’m sorry, I am. I couldn’t help it.”

     “Why?”

     “Because, ever since we met I’ve wanted you more than anyone in the world.”

     Ladybug was silent. She shifted, uncomfortable with her mind more than her body, and Adrien could practically see her expression of indecision. Finally, she spoke: “You have?”

     He pulled her body against his again, even tighter than before. “Yes.” He kissed her edge of her lips. “That’s not to say I haven’t had lovers, of course. But you’ve… you’ve always been my dream, Ladybug.”

     She drew in a breath from his exhalation, and her mouth pressed against his. “You’ve been mine.”

     He went stiff and still, mute and dumb. She couldn’t have really said that, right? Ladybug couldn’t truly have been dreaming of him the way he’d dreamt of her! 

     “Um, Adrien?”

     “Really?” he choked out, his hand cupping her cheek. “You really mean that?”

     She laughed shyly. “Yes. You… um… you were the first person I ever thought about, when I… ummm. And, you know, for years.”

     No, now he was mute and dumb. The thought, the vision invading his mind, of Ladybug touching herself while she thought of him…. 

     “Adrien? Are you having a stroke?”

     “No, you just broke me,” he managed. 

     Ladybug laughed. 

     “I mean it, you broke me,” Adrien said, even against her hungry lips. “I’m… I need to reboot, or something.”

     Instead, she took his hand and guided it to her breast. 

     Yeah, that worked. 

     “You were mine,” he breathed, gently pushing her camisole out of the way. Her breasts were small, but he liked being able to cup the entirety of one in his hand. Hot, firm but natural, and real. Adrien’s mouth went to her neck and he squeezed her skin, fingers slipping around her nipple. She gasped, but he wasn’t sure if it was more due to his touch or his admission. “You were my first. And for ye—“

     He was cut off, firmly and completely, by her mouth. She grasped him by the hair and tugged his face back to hers, and devoured him. Ladybug had thrown off all constraints she placed on herself, and she was every bit as incredible out of the suit. 

     Her nails, short and rounded, still managed to dig into his side as she squeezed his waist in desperation. “How well can you find your way, in the dark?”

     The question’s meaning was understood. And his head was spinning, but the disorientation was anything but physical, and anything but unpleasant. 

     Yet, someone else was very much on his mind. Someone with ears and a tail and a staff, and Luka’s warning. She can’t be with anyone on the team, she won’t. You can’t take that choice away from her. 

     Beyond that… she had never wanted Chat Noir. He had never seen even the most subtle sign that he had ever crossed her mind as a romantic partner, let alone sexual. Even though she well knew of his adoration for her. 

     You can’t take that choice away from her. 

     This was dishonest. Dishonest, and dangerous. He couldn’t possibly deny that.

     “Ladybug…” Adrien forced out, “I… I should—“

     “Please take me to bed,” she muttered against his mouth, and the words seemed to switch off everything except his deepest needs and wants. There was no one and nothing more central to his heart than Ladybug.

     He would have carried her, but even standing was difficult enough, in his current state. Instead, he took her hand, and lead her. Through the salon, down the hallway and to his room, all in total darkness. 

     “I’m impressed,” she muttered, looping her arms around his neck as their legs brushed the side of the bed. “That night as Catwalker didn’t leave you with special vision, did it?”

     “I wish I could see you,” Adrien admitted, slipping beneath her camisole to lift it and the attached bralette over her head. “But I’ll settle for touch.”

     She sighed as his hands slid down, over the bare flesh of her back. It felt a bit as if they were slow dancing, and he smiled. 

     “Maison,” he instructed, “play artist Chaton, song Silence.”

     Ladybug softly laughed as they did begin to slow dance, lips moving against each other as they swayed, and all remaining clothing seeming to melt away. Sound bathed them in perfect surround, the singer softly crooning in French:

     Silence

     I hear the silence

     My shadow is lost in the void

     “If we could have the lights on, I would.” She mourned, “I’m the only person in the world who has to opt to not see Adrien Agreste, naked.”

     She spoke into the side of his lips, certainly up on her toes, as he was finally completely exposed to her, and she to him— but missing the full picture. He moaned as her body brushed, and then pressed against his, length to length.  Slopes and curves he ‘d had mapped out for years beneath red and black, in high definition. 

     Even from memory I melt there in the silence

     The silence

     Ladybug let out a deep sigh, her abdomen against his full erection, then that skin replaced by fingers craving to know each detail. “Ohhhhh….”

     He couldn’t remain standing, his legs were beginning to shake from the wash of so many hormones, such strong anticipation. Adrien lay back, across the wide bed, and coaxed her down with him. Those fingers, hot and soft and slim, dragged over the length that curved up to his lower abs, one swirling around the head that leaked evidence of his desire, and then curled around, not quite able to enclose his full girth in her hand. His eyes had rolled back, an unidentifiable sound of relief escaped his lips. And then Ladybug shifted, and he felt her lick slowly across his most sensitive of places. “Ahhh!”

     How could Ladybug be against him this way? How could she, the most incredible person he’d ever met, possibly be… be even… even interested in him, let one be so eager to… ohhhh! 

     Her mouth slipped completely around him, and his eyes rolled back as a heavy sigh escaped his lungs. Not far, she could only handle so much, but enough. His hand slipped down through her hair, so much longer when her ponytails disappeared. They hadn’t changed, as she had. 

     “I… oh, you’re… you have to let me….”

     She laughed softly. “Ladies first.”

     Adrien chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re right.”

     She cried out in surprise as he pulled her up onto the bed, rolling to press her down with his body. Almost immediately, though, she moaned as he mouthed her neck. 

     “Ladies first,” he echoed, his palm sliding down over her stomach. She gasped in a series of short, fluttering breaths as his fingers went farther, fanning out over the skin of her abdomen. 

     “Adrien,” she gasped, but there was no hesitation in her tone. It was an admission, a wonder, not a request. 

     He had almost mourned the fact that she couldn’t know how similar they were, just how much they mirrored each other, but, maybe… maybe he hadn’t realized the extent, either. 

     Though… he was just celebrity, to her. Only a model, an actor. If she really did pay attention to him, a philanthropist. Still, someone she had only known, outside of their rare encounters, as a product. She had been the most present, most determined, most incredible person in his life for more than half of it. 

     Adrien pushed those thoughts back. It didn’t matter how or why she cared about him, if she truly did. They’d spent enough time together, this last week or so, for her to know. He trusted her words, her little blushes. He trusted that the woman he knew Ladybug to be wouldn’t toy with his emotions just to put a notable notch in her bedpost. 

     Her hand raked into his hair and she brought his mouth to hers. His fingers explored farther, finding a trim patch of hair that sloped upwards before dropping down into radient heat. He was picturing her there, the girlish pigtails intact only because that was how he knew her best. The blue eyes, wide to his. The body, spots removed, its secret geography revealed to him, even if only in touch. He knew well the strength in that body, and he could feel it all across her, every muscle quivering in anticipation of his own. 

     “Adrien,” she mewled, one hand in his hair and one on his cheek. Every bit as desperate as he was. 

     He rolled over, onto her. Holding his weight off, but allowing their bodies to slide against each other. Her legs wrapped around his, her calves slid down over the backs of his own; his chest pressed back against the excited gasps of her own.

     Carefully, he maneuvered his hips to brush his loins over hers, and their cheeks pressed together as each moaned softly at the sensation. She was beyond ready for him, barely touching her he was slick. And he wanted her so badly, but he also didn’t want to rush this. They could only have one first time, and he wanted it to be perfect.

     “Please,” she whispered, lips brushing the side of his. Her plea floated on unsteady breath, and sent a chill through his entire body. 

     “You don’t want to take our time?”

     And then he was on his back, lying with all limbs spread, eyes wide and pulse racing. Even out of her suit, la vache, she was fast and she was strong. She was incredible, and she was on top of him. Astride his hips, her hands on his chest, following his arms out until her palms met his and their fingers interwove. 

     My Lady. My Bugaboo. 

     If only he could say those words, tell her he adored her in the way he had wanted to for so long… but would she still welcome them, then? 

     You can’t take that away from her. 

     He forced Luka’s voice into the back of his head. It didn’t matter that she didn’t realize that they were partners, because she wanted this. With his normal, civilian side, she wanted this. And someday, when he told her who he was, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter at all, because, on top of their partnership, they had something amazing. 

     Her hips were rocking, just slightly. Just enough to rub the two of them together, each as sensitive as they had ever been. Their breath mingled before their lips did. 

     “We can take our time another time,” she whispered in a tone he had never heard before. “I want to explore everything about you, want to learn everything that makes you moan, but right now I just want you.”

     His hands slid down over her back to her ass, and he gripped her flesh to press her harder against him. Her labia was spread around his flesh, making him ever more slick with each slow pass. She was so hot, so soft… already the most heavenly touch he’d ever known. 

     Her breath deepened the more she rocked against him, her movements lengthening until Adrien felt himself naturally slot up against the pressure of her opening. Their faces brushed as she pressed back against him, and each gasped as her body accepted his. 

     Ladybug moved even more slowly than before, only allowing centimeters of penetration as she adjusted to his girth. His head fell back into a pillow, weak and overwhelmed. So, so many years of fantasizing about her, and he had never been able to imagine anything other than she being on top of him— she was too agressive a personality not to take control. But he hadn’t come close to how wonderful it would be. 

     “Ahhhhhhh,” breath escaped her lips as she sank slowly downwards over him, her hand squeezing his more tightly. “Adrien, you feel… so….”

     “My L— ohhh, Ladybug….”

     His fingers slid down over her back, sensing the lightest touch of sweat on her skin. Not, certainly, from any exertion. Because of him. 

     He began to feel the power in her hips a little more, still restrained but becoming comfortable. She was so tight, so wet! And when she flexed her inner muscles his soul very nearly left his body. “Oh my—“

     There was a sound of quiet accomplishment, immediately followed by her hand raking into his hair to bring his mouth back to hers. He propped himself up with an arm and the other went around her waist, holding her as much as absorbing every tiny bit of contact with her body he could get. Ladybug’s free hand was on the center of his chest, a separately comforting sensation. 

     They were moving together, now. His hips flexed to better meet hers, she was raising herself up halfway off of him only to reclaim his full length. He felt himself break out in a sweat, felt every bit of his existence that didn’t have to do with Ladybug shut down. She seemed to know exactly how to move to debilitate him. 

     And herself, apparently. Suddenly she stilled, breathing out in little, huffing breaths. Adrien laughed, wrapped his arms around her, and rolled them together onto their sides.   

     “Why are you stopping?” he asked, drawing one of her legs up over his waist to begin his own, tantalizingly slow, thrusting. 

     “Ahhhhh… it’s so good!”

     He chuckled. “That’s the idea.”

     Her lips were against his. “I don’t want it to end, yet.”

     “Why would that stop us?”

     Ladybug seemed to give his argument merit. She gripped his bicep and matched his movements to give them each the most sensation, squeezing each time he withdrew. Their breaths mounted, she whimpered his name. Their foreheads pressed together as each approached the precipice of rapture. But she should know. She should know why their bodies seemed to know the next move the other would make. She should know that there was a reason they, already, complemented each other so well. 

     “Ladybug, I… I’m—“

     She cried out, the sweetest sound. One he had never heard, in all the years they had been so close. One for and because of him, and he felt as much as heard her. “Adrien!”

     He was swept away, off his feet and out of his mind, every default he’d ever had rewritten by her in seconds. 

     Ladybug, gasping into his arms, each slightly slick with sweat. Both of them aglow. Adrien smiled into the dark, enjoying the after just as much as the event. 

     My Lady. My love. My life. 

     “Please, stay? It will stay dark, even when it gets light outside.”

     She drew a deep breath of hesitation, but she couldn’t want to leave. Not something this comfortable, this sublime. 

     “Just stay here, for a little while,” he whispered, fingers twining through her hair. “Don’t take your body away from me, yet.”

     Ladybug slid up, more even with him, and brushed his lips with her own. “I don’t think I could muster the conviction to leave.”

     Adrien sighed, nuzzling against her.“This is the most perfect moment I’ve ever experienced. My entire life.”

     She sighed, her forehead and nose touching his. So close, everywhere. So exposed, so unguarded. “I was thinking exactly the same.”

     He melted, completely. There, then, he knew, his fate was sealed. He would spend the rest of his life with her, or alone. The totality of every experience he’d had with every woman he’d ever dated was faded black and white compared to the burning intensity he felt for Ladybug… whomever she was. 

     “The day we first met, all those years ago,” Adrien admitted, “I said, out loud to myself, that I’d fallen in love with you.”

     The woman against him drew a deep breath. 

     “I’ve never doubted it, every day since. But still, I never imagined something this strong.” His fingers were on her back, upper and lower, and he felt her breath holding. It could be too much, he knew that. He was spilling his heart to her in the afterglow of their first time. But, also, he couldn’t possibly hold it in. He couldn’t. 

     She let out that breath, like a kiss, over his lips, and he swore he heard strong emotion in her voice when she said “I was thinking exactly the same.”

     Tears welled up in his eyes, almost immediately running over, and as he kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks, he tasted her own. “We need to come up with something I can call you,” he laughed. “I feel stupid saying I love you, Ladybug. People say that every day.”

     She laughed, too. Cry-laughing, both of them stupid emotional messes, together. “Sort of like people say I love you, Adrien Agreste, every day.”

     “I love you.”

     “I love you.”

Chapter Text

     It had been a while since Marinette had woken up with someone. Spending the night was too risky, when she could be called to respond to an Akuma at any moment, and so it was a luxury she rarely allowed herself. 

     It was really, really nice. 

     The bed was heavenly soft, the covers the perfect mixture of light and heavy, and she was nestled against the side of a man whose body was the perfect mixture of soft and muscular. 

     And it was Adrien. 

     Her head was tucked into the side of his neck, his arms around her, their legs tangled together. Touching everywhere, even in sleep. She listened to his slow, regular heartbeat, smelled his deep breaths over the scent of his skin. 

     She knew was his skin smelled like! Tasted like! Felt like, everywhere….

     It was the most incredible thing. 

     And yet there was a lingering feeling of guilt, of doubt. One that wouldn’t be there if he was anyone else. He wanted Ladybug, he loved Ladybug, and he had made love to her. But she was also Marinette, and he didn’t know that. Someone he had never chosen to do those things with. 

     She sighed, forcing those thoughts away. This moment, with every moment of the night, with every moment for days, was perfect. She wanted it to stay that way. 

     He stirred with a happy sigh, a kiss of her head, a tighter embrace. “I love you,” he murmured in a quiet, dry tone she had never heard before. The sort of voice that only someone this close could hear. The model, uncoiffed and imperfect— and all the more wonderful, for it. 

     “I love you.”

     He shifted, rolling onto his side to face her through the darkness. Fingers found her cheek and caressed it. “Tell me something about you.”

     She wished she could tell him everything, and if she were anyone else she probably could. Instead, the best she could do was half truths and deeper things. Newer things, new enough that Adrien didn’t know them about his friend. 

     “When I was little, I wanted to be a knitting fairy when I grew up.”

     He chuckled. “That’s amazing. And what did you imagine a knitting fairy would do?”

     “I’m not sure, really. Surprise people with hats and sweaters?”

     “I like that, Paris waking up all warm and cozy. Put me down for a scarf.”

     Marinette giggled. You already have one. “How about you?”

     There was a sigh, the exhalation kissed her face. “Never really had a want to be when I grow up.” 

     She touched his chest. Gently, but with enough pressure to comfort. 

     “It used to bother the hell out of me. Like, in collège when we would have job fairs with information on all these different paths you could take, and none of them spoke to me. All of my friends had passions to pursue and I had… I had nothing. It made me feel like nothing.” 

     “You’re much more than that,” she whispered, hoping he could hear the certainty in her voice. “And you were, then.”

     “I finally figured out why, though… I’d never been given a choice what to do. I learned what I was before I learned who I was. In my subconscious, I never let myself find a passion, because I knew I couldn’t follow it.”

     “Adrien.” She scooted closer, slipped her leg over his hip and wrapped her arms around him. 

     He took a deep breath and rubbed her back. “It’s okay.”

     She grimaced. Marinette had always felt revolted by the way Gabriel Agreste held an iron grip on his son, controlling his every movement and interest. At times, even attempting to control his friends. “No, it isn’t. Just because it was demanded that you become a virtuoso pianist and a champion fencer and fluent in Mandarin doesn’t mean that what was all you should be allowed. Doesn’t mean you’d feel fulfilled by them.”

     There was a soft laugh, and Marinette realized she may have revealed she knew too much of him, for a relative stranger. 

     “Um, like I said,” she added meekly, “I’ve been a fan since I was pretty much a kid. Maybe I’ve read some articles and unauthorized biographies. Maybe I even had a few photos on my bedroom wall.”

     He rolled, putting Marinette onto her back. His mouth went to her neck. “I can’t believe Ladybug had pictures of me on her wall.”

     I also had photos of us on my wall.

     I still do. 

     His hand trailed down her side to squeeze her waist. They were chest to chest, loins to loins. “I couldn’t have pictures of you on my wall, I had to hide them away.” His lips toyed with her ear. 

     Somehow, her pulse still managed to speed. 

     “I kept them in my fencing trophies.”

     “You did?” Her voice was soft, awed. He’d collected pictures of her?

     “I did.”

     It seemed impossible that they had been dreaming about each other at the same time. That knowledge echoed back through her memories, and the shifts that it caused made her lightheaded. 

     And she realized something: young Adrien had once written a Valentine poem that Marinette had secretly answered. She’d seen him crumple and toss it into the trash at school and, being an absolute insane person, taken it out. 

     He had written it to Ladybug. He had written it to her. 

     She wrapped her legs around his waist, hooked her ankles at his lower back. Thinking about visiting him in his childhood room, and marveling at all he had achieved and all he was. Looking across the shelf lined with gleaming trophies. And never imagining that they were filled with her photos.

     If only she could tell him, really tell him, how intertwined they had been for so long. How well she had known him, that it was so much more than a crush on a celebrity. That it was real. 

     This is real. 

     She really was entwined with Adrien. They really had spent the night together, body and soul, really had admitted their love for each other. Everything really was perfect. 

     Almost. 

     “Tell me something I couldn’t have read somewhere.”

     He sighed. A few times he took a breath, as if to speak, but didn’t. Finally, “I’m sorry, I’m trying to come up with something that isn’t sort of depressing.”

     Marinette frowned. She hadn’t meant to make him think about sad things. 

     “The things you’ve read have been mostly propaganda, like a lot of me. The other things, the real things, they’re the unpolished, the unpresentable.”

     “I don’t believe any part of you is unpresentable. Unpolished, so what? That’s human.”

     “I’m not supposed to be human.”

     Oh, Adrien. 

     She had hoped he wasn’t still so hollowed out by his duties, made to feel like someone who existed only to be perfect. She remembered when he had confided to her in their adolescence just how much it wore on him, and how horrible she had felt— not only for her friend, but that she had so totally embraced it. And, while she did reassure herself that she cared about him for him and nothing so shallow, she certainly did love to drool over his advertisements. 

     “It’s not the advertisements, the runway model, the actor that I’m in love with, Adrien.”

     He squeezed her. “And it’s not the super heroine that I’m in love with.”

     “You’re in love with me,” she murmured, lips brushing his chest. She had never been so awed in her life.

     Adrien chuckled, stroking her hair. “I’ve been in love with you for years.”

     He had never been alone, when he thought that no one could possibly understand his life, when he felt hopelessly separate from his friends. Yes, she had a loving, present family whom trusted and supported her, but, in a lot of ways, she had the same constraints and demands that he had. It was just that no one could see them. “I’m not supposed to be human, either.” 

     He kissed her forehead. “I think we have more in common than either of us realized.”

     “Let’s be real with each other, okay? No posturing, no faking, no posing.”

     His fingers caressed her cheek. “You might have to be very patient with me.”

     “I have to wear a mask with you,” she reminded him. “We’re both being patient.”

     “You’re worth it.”

     Marinette nestled against him. I waited for you for years. “So are you.” 

     She didn’t want to leave. This bed, this man. But life beckoned, there was work to be done. A lot of work, her commissions falling behind with her wonderful distraction. 

     “What time is it?” With the windows blacked out, it could be yet dark outside, or bright. She had no idea how well his room was insulated against outside noise. 

     He moved his arm well away from her, so as to reassure that he wouldn’t try to sneak a look in the glow, then activated his watch. “Six seventeen.”

     “AM?”

     Adrien chuckled, his arm returning to its place around her. “AM. When do you have to go?”

     “I’m working for myself today, so no specific time. But I do have a lot of work to do. You?”

     “Need to be in Issy-les-Moulineaux at nine. But I’m in no hurry.”

     The area, just beyond the boundary of Paris proper, was filled with television studios. “Does that mean I’ll be able to watch you, while I work?”

     “You haven’t seen enough of me?”

     “I haven’t seen any of you for hours.”

     He laughed, his embrace tightening. 

     When they’d managed to separate, after she had gathered her clothing while he was in the shower, and they were both once more dressed in their particular costumes— she as a superhero, he as a supermodel, and light was again allowed… it was strange. After an incredible night spent together in the most intimate way but in darkness, to see again was almost… shy. 

     Perhaps it was because she knew what he thought he was seeing wasn’t quite the truth. 

     She carefully scanned the windows and streets outside of his flat, after a long and lingering embrace, and made her escape when she was as certain as she could be that no one would notice her exit. 

     The day was beautiful. Flawless. Bright sunshine, deep blue sky, pure white puffy clouds in the distance. The breeze seemed to bring new life upon it. 

     Alya looked up from her coffee as Marinette entered the apartment. “Ah hah,” it was observed, no specific attitude assigned to the utterance. 

     Her brows raised. “Yes?”

     “You didn’t sleep here last night.” 

     Hanging up her purse, her face was turned away long enough to hide her immediate disdain, not that it wouldn’t come out soon enough. “I opened the bakery this morning,” she lied. 

     “You also were going to Adrien’s last night.”

     Her cheeks flushed, of course. Marinette pretended to be searching for something in her purse, an excuse to keep out of Alya’s direct vision for another moment. Her purse, unfortunately, was very small. She had to figure out how to play this; she’d been too distracted by wonderful reverie of the night before to bother to figure out what she could tell her roommate, her best friend, and, basically, her schoolmarm. 

     “You’re suspiciously quiet over there.”

     Merde. 

     “Yeah? Oh, yeah. It was nice.”

     “And?” Alya had somehow appeared at her side silently, and startled her. Glaring, arms crossed, her face was entirely too close to her own. “Did you have dessert? Coffee? Sex?”

     Marinette stepped backwards to make some room between the two of them, stumbling over her discarded shoes. Arms pinwheeled, just barely keeping herself from landing on her ass. 

     “That’s a yes.”

     Frozen in her just-barely-stable position, she was also frozen with indecision. Alya was not. Her face had gone into her palms. 

     “Mari, you know I’ve always been cheering for you two, but… I’m really conflicted about this. You slept with him without his knowing who he was sleeping with.”

     She scowled, standing slightly more naturally, her own arms now tightly crossed. “Untrue. He thought— and was— sleeping with Ladybug.”

     “Who is also one of his oldest friends. You don’t think that was something he’d want to know?”

     Her eyes bulged. “So I should’ve told him it was me?”

     “Before you slept with him? Yes! If only you two could’ve kept it in your pants long enough to get to that point! What if this goes bad, he’ll just never be privy to the information that you two have banged? You’ll have like another fifty years of friendship and he’ll never know? Is that fair to him?”

     She scowled. Marinette knew this argument. She’d had a whole lot of it with herself! 

     Didn’t stop her, though. 

     “You promised you wouldn’t rush things.”

     Marinette sort of charged around her roommate and to the fridge, where she grabbed the bottle of Orangina with very much more force than was necessary. Cupboards proceeded to bang as she retrieved a glass. “I promised I wouldn’t rush things because it’s Adrien, and I didn’t! Things moved at the exact same speed that they would’ve with anyone else, and they moved at that speed because it was the perfect time.” She slammed the refrigerator door shut. “End of story.”

     Alya seemed less than convinced, but at least she looked more thoughtful than angry. Marinette decided to go on the offensive. 

     “You know I’ve never approved of how open you are with Nino. Knowing who each other is puts you both in danger, but you didn’t care about that. Secrets are secrets for a reason, Alya, and revealing them can blow everything all to hell!”

     Alya’s mouth opened in shock, and Marinette realized she had made a mistake. “Blow them all to hell? Says the girl who told me she’s Ladybug! And how did that change things? Oh yeah! It made it so that I could help my friend stay safe and stay sane. Stay fucking safe, Marinette! And what has come from Nino knowing about me? We can support each other better and are stronger together than we ever could have otherwise been, on both sides of our lives!”

     “We’ve gotten lucky!” she shot back, gesturing with her glass in a way that was more than a little dangerous, in itself. “And I sure as hell am not going to expose Adrien to the kind of danger it would to know who Ladybug is!”

     Alya’s arms crossed, her expression settled. “You chose him to be one of us, with Sass. And he was chosen to wear Plagg, even if only for a night. He’s already been judged worthy, and already been exposed to danger. You chose Catwalker specifically because he could be trusted. This isn’t about that. It’s about you being scared that Adrien won’t care about Marinette the same way he cares about Ladybug.”

     “Fuck you,” she spat, and headed for her room. Even if Alya was right. 

Chapter Text

     When Luka sat down across from him at the tiny high-top table, Adrien drew a deep breath. It wasn’t the first. The most recent was when he’d spotted him come in, wearing an old leather jacket with a hoodie pulled up over his head from beneath it. And his eyes had not stopped burning into Adrien’s for so much as a blink as he crossed the pub, even with the clouds of cigarette smoke that had his own watering. 

     Those eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, between long slashes of black and blue. Without saying a word, he invited Adrien to speak. 

     There were a dozen arguments he’d prepared, had been preparing. They all ended with him being called selfish, or a coward, or both. 

     And he deserved that. 

     It had been a week since Ladybug first spent the night, as she had spent most since. They’d spent countless wonderful hours nestled together, talking and laughing. They cooked dinner, or breakfast. He had her body memorized with every sense but sight. Already, it was so much of everything he had ever wanted, with the person he had wanted most. And there had been three more Akuma battles, each one he had fought from the eye of a hurricane of emotion: elation, towards Ladybug, and fear and shame, under these angry eyes.

     Ladybug didn’t even need to know who he was, he had already destabilized and endangered the team, but only he and Viperion knew it. 

     “I don’t have any defense,” he said hoarsely. No matter what or how much he drank, his mouth kept going dry. “It’s not that I didn’t recognize… everything. It’s not that I didn’t believe everything you said to me. It wore on me then, but I couldn’t seem to….” He sighed. “It wears on me now.”

     Luka said nothing. Adrien actually sort of wished he would lash out at him, if only so he would have something to push against. But no, he’d allow him to twist aimlessly on the end of a string, helpless. 

     He did feel bad about the secrecy, and he felt worse every day. He’d lie awake, terrified, as she slept with her head on his chest, and in those hours he knew what he had to do, but when he awakened to such loving embraces and words, and was able to observe the warm kiss of morning sun fall upon the beauty that was Ladybug… it seemed impossible. “Look, by the time we met, it was already too late. I didn’t have any clue, but she had always cared about me, and I’ve always cared about her, and—“

     He leaned forward. Just a little, but the metal table, polished as it was in circular streaks, showed a strange, distorted shadow passing above, a spectre closing in on him. “It’s never too late, Adrien, but what it is is more painful, every day. For you both. I am trying to protect each of you.”

     Adrien sighed. “You and she—“

     Luka settled back. “Are not up for discussion.”

     He scowled. “I just want to understand, nothing more. I want to understand exactly how—“

     “You think I’m making it up,” he said flatly. 

     “No!” As much as he wished that were true, he trusted Luka far too much  to even be able to imagine it could be. 

     His arms crossed on the table, and on the wrist of one of them was the bracelet that was a camouflaged Miraculous. Sass would be hanging out somewhere in one of the pockets of the jacket, maybe he was even curled up in the neck of the hood, nestled into some of his holder’s long hair. “Until recently it was unspoken, but there were more than enough signs from us each. Adding to that, I have known her well enough for long enough that I had no doubt of her position on things.”

     His brows furrowed. “Recently?”

     The eyes, currently the color of a tropical sea in the shade of an approaching storm, looked off to the side. It wasn’t a deflection of shame, as it would if he looked down, it was discomfort. “We were hanging out, after she’d had her idea about meeting Cat, but before she made that video. She was doubting herself, anxious, scared. Wanted to know what I thought.”

     “And what did you think?” he inquired, though his tone betrayed that he already had a good idea. 

     Luka frowned at him. “I was supportive, believe it or not. I thought it was a good idea, even. It made perfect sense.”

     Adrien pursed his lips, feeling moderately stupid. If he wasn’t Chat, everything would be fine. 

     He would retire Chat Noir, for her. 

     “And she brought it up. She said ‘I’m going to say something uncomfortable that shouldn’t be said and I might be wrong about, anyway.’ We did agree, that the only reason she and I aren’t together is because I’m on the team. She got tearful, Adrien.” 

     His heart plummeted. He wanted to ask how they had already been so certain that each other were so interested, but he felt too shitty. “You’re a much better guy than I am, Luka.”

     “And nice guys finish last.”

     He closed his eyes, feeling ill. He had gotten what Luka, and apparently Ladybug, had always wanted, because he was selfish. No, it absolutely wasn’t right. 

     Adrien liked places like this, sort of small and sort of dark, absolutely nothing exclusive or elite about it. If any of the patrons had noticed that he was someone famous, they didn’t care. He liked to feel like he could disappear there, just another nameless person over a drink. If only he were nameless, and if only he could actually disappear.  

     “She hasn’t revealed herself.”

     He shook his head, wincing. There hadn’t even been any talk of it, other than her occasional apology that they could only be together in perfect darkness. 

     A polished fingertip touched the table, like marking a place on a map. “You have to end it before she does.” 

     A surge of anger ran through him. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to know, if she decided she wanted him to? Just because of who he also happened to be? He’d always hated that stupid rule, it seemed ridiculous. How could they not possibly benefit from being able to meet and plan and move around while undercover as their civilian selves? 

     “Adrien. You need to trust me on this.” 

     He grit his teeth. “I’m not saying that you’re not intuitive as fuck and honest and wise and all that shit, but why do you get to demand anything? Who put you in charge?”

     The face across the table darkened, and Luka shifted on his stool. “Because I know her, Adrien. I know both of her sides and how they fit together, I know what worries keep her awake at night. I know what she struggles with, no matter what clothes she’s wearing, and what her very strong feelings are on this sort of shit. I’m stepping in so she doesn’t have to realize how fucked this is, because it will royally screw her up. Why do you get to think you know better?”

     He sagged. 

     “And knowing what I do, I honestly believe that, no matter what you think you have, when she finds out the truth of who you are it’s going to end, end badly, and it’s going to hurt, for you, more than you know. I don’t want that sort of suffering for either of you.”

     That wasn’t wonderful to hear. “Then tell me why.”

     “I can’t. All I can say is: you’ve got to trust me.”

     It didn’t matter how much he trusted Luka, his knowledge and his judgement. He did believe him; what Adrien was doing, he was doing willfully.

     He sighed, reaching for something other than guilt and despair. “So… how are you? Sorry I haven’t been to a show for a while. I realize I’ve become a bit of a shut in. I guess we all return to our programming, sooner or later.”

     Luka frowned as his eyes fell. He scratched idly at the tabletop. “Man, look, I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy. I am sorry it can’t be with her, and I feel like a dick having to be the guy that spoils it for you. Please believe it’s not out of jealousy, or some if I can’t have her no one can bullshit. It really isn’t.”

     “I know.”

     “You can always call me, Adrien. Always. Doesn’t matter how long it’s been since we’ve hung out, I’ll always be there for you.” He blew out a long breath, fidgeted a bit with his Miraculous. “I should’ve reached out, a lot more than I have. I’m the only person in the world who understood that you had so much more on your shoulders than anyone thought— and even that visible shit would be too much for most people. And I pitied you and I admired you, more than anyone I’ve ever known; even Ladybug.”

     Adrien was feeling a lot of feelings. A lot. The ever-present pangs of shame, piled on by Luka’s completely rational pleas, now topped off by this most unexpected admission. A lot of feelings, and many of them that he just didn’t know how to process. 

     “I’m really sorry that I admired and pitied you in silence,” Luka confessed, his hands now randomly fumbling. “I probably should have told you that I knew a long time ago.”

     Adrien shrugged it off, but couldn’t help but feel mournful for the years he could have had not feeling like the loneliest person in the world. The only solace he’d ever really gotten was that Ladybug was also hidden in secrecy; but apparently she hadn’t been. 

     And, in a way, he still felt pretty fucking lonely. 

     “Do you love her?”

     Luka didn’t look up at him, but he didn’t have to for the sudden sheen on his eyes to be visible. “Every moment since we met,” he said, his voice as weak as if he’d finished a concert ten minutes before. 

     “Well,” Adrien joked, if only to overcome the sting they were both feeling, “you’re sort of infamous for loving a lot of people.”

     At that, his gaze did meet him, and he immediately wished it hadn’t. It’s rare, to see so clearly such pain. “Loving people and being in love with them are two very different things, Adrien. And one of those, I can’t have.”

     He felt horrible. More, he felt nauseated. Body and soul, both feeling like hell for the cards Luka had drawn in life, as well as how he was shitting all over the guy’s pain by willfully ignoring all the reasons he’d kept himself alone. Or, emotionally alone, at least. 

     “Do you regret becoming… joining the team?”

     His head shook, and he swallowed back his emotion. “No. I’ve kept everyone safe, healthy, alive. You, included. Her, included. And I really believe that I’ve done it better than anyone else could’ve.”

     Adrien laughed mirthlessly. “Well, sure as fuck a lot better than I was able to do.”

     “That’s because you already were who you were meant to be, Adrien.” Incredibly, Luka was wearing a little smile.

     A couple guys sitting at the bar launched into song— he couldn’t place it, but certainly had the gravitas of a national anthem. Adrien spotted a little télé nestled in with the cheaper bottles of liquor, a football match playing out, and wished for the billionth time that his life was perfectly ordinary. 

     “I never should have become Catwalker,” he muttered. “I should’ve told Plagg to fuck right back off.”

     “You did,” spoke the inner pocket of his jacket, and each of them chuckled. 

     “Well, I should’ve held that line.”

     Luka sighed. “The thing I know better than anyone on the planet, man, is that we all do a lot of things we shouldn’t, and we don’t make a lot of moves that we should. Maybe you’d think that would make me more decisive, in life, but it hasn’t. I just… float.”

     “Most of us do that anyway.”

     He nodded a bit. 

     “So, are you slightly less likely to punch me, for recommending you for your position?”

     He laughed. “For that, sure.”

     Adrien’s brow furrowed. 

     “Not for other things,” he added with a grin, pushing off the stool to head to the bar. It seemed, at least, his scolding seemed to have concluded well enough that they could still drink together. 

     He wondered how long that would last.  

     Because it didn’t matter, everything Luka said. It didn’t matter how shitty he felt about things. Those horrible waves of guilt, the twisting of his guts, the warning of eventual, crippling heartbreak… he couldn’t give up what he had. What he had. He had it already, and it didn’t have to end. No matter what had been said or thought in the past, this was now and this was real. 

     Love conquers everything, that was a belief that Ladybug had saved the world with for more than a decade. He couldn’t believe that she would change her core tenet, especially when it was a love like theirs. 

     Yes, when she discovered— when he revealed— that he was Chat Noir, it would be a shock. That realization would shake her to the soul, he had no doubt. But, he also had faith that she would be able to see the truth in the catastrophe: they were even more perfect, stronger, than she’d thought; they were partners, they had been for years. They had faced disaster after disaster, been injured, been very nearly killed— hell, from Viperion’s point of view, maybe they had been. And, through it all, they’d had each other’s backs. They’d suffered, and they’d triumphed. They wouldn’t have to wonder if they could stand the test of time, the better and the worse, because they already had. 

     In a way, in fact, it couldn’t have been better. 

     Luka retook the stool across from him, a darkly-colored liquor on the rocks in a glass. He clinked the rim against Adrien’s own, though little beverage there remained. “To saving the world and being screwed over eighteen different ways because of it.”

     Adrien couldn’t help but laugh, but the sound seemed just as much like a sigh. He drank. 

     The music being played from hidden speakers became familiar— it was Luka’s own. Kitty Section, the band he’d had formed with his younger sister, her girlfriend, and a friend when the latter three had still been in collège. Adrien had even played with them, sometimes— not publicly, of course, his father never would’ve allowed that. But he’d loved those hours, on the boat where Luka and Juleka grew up, playing pieces perhaps less brilliant than the usual classical he was forced to, but so much more alive. 

     Those had been good days. As good as any days since his mother died, at any rate. Sure, they had been battling Hawkmoth, but his life was… optimistic. He’d forced his way into regular school, and been allowed to stay. He was still made to study Chinese until his mind became a muddle, to fence until his limbs were jelly, and anything less than the top grade in the class was not acceptable. And yet, he had friends. He had the freedom to have friends. Even if that freedom was tentative. 

     And he had Chat Noir. 

     Chat Noir, and Ladybug. 

     “Have I ever died?”

     Luka paused, mid-sip; then decided to finish. He licked his lips as he set down the glass, and smirked. “I’d think you’d be aware.”

     “Not if you fixed it. Like I didn’t fix things the day she gave me Sass, before he went to you. I understand how you live out of time, Luka.”

     He smirked, nodding. “Did you keep count? How many times did you try?”

     Adrien closed his eyes. “More than twenty-six thousand.”

     He didn’t see Luka’s reaction, but he heard it. “Holy fuck, man! I’m surprised you don’t have gray hair.”

     He chuckled. “It was only months. How about you? Is the blue the only dye in your hair?”

     Luka laughed. “Well, like you said, I’m better than you were.”

     Adrien nodded. “Yes. Thank God.”

     Luka nodded, too. And he kept nodding, though his laughter stopped. “Yeah, you’ve died. More than once. Been immolated, limbs torn off, crushed.”

     His stomach clenched down into the size of a grape. Viperion didn’t fix everything, for Adrien Agreste had many times had to hide and heal injuries that Chat Noir had sustained. With the worst of those, he’d even been angry about that— why have to live in pain, when they had the ability to undo the damage? 

     Clearly, though, he had undone a lot of damage. 

     “It’s usually for her,” he said gently. “If you see her in danger, nothing stops you from interfering. You know that. You know you’ve saved her, many times. You don’t know how many times you were too reckless doing it, or how many times saving wasn’t possible.” 

     He frowned, knowing at once it was the truth. When his Lady was in peril, nothing would stop Chat Noir from protecting her. He’d never thought twice about it. It didn’t matter if it would mean his own death. 

     Clearly. 

     “So… how do you fix it?”

     A shrug. “Different every time. Did have to punch you out, once.”

     His brows raised. 

     “For your own good,” he reminded. 

     “And you didn’t enjoy it a little?”

     “I was more preoccupied by keeping you and Ladybug from being beheaded.” Luka took another drink, as casual as if they were chatting about the weather. “It’s what I do every day, man. I keep all of you as safe as I can, figure out how to move us or the enemy around for success.”

     As he ruminated on what had been said, Adrien frowned. “I remember all of my failures, from that day as Aspik, and—“

     “You’re not the greatest with names, Adrien.”

     He scowled, which Luka answered with a playful laugh. “And I’m pretty fucking haunted by them,” he continued. “And it was only Ladybug getting captured, then. I didn’t ever have to see her die or be horribly injured.”

     “Fortunate.”

     “So, how the fuck do you handle it?” 

     The disguised Viperion turned solemn. His gaze fell into his drink, and leathered shoulders shrugged. “What’s the alternative? Gotta focus on the saves, the victories. I watch you guys celebrate and laugh, and know that’s all that matters. And being able to be partially responsible for it, that’s the best feeling there is.”

     “Have you ever told anyone? About what you see and do?”

     His head shook as he savored a drink. “What good would that do anyone, to know how bad it gets? They’d never be able to go into battle again without having a panic attack.”

     “You don’t think it would be reassuring? To know that we have you to continually save all our asses?”

     “I’m not infallible, Adrien. None of us are.” He sighed, looking down at the most powerful bracelet the world had ever known. “That’s why we’ve all got to be at our sharpest, all the time. It is a life or death game. I have no doubt at all that you love her, I’ve seen how all-in you are for years. We beat Hawkmoth, go for it. Until then, please trust my warnings.”

     His brow furrowed. “When we beat Hawkmoth, won’t you be going for it, too?”

     Luka smirked. “Can’t say that I wouldn’t.”

     Adrien chuckled, as he would be expected to, but felt no humor. He felt pity, because no matter whether they defeated Hawkmoth the next day or never, he wasn’t going to allow Luka that chance. 

Chapter Text

     “Shoot shoot shoot.”

     Marinette was on her knees beside a gown hanging on a rack that signaled it was ready to be delivered; except, it wasn’t. She worked feverishly, adding beadwork that should’ve been done long before. That would’ve been done long before, if she hadn’t been so completely, wonderfully distracted. 

     Glancing down at her watch, she swore. Less than two hours before the gown’s commissioner was due to arrive. 

     There was no excuse. She was a freaking adult, no longer a blushing teen whose entire nervous system launched into schism with the very mention of Adrien Agreste. She should be able to handle things better than this. Thank goodness she had reinforcement on the way. 

     It wasn’t that she hadn’t had things under control. The bakery, her own work, and Adrien: she had them all perfectly balanced. The problem was, she had neglected to factor Hawkmoth into it all. And Hawkmoth, he had other plans. 

     So she had fallen a bit behind. For, when there was time that had to be taken away from other things, the last thing she was willing to take it from was Adrien. 

     In the back of her mind, though, a deep concern was forming that, of all things, what she’d left out of her mental schedule had been battles; there was nothing more important in her life. 

     It would be fine, though. Perfectly fine. She had time. She had time, and she had help expected at any moment, unbelievably fortunate that she had a friend that had also grown up sewing. 

     Perfectly timed, the shop door opened. Marinette, intensely focused on her detailed work, sighed in relief. “Oh mon Dieu, I can’t thank you enough, I—“

     “MDC.”

     Her heart rate accelerated, causing a tremor in her usually steady hands. Turning nothing but her head, she found the very man whose bed she had left scant hours before. He was wearing a light blue, lightweight v neck sweater with an undershirt imitated the neckline, so that there was only a slim white border between the fine knit and the tan skin beneath. Skin she had kissed, and then left, long before it had been covered by those things. “Adrien!”

     He smiled. It was a bright, happy smile. The smile of a guy who hadn’t seen a good friend in far too long— or so he thought. 

     “What are you doing here? Ah, putain!” She swore as her finger was well-pricked, attention hopelessly divided. The needle was gently worked into a hidden place to wait and Marinette rose, sucking on her finger to keep the little globe of blood that had formed from running. 

     He turned bashful— an expression she had rarely seen on him, before very recently. “Well, I don’t know if I never noticed the shop before now, or I didn’t make the connection, but today I managed both. How could I not come in?” 

     “Oh, yeah?” Her weight shifted from foot to foot, filled with nervous energy. Her body had turned hot, sweat tickled at her underarms. It was worse than even back in her most starry-eyed days, because never before had she slept with him the night before. And the fact that she couldn’t fit back into those arms to give and receive the affection they otherwise shared felt, actually, pretty horrible. “Are you in the passage often?”

     His smile turned more nostalgic. “Yeah, well, my mother adored the cafe in the rotunda; I visit it on occasion when I’d like to be closer to my memories.”

     Her heart seemed to squeeze, she was half-enchanted and half-heartbroken. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

     Adrien shrugged, not nearly so emotional as she. “So, how are you? How long have you had this place? That gown in the window is stunning, as is this one.”

     Her cheeks, somehow, further flushed. She knelt back down to her prior place, certain that her bleeding was finished, and reclaimed the needle. “Um, well, I guess about a year and a half? I obviously don’t really do much actual work out of here, but it’s a physical presence where I take and deliver commissions.”

     He walked— stepped, really— around to the side of the gown she was working on, so that he could observe her as she continued. His scent touched her, again sending hormones into a tizzy. “You know, if you’d ever like to expand and need some capital, I’d be happy to invest.”

     Marinette looked up, smartly pausing her stitching first, with surprise. “You would?”

     Adrien laughed. It was a kind laugh. “Yeah, of course. Come on, Marinette, I’ve always thought your stuff was great. I’ve even worn some of it!”

     She focused again on her work, unable to look at him any longer. “I, well, yeah.”

     He chuckled. “Maybe I do sometimes say things to be kind, but never with you— I mean, I never had to say anything just to be kind. I always meant it.”

     She smiled, still not quite as focused as she needed to be. “I appreciate that. But I haven’t really considered finding a larger place, yet. I need to be sure that everything’s ready for that step, you know?”

     “I’ve seen several women wearing your stuff. Your designs absolutely are ready, if you have any doubt, as is the quality.”

     Her stomach sank, remembering the photo of the ballerina on his arm, and how it had focused her upon her loneliness. Ladybug had never brought it up, so she didn’t know what had happened with them; though, with as many nights she spent with him, it was safe to say they had ended. 

     Her stomach sank, farther. She could very nearly hear Alya’s interrogation: if something happened to Adrien and Ladybug, would he just be left, for the rest of his life, having no idea that he and Marinette had been intimate? Would she not even be able to continue the friendship? And he wouldn’t even be given the courtesy of knowing why? 

     It really was a horrible situation. 

     And did it make her a horrible person? 

     “Um, yeah, I’ve been doing alright. Word of mouth. I actually got some exposure thanks to you, recently,” she did her best to laugh. 

     “Oh?”

     “I guess you and Inez Lautrec went on a date? Or maybe a lot of dates, I don’t know. Anyway, there was a photo of you together in one of les journals a few weeks ago.”

     “Hmm, she’s one of your clients? That’s fantastic. What was the dress?”

     I guess it was a lot of dates. That horrible image appeared once more, unbidden, in her mind: the dress she had created for someone else, lying haphazardly on Adrien’s bedroom floor. Was it made better, or worse, that some of her own had also been, since? She honestly wasn’t sure. Either way, it didn’t feel great. 

     “Oh, nothing special.”

     He smirked. “I very much doubt that. Has she gotten anything else from you? We’re going to a concert next week, I can make sure some photos are taken, if so.”

     Her stitching stopped with a tremor so violent she nearly stabbed herself once more. A bout of nausea so severe she nearly retched before wrestling control flooded over her. “No that’s great have fun I’m sorry but I have to finish this in the next hour and a half so I really need to focus.” The words poured out of her, no punctuation implied. Spaces barely implied. She focused so intently on the beadwork that her periphery was ignored. 

     “Oh. I’m sorry to bother you, then. But it’s really good to see you, Marinette. Maybe we could get together, a belated celebration of your own storefront?”

     “Maybe sometime. Bye, Adrien.”

     There was something else said in his voice, but she refused to listen. The door closed and, before she could force herself to take a full, deep breath, she heard that voice again, speaking with a second.

     “What are you doing here?”

     “Oh, hey. I just happened to be… Why are you looking at me like that? Luka, if you’re thinking that I’m— I have absolutely no romantic interest in Marinette!”

     She burst out of the hidden back door of the shop and sprinted to the little bathroom in a private hallway for shopkeepers. It was fortunate that no one was already there, for she barely made it to the toilet before vomiting. 

     Marinette sobbed, through her heaves. And then, as soon as she was certain her stomach was empty, she sniffled and spat into a tissue, then splashed her face. 

     “Breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe,” she chanted into the small mirror. “You have important things to focus on. He’s not important. You have to focus.”

     Breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe, her mind continued to repeat as she returned. Left foot, right foot, left foot. Breathe.

     Luka was sitting exactly where she had been just moments before, his long legs folded. The needle was between his fingers, and his aqua eyes flicked back and forth from the gown to the sketch of the design laid out on the floor beside it. 

     She could breathe again, but still she felt like crying. This time, however, in desperate thanks. “Oh, Luka, thank you so much. I can’t ever—“

     His gaze flickered up, then returned to its previous routine. He must’ve seen the red of her eyes. “Of course he does, Marinette, he just doesn’t realize it,” he said, as if answering the statement that had sent her stomach into cartwheels. “Like everyone who adores and trusts Ladybug more than anyone in the world adores and trusts you, too, they also just don’t realize it.”

     Just focus. Don’t talk about it. Stop thinking about it. Focus. There’s work to do. 

     “I’m going to have to give you part of my payment for this,” she said, forcing a lighthearted tone. 

     Luka chuckled, allowing the pivot. “As if I would take it. All the shit my mom had me stitch or mend on the boat when I was growing up, these skills were hard-earned. Would be a shame to let them atrophy.”

     She smiled, and almost meant it. “Well, then I at least owe you. Solidly.”

     “Okay, that I’ll take. One solid favor from Ladybug, I’d be an idiot not to.”

     “Absolutely.”

     Marinette sat down close by, threaded a second needle, and began on a second area. They worked in focused silence for a few, surprisingly long, minutes, before Luka began to hum. She laughed softly, for he could never be away from music for long. Usually, she had some playing when in the shop. That day, however, she had been too stressed and too distracted; which was probably when she needed it the most. 

     It calmed her. Somehow, it focused her. The grip on the needle became more delicate— as it should be— and her stitches more fluid. Tension melted away so gently that she didn’t even notice the change. The music, simplified to a hum, seemed somehow familiar, but impossible to place. It wasn’t any of Kitty Section’s songs, even going back to their teenage days. And it wasn’t anything she had heard on the radio, she was certain, but it also didn’t exactly have Luka’s signature. 

     It occurred to Marinette that they hadn’t actually seen each other since the day she’d confessed the idea for the Catwalker scheme to him over drinks. That one brief video call, when he’d quickly become distracted, and a few casual texts, but nothing else. Not until she’d begged for help from the only person she trusted to sew any of her projects. 

     She disconnected, in a way that had seemed impossible just shortly before. With the quiet humming, with the natural beat his close motions seemed to create, time released its stranglehold on her mind. Pressures that had been forcing themselves in on her until she could barely breathe let go, and so did she. 

     Luka looked back and forth between his work and the diagram several times, before looking to her. “I think I’ve finished this bit. Does it look right to you?”

     She leaned over, not so much checking the design against the sketch as feeling it. And it felt right. “Yes.”

     Luka nodded and carefully secured the thread in the way she had taught him. “Okay, where next?”

     “I think….” Her eyes trailed across the fabric, the beadwork. They’d not only finished, she had worked beyond the design, adding touches unexpected but welcome. “I think that’s perfect.”

     He smiled. “Then it’s perfect.” He stood and offered his hand to help her up, then put the supplies away as she steamed the gown to ensure its flawlessness upon delivery. 

     Marinette blew out a long breath. She had triple-checked everything, the garment bag was hung and ready to be loaded once the gown was accepted. And, somehow, there were twenty minutes to spare. Her mouth opened to offer her thanks for roughly the fiftieth time but Luka, leaning back against her desk, smirked and she was cut off. 

     “You’re welcome, Mare. You’re welcome infinity.”

     “Then thank you, infinity plus one.”

     He laughed and welcomed her into his arms for a hug. “You win.”

     “I always win.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. It was just a silly, playful brag, but she realized the truth hidden within it, as well as another. “And it’s usually because you help me.”

     Luka patted her back, and then stepped out of the embrace. “That’s what friends are for. With a glance at his watch he moved towards the door. “I should disappear, but how about brunch, once things are said and done? The cafe in the rotunda—“

     “Let’s go somewhere else.”

     Marinette straightened up the shop while waiting for the client— not that there was anything to straighten up, and felt the same blessed swell of achievement when her vision and hard work were received with glowing praise. Then, when the excitement had passed and the commission closed, she paused, hand still on the door after bidding her client farewell, and sagged. 

     No. Nope. 

     She squared her shoulders, and found she had a little cheering section. 

     “That’s right, Marinette,” Tikki said in her sweet, small, forever encouraging voice. “You don’t have any reason to be sad.”

     There hadn’t been much discussion between she and her Kwami, about Adrien. On one hand it was odd, because poor Tikki had been audience to her unending adolescent gushing on the subject of Adrien Agreste-- which, if she was being honest, definitely crossed the line into unhealthy territory. But, Tikki also didn’t usually have much to say about Marinette’s lovers, other than being a supportive presence as any friend would be. It was probably all in her head, then, that she had actually been more quiet than usual, on the subject of this latest one. 

     “No,” she affirmed, “I don’t.”

     She gathered her things and closed the shop; focusing on each task as it came. Her emotions would settle and she would be able to see more clearly; she just needed to go about her day until they did. Having a meal with a friend was a perfect way to pass the time— not to mention fill her empty stomach— and she found herself hurrying towards her destination. 

     Sliding into the chair opposite Luka, she found them both smiling. 

     “Happy client?”

     “Happy client.” She nodded, smoothing a napkin across her lap. “Thanks to—“

     “You,” he finished, causing her to laugh. 

     “Now, if only I can manage to not put myself in that situation again.” Her head shook as she opened the menu. “It’s so unlike me.”

     “Exciting things preoccupy people,” he observed gently. “You’re allowed that, once in a while. “You deserve that.”

     Marinette ordered, the appearance of the server thankfully distracting her from the prickling of discomfort at the memory of how the interaction with Adrien, as herself, had made her feel nothing but inadequate. 

     No. Remember who you are. You’re making your name as a designer. You’re Ladybug. 

     He’d said he had always been a fan of her designs, and she knew how he felt about Ladybug. The only reason he didn’t know they were one and the same was because she kept that secret from him. 

     The date with the ballerina… she didn’t know how to explain that. 

     “Alya isn’t a fan,” Marinette suddenly admitted. “Very much the opposite.”

     “She hasn’t been from the beginning, though.”

     A shrug. “But it’s different, now. Especially after… um… I started spending the night. And, yeah, she has good points. If things go bad, and we… am I going to be able to still be his friend? And will he just never know that he and I….” She sighed. “She has good points.”

     Luka nodded. “Those are logical questions.”

     “I know they are,” Marinette muttered, that discomfort stirring once more. It hadn’t seemed like the most remote possibility, at first. How could it be? It was Adrien. He was her first love. She’d been certain, when they were younger, that it was meant to be— that they’d have a romance for the ages! And it only seemed to be reinforced, at first. 

     Or, as recently as that morning. 

     “Like I said, Mare, he does feel all the things for you, he just doesn’t realize it.”

     “I’m not sure how that’s possible,” she admitted to her glass of limonata. It still didn’t feel great.

     “I want to be clear: I’m not saying he’s not an idiot.”

     Marinette found herself laughing, and Luka chuckled. 

     “He is, he’s an idiot. He’s always been an idiot.”

     “No, he hasn’t!”

     He smirked. “I beg to differ. At any rate, I have no doubt that he cares very, very deeply about the person he cares about. He’s just too much of an idiot to see beyond her.”

     She balled up the wrapper from her straw and flicked it across the table. It hit square in the chest, the center of his liberté, égalité, pansexualité tee. The words were applied by artfully brushing bleach onto a navy shirt, but she had no idea if he, or someone else, had made it. Most of his lovers were artists of one type or another. 

     “Hey, I’m giving the guy the benefit of the doubt!” Luka picked up the wad of paper and tossed it back. “If I thought he was smart there’d be no room for error.”

     Marinette smirked, shaking her head. Then, she turned serious, solemn. “I don’t know if this is kind, or cruel to say,” she ventured. “But I love you as much as I’m allowed to.”

     His smile flickered, emotion coloring it. “I love you as much as I’m allowed to, too, Mare.”

     It wasn’t cruel, she found, but it was very much bittersweet. She smiled, but her eyes were stinging with tears. So, might as well let them all out: “He told me, in there, that he’s going out with his ballerina again. Next week.”

     Luka’s brows rose, and they seemed to pull up redness below his eyes. Confusion, anger. “I… I’m surprised by that. And I’m sure there’s some sort of reasonable explanation.”

     She set her chin on her palm, leaned on her elbow. “What explanation could be rational?”

     He shrugged, gaze wandering around the cafe. Was he taking in any of it? The young couple, the old couple. The child with her mother, making memories as Emilie and Adrien Agreste had at another cafe, long before.

     No, his focus was far away. 

     “I don’t know his life, Mare. But, I can promise you, if it works out that he has no good explanation and it is what you fear it is, I’ll murder him for you.”

     She smirked wryly. “I appreciate the offer, but unnecessary.” 

     “Well, don’t say I never tried to so something nice for you.”

     Studying him, she wondered, for the thousandth time, why she hadn’t just told him. All those years ago, why couldn’t she just have been honest? He was Viperion! She already knew him to be completely trustworthy. 

     Because it didn’t matter, she knew. The end would’ve been the end, anyway. Once she was thrust into Guardianship, everything changed. There was too much riding on her young shoulders, and the only way she could be certain that she could support it all was to be completely and utterly focused on the team. The entire team. 

     It wasn’t that she couldn’t love, she just couldn’t love anyone she was responsible for. 

     “I know you know more than I do, Luka. And it’s never bothered me.” Her eyes fell to the table between them, her half-eaten salad and its fresh spring colors. “I know that I can trust you to hold all these secrets, but also to tell me something if you think I need to know it. You would tell me something if I needed to know it, right?”

     She kept her gaze lowered, feeling his discomfort: the sound of him squirming a bit in his chair, a couple taps of his fingers on the side of his glass, a drawn breath that didn’t lead to speech for long moments. 

     “Within the constructs that exist,” he finally said, “I will always do everything I can to protect you, Marinette.”

     A frown tugged at her lips. On the surface, she had been speaking of the team, but he knew where her fears lie. All of her fears. All she could do was nod, and thank him. 

     It was quiet, in their little world, for a while. They each poked at their lunches, knowing to eat but too preoccupied to focus on things so basic. 

     “What were you humming?” she asked softly. “When we were working, and you couldn’t stand the silence.” Maybe listening to the song would calm her, at home, as it had calmed her at the shop. She could use some of that.

     His lips fluttered, though his eyes remained on his food. “It was you, Mare. When you’re happy and calm, it was your song.”

     Adrien scowled. His hands seemed to have forgotten motions he’d learned when he was twelve. 

     “Putain,” he muttered, pulling the tie out of the mess he had made of it to start over. He shook out his hands, hoping to rid them of the weirdness that had infected his limbs. Not exactly as tremor, or a tingle, just.. something weird. 

     Plagg had been giving him shit pretty much all day, calling out his every stumble. After the weird thing with Luka outside of Marinette’s shop— actually, come to think of it, it had been since then— it was just piling annoyance atop frustration atop discomfort, and all of it was throwing him off. It felt as if he’d been unbalanced all day. 

     He’d awakened as happy as ever, and been able to spend half an hour with his love in his arms before Ladybug suddenly seemed to remember something, bolting from his bed and his place with barely a goodbye kiss. Maybe it had been that which threw him off, because he hadn’t seemed to be able to not make a fool of himself since. 

     First, he realized a shop he must’ve walked by a dozen times was owned by one of his oldest friends. Then, after a brief few minutes of chat, he seemed to have said something that caused her to rush him off. Leaving, he’d bumped into Luka, who, no matter how they’d seemed to end up friendly a few nights before, gave him a look that sent Adrien onto the defensive. As inwardly socially awkward as he still often was, he knew unbridled suspicion when he saw it. 

     “You just can’t do anything right, can you?” Plagg sniffed, hovering between he and the mirror with a hunk of comté. Adrien grunted and brushed him out of the way. Was the cheese selection getting low? Was that why he was being such a little jerk? 

     He just wanted the day to be over. Finished with missteps, finished with his silly duties for the brand, when he could sink into the most wonderful, reaffirming comfort of Ladybug’s presence. 

     The buzzing of his phone in a specific pattern provided a burst of excitement, a mini jolt of the joy that his life had been blessed with of late. Adrien abandoned the disaster of a Windsor knot he had once again gotten himself into, scooping up the device. 

     Some things have come up, I need to do training with the team tonight. Sorry.

     His spirits fell, as did his expression. There was confusion, for either she was lying, or Chat Noir was being left out of something important. 

     An echo stirred of the pain he’d felt long before, in the days when Ladybug handed out so many of the other Miraculous so quickly, he’d become just a teammate like any other. That had been what lead to his giving up Plagg… and then becoming Catwalker. 

     Adrien sank down onto the side of bed, pulling off the fine silk noose around his neck. 

     “Yeah,” Plagg said, looking down at the screen from over his shoulder. “Big surprise.”

Chapter Text

     “So, m’Lady, how’ve you been?”

     Ladybug looked over at Chat Noir, and his entirely-too casual tone, with her usual flavor of annoyance. Without speaking, she turned her attention back to the battle at hand. It wasn’t that she shouldn’t: the gothy chick leading a horde of horse-sized spiders through the city was certainly worth paying attention to, but he had been, for some reason, hoping for at least a basic greeting. He was starved for her contact.  

     It had been four days since “something came up” and Ladybug had to skip their date for a training with the team that didn’t exist. Since then, her replies to his messages were brief and distant. She never had the time, and even trying to schedule something for the future— anytime— was met with indifference. Adrien had done something, clearly, to make a gigantic misstep, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell it could be. 

     He had suspicions that Plagg knew something he didn’t, but the Kwami wouldn’t help out. 

     “Anything exciting going on, lately?”

     She turned, grasped a handful of hair, and yanked the top half of him out around the corner behind which they were hiding, giving him full view of their foe. And full view to the foe also, because a blast of web big enough to pin down he and like five of his best friends shot his way. Chat was able to stumble back into cover, but only just. Ladybug used the distraction he’d provided to swing herself out and across the street, to where Vesperia was situated in a second floor alcove. 

     He’d just been sitting at home, twiddling his fucking thumbs. Unsure what, exactly, it was that he did or didn’t do, what he said or didn’t say. In previous relationships, when there was a bump, they’d do what every couple did: they either worked through, or ended it. But that was when he had her phone number, knew where she lived, knew where she worked. If she tried to shut him out, he could eventually do something about it. That was when he knew her name. 

     So maybe they weren’t so much a couple, after all. 

     Chat’s eyes were on her, their enhanced vision allowing him to see details no one else could when she was in shadow. His familiarity with her should’ve allowed him to see details no one else could, as well, but all he saw was Ladybug, and nothing more. 

     He let out a sound that was half gulp and half gag as he was pulled abruptly backwards by the neck. He should’ve sensed someone behind him, be it with his ears or via subtle vibrations in the building, but his attention had been elsewhere. All of the adrenaline that should’ve been crashing through him over the last few minutes hit his bloodstream at once, and he whirled around to take on his attacker, who was anything but. 

     Viperion easily dodged his staff, either naturally or via a Second Chance of the type that had just allowed the save of his tragically-distant teammate from whatever had been about to cut his day tragically short. 

     “Focus on the battle, brother,” he said as he steadied Chat from the momentum that went haywire when his strike didn’t connect. “You don’t have the luxury of being able to be distracted right now.” 

     Luka knew, he realized. He knew that Chat was more preoccupied by Ladybug than usual, in a way that wouldn’t allow even immediate danger to register. She’d told him. She had confided in her teammate and friend the great and awful something that had suddenly come between them. It was something, not simple distraction or any of the benign things he’d tried to convince himself might be the case. 

     He opened his mouth, but found himself being tugged away from the corner, from one little balcony to the next. Viperion yanked him around, forcing him to go— wherever— first. 

     “—couldn’t tell you,” the snake man seemed to finish, though he certainly hadn’t started, and Chat hadn’t even gotten the question out. 

     So, another Second Chance had been used saving his dumb, diverted ass. A hissing, chittering sound behind them told Chat that one of the spiders had taken the space they had previously occupied and, in the avoided timeline, probably chomped his head off or something. 

     As annoyed as Luka was with him, Chat was eternally thankful that he still bothered to save his life. 

     A splattering of web shot just over their heads. He spun, yelling for Viperion to duck as he turned. His staff extended out at full speed, right into the hissing maw of a tarantula whose leg span, he was able to see now being so very close, was pretty damn close to five meters. The staff speared the creature, and sent its bristly body off on a journey into the next arrondissement. 

     “Ugh,” he groaned as the staff shortened once more, coating his hands with saliva and blood and who knew what else. 

     “Hope that wasn’t a person,” Viperion noted as Chat did his best to wipe off his hands and staff on the side of building. 

     “She’ll fix it.”

     “I know,” he sighed, “but you know they remember it.”

     He frowned, looking at the streaks of offal he’d made on the façade. “Yeah.”

     There was the sound of a shriek that couldn’t be held back by poise, torn from the body by physical force. It was Ladybug’s voice, and he and Viperion were streaking back the way they had come faster than they’d run for their own lives. 

     Chat, using his staff as pole vault, found her in seconds— stuck to the side of a cathedral a block away. The spider that had done those particular honors was scrabbling over the buildings between the two, narrowing the gap at frightening pace. He could see her lips moving in a torrent of swears as she tracked the arachnid, which his own matched as he launched himself towards her. 

     In his brief seconds of flight, Chat Noir reflected that the fact he was aware of the present meant that Viperion had enough faith in him that he hadn’t already Second Chanced Ladybug back out of the webs, and that he most likely would be successful. He never really appreciated that, before. 

     He planted his feet on the beast’s back and pushed off once more as powerfully as he could, propelling himself the rest of the way to Ladybug’s side, and slowing the pursuer. Also, pissing it off. 

     “You okay, Bug?” He kept his eyes on the spider, but was focused on his teammate. In the glances he’d taken of her he hadn’t noted any blood, only wide and worried eyes. They were a few stories up, just below the tall, arched windows and amidst hundreds of intricately carved, if weathered, figures. 

     “I’ll be better once I’m out of this,” she breathed. “And I’ve got one of the saints’ elbows in my back.”

     Chat laughed, himself hanging onto… Peter? He really couldn’t identify the vast majority of them. “I’ll have you out in two shakes of a spider’s butt.”

     “I’d be very happy to never see a spider’s butt again, thanks.”

     He observed the spider’s approach. Being beside Ladybug, he was below the plane of the opponent, but he wouldn’t leave her side to gain high ground. Instead, he focused on finding a sort of rhythm in its movements, and launched himself off the face of the cathedral just as the spider made its pounce. He flipped as he travelled out and upwards, delivering a two-footed kick to the underbelly. The spider was thrown backwards, landing upside down not far from where Chat touched down. It flailed, all eight legs waving at the sky in an attempt to right itself as it squalled in frustration. 

     It was the perfect opportunity to take another of the fiends out of the equation, but a scan of the street didn’t reveal anything helpful: no busses or box trucks to shove it into, and he already knew that Ladybug’s yo-yo was plastered, like most of her, to the building. 

     “A friend of mine has a cat that loves to hunt insects,” she called helpfully, and Chat couldn’t help but twist to shoot her a quizzical look. 

     “Are you honestly suggesting I eat it?”

     “Just mentioning.”

     Blech. “I did just have dinner, unfortunately, but I’d be happy to leave it on your doorstep as a trophy.”

     Several screeches rose in the distance. He abandoned the idea of containing the one, leaping back up to be at his Lady’s side. From there, he could see three overgrown tarantulas responding to the cries of their compatriot, and advancing quickly. Farther, the prime Akuma victim was standing confidently on the back of an even larger spider, cloak fluttering behind her as the two zipped after unlucky civilians, and— putain, they are people. Their teammates moved in a flurry of colors from magenta to turquoise: defending, attacking, and all certainly engaged in the treasure hunt for the Akumatized object.

     If she had been enthralled by Viperion for so long— a lanky, blue-haired rock star with the heart of a poet— how could her interest in someone like Adrien Agreste be anything more than being starstruck? 

     Focus.

     He assessed the webbing holding her hostage, grabbing any number of saints and animals as he moved around to fully grasp the situation. “Don’t suppose this is barbe à papa?”

     “It would be nice if all we had to deal with for once was weaponized cotton candy,” Ladybug said flatly, “but I doubt it. Certainly doesn’t smell very sugary.”

     His nose wrinkled as he poked at the stuff. It gave off a strange and distinctly unpleasant odor, sort of like burnt hair. And it was still gummy, so there wasn’t any hope of trying to chisel away with his staff. He’d been joking as per usual, but it was starting to look as if his teeth were the only option to free Ladybug before they were overrun. “Lucky Charm? Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s Saint Denis’ head poking you, by the way.”

     She looked at him doubtfully, then meaningfully down in the direction of her left hand. Beneath the spray, the disc of her yo-yo was just visible. 

     “Well, I could get that out faster than the rest of you. Then I can do a toss with a flourish and you can say the words?”

     Her brows raised. “‘A flourish?’ Chat!”

     He spun, staff extending as he did. It caught the first of the spiders across the head, stunning, but another was just behind. Pushing off the wall, and hearing the sound of crumbling rock as he did, Chat used the shoulder his strike had exposed to stop the beast’s trajectory. But then he fell with it, and two great hairy legs wrapped around his torso as they went. He struggled, but was only held tighter. If the spider hadn’t been trying to land on its feet, he almost certainly would’ve been encased in web. 

     They each managed to land on their feet: two for Chat, six for the spider. He dropped low, absorbing the impact, but also catching the spider by surprise. His staff drove down, length-wise, onto its back, causing a shriek of pain. The legs fell away, as another shriek came from above. And he was back up, staff flashing as he swung it at the three fiends closing in very quickly on the helpless Ladybug. 

     “Hey, back off! I know she looks like a snack, but—“

     “You know, maybe I wouldn’t mind just being eaten,” she muttered, unimpressed with his combo of comedy and flirtation. Unimpressed, but also not panicked. Not the way someone seconds away from being very possibly speared by gigantic tarantula fangs would be expected to act.

     As annoyed as she often was, she trusted him completely with her life. 

     He swung and kicked, holding off the swarm of spiders, but only just. It wasn’t long until he was beginning to sweat, even with his amplified abilities. 

     “Carapace!” Chat yelled, unable to see their teammate but hoping he would be heard. And he was, a Shelter shortly igniting around the two of them. 

     He sighed heavily in relief, as the beasts desperately attacked their little bubble of protection. 

     “I’m sorry I was so pissy with you, before,” she said gently as he again poked at the webbing in an attempt to figure a way out. “I haven’t been in the best state, the last few days.”

     Chat Noir straightened, bringing himself up to her eye level. His heart had begun to pound every bit as hard as it had a moment before in the heat of battle. “It’s okay, bugaboo. We all have our moments. This is only a little part of our lives.”

     She sighed. “It’s a part that shouldn’t be impacted by the rest, though.”

     “Well,” he grinned, “it’s not as if getting you to make that adorable little pinched expression isn’t a pastime of mine. You’re allowed to be annoyed.” 

     Eyes narrowed, lips pinched, and Chat smiled. 

     “Yep, that’s the one.”

     She released the expression, mostly. “We need to get me out of here. If I can’t use the yo-yo it won’t matter if the others subdue the Akuma.”

     He nodded, back to the seriousness the situation required. There definitely wasn’t any way he could think of to free her, though— even if his staff were able to provide some sort of knife, there was no guarantee it could do much damage to the flexible, sticky substance, and without the yo-yo already being free, there was no way to get a Lucky Charm. Unless…

     Chat squinted out through the transparent green glow, and through the chaos of spider legs.

     There he was, Carapace only a block or two away. 

     “Carapace!”

     The turtle turned his attention towards them. 

     “Can you make this thing opaque?”

     He headed their way, but not before delivering an impact to the spider he had been engaged with, via his shell. “I can,” he shouted, “but it would need to be a new one!”

     Chat scowled. The spiders made that a less than attractive option. 

     “What are you thinking?”

     He looked back to Ladybug. Her ears were free, as was the thumb of her right hand. It wouldn’t be the first time….

     She read his mind, and nodded. “It’s the best option.”

     “I’ll be able to take them off of you?”

     A nod. “Once I detransform, I think so. But you’ll have to do it without looking.”

     “Not a problem.” 

     A quizzical look passed through her eyes, but he turned away before she might be able to spy the truth in him: he had her memorized, in the dark. “Do it,” he called to Carapace. “I think they’ll fall. If not, I’m ready.”

     His friend, only a few dozen meters away, nodded. “They’ll probably come for you,” Ladybug warned. 

     “They’ll regret it,” he promised. “Shelter!”

     In an instant, the protection around them dissolved. All but one of the spiders— the one who had been atop the bubble, dropped away harmlessly. Chat, grasping several of the carvings on the wall, swung his body out horizontally, delivering a two-footed kick to eject the remaining from the area. Then they were protected again, this time in a Shelter the color of jade. The way it illuminated Ladybug, bringing out the subtle blue of her hair and the hue of her irises, took his breath away— thank goodness she quickly closed her eyes. 

     “Ready?”

     For a moment, a long moment, he hesitated. His eyes remained open, the most intense temptation wrestling mightily with his duty. He could know….

     “Ready,” he affirmed, his eyes shutting. 

     “Tikki, spots off.”

     “Claws in.”

     He was thankful that the Shelter would support his weight— as strong as he, Adrien, was, he didn’t have the strength of Chat Noir that would allow him to easily climb around the side of a Cathedral with only tenuous handholds. 

     His ring came off first, and it only took a few touches to find her exposed thumb. Exposed thumb, that skin he had so horribly missed. He slipped the Miraculous onto her, and then, flawlessly, his fingers went to her earlobes. Yes, he knew the size and proportion of her body, he dreamed about it. The earrings did come off, even easier than if they were simple studs, as he struggled only to touch and not to caress. They adhered to his own ears with barely a brush. 

     “Claws out.”

     “Spots on.”

     Their eyes opened, and lingered. The yo-yo was in his hand, now, but there was a drawn out pause from their demands as gazes traveled over the faces of each other, so changed. 

     “It’s always so strange to see you as someone else,” Lady Noire said softly, and Mister Bug turned away. 

     “Drop it, Carapace!” 

     The moment the Shelter dissolved, the yo-yo was tossed into the air. With, of course, a flourish. 

     “Lucky Charm!”

     The garden shears he received were not the most efficient thing to wield, but they did make short work of the webs. He and Lady Noire fell to the street in a sprint, easily doing away with the tarantulas that had, indeed, attacked Carapace. 

     The three of them advanced towards the others, defeating spiders that were dishearteningly numerous on the way. At least Adrien had only been turned into a pigeon— which, since he was allergic to them, was not exactly ideal, but he did love the dreams he yet had of flying. And he hadn’t been attacked, injured, or even killed by the team. 

     This was why he knew the admittedly macabre statistics of Parisian suicides, which he had related to Ladybug weeks before. He had been desperate to find some sort of silver lining, when the nightmares Hawkmoth— and he, himself, in reply— inflicted upon the innocent. 

     Viperion had his foot upon the chest of the Akumatized young woman, Rena Rouge held her staff close to her face. Polymouse and Purple Tigress had captured the original spider with their bolos. The Snake holder took in the appearance of the two and fixed Mister Bug’s eyes with his own in question. 

     He gave the most subtle shake of his head. No, he hadn’t looked. As much as he wanted to. 

     “So… how are things?” he asked Ladybug only minutes later. They had dispatched with the Akuma, he had used Tikki’s power to fix the city, put everything right, and leave those who had been turned into spiders to deal with their new demons. Another opaque shelter from Carapace had allowed them to quickly return each other’s Miraculous, and his heart was still pounding from the sensation of the bared Ladybug slipping the ring back onto his finger. Unaware of her own familiarity, her hand had found his arm and slid down, searching…. 

     Ladybug’s shoulders sagged, her head tipped downwards. She seemed tired. 

     She shrugged. 

     Chat took a few quiet steps forwards, reminding himself that he was her partner, one of the most important people in her life. Not Adrien. “We’re friends, too,” he offered gently. “Talk to me.”

     Another shrug. He put his arm around her shoulders, a motion that felt intensely strange. How was he supposed to keep himself casual and aloof, when he was so needing to be against her again? 

     “My understudy not living up to his promise, huh? Well, there’s a reason he was the second choice.”

     Ladybug actually laughed, quietly, and a gentle elbowing accompanied her slipping away from his half-embrace. She didn’t go far, though, only a few steps towards the edge of the roof. “Chat, do you ever… doubt yourself?”

     He frowned, grasping for context as he held his Chat Noir persona up around himself like a child hiding under blankets. “What would I have to be doubtful about?”

     Another little laugh. “Of course, absolutely nothing. But, do you ever think that….” Her head shook. “We probably shouldn’t talk about this.”

     He reached out to brush her arm, what he hoped was a reassuring touch. “What’s going on, little bug?”

     “I… I don’t live up to Ladybug, when I’m not her,” she said softly. “And there’s a guy who says he loves Ladybug, but me… I’m just someone in the background.”

     “What does that mean?” The brush turned firmer, and Chat rubbed slowly up her bicep to her shoulder. He stayed where he was, though, mostly behind her. There was no way she wouldn’t be able to see the strength of emotion in his eyes. 

     She shrugged once more, beneath his hand, and he squeezed in response. Steadying her in the fog of discomfort and disillusionment. “Someone who adores Chat Noir, who thinks he’s the bravest, strongest, most confident, flawless person… would you— you— would you feel like you had any chance to impress them?”

     He understood, then. Somehow, he’d made her feel inadequate. But how? “Well of course, I’m amazing. And so are you, Bug. Not wearing the suit doesn’t change that.”

     Ladybug let out a long breath. She sat, looking out over the city, and he sat beside her with profound relief that she didn’t simply take off. “When I met Catwalker— the guy— I discovered that I’d known him, all along.”

     His guts seemed to tremble. She had said, that night at Sacré Coeur, that they’d met, but….

     “And I’m someone he looks right over, if I’m not in this suit. Sure, maybe there is something amazing about me, but it’s not enough that he bothers to notice. But if I’m wearing this… then he’s in love. Then he thinks he’s in love.”

     A wave of something like nausea passed over Chat Noir. He knew her. She was someone whose path he crossed more than once. Someone he knew now. “You’re sort of blinding in that suit, m’Lady, and I know it better than anyone. And he’s in love with Ladybug, so why would he be looking at anyone else?”

     She sagged once more. “I wish it was so simple.”

     “It is,” he told her in what he hoped was a convincing tone. “There’s no way he could ever be disappointed in you. You are Ladybug. If you ever decide you want to tell him who you are, I promise you, he’ll be just as in love with that girl as he is with you.”

     Ladybug laughed, but it was nothing more than a scoff. 

     “Hey.” He took her hand in his, but simply— no interweaving of fingers— and squeezed. “It’s true. I’m sure you’re not completely dissimilar to this in real life, I’d like to think I’m not, but also you don’t have exactly the same energy. You can’t. We have to hide it, or everyone would know who we are. But Ladybug has her core in you, bugaboo. Without that center, she couldn’t be the hero she is, or the person he loves. The person I love.” It had slipped out, he couldn’t possibly hold his adoration back, but his love was nothing she hadn’t heard before. 

     She had never cared. 

     He really did know how she felt, only not in the way she would expect. 

     Ladybug rest her head on his shoulder, her hand remaining in his. His emotions were vacillating wildly as he forced his body to stay still and relaxed. Chat struggled to control them, to settle them, and only exist in the moment. Under all the layers of bullshit and doubt, he knew, the truth was in his bed. It was two people who stayed completely intertwined even while asleep, because they, at their most bare, were absolutely in love with each other. 

     That’s all that mattered. 

     Her hand slid from his, her head lifted from his shoulder, and his partner pushed herself up— but didn’t go any farther before kneeling back down to kiss his cheek. 

     He watched her, slim body at times silhouetted by the glow of Paris and at times lost to shadows, until she disappeared into the distance. Then Chat slipped down to the quiet street and, in a shadow of his own, became his own, simple, self. 

     Walking slowly towards home, Adrien tried to keep thoughts of his failings at bay. Ladybug loved him, the core of Chat Noir. His rationale couldn’t only stretch in one direction, and it felt solid— at least it did, with her. 

     A realization hit him, and he halted as if the impact had been physical. 

     She said she knew him. I’ve known him all along. 

     Was that really possible? Could Chat Noir and Ladybug really have known each other all this time? 

     He couldn’t believe it. Acquaintances, maybe, but nothing more. She said he looked passed her, and so there must’ve not been any reason for them to really be in close contact. Because there was no way, no way he could’ve not become immediately and completely enthralled with Ladybug— her core— if she was standing just in front of him. 

     Adrien startled at the sensation of a buzzing in his pocket. He fumbled his phone while pulling it out so quickly, but managed to catch before it hit the sidewalk. 

     Sorry I’ve been so preoccupied lately. Any chance you’re home?

     He broke into a run. 

Chapter Text

     She was standing in the salon when Adrien burst through the door. His eyes were slightly wild in their brief search for her, and the way he was breathing betrayed that he had run there. Similarly, he charged across the room and wrapped her in his arms, and she found them to be trembling as he held her. 

     Ladybug melted against him. 

     “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.”

     “Why do you think you did anything?” she asked into his shoulder, though the sigh with which she spoke betrayed her. 

     He pulled back, just far enough to cradle her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her in a way that revealed that he had, honestly, thought that they might have been over. 

     At the end of it, Ladybug looked up into his eyes, feeling dazed. By adoration, and by regret. “You didn’t, really, do anything.”

     He smiled, but it was filled with sadness. “It sounds like I did, sort of, do something.”

     The words he’d said of Marinette that hurt so terribly were echoing in her head, even as the same voice spoke so sweetly to her. You said you want nothing to do with me. 

     Adrien lead her to the settee, but did not attempt to hold her as they sat. He could tell, it seemed, that she wanted a bit of her own space. Space to breathe. “Talk to me,” he said gently, and a little chill passed through her, but she wasn’t sure why. 

     “I can’t,” she mourned. “I can’t, not about this.”

     He pressed his lips to her forehead, one hand rubbing her arm firmly. It felt like… like déjà vu. “Then tell me, in the future, anything you can. There’s so much I can’t know about you, but I don’t want that to come between us.” His forehead, then, rest against hers. “I understand, and I’ll wait as long as I have to, to know who you are. And I realize that I might never be given that gift. It’s okay, it doesn’t scare me.”

     Another sigh escaped her. She leaned into the contact. “I’m sorry that I… that I just sort of disappeared. I needed to… work over some things.”

     Adrien frowned, lines of concern forming around his lips. “And, did you? What do you need from me?”

     Her head shook, and he nodded to say he understood. Then, his fingers wove through hers. He squeezed, drawing a slow, deep breath that made her heart speed. 

     “There’s something I need to tell you, and I know it won’t sound great. Just, please, give me a chance to explain.”

     Ladybug searched his expression as she steeled herself. “Okay.” Her voice felt small. A low roll of thunder passed through the apartment, almost more felt than heard. The windows rattled in their frames. Their being blacked out, though, hid the approaching storm from view. 

     “You know a lot about how my life is,” he began. “So, so much of it is a sort of act, a presentation. Calculated. Where I’m seen, whom with. And it’s been noted, it seems, that I haven’t been seen out with a woman for a while. I’ve been instructed to make an appearance with one.” 

     She scowled, even as a profound weight was lifted from her chest. Luka had been right, there was an explanation for his upcoming date. But it was one that was difficult for her to accept, for Adrien’s sake. 

     He saw her distaste, but seemed to misunderstand its origin. “Just because I’ve been told to be seen on a date doesn’t mean it is a date. I reached out to… well, someone I did date, recently, but when I did I asked her if she’d be willing to go somewhere with me platonically. If it was someone new, it would generate some buzz, and obviously that’s not something I want.” 

     Ladybug swallowed hard, doing her best not to shrink. Despite his explanation, his reassurance, there was a sour feel in her stomach. “Who?”

     “Ah… well, Inez. She’s a—“

     “I know.” 

     He bit his lower lip. 

     “You two were photographed together not very long before we met.” She spoke slowly, carefully, trying not to allow emotion to seep into the words. “What happened?”

     Adrien explored her eyes, and allowed her to explore his. Those incredible eyes, more complex than a simple green, they seemed to hold a hundred hues with golden flecks over top like natural glitter. Eyes that were beautiful for so many reasons, and so many of them were invisible. “You and I met.” 

     She took a long, slow breath, forcing herself not to dwell on the thought to the exclusion even of her most basic requirements: Adrien Agreste had dumped a girlfriend for her. 

     “We’d dated for a while,” he hurried to explain, “but weren’t particularly serious. Between the first time I saw you and the second, I told her that I wanted to end that.”

     Ladybug’s brow furrowed. “That was before there was any… any guarantee that things would go anywhere.” 

     He betrayed a shy smile. “I wouldn’t see you while I was involved with anyone else, even if it didn’t end up going anywhere. But I really hoped it would, and I absolutely wouldn’t have been at all present in another relationship, no matter what its context.”

     Maybe… maybe, she told herself, that was why he had declared to Luka that he had no romantic feelings for Marinette. Because he was, as Chat Noir had suggested, blinded by her. 

     That rationale rang too hollow, though. He had never had romantic feelings for her, Ladybug or not. 

     “So, it’s on Saturday; some modern symphony by a Japanese orchestra, at l’Opera Garnier. I’ll come back here immediately after, you can be waiting for me.” He seemed to have a stroke of inspiration. “And I could get you a ticket, actually. Or, a few tickets. It should be decent, so you could enjoy some music and keep an eye on me.”

     She broke into a smirk, charmed both by his offer and his concern. “I don’t need to spy on you, Adrien.”

     “It’s not spying if I know you’re there, somewhere. The mezzanine is open seating, and so it’s not as if I could get you a specific seat to attempt to spy on you, either.”

     Ladybug laughed, brushing a bit of hair away from his face. “Well, if I did want to spy on you, you’re right, there wouldn’t be much point if you knew about it. But I don’t mind the offer of meeting here, afterwards.” 

     He smiled, and adjusted himself to be closer to her, to fit better together. A buzzing on his wrist drew his attention before any conversation could continue. Adrien scowled, tapping at the face of his watch. She glimpsed a headline and photo. “You traded Miraculous with Chat Noir tonight?”

     She squirmed a bit. “Yeah. Well, I suppose it was more like he traded with me. My yo-yo, and the rest of me, was sort of useless, trapped. And we needed that for the Akuma, so he suggested we trade. When we did that, he got the yo-yo. It was sort of a cheat.” She wondered where he had been, while she and so many of his old friends battled evil. But, all that mattered was that he had been safe; there was always, still, a hint of worry that those she cared about most would be caught in the crossfire of her battles. 

     “But didn’t that mean… you had to detransform. With each other.”

     She nodded. “Carapace was able to hide us with a solid Shelter. It’s not the first time we’ve had to do that— be out of our suits, together.”

     His brows raised. “Wait, so you two know—?”

     The simple suggestion violently racheted up her pulse. “No! No, of course not. No, we never look. Eyes closed. Of course. We can’t know.” 

     Adrien’s arms settled around her. “You’re so sure he’s never peeked?”

     Ladybug laughed. “I’m sure. Because he’d absolutely show up somewhere in my real life, if so.”

     “Maybe he has?”

     She smirked. “I haven’t met anyone nearly so annoying.” 

     He let out a guffaw. “And you’ve never been tempted to look?”

     She quickly sobered. “Do I wonder who he is? Absolutely. I shouldn’t, I know it doesn’t matter what he looks like out of his suit, or where he lives or what job he has, but of course I’m curious. Wouldn’t anyone be, with someone they’re so close with? At least, that’s what I tell myself. But no, I’ve never been tempted to look. Our jobs are much more important than our curiosities.”

     “Well,” he squeezed her, “I’m thankful that, whomever he is, you can trust him. He seems to be completely devoted to keeping you safe.”

     Ladybug frowned. “He’s devoted to everyone equally, and so am I. That’s how it needs to be.”

     Adrien appeared off-put by the strength of her proclamation. “I….”

     She laughed, attempting to diffuse the suddenly serious atmosphere. “I mean, you know, team cohesion. Important!”

     His smile still seemed a little odd, but she couldn’t place the hidden emotion. “Of course. Well, you’ve kept the city, the world, and your team safe for a very long time, obviously you know the formula.”

     Her expression, she knew, was more resignation than pride. There was no pride in treading water. “I don’t keep the city safe,” she said. “I don’t keep anyone safe. Safe would mean everyone was free to go about their days without always having the closest place to shelter from an Akuma attack in the back of their minds. Safe would mean that my team could have a life, could have children if they want, could move away from Paris if they want.” She sighed. “I could have a life.”

     Adrien frowned. “Ladybug, I—“

     “Do you remember life before Hawkmoth?”

     He stuttered. 

     “It’s difficult, isn’t it? Remembering peace? There are children well into school who have never known peace. Never had that quiet childhood we were able to have. That are completely different people than they would otherwise be. That’s on me.”

     His scowl was filled with determination. “That’s on absolutely no one but Hawkmoth.” 

     “And stopping him is on me.”

     Adrien stood, and pulled her up as well. “Come on,” he said firmly, tugging her towards his bedroom. 

     A flare of disgust tore through her, wondering if he didn’t get somehow turned on by her repeated humiliations. 

     “I can’t hold you the way I want to out here.” 

     She melted as he wrapped himself around her on the bed, a big spoon that was trying to do much more than simply cuddle: to protect her from assaults that only came from within. His arms around her, his legs around hers, and his lips on the back of her neck. They dragged across the skin above her collar with each word, but also were whispering into her ear. 

     “Victory isn’t only complete vanquishment. Sometimes it does mean a stalemate, because that’s all there is. Still, it’s a different world than it would be without you. There is peace, even if it’s only episodic. We wouldn’t have that if Hawkmoth had won. And, aren’t you living your life? Here, with me?”

     The never-ending march of doubt through her head stumbled. 

     “I want to live my life, with you.”

     His words sent a chill through her body, from the top of her neck where they touched to her fingers and toes. He held her tighter, and tears filled her eyes. They weren’t happy, or sad, they were the physical manifestation of pure emotion. 

     “Please, Ladybug, let me be here to give you another perspective. Give me that chance. You are so fucking strong in so many ways, but I don’t doubt for a moment that the same things that have helped you maintain for so long have also left you horribly out of touch with wider reality. You’ve built up so many layers to keep yourself sane over these years, you can’t see beyond them anymore.”

     She wanted to argue— fighting seemed to always be her first instinct, she realized, but there was solid reason beneath his words. 

     His embrace was complete: limbs around her, breath on her skin, heart thumping against her back. Ladybug felt as if she was at his very center. “You have a partner you trust, in your battles. Allow me to be the partner you trust, outside of them.”

     It had struck her, not so much during the battle as after, just how much she trusted Chat Noir. It was something so present that there was rarely any consideration, but she did realize how her panic had not only lessened, but evaporated, when she saw him. Plastered to the side of a building and helpless, a monstrous, drooling tarantula racing towards her, the thought of her last seconds had been front and center— until she spotted Chat. She knew, immediately, that she was safe. With him still blocks away, she knew she was safe. 

     “Or, at least let me try to be.”

     She rolled over, and then over again, bringing herself up on top of Adrien. Grasping his cheeks, her kiss was halfway in thanks to him and halfway in thanks to someone she would never kiss. Being astride him, she felt the way he swelled in high definition. 

     The sound of rain began to tickle at the darkened windows, then quickly increased to a roar that was drowned out by Adrien’s gasping as she finally broke their contact. 

     “Turn off the lights?” 

     He looked up at her, eyes glowing in the light that spilled in through the open door. Maybe the strange angle was what made them seem so strangely bright, every bit as intense as when she’d seen them last behind a mask. 

     Her mouth went to his ear, and she tugged on the lobe. “Please turn off the lights,” she whispered, pressing her hips down against him. One of his hands was stroking the back of her neck in sweet affection, whereas the other, sliding down her back, was driven by a different emotion. 

     “Do you trust me?”

     She paused, confused. What was this, a demand that she swear complete and total trust in him, before they could continue? As far as he knew, they’d only met weeks before. And, even having known him so well for so long, having been absolutely obsessed with him for so much of her life, she couldn’t… she couldn’t trust him the same way she trusted Chat Noir. 

     She had made a mistake, she realized, believing that someone else could be trusted the same way her team was. Trustworthy, sure. But it wasn’t the same. 

     He saw her, mouth doing a sort of impression of a goldfish as she searched for a response, and smiled. “It’s not a trick question. Do you trust me? Because, you know, the lights could stay on, if you trust me to keep my eyes closed.”

     Her mouth stopped doing the glub glub thing, remaining slightly opened. “I….”

     “You said, you’re ‘the only person in the world who has to choose not to see Adrien Agreste naked.’ You don’t have to. I won’t look, I swear.” 

     “I….” 

     It was so easy to trust Chat. It was automatic, in fact, no hesitation at all. With Adrien, even if she did know what an honorable guy he was, it felt much, much more… complex. 

     He laughed, even has his hands slid down to cup her ass. “It was just an offer. I’m not offended if you’re not ready—“

     “No, no. I, I….” It was unbelievably tempting. To see him, her dream! 

     Adrien smirked. “That sounds full of confidence. It’s alright. Maison—“

     There was a mirror on the wall, opposite the windows. Perhaps that was why, really, she hesitated. Seeing him meant seeing herself with him. Marinette, not Ladybug. That coupling he’d never wanted to see. So… should she see it? 

     The lights extinguished, leaving them in perfect, anonymous darkness. 

     It was safer. 

Chapter Text

     LWB: I’ve had such an exhausting day. Any chance I could come over and we can melt on your couch a little earlier than planned?

     Adrien smiled sadly. He held his phone low in his seat as the lighting completely lowered. 

     CQM: I’m at the cinema with my best friend, I’ve been promising to see this stupid movie with him for weeks. I’m so sorry. Though you can absolutely go melt ahead of me. 

     Not that he’d been especially looking forward to the movie, more so it was time with Nino that he never seemed to get enough of, anymore. He hadn’t expected Alya to show up as well, because it was absolutely not her sort of film— mindless action with more than a little objectification of women— but she said she had missed being able to hang with him, too. It was strange to be out with the two of them again, it made him feel like a fifteen-year-old. It made him feel that Marinette should be there. 

     The empty seat on his right felt conspicuous, like a draft that hadn’t hit him until just then. 

     Twenty minutes into the horrible, horrible movie, someone did take the seat next to him. It was surprising and unnerving, an anonymous form in a huge dark hoodie, until red and black fingers that just barely reached out of the sleeve slid onto his leg. Adrien nearly laughed out loud in amazement, then leaned over and nosed his way into that hood to kiss her neck. 

     “You’re incredible. Can you see anything right now?” 

     The girl, behind sunglasses large and dark enough to hide her mask, shrugged. “I’m used to not being able to see much when I’m with you.”

     He chuckled and kissed her neck again. “I think we’re on an actual date.”

     They sagged together, his hand caressing hers deep in shadow, and whispered and giggled together more than watched the film. Nino and Alya each stared in surprise and confusion, but he’d feed them some explanation later. It couldn’t be too odd that someone like him would be with someone who wanted to hide her identity. 

     It felt amazing to be there with her that way, in public. It made them feel like a real couple, it hinted at the wonder of a true relationship. It made him realize, no matter how thankful he was for the moments they spent alone, just how much he wanted to be able to be with her, anywhere. Knowing her identity didn’t really even factor in, he didn’t care if she was still in her suit. He just wanted not to have to hide his love. 

     “I should go,” she whispered as the film came to a close, and his heart sank. “You can still see too much of me.”

     “I promised a beer with Nino,” he apologized. “But I’ll be home just after. If you go take a bath I’ll be in there with you before you know it.”

     Ladybug laughed softly. “That sounds nice.”

     He turned her face towards him enough to allow a full, deep kiss, and could feel the way her pulse sped with his fingers on the side of her neck. “I want to be able to do this with you. Without the sunglasses.”

     She sighed, but the threat of the lights rising at any moment forced her to hurry away. Her figure had barely disappeared before the credits rolled, and Adrien sighed his own. 

     “Bro,” Nino said, with a glare somewhere between annoyance and awe. “The hell?”

     Adrien tried to smirk. “Ah, yeah. She, uh, she has a busy schedule.”

     “The hiding, bro, the hiding.” he looked a little incredulous as he stood, and Alya was definitely sort of glaring at him, beyond.  

     “Well, you know, we’re trying to keep things on the down low for the moment.” 

     “You guys were literally photographed together last week,” Alya shot. 

     “Yeah, you that ashamed of us?”

     Adrien frowned in confusion, before laughing. “Oh, that wasn’t Inez. She went to that thing with me because I couldn’t go alone and, like I said—“

     Neither was placated with that, which wasn’t at all surprising, but he was saved for the moment by several requests for selfies with fans. 

     If only he could tell them— Carapace and Rena Rouge— that it had been Ladybug sitting beside them. If only he could tell all of them that he was Chat Noir. The Fab Four, as Carapace called them, out at the cinema. 

     That was probably why she had dared to come— she knew he was with a teammate. Even if his friend did catch a glimpse of her suit, she knew he could be trusted. 

     So….

     No, it couldn’t be that simple. He shouldn’t know about Nino and Alya’s identities, and to admit he did would only get his best friend in trouble— twice over, certainly. Maybe he could mention that it would be nice if…. 

     No. He couldn’t ask to meet any of her friends, and he couldn’t ask to admit their relationship to his own. He couldn’t ask to hang out with she and the team, just to be with her around others, freely. He was just starting to be convinced they were on solid footing, after the scare. 

     It was greediness. Less than a month in, pure greed. Pridefulness, because he was so over the moon to finally be with the woman he had loved for so long. Someone for whom secrecy was an absolute imperative. 

     “So,” a severe voice said, breaking him somewhat violently from his thoughts. He startled, finding Alya had come around the row behind where they’d been sitting, to be all that closer that much faster. Not that her glare lost any of its potency with distance. 

     “So?” Adrien attempted to project something approaching casualness, as if she couldn’t see straight through him. 

     Her eyes narrowed, and he tried to remember if she and Ladybug’s mannerisms had always so resembled each other, or if it was something that had evolved over the years of teamwork. It was sort of stupid that he had to be on the receiving end of both of them so many times. 

     Had Alya ever had any suspicions about him? She always seemed to know more than she would admit. 

     “So, who is she?”

     He scowled, pulling on his jacket as if he’d be able to escape the conversation. “Did I just say we’re keeping it—“

     “You did. That doesn’t apply to me and Nino.”

     Adrien laughed. “Oh?”

     “Yes.” She hooked her arm through his and walked them, somewhat forcefully, towards the exit. Nino seemed content to stand back and allow his partner to lead the inquisition. “And duh.”

     He, Adrien or Chat Noir, could claim he had once seen them transform, and ask them about their own secrets, and maybe even admit that—

     No. 

     “What’s so horrible that you’re insisting upon secrecy?”

     His brows raised. “Horrible? Why would it be horrible?”

     “Or scandalous,” she ventured, watching intently for his reaction to her words. Adrien thought of the furious typing he’d noticed her doing on her phone in the moments after Ladybug had exited, and suddenly realized: she knew. Of course she did! Alya had been the one to post, and probably also film, Ladybug’s call to Catwalker. There was no way she hadn’t been privy to the outcome. 

     “What do you know?” he asked quietly, even too quietly for Nino to overhear. It only made sense that, if Alya knew, Nino did as well, but he had certainly seemed confused enough at his date’s identity. 

     “I always know everything, Adrien.”

     He scowled. She would give him nothing, and he, to avoid both her and Ladybug’s eventual wrath, had to do the same. 

     It was so stupid. 

     There had been no more offers of leaving the lights on, for he was certain that she would ask if she were ready. He didn’t want to press her, nor again feel the surprisingly intense disappointment when she’d declined to trust him the way she had immediately trusted Chat. 

     It wasn’t immediate, though. He knew that. It was trust built up over so many long, long years…. Would he, Adrien, take so long to convince her he was worth the same?

     Nino threw his arm around his shoulders, and he found himself trapped between the couple. Somehow, the positions of friendship and affection felt more like disguised threats. “You know, I’m not really feeling a bar right now. Maybe we should just go back to your place.”

     “That is a brilliant idea, Nino,” Alya seconded, and Adrien realized their plan. It was like being ambushed in slow motion. 

     “No, no, no,” he said, stepping out of both of their grips. “Nice try.”

     They each looked at him with, frankly, unsettling innocence. He turned, pushing his way out of the theater into the cinema at large, and was seriously considering simply making a run for it, when he slammed into something little and soft. His heart launched into a panicked rhythm at the thought of hurting a child or little old lady while trying to escape people who were, theoretically, his friends, and his well-honed reflexes shot his arms out to catch the person before they could tumble over and—

     “Marinette?”

     She was staring up with big blue eyes, frozen with him in the way they’d come to rest: a position that suggested he was dipping her in the middle of an intimate dance. Her arms were up around his neck, his were around her waist and cradling the back of her neck. It felt oddly natural, until they seemed to each realize at the same moment exactly how awkward it should be. 

     “Adrien! Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you!” 

     He laughed anxiously. “I’m the one who hit you, so I’m sorry.” Realizing that she had been carrying a full bag of sweet popcorn which had since been spilled across the cinema carpet, he knelt to sweep the mess back into the bag. 

     “Marinette, what a surprise to see you here,” said Alya’s voice, a strange edge to it. 

     She knelt down on the other side of the little mess, awkwardly plucking pieces from the floor. “Uh, yeah! Well, I’m sort of ashamed, I’ve wanted to see this movie for a while and was just going to the next showing….”

     His brows actually went askew; though, thankfully, her attention seemed thoroughly directed downwards. It was absolutely not Marinette’s sort of film. Film, even was a loose term. It was a trashy, stupid popcorn movie. But at least she’d had the popcorn.

     Was she on a date? There was certainly no one paying any attention to their little cluster while stepping around the mess. 

     Had Marinette drastically changed, somehow? Was that why he’d been rushed out of her shop, she didn’t actually consider them friends anymore? It had been quite a while since they’d seen each other, before the other day. He couldn’t actually even remember when it was, and suddenly felt intensely guilty for that. 

     “Well, it’s not the best ninety minutes I’ve ever sat through,” he chuckled, getting the last of the spill back into the bag. “How did the delivery of that gown go the other day? You seemed a little… worried about it?”

     She laughed her anxious laugh. “Oh, yeah, it went great. Yeah, I was a little stressed.” Marinette finally allowed eye contact as he handed her the popcorn. “I’m sorry I sort of snapped at you,” her voice was quiet, sad. 

     Relief. “No apology necessary, of course. We all have our moments. I do admit I was pretty concerned that I’d offended you somehow, though.”

     Her expression turned… odd. It was difficult for him to read. Maybe something like… shame? But that didn’t really make sense, even with as hard as Marinette was known to be on herself. 

     “Are you meeting anyone for the movie? If not, we were just about to go have a drink,” he offered. “You really wouldn’t be missing much by skipping this particular film. Could I buy you a round, or two?”

     Yes, Ladybug was going to be waiting for him, and he did desperately want to get to her, but this was even more important. She would understand. 

     “Umm….” One of her chunky pink Mary Janes was tapping on the floor in triple time. Her eyes flickered towards Alya, then immediately back. He wasn’t sure why, or what she saw there, but her toe tapped even faster for a brief moment before she agreed. “Sure?”

     The cafe they’d planned to patronize was just a few blocks from the cinema, and as they walked he was aware that Marinette seemed to be avoiding Alya. She walked alongside him, and somewhat desperately hooked her arm through Nino’s, so as to insulate her other side. It was markedly strange, but he certainly didn’t have any knowledge of their lives anymore. He’d been confused enough by them when he saw the group every day; but then, he’d always been a little confused by everything. It was sort of a wonder that Ladybug hadn’t yet figured out just what a klutz he was. 

     “I ran into Luka as I was leaving your shop,” he mentioned, wondering if their mutual friend had told her of his stumble of declaring he had no feelings for her. It was true, of course, but it was true for everyone who wasn’t Ladybug— that wasn’t something one usually went around shouting. Especially of a friend. Especially when there had not, really, been any reason to do so.

     “Oh? Yeah, he was actually to thank for my delivery going so smoothly, he helped with the last of the work I was struggling with.”

     His brows raised as they took four seats around two little tables beside the cafe, facing the street in the typically Parisian way. “I had no idea he sews.” 

     “He grew up on a boat,” she chortled. “Making and mending things gets to be a necessity. And he’s quite good.”

     “I should think he’d have to be, for you to trust him so.” 

     She smiled. “There are only a few people I would trust with my life. Luka is one of them.”

     An idea sparked in Adrien’s brain. One that could be good for both of his friends, and, perhaps, benefit him, as well. “Whatever happened to you two, back then? You sort of seemed like the perfect couple.”

     A bit of the color seemed to drain from her face, but, probably, it was only his imagination as a pair of headlights from a turning car swept passed. Her smile had definitely frozen in place, probably to not to betray remaining feelings. “Ohh?”

     His own smile was calculatedly kind, a bit embarrassed. “To be honest, I was a little jealous.”

     “…Oh?”

     Adrien shrugged. “Well, you know, Kagami and I were sort of attempting our own thing at the same time, and it… well, it wasn’t really…. I guess didn’t really know what it should be, since it was my first relationship, but one day I looked at you and Luka and it made me realize that I wasn’t feeling anything like what it could be. You two, you guys looked at each other like… like you saw the entire universe in each other.”

     Her brows furrowed, one side of her lips turned downwards. He didn’t notice, though. He’d been caught in an old echo of ennui, walked into it willingly, but ignorantly. He hadn’t thought it would still be there, lurking in the recesses of his memory. 

     “It made me feel… incredibly lonely. I had no reason to be, but….” He forced a smile, shaking off the emotion. “Anyway, I was really surprised when you ended. I’m glad you’ve stayed close. Ever thought, you know, maybe there’s another chance in there?”

     Her eyes were a little wide, a little confused. He took that to mean that she was, indeed, considering something that, maybe, she hadn’t considered before. “I… I… sort of, maybe, before.”

     “Well, why not now?”

     She was looking downwards. Looking sad. Luka’s number of lovers, perhaps, was a sore spot for her. 

     “He’s mentioned to me, when I was sort of giving him a bit of hell for all the people he’s with, that they’re only placeholders, because he’s not been able to have something really meaningful.” 

     Marinette took a long drink of the mojito she had ordered when they arrived. Long enough that she finished off what had been more than half full, a moment before. “Yeah. I’m going to get going. Have an early morning.”

     Adrien frowned. She’d just been planning to see a movie, now she needed to turn in early? Maybe he hadn’t had such a good idea, after all. Another conversation that had started out well seemed to have turned abruptly sour. He stood as she did, in programmed politeness, but also to kiss her on the cheek. “I really do miss you, Marinette. I’m sorry we haven’t kept up. I hope we can, more.”

     “Yeah,” she said again, simply, pulling her purse strap over her head to hang across her body. 

     Alya looked after her friend as she hurried away from their table without so much as a goodbye. Then she turned back towards Adrien with a look of confusion. “What was that?”

     He sank back into his chair, not sure how to answer. 

     “Kid,” said one of the folds of his lowered hood, “you find more ways to put your foot in your mouth than should exist.”

     Adrien scowled. What the hell was Plagg talking about? He was really getting sick of this mysterious slights. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Said she had to get up early.”

     Alya frowned. 

     Putain. Surely her roommate knew something of Marinette’s schedule. That frown further suggested that he had, indeed, put his foot in his mouth. How did he keep doing that? Another echo back to his adolescence, when he felt completely lost when it came to social cues. 

     “Alya, what do I—“

     She turned her attention back to her own beau, effectively cutting him off. It was supposed to be his evening with Nino; a relaxed few hours with his best friend. How had things swung so drastically? It would be such a relief to be back with Ladybug: no uncomfortable surprises or complications. Simple, perfect connection. 

     He stood. “I’m going to get going. Maybe we can do it again soon, though, Nino.”

     His friend frowned as he stood for a half hug. “Soon, yeah? No more of this few months stuff.”

     Adrien smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring. “I promise.”

     He was scarcely a block away, however, and just beginning a text to Ladybug to say he was on his way, when the most familiar tingle in the back of his brain put an abrupt end to that particular plan. With a heavy sigh Adrien finished and sent the text, knowing she would be as unable to be waiting as he was to fulfill his claim, and hurried towards the nearest shadows to transform. 

     He was long beyond the days of nerves when going into a battle against Hawkmoth, no more anxious energy of what he would be facing and if he would be able to defeat it. Perhaps they had been stuck in an ever-frustrating stalemate for what seemed like forever, but that was the larger picture. That was their inability to retrieve Nooroo and Duusu. But Hawkmoth and Mayura rarely joined the fight personally, choosing to safely hide behind those they controlled. He and Ladybug were always there, always exposed, and they’d managed to protect all of the Kwamis the team held. For that, Chat Noir considered it at least a small victory. 

     In these days, though, he sparked entirely different nerves. Going into battle with his lover, there was always the possibility that he may say or do something to let slip the truth of her lover. After all, as Plagg said, he always seemed to find new and unique ways to fuck up in little and mysterious ways. If things got heated, if the battle became desperate, and if one of them got injured, there was more than a little chance all of those strongest of emotions may get the best of him. 

     If he didn’t completely trust himself, however, he trusted Viperion to keep them safe and healthy. 

     The villain wasn’t far, and Chat was the first to arrive. From atop Église Saint-Roch, he surveyed the situation: an elderly man whose Akumatized personality was quite obviously that of a fashion designer was working his way up Rue Saint-Honoré, attacking the shops of luxury houses as he went. 

     If Ladybug had already gone his place she should arrive any moment. With the area being reasonably quiet, the shops closed, Chat Noir decided to wait and observe, following the fiend’s progress covertly. He didn’t like battles on Paris’ more narrow streets, they were too confined, too convoluted. With each side of the rue lined with parked cars, the villain could easily create a maze or barricade, if he so chose. 

     This stretch was mostly free of cafes and other places civilians would linger, and he was relieved to see that the Carrefour Market had seen the trouble coming and quickly shuttered. As long as people didn’t foolishly decide to fill their apartment windows to watch the spectacle, hopefully they wouldn’t have to worry about collateral human damage. But he had been doing this long enough to have little hope that there wouldn’t soon be a hundred people more concerned with live-streaming the event than their own safety. 

     Fortunately, the opponent’s attention was, at the moment, still focused on the fashion shops. He blew out the glass façade of Belenciaga with what appeared to be silver shards generated from his hands, then stepped inside to shred the offerings. Chat couldn’t even be angry as he watched a strange, horrible red intestiney… scarf??? get destroyed. 

     The sound of several people crossing the roof behind him told Chat that the two friends he had just left had arrived. He turned, finding Carapace and Rena Rouge advancing towards him in crouched stances. 

     “What’s going on?” asked the Fox wielder, as they flanked him. 

     He shrugged. “Looks like someone is pissed off at Paris’ favorite industry.” 

     “Pffft. Boulangeries are Paris’ favorite industry.”

     “Fromageries,” Carapace offered, certainly having the support of Plagg on that one. 

     “The baguette is literally on UNESCO’s list of ‘intangible cultural heritage.’” 

     “Pffft,” Chat scoffed back. “Tell some of the local designers that they’re not intangible and you’ll get a reaction.”

     “Perhaps someone did,” Rena Rouge observed. 

     The three moved down the roofline, following the fiend’s progress once he had seemed to decide he was finished with Balenciaga. There still wasn’t any reason other than property damage to interfere, and if they could get a lead on the location of the Akuma without being in danger, that was a strong start. He didn’t seem to be interested in the accessories shop next door, or the leather shop after that. He continued down towards Louis Vuitton, on the end of the block.

     “I know someone who is a baker and a designer,” Chat teased them. 

     One of Rena’s eyebrows arched. “Sounds like a national treasure.”

     He smiled. “She certainly is.” 

     With the sound of a yo-yo reeling in, Ladybug alighted on the roof above Chopard, caddy-corner from them and across the street from the bad guy. She dropped low, also, while scanning the scene. He could see her eyes flickering across it all, seeing a million things no one else would and finding a plan for victory in it all. When her gaze found his as the end of her survey all of his nerves seemed to light up like the Eiffel Tower. 

     “And here’s another national treasure,” he said softly. 

     “I think I’m going to have to be the first down,” Carapace said, smartly focused on the task at hand. “Whatever power he’s got, looks like a Shelter is the best way to stop it.” 

     Ladybug joined them, her movement silent and graceful. She said nothing, continuing to watch their new foe as he shattered all of the big convex mirrors that currently decorated the outside of the Louis Vuitton building, then went to work on the store’s contents. 

     “Good thing he waited until after closing time,” Rena offered, seemingly in an attempt to start conversation. Ladybug only nodded. 

     He wondered what she was thinking there, only a meter away. Was her notable quietness the result of disappointment that their rendez-vous had been delayed? It seemed like something… more. 

     “M’Lady,” he said gently, “what are you thinking?”

     It appeared to take a brief moment for her to process his voice, before her head swiveled in his direction. So close, she was yet distant. 

     “About the plan,” he clarified, though it was hardly his first concern. “What are you thinking?”

     She looked back to the destruction going on below their feet. Apparently satisfied with his work, the fiend stepped through the field of broken glass, somewhat surprisingly ignoring the huge, opulent Place Vendôme to his right and instead continuing up the narrow street. 

     “What is he using?” she asked. “Ice? Silver?”

     “Looked like glass to me,” Carapace answered. 

     “Can glass shatter glass?”

     “Anything can do anything with these people,” Rena sort of laughed. 

     Versace was the next target. The windows across the street were filling with spectators, alerted by the unusual noises that something was happening. Now it would only be so long until someone was in mortal danger. 

     Ladybug’s head twitched, noticing new movement. Viperion was running across Place Vendôme towards them, scaling the damaged façade of Louis Vuitton easily to leap across to the other side of the street. Beside him, a circular hole in the night opened, and Pegasus stepped out. 

     “Close quarters,” Ladybug noted. “And all these apartments are full at this time of night. Let’s move the fight.” 

     Pegasus signaled his understanding, as did Carapace. A Shelter illuminated around the Akuma victim, who cried out in confusion. As he spun around, sending out sprays of… whatever. They stuck where they landed, encasing him in something resembling a giant geode. A good choice, of Carapace, to provide a gummy sort of material. Rubbery would’ve bounced the projectiles back inward, greatly shortening the fight, but doing so by leaving the man as some like the victim of a slasher movie. They’d already learned that the hard way. 

     All eyes were on Pegasus, and as his hands began to move in their fluid, precise motion, each of the heroes leapt from their perches, dropping through the Voyage that opened up beneath the trapped foe in perfect synchronicity. 

     It was a field they dropped into, immature wheat rustling beneath their boots. Immediately they fanned out in pairs, those who had defensive weapons protecting those who did not: Ladybug with Pegasus, Rena Rouge with Carapace, who could only manage one Shelter at a time, and Chat with Viperion. Yo-yo, staff, and flute twirled into blurs of shield, as the foe was released from his prison. Those captive shards rained down around him, glittering in the glow of a rural moon. 

     “Nice try, Ladybug,” it was snarled, “but I’m just as dangerous here.”

     “Hey,” Chat Noir protested, “it’s not just Ladybug here. Team effort, buddy. We all deserve your threats equally.” 

     The man grinned, revealing a frankly terrifying smirk. “Oh, don’t worry, little kitty, you’re at the top of my list.”

      His own expression screwed up into one of confusion. The guy was clearly angry at the fashion industry, but the only reason he’d target Chat first was if he knew his identity as being very much wrapped up in it. 

      Hopefully, it was just because he was a jerk. 

     He spun his staff a little faster, expecting a barrage to be sent his way at any second. Instead, the man spun towards Ladybug, the spray from his hands curving with his momentum. Chat saw her eyes widen, watched her body tense and twist towards the threat, but not quite quickly enough. A razor-thin line of red appeared on her cheek as her face contorted into a wince, and Chat’s blood seemed to boil. 

     “Hey, slashy!” he yelled, attempting to draw the villain’s ire. Their default positioning was equal distance from each other, dividing the man’s attention as widely as possible, but Chat was side stepping towards Ladybug without thought, sacrificing that advantage to be a greater asset to her protection. “You missed me!”

     “Chat,” Viperion muttered in a warning tone, but it wasn’t that he had forgotten their strategy. It was that tiny noise of pain that had escaped Ladybug’s lips as a few small droplets of her blood were revealed was something he could not abide happening again. 

     The villain had turned his attention towards Rena and Carapace, but he caught Chat’s movement in his periphery, and a new smirk painted his lips. He had clocked a weakness in the team— perhaps the only weakness in the team, and it was Chat Noir. It was his affection for Ladybug. 

     “Fucking stop moving right now,” Viperion then snarled. “You know I’ve got her. I won’t let anything happen. 

     He did know that. But, as even Luka had told him, he wasn’t infallible. None of them were. The more protection, the better. Dividing the guy’s attention in two instead of three couldn’t have been that much less effective. 

     Ladybug noticed his movement as well, and her eyes narrowed severely. Her lips moved, and a sickening, unexpected change of gravity enveloped him. He and Viperion landed back where they’d started, Pegasus had forcibly moved him. 

     “See? Stop it.”

     Chat growled his frustration, but a burst of… glass? Yeah, it was glass, shooting towards he and Viperion effectively drew his attention back to where it should be. The projectiles chimed against his staff in a melody far too charming for the situation. The glass shattered on impact, though, some of it deflected around them, but some also made it through. A sting on the side of his chin said he’d been hit. He swore. 

     “You okay?” 

     “Yeah. Just got me a little. You got any thoughts on where the Akuma is?”

     “Not yet,” Viperion admitted. “Not seeing anything especially unusual— wait. Pencil, tucked behind his left ear.” 

     Chat squinted through the twirling of his staff, but the fiend was targeting Carapace and Rena again, and only his right side was visible. It made sense, though, a designer and what he used to sketch. When Gabriel Agreste had been Akumatized, a sketchbook was his weapon. “Nice. Now how do we get it?”

     They both knew, the best option was Ladybug’s yo-yo. But that would leave her vulnerable.

     “Pencil,” Chat shouted out. “Left ear!”

     By the reaction of the Akuma victim, it was clear that Viperion had been correct. 

     “Carapace, give Ladybug some Shelter! She can get to it with her yo-yo!”

     With a half nod, a shield ignited in front of her: large enough to be protective, but small enough that she could send her weapon out around it. With the man thoroughly focused on Ladybug and her attempts to reach his weakness, Rena Rouge accessed her own special power to send whispers into his ear. 

     You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough. You can’t compare to the rest. You’ll never be one of them. 

     It was a good gamble— sure, they were unprotected now, but he was distracted. Distracted, and, as she had correctly surmised from his presentation and former targets, he’d been driven to madness by attacks on his work. His teeth were gritted now, the combination of physical and emotional attacks were stretching even his enhanced being to the limit. 

     Then, the idillic cast of moonlight across their field of battle was dimmed, it seemed, as a blaze of purple ignited from the center of their triangle. An outline of Hawkmoth’s mask appeared over his minion’s face, burning more intensely than the brightest neon. 

     It disappeared, leaving each of them blinking desperately against the assault on their vision, and the man twirled, a sudden, strange flash appeared from his fingertips. It was larger than anything he had yet emitted, and nothing so sharp: what looked to be a large ball of shards of glass molded together flew towards Rena and Carapace. Her flute was down, used for the Mirage, and his Shelter was being used on Ladybug. 

     Rena saw it in time, she dove to the side, but her partner wasn’t fast enough. It hit Carapace in the forehead, and he crumbled. The Shelter protecting their leader flickered out of existence. 

     Chat Noir knew the plan even before the villain’s muscles began to twitch to turn him back towards Ladybug. He sprang into action, tucking his staff away as he dropped to all fours like a panther to move that much faster. In feline high definition, he saw her eyes go wide, he saw the sparkle of a massive cloud of glass razors launched towards her, and he leapt to intercept them. 

     “Pegasus, use your Voyage as a shield!”

     “Oof!” 

     A hole of infinite blackness opened in his periphery just as he collided with Ladybug, wrapping his body around hers in the best attempt at cover he could manage. They hit the ground hard, flattening wheat as they rolled. 

     Certain that she was okay and that he, somehow, hadn’t been turned into a pincushion, he leapt up, headed towards the opponent. Viperion already had him down, though, being pummeled under a barrage of fists. His hands were still over his left ear, though, more concerned with protecting the Akuma than himself. Chat pried the fingers away, and snapped the pencil in two. 

     Carapace was moaning, as a purified butterfly fluttered off across the field. Rena was helping him to his feet, but the Turtle holder looked less than steady. Concussion, Chat imagined. He’d had his own share. 

     Probably explained a few things. 

     He looked towards Ladybug, and noticed the large section of wheat behind she and Pegasus that had been sheered off. The glass headed for them must’ve been Voyaged safely passed their squishy bits. 

     “Want to know how many pieces you got turned into?” Viperion breathlessly asked from beside him, beads of sweat across his face. Clearly, he’d lived more than just a few seconds beyond what the rest of them experienced. How many tries had it taken to fix Chat’s stupidity?

     “Six?” he guessed, answering his own question. 

     “Try ‘pink mist,’” Viperion sniffed, causing a dive roll of Chat Noir’s stomach. 

     “Probably didn’t suffer, though,” he attempted to play off his own discomfort. 

     “Not with that scream.”

     Don’t puke. Don’t puke in front of everyone. Hold it. Hooooooold it. 

     Ladybug charged across the field at him, the wheat that hadn’t already been trampled falling under her feet as Chat imagined he was about to. But, as he couldn’t seem to resist when it came to she and danger, he charged towards it. 

     She was stiff, in his tight, desperate embrace. 

     “Don’t tell me, I already know,” whispered, cheek pressed to the side of her head. “But I couldn’t survive losing you, m’Lady.”

     She sighed. The marble her body was carved out of melted back into flesh. “Chat… you idiot, I couldn’t stand to lose you, either, so stop being such a fucking moron, please.”

     He moved back half a step, just enough to smirk at her— and then a scowl as she landed a punch in the middle of his sternum. Maybe it was playful, but it sure as shit hurt. 

     “Do not do that again.”

     “Yes, ma’am.” 

     She glared. He smiled. He would absolutely do that again. Always. 

Chapter Text

     Adrien smirked. He never would’ve pictured Ladybug as someone who snored. 

     They were laid out across the couch, had been watching an old black and white film after dinner, and it seemed that the battle that afternoon had left Ladybug even more tired than he. 

     He stroked her hair, actually adoring the little, mouse-sized snores she was making from where her head lay on his chest, and looked down across the two of them: snuggled together, he on his back and she laying halfway across him as she often did at night. He was wearing an old tee from one of Kitty Section’s first concerts and casual jeans. She was… Ladybug. The sight of her suited body entwined with his was as amazing as it was odd. 

     She was frustrated, he knew. Sometimes she let slip how stupid she felt, sitting around his place in her suit, or wearing a mask while they made dinner together. She was struggling— struggling much more than he was.  

     This was heaven. Seeing Ladybug in his arms, and feeling her body against him in bed, this was heaven. He didn’t mind her mask, making or eating dinner or any other time. Of course he wished that he could take her out on extravagant dates, camera flashes exploding around them every time they kissed, but this really was more than good enough. It was almost straight out of one of his juvenile fantasies of Chat Noir and Ladybug having a home together. 

     And he’d managed to become Adrien, in it! 

     He wasn’t in any rush to have that mask stripped away from her, even with as many wonderful things that being an actual couple would allow them. He was probably in less rush than any normal man would be, honestly, because he at all times had a little voice in his head telling him you can’t know. 

     He’d realized he was even a little scared to know. Ladybug was a lot of huge things, in his head and in his heart. What would it be like, to see her as… just… a person? 

     He’d thought about it thousands of times over the years: what she looked like out of her suit. The superheroine in disguise as a normal girl with a normal life, running her errands around Paris. Dark hair, blue eyes, an unnaturally graceful young woman. He wondered if he had seen her from the audience in a performance: the same slim, muscular body he knew only as red and black then  kissed by pink and green as she twirled as a forest sprite on the stage of l’Opera Garnier. Adrien had more than once nearly walked into something when distracted by the sight of a short woman with blue-black hair on the other side of the street. 

     And he wondered, now, how familiar she would seem, if ever that mask fell away. Would he recognize her, as a ballerina or a modern dancer? Or had their hands once brushed, she a serveuse at one of the elite restaurants where he dined? 

     What would it feel like, when he knew her face? Would it feel the same?

     It was strange, of course, to have no idea who it was that he spent so much time with. To have no clue what his father would think of the woman he would eventually introduce as his love— because he had no idea what to think of her. A prima ballerina, a serveuse, a librarian? A lawyer, a designer, a baker? When she left his home, where did she go? Did she have a penthouse, did she have three roommates, did she live with her parents? Did she dress like Chloe or like Marinette or like Julika? 

     It would be so nice to introduce his friends to someone that had been so special to him for so long. But what name would he use?

     It didn’t matter. None of it. 

     He had been hurrying through Châtelet earlier in the day when he’d noticed a local tabloid’s current issue included the headline Who is Adrien Agreste Dating? Apparently people had noticed he and Inez had not had the same magnetism between them as usual on their last ‘date.’ And, for the first time, he’d laughed at the speculation over his love life, because he didn’t know, himself. 

     He knew he loved her, though, and that was mattered. He knew that she was kind and brave, strong but tender. She was smart and funny and even goofy. She was everything. 

     So, what did it matter that their feet couldn’t touch, like this? That it was his skin to her suit. That it was only ever skin when he couldn’t see. At least he had that. He had her presence and her heart and even her body, there was nothing he could possibly complain about. 

     “Mmmmm.” Ladybug stirred, then gave a little jerk. “Oh, I fell asleep. I’m sorry.” 

     He chuckled and kissed her head. “That’s alright, I saw that you probably didn’t sleep very much last night.”

     She nuzzled against his neck. “But I’d rather be tired than miss any time with you.”

     “Our time isn’t limited,” he told her, his head tilting back to allow her lips better access to his skin. “It’s there, as much as you want. All you have to do is say so.” Adrien let out a long breath as she slid up, astride his hips. How comforting her weight was. How wonderful her touch was, as her hand moved up, beneath his shirt. Even if it was only the touch of a glove. 

     “Everything is finite,” she sighed, her gaze traveling over his chest as her touch did. Despite the intimate moment there was sadness in her eyes, and his hands covered hers. 

     “Why do you say that?” His heart had slumped down into the pit of his stomach, because he knew that look on Ladybug. It was a hint of defeat.

     She shrugged. “It’s just true.”

     Adrien squeezed her hands. “It’s not. Because us, we’re not finite.”

     Her posture sagged a bit. “Aren’t we?” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

     He sat up, caressed her arms even as she didn’t seem to want to look at him. “Why would we be? I love you, Ladybug. I’ve loved you for as long as you’ve been Ladybug.”

     She nodded. “You love Ladybug. And I’m not Ladybug, not under here.” 

     Adrien frowned, feeling the echoes of her confession to Chat Noir. He’d hoped her partner had done something to put those fears to rest but, clearly, he hadn’t. It was astounding to him that someone like her could ever feel unworthy. “Ladybug isn’t a personality that comes with the suit. I do love you, the girl under the mask.”

     Her head shook, eyes closing. “But… you don’t.”

     But he couldn’t possibly know her all that well. Because, if he did, there was no way he wouldn’t have fallen in love. He searched through all the women he knew platonically: petite, dark-haired, passionate… why did no one stand out?

     “Of course I do. I promise you, if you were to go home, take off your suit, and meet me as you, I’d adore you every bit as much as I do, now.”

     She sighed. “Adrien….” Her eyes closed, like a wince. “You wouldn’t.” Weight shifted again, upon him, and Ladybug rose. Though he was ready to leap to his feet to keep her from leaving, her kiss on his forehead kept him where he was. “I need some fresh air,” she muttered, and was gone. 

     “What did I say?”

     Ladybug sighed. Adrien Agreste was standing in darkness by the locked gate of the park. If anyone happened to pass by or look out of their windows, he would certainly look insane. 

     “Never had to look for my girlfriend in the trees, before.”

     My girlfriend. 

     How much of her life she had wanted him to say those words to her. But she had never imagined it would be so complex, when he finally did. 

     “You didn’t say anything,” she murmured. “Nothing bad. This is just me, being me.”

     “Can you be you back at my place? I feel sort of weird talking to a tree.”

     She tossed out her yo-yo and Adrien, impressively, didn’t let out too much of a yelp as he was entangled and pulled up over the gates. He was adjusting the lay of his clothing when she dropped down onto a nearby bench. 

     “You didn’t say anything,” Ladybug said again, her legs folding, “nothing bad. What you said was… was wonderful. Is always wonderful.”

     “I’m sorry?”

     She sighed. “I’m struggling with it.”

     He sank down beside her, legs touching, and she was reminded of that first meeting at the top of Sacré Cœur, when he had put so much distance between them in his anxiety. “So I see. Can you explain to me why? Please? I want to fix it.”

     Ladybug swallowed heavily. “I don’t know that you can. It’s… like I said, I’ve known you. You’ve known me. And you didn’t feel that way. It means… it means you love the costume, not the person. And I can’t figure out any way that this doesn’t end in heartbreak for us both.”

     Adrien’s hand went to her leg, which he squeezed firmly. “It’s not the costume. I understand that you’re not exactly the same person when you’re not actively fighting a supervillain,” he chuckled, “how could you be? That doesn’t mean you aren’t still that person. It’s just hidden away. I don’t doubt, Ladybug, that if I do know you, I think you’re fantastic. Maybe I just didn’t realize how fantastic, because I’m sure you keep a little leash on yourself when you’re not behind a mask.”

     Her eyes closed. If it had been anyone but Adrien, she wouldn’t feel this way. But she didn’t want to lose his friendship, when she was revealed to be a disappointment. 

     “I love you,” he whispered. “Love doesn’t change, just because someone takes off a mask.” His lips toyed with the arch of her ear, as she stared down at his hand on her leg. “You’re Ladybug inside, no matter who you are.”

     “The reason I was looking for Catwalker,” she recited, “is because I knew I could trust him like one of my Holders, because he was one. But isn’t, anymore, and that makes it okay to… to maybe….”

     Adrien sighed, his arms sliding around her shoulders. He kissed her head. “All of my relationships,” she said, her voice gravelly and unsure, “all of them have fallen apart. Either him or me, one of us ends it and it’s always because of Ladybug. They just don’t know that’s the reason.”

     “I get it,” he told her, gently. 

     “I don’t think you could.”

     He nuzzled her, kissing the skin one of her ponytails hid. “There are two halves of you, and you’ve never been able to show yourself, completely, to anyone. You can’t love any of your Holders because it would be too dangerous to the rest of them, and you can’t trust anyone who isn’t a Holder. Part of it’s for their safety, you’re scared of someone ordinary knowing your secret in case Hawkmoth somehow finds them. The biggest part of it, though, is because you doubt yourself to make the right choice.”

     She frowned, standing to drag her body away from his touch. “That’s not….”

     It wasn’t because she doubted herself! It was because she couldn’t be absolutely certain that she could protect someone who might not be as strong as she hoped them to be—

     So, yes, she doubted herself. In orders of magnitude. 

     Ladybug sighed. “You’re right,” she admitted. “You’re right about everything. How are you so right?”

     He chuckled, arms sliding around her from behind. “You chose really well, as it turns out.”

     She laughed, allowing herself to lean back against him. She transferred what weight she could onto his embrace, instructed her body to relax, rested her head back on his shoulder. “I’ve just never been afraid, before, that it would end because of me.”

     “It won’t.”

     He had followed her into an especially quiet area of the park: overgrown pergola to one side, dense trees and bushes on two others, and open air over a steep hillside on the fourth. No security cameras, no apartment windows overlooking the two of them, in shadows. 

     It couldn’t continue, this way. Alya knew that, Luka surely knew that, and so did she. It was a horrible lie, to see him as Marinette with he unable to know that she was his lover. For him not to be able to judge if he wanted her to be. As much as she never wanted this dream to end, she also couldn’t bear much longer for it to continue this way. 

     She twisted in his arms and felt her eyes moisten as she looked up to his, setting his expression deep into her memory— his last moments of knowing her only to be Ladybug. “I love you, Adrien. I always have. And I hope you won’t… won’t be too disappointed. I’m sorry; sorry I’ve never been honest with you. As Ladybug, or as… as me.” A deep breath, and then two sighed words: “Spots off.”

     His eyes widened in the pink glow of her detransformation, his own breath held as her mask, her suit, her anonymity dissolved in front of him. And then, when it was finished, his jaw fell slack. His fingers brushed the hair back from her face, he looked her over from head to toe and back again, and two shaking hands touched her cheeks as he seemed to search for his voice. 

     Instead, he kissed her. 

     He had never kissed her that way. No one had ever kissed her that way. 

     He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, and then held her so tight she could barely breathe, as he sobbed into her hair. “Oh, Marinette. I love you, Marinette. I love you.”

Chapter Text

     Adrien gazed across his pillow to the angel sleeping beside him. Rolled onto her side, dark hair spilled over pale skin like an oil slick. The most beautiful woman he had ever known, as it happened, was a woman he had always known. 

     Marinette. 

     He wondered how he could’ve never seen it. She was determined, honest, she fought for equality and justice. She was there, always, for everyone she knew. She was strong— but stronger for everyone else than for herself. 

     I was so in love with you, I couldn’t see you right in front of me, he told her, in that bed the night before.

     His head had been swimming from the moment the pink glow bathing Ladybug had faded. At first, he’d thought it was a trick of the lighting: the dim and dappled shadows across someone who looked so much like someone he knew so well, but it couldn’t be. 

     Ladybug couldn’t have been so close to him, all along! It wasn’t possible. 

     Marinette. 

     How much he had valued her, in his adolescence. Everyone had valued her, she was Marinette! Maybe he’d even valued her too much, because he’d had so much admiration for her in so many ways, he hadn’t considered adding another. 

     Oh, Marinette. 

     Thinking back to when Ladybug had been made the Guardian, and how thin she had been stretched. How terrified she had been, afraid to ever take off the suit. To think it had been the girl sitting just behind him, every day. How had she hid so much, so well? How had she balanced so much, so well? 

     He had thought her incredible, even before learning she was the most incredible person he knew. 

     Adrien hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t suspected at all that the woman he’d been sharing so much of himself with had been someone who’d already known him so well, but now he wouldn’t have it any other way. This was perfect. 

     He couldn’t possibly love her any more. His heart would explode, if he did. 

     There was a soft sigh, but it wasn’t Marinette awakening. A little red creature floated up from behind her head, probably from a nest made of her hair. 

     Tikki regarded him, and it was sadness he saw in her eyes. The Kwami knew his secret, for he had used the Ladybug Miraculous several times. In a way, he was surprised she wasn’t angry. But, maybe she was. Or maybe she thought this was too tragic to be angry over. 

     That first time he became Mister Bug, now it made sense. He and Marinette were modeling outfits she’d made, to show that they’d work on either gender. He’d taken off his ring, because they were meant to be wearing the exact same thing. And when an Akuma struck, he was without Plagg. It was Tikki that had found him, because Ladybug had been without her Miraculous, as well. 

     Because Marinette had taken off her earrings. 

     They’d been right there. Forever. He became Chat Noir the day he began school. Marinette had become Ladybug the day they’d met. 

     Met twice. 

     Had she ever suspected? Why did she think that Chat Noir was without his Miraculous, that afternoon? Why did she think Chat Noir was on StarTrain, that day their class took their trip to London? He hadn’t really even thought about it. There were so many coincidences, now that he looked back across the years with new eyes. Coincidences that were anything but. 

     To see his partner and his love become one of his friends had been beyond surreal, but to make love to her with the lights on had been truly incredible. 

     It was such a big step in so many ways: Ladybug revealed herself to someone, someone she knew. Knew better than he could’ve imagined— and yet, better than she could still imagine. 

     And Marinette… he had always felt so many things for her, but none of them were romantic. He didn’t know why they weren’t, looking back, but they weren’t. And now, his entire being felt trapped in unending whiplash. Half of him had been overjoyed with the ability to be with Ladybug and see the entirety of the body he adored, while the other half had been… confused? No, shocked, to see Marinette in his bed. 

     He had saved the mind-fuck for later. Then, he’d just existed. With her. In love and in awe. 

     And now… spun around and upside down, and doubting himself in every way there was. 

     He doubted that he was worthy of her, because he hadn’t seen how special she was before realizing she was Ladybug. And because he hadn’t seen that she was Ladybug, at all. She had been kicking herself not to realize that Catwalker had been him, and she’d only known him for a few hours. 

     His fingers caressed her cheek with the softest touch he could manage. He didn’t want to awaken her, but he also couldn’t seem to hold back. 

     Yeah, she could’ve been in love with him. Truly. It wasn’t just some young woman with a crush on a celebrity. Those doubts and worries he’d had evaporated, when he saw it was Marinette. She knew him, as well as anyone in the world could. And she loved him. 

     And he’d never realized. 

     Her eyes opened slowly, and when they met his the most wonderful joy filled them. The bluebell eyes he had written poetry about, and yet had been blind to. He had been imagining how his light gray sheets would set them off, but hadn’t had a clue what the face around the would look like. 

     He kissed her forehead in a long, lingering press. “I’ve been reliving every day of my life, since we met.”

     She smirked. 

     “I wish I’d realized.”

     Her hand covered his, on her cheek. “I don’t. Every one of my relationships has imploded, sooner or later, because of Ladybug. All the secrets I have to keep, all the times that I have to disappear. I wouldn’t have been able to stand that, with you.”

     He forced a little smile, while shrinking inside. He knew all too well what she meant. And she didn’t know, he mourned, that he was even now doing the same to her. “I would trust you too much for that.”

     The quiet laugh was not humorous. 

     “So,” he asked, brushing back a bit of unruly hair from her face, “can I tell the whole world, yet?”

     Her eyes widened with something resembling horror, and Adrien couldn’t help but laugh. 

     “Not you, us!”

     She seemed slightly less terrified, but only marginally less surprised. “Us?”

     A gentle kiss was planted on the tip of her nose. “Us. Now that I have someone I can be seen in public with, a name I can share.”

     Marinette’s expressions hadn’t changed, in all these years. She looked as if she were a fish that had taken a wrong turn and found itself living on dry land, complete with silent mouthing. Glup glup glup glup.

     “Unless you don’t want anyone to know.”

     Glup glup glup. 

     He grinned one of his more disarming smiles. “Okay, I get it, you’re ashamed.”

     That seemed to break something loose in her head. “I’m not ashamed!”

     “No, it’s fine,” he assured her, “if you don’t want to be seen with me. I’ll get over it.”

     Her eyes narrowed, in a way not unlike Ladybug’s. “You just modeled at me. That won’t work.”

     “All those modeling photos you used to have in your room disagree.”

     Her mouth opened one more time, then hesitated. Glup? 

     Adrien laughed. Rolling her onto her back so that he could trap her there beneath him, he kissed her neck. He had somehow pitied Ladybug for not realizing how well she knew Chat Noir’s body, when they had to keep their eyes closed out of their suits, but he’d been with Marinette, platonic as possible, having no clue how much he loved the taste of her skin.  

     “Stop… trying to disarm me.”

     “I would never,” he muttered below her ear. “No one could disarm Ladybug.”

     The hands on his sides pressed back, ever so slightly, and her expression was no longer so confused. “Are you sure you’re not… you’re not disappointed?”

     His mouth opened in protest that must’ve been so clear she cut him off. 

     “I mean, you’re not… upset? You don’t feel like I’ve been lying to you?”

     Adrien lay back on his side, brows furrowed. “How could you possibly have been lying to me?”

     She shrugged, fingers trailing down his chest and her eyes following their progress. “All this time I couldn’t stop thinking, you know… you never gave Marinette flowers. You never asked her to a dinner date. You never… you never wanted to share a bed with her, until you only saw her as Ladybug.”

     He frowned, the eternal glow that had been sparked in his chest flickering a bit. 

     You never wanted to share a bed with Chat Noir, until you only saw him as me. 

     “I told you,” he said gently, nuzzling her face with his own, “I was… blinded to everyone who wasn’t Ladybug. It’s not that I didn’t admire and value Marinette, I did. I always have. You were always the most astonishing person, I just didn’t have the ability to really see you. That’s on me, not on you. But what I did see, I thought was incredible.” 

     She smiled. It was a small smile, but somehow more content than any other. 

     It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t upset, he wasn’t disappointed. But suddenly finding himself in his dream relationship with Marinette was absolutely not the simple pivot he was making it out to be.

     She had a busy day: she had to work at the bakery, had to work on a commission. She did so much, and was so much to so many people, and all of that still didn’t even scratch the surface. 

     They showered together, and Marinette laughed shyly that, now that she would be leaving in civilian clothes, she wished she had a different set to change into. Adrien grinned and slipped one of his more form-fitting button downs onto her— still oversized on her little frame, of course, but in a sort of stylish way. And she looked up at his face as he did with an expression of pure adoration. 

     “Feel better, not standing around in your suit?” He smirked, delaying her departure by making a coffee to take along on her day. 

     She laughed, receiving the travel mug gratefully before slipping into his arms for one last embrace. “Very much so.”

     “How about I accompany you, part of the way?” Adrien offered slyly. Maybe, the world telling him that he was with his childhood friend would make it easier for he to believe, himself. “I think I’ll go to one of the parks.”

     Her eyes were already narrowed as she took a little, mouse-sized step backwards. “Nice try.”

     “What?” He feigned complete innocence. “It’s gentlemanly. Especially when there are violent mobs and creepy men roaming the Metro completely unchecked. You’re a very delicate and defenseless thing.”

     “And if someone, of the thousands of people whose paths we would cross during rush hour, might happen to recognize one of the most-recognizable people in the city, and his being with a woman, may take a photo or, at the very least, post something on social media—“

     “I have no idea what you’re insinuating,” he lied so blatantly as to make it an outright joke.  

     “And then rumors abound.” She gestured with the thankfully-closed travel mug in her typically Marinette way. “Questions abound. ‘Adrien Agreste, who was that young woman with you at a very ‘just leaving bed’ time of the morning? Do you have any comment?’” An imaginary microphone was held out to him. 

     He leaned forwards, towards the invisible mic. “Marinette is an old friend of mine.”

     Her eyes narrowed. “Okay, truthful, but what would you actually say?”

     “…And we had, indeed, just left bed, because I’m madly in love with her.”

     “Uh huh.”

     “You’re the only person in the world could be offended by that answer, you know.” Adrien kissed her forehead. 

     “More intimidated than offended,” she sighed. “And, I think, only for a little while. I need to adjust to this as much as you do.”

     He guffawed, and her eyes rolled. 

     “Yeah, fair. But it’s close.”

     Adrien left a few minutes after she did, and decided to forego one of the crowded buses in favor of an easy twenty-minute walk to Jardin du Luxembourg. 

     The day was beautiful, the air felt clean. He kept to the smaller streets, which were much more traversed by bicycles, scooters, and pedestrians than cars. Passing close to an elementary school, he was surrounded by pairs of children and parents, little groups of friends all wearing backpacks and exuding the sort of energy that can only be found in the young. Eventually, he crossed Boulevard Saint-Michel and entered the park. 

     It being so early, it was mostly the elderly, mothers of the young, and joggers about. He was sure there would be old men playing chess on the tables by the Orangerie du Sénat on the north side, and a full cast of characters playing pétanque not far from the huge collection of beehives that kept the garden blooming. He passed half a dozen of the middle aged doing slightly-staggered tai chi, as well as the band stand that was empty at present, but always filled with music on the weekends. And, thanks to his arrival before most sunbathers and tourists, he was able to find one of the most-reclined green metal chairs— always at a premium— atop one of the raised areas of the garden; allowing him to people-watch if he so chose, but making it less likely that many would be watching him. Things such as this were small miracles, for someone like Adrien Agreste. 

     He let out a contented sigh as he sank into the chair, already turned perfectly towards that burning ball of flame in the sky, and closed his eyes. 

     Now was the time he would freak out about it all. Or, not freak out, exactly, but… allow that full, complete mind-fuck permeate him, at leisure and in peace, and see where it lead. 

     “So,” began a little, disembodied voice, speaking for the first time since The Big Revelation, “anything interesting happen to you, lately?”

     He scowled reflexively, but Plagg was still in the petit messenger bag Adrien carried almost everywhere— a small, physical manifestation of the Kwami’s burden upon him— and couldn’t see the reaction. He had been expecting a much more intense response to the situation, but it seemed that he, like Tikki, was not outwardly perturbed. After all, wasn’t this an absolute no? 

     Frustratingly, however, Plagg was pretty much the only person— or, thing— that he could talk about this with. Would be nice if he could confide in a friend, and not just a… whatever… little god/demon/jerk. 

     “What do you have to say about it?” Adrien asked, not bothering to insert his earbuds to pretend to be on a call, as he usually did. Another luxury: hearing the world around him without insulation. 

     “Say? Me? Nothing. Better seen and not heard.”

     His brows raised over yet-closed eyes. “Actually, neither is ideal, with you.” A belch from his bag was perfectly timed to support his claim, and cause a wince. “Tikki, surprisingly, didn’t actually seem pissed.”

     The bag made a thoughtful noise. “Sugar Cube is hard to read. Even to me, and I’ve known her… forever! Literally, forever.”

     “So you’re saying she is, in fact, pissed.”

     “Not… pissed,” allowed the bag, “but, shall we say, unhappy.”

     “Pissed.”

     “At the situation, not you.”

     “Pissed at me,” Adrien acknowledged. 

     Plagg sighed. “We’re both pissed, for you.”

     His brows furrowed, as if perplexed by the flock of crows flying overhead, but neither the Kwami nor the crows elaborated. So, he attempted to draw something from his little companion. “Did you know it was her, from that first day?”

     “No. Theoretically, we aren’t supposed to know who the other Holders are, either. I didn’t learn until she wasn’t wearing her Miraculous and needed it. Then, it seemed obvious.”

     “Were you surprised?”

     There was a long pause. A bit of breeze swept through the park, carrying the smell of roses and rustling leaves. He watched those of the nearest trees sway and dance, and thought of Ladybug hidden in the dark on a branch in another park, the night before: a mystery. For a few more moments, anyway. 

     “Surprise isn’t really our thing,” Plagg finally responded. “You know, we don’t operate in the same way you do. But, did I immediately understand what it was that the Guardian had seen to paint her as a natural Ladybug? No.”

     Adrien smirked, he couldn’t help it. And he also felt a hint of sadness, remembering that former Guardian whom had chosen them both. His memory had been entirely wiped when he passed his role onto Ladybug, so there was no possibility of the two of them sitting down at his table, as loves, and ask him if he had chosen them because he had been able to sense the connection they would have. 

     Thinking of that— of Fu’s sacrifice, the sacrifice every Guardian would one day have to make— it always hurt. It hurt for that man, and for his replacement. It hurt to know that Ladybug would, someday, suffer the same. 

     To know that Marinette would someday suffer the same was excruciating.

     All of the stupid little hiccups of the last weeks made perfect sense, now; all those ways Plagg kept saying he put his foot in his mouth were obvious. He had told the woman who loved him about a date with someone else, no wonder she had suddenly had a change of mood and run him out of her shop. And then, seconds later, loudly proclaimed that he had no romantic feelings for her! Of course she hadn’t wanted to see him, for a while. It was an absolute wonder that she had managed to get over it all! 

     And then, after the cinema, he’d tried to talk her into dating someone else. 

     Shit. Luka. 

     There was more of the mind-fuck, an angle he hadn’t yet considered; Luka said he’d loved Ladybug since the moment they met, and it became crystal clear how so: he’d always been in love with Marinette. And Marinette had… dammit… Marinette had broken it off with him, with someone she loved… because he was Viperion. 

     Sudden, terrible emotion wrapped its hand around his throat, as Adrien remembered Luka’s oddly exhausted form in his flat. 

     It’s a hard and fast rule, for her, caring about anyone on the team more than any other— caring about someone on the team like that. It would put everyone in danger, including herself. Because… love isn’t rational, and we have to be rational. That’s her decision and I respect it. It’s a choice she made years ago, and has stood by. And you can’t take that choice away from her.

     “Putain,” he whispered, eyes stinging. They had seemed like a perfect couple, he hadn’t been lying to Marinette when he wondered why they had ended. It had never made any sense, when it was so obvious that each of the two were still so enamored with each other. 

     Adrien sucked in a deep breath and held it, looked for some distraction from the pain burrowing through his bowels. He turned his head towards the fountain that was the center of the park: the sun had risen in the sky, and mothers were trailing their children around the water as they gleefully prodded at the little sailboats they’d rented.

     He used to be one of those children, his own doting mother following. She’d laugh, remind him to not lean too far over the side, and was there to pull him back with a tug on his little belt loops when he didn’t listen. He loved those days, but only occasionally sought out their memories. Like he did that day he’d stumbled upon Marinette’s shop. 

     That was why Luka had given him that strange, distrusting look when they’d bumped into each other outside: he didn’t know why Adrien would be there, other than having discovered Ladybug’s identity. Luka and Marinette were much closer than Adrien and Marinette had been for many years… and, maybe, ever.

     He’d thought… he didn’t know what he’d thought, of Luka’s pleas. Somehow, he thought he’d known better. Stupid, wildly ignorant, Adrien managed to believe himself to know something that both Luka and Ladybug didn’t. Surely, she hadn’t really been tempted by anyone on the team, even if she had a little crush on Viperion. It wasn’t as if she’d already made some huge sacrifice to keep her little rule intact. What he had with her was far more powerful than anything she ever could’ve even imagined, and would obviously blow whatever calculations she had previously made out of the water. 

     He turned away from the sweet sights below, for memories only seemed to become weaponized, the more he thought. His heart was vacillating wildly with each twist, and he knew enough now to know that there were many, many more to come. His hands covered his eyes, and Adrien whimpered. 

     “I am so fucking sorry.” 

Chapter Text

     “Is this the flute?”

     Marinette looked up, eyes widening a bit. The woman on the other side of the counter was looking at the loaf of bread she had been handed with more than a little suspicion. Her question was polite, really, as it was immediately apparent that her order had been filled incorrectly. 

     “Oh! I am so sorry.” She hurried to stuff one of the much thicker baguettes into a bag, and handed it across to the customer. “My apologies. Please, keep the other, as well.”

     It wasn’t the first time she’d messed up, that day: she was unable to count change, unable to remember which flavors of macaron someone requested. She’d go into the back to replace sold-out stock, and return with the wrong thing. Like, over and over. And this was basic stuff. Walking and talking at the same time was probably beyond her. 

     Then again, Adrien Agreste had sort of always put her in that space. 

     It wasn’t bad things distracting her, very much the opposite. It was a non-stop cascade of incredible memories of the night before, all starting with the look on his face when the Ladybug suit dissolved: confusion, doubt, amazement. His fingers had been trembling, as they’d touched her face; as if he wasn’t certain she was real. Those green eyes, forever-entrancing, had shimmered with a thousand thoughts at once. There should have been a damn swell of music, the moment had been so perfect!

     “Marinette?”

     She looked up at her father’s voice, having seemingly gone right back into dreamland immediately after realizing she really needed to stop going back to dreamland. 

     “Is everything alright, mon chou?”

     “Yes, of course! Absolutely. No problem, at all!”

     He smiled in his doting way, the heavy moustache doing a sort of grin all its own. More gray than brown, now. “We can do fine without you, if you have other things to focus on.”

     “No, of course not! I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

     She was saved by another customer entering the shop, thank goodness. Not that it actually focused her. 

     “Can we go back?” Adrien had asked, lips still brushing hers, hands still shaking as they cupped her cheeks after she had revealed herself. And she’d transformed again, the pink glow illuminating his wide eyes, and gotten them into his apartment in moments. 

     He’d watched the suit come off of her, this time able to catch every detail in the light of his home, and his lips parted once more in amazement. And once more he had touched her hesitantly, seeming to expect her to vanish any moment. 

     “How?” he’d whispered, searching her face. “All this time, how has it always been you? I was always so certain I’d be able to sense Ladybug, if I met her in real life, because I felt so strongly… how did I never realize you were right there?”

     “That’s the way it has to be.”

     And then, without extinguishing the lights, he’d undressed her, kissed her, made love to her, every movement full of reverence. She’d finally been able to see that unbelievable body of his, all the smooth centimeters she had coveted. She’d been able to see them. And the sight in that mirror that had once so intimidated her, he on top, her leg wrapped around him, writhing against each other….

     “Putain!” Marinette yelped as she fumbled the bow on a box of macarons, sending it to the floor, and then squeaked in horror at her profane outburst in front of a customer. She dropped behind the counter to clean up the mess and wished she could just hide down there for the next hour or so, but her father was beside her, chuckling with the customer and fulfilling their order as if nothing had happened. 

     Focus focus focus focus focus!

     A gigantic mit of a hand reached down, offering her assistance off her knees, and as she stood, Marinette already had a deeply apologetic expression etched onto her face. 

     “Papa, I—“

     “You’re quite distracted this morning, Marinette. By something good, I hope?”

     Her mouth opened to continue her apology, but her father’s smile stopped it. 

     “We’re beyond the rush for the morning, I can manage until Johann gets here later. Why don’t you go focus on whatever has you so unfocused?”

     She forced out a laugh, hoping that her cheeks hadn’t turned too bright. How desperately would she love to focus on exactly that, but if she wasn’t at the bakery, she very much needed to be working on a commission whose delivery date was fast approaching. There wouldn’t be the time to devote to that particular distraction until much later in the day. And Adrien’s afternoon was going to be taken up by his duties to Agreste, anyway. 

     “Really, I… if you’re sure.”

     “I’m sure. Have a good day, mon chou sous chef.”

     She smiled. “Merci, papa.”

     Marinette grabbed her purse from the back room and jogged out into fantastically beautiful day. The sky was blue and dotted with perfectly white, puffy clouds, but it probably could have been storming and she would still find beauty in it. 

     Freedom. Real, true freedom, that’s what she had now! Someone she loved, someone who loved her, from whom she didn’t have to hide her identity or her vocation. For the first time in her life, she felt free. 

     It felt silly, now, to have been so terrified to reveal herself to Adrien. She had been so scared that their history would be a weakness, when it was actually a strength. She should’ve had more faith in him. 

     She really wanted to be able to gush to someone about it all: his incredible reaction, the beautiful night they’d spent together. That his first words had been ones of love, and that the way he’d looked at her since hadn’t changed, other than to grow. The awe and affection she had seen so clearly for Ladybug was still there, but had been joined by so much more. 

     The two people she could tell, however, and the two people who really should know, were also the two people she was most scared to tell. Now that Ladybug’s identity was known to someone else, a civilian— the first civilian to know— they needed to know it was that out there, a frayed strand in the tight weave of secrecy they’d maintained for so many years. A danger. A target. 

     Alya should be relieved in a way, though, right? No more sneaking around? She’d gone absolutely apoplectic when Ladybug had appeared in a packed cinema. It could’ve very easily marked Adrien as Catwalker, Marinette had been reminded, and make him a new favorite target for Hawkmoth. 

     Yes, she had to tell her. But she wanted to bask in this sense of relief for a while, first. And Luka… there wasn’t so much fear of him being angry as….

     She did love him as much as she was allowed to, as she’d told him. As she’d not told him, she loved him a little more than that. Over the years, when allowing herself to think about the world after Hawkmoth, she had even thought that— maybe hoped that— they might be able to, finally…. 

     With all of his dating, though, she hadn’t really believed he’d be interested, and sort of wished she hadn’t learned otherwise. She knew, now, that he was also still holding out hope for her— for them— and that meant seeing her with someone else could hurt. Even if he had encouraged her, her having entrusted Adrien with her biggest secret marked him as truly special. Just as she chided Luka playfully about his lovers and was perfectly friendly with each when they met, while her guts trembled with jealousy. 

     And Adrien, of all people! The guy she’d been obsessed with when she was younger, when she and Luka had met, when he fell in love with her. Why would he encourage—?

     Marinette remembered, suddenly, his strange reaction to the information of whom Catwalker turned out to be. He had played it off as having received a disturbing text at the same moment, but her lifelong anxiety didn’t allow coincidences. Merde!

     How could she tell him, now? That sort of horror on his face, one that seemed to freeze his entire existence for a few endless moments, she had never seen it before, and she had seen a lot. He had been at her side through hundreds of horrors, only even one of which could scar a person. But he’d never looked like that. 

     She paused what had been such a carefree walk just a moment before, feeling blanketed by discomfort and doubt. She weighed twice the usual, no one would be able to convince her otherwise. 

     He was a good friend. One of the absolute best. He wanted her to be happy, just as she wanted happiness for him. And they couldn’t be together, anyway, so, even if it was uncomfortable, what was the alternative? Actively dodge romance, just to keep things more… plausible? It wasn’t as if Luka—

     Though, maybe he was. Keeping so many people rotating through his bed certainly didn’t allow any illusion of commitment. 

     Marinette blew out a long breath and forced herself to continue her path. 

     No, she was happy. So happy! So happy to be just a normal damn girl, able to live her life like every other damn girl in Paris was. Didn’t she deserve that? Hadn’t she fucking earned that? She’d sacrificed so much for so long, finally having a true, actual relationship with someone she could have a relationship with, not to mention someone she had adored since they met!

     She wouldn’t feel guilty. She wouldn’t. 

     She did. 

     “Oh my god!”

     Adrien chuckled, attempting to diffuse Ladybug’s concern as she rushed across the salon to him, becoming Marinette in the process. “It looks much worse than it is,” he lied, and refused to wince when she touched the echo of a strong fucking right hook on his cheek. Despite the ice he had been holding to it for the half hour, his eye was swollen half-shut and the skin around it a deep purple. 

     “What happened?”

     His admission and apology to Luka hadn’t gone as well as planned. Or, actually, had gone just about as well as he had suspected it would. And he hadn’t even gotten to the admission, all the guy had needed to hear was his somewhat desperate plea for forgiveness to figure out what had happened, and act upon his resulting feelings. 

     To be fair, he had warned Adrien that he sort of wanted to punch him for a few things. 

     “I’m an idiot who jogged straight into a post when avoiding a stroller,” he chuckled lightly. “I can’t say I haven’t been a little distracted, all day.” Looping his arms around her waist, he hoped that she would allow him to distract them both from his injury, because he could really use the diversion. From a lot of things. 

     “I have absolutely been distracted,” she laughed, pressing herself against his chest, “but somehow I managed to avoid injury.” 

     “That’s a first.”

     She looked up at him in her— Ladybug’s— pinched way, making him grin. “You realize, my clumsiness was only present when you were, as well.”     

     His brows raised. 

     She blushed, tucking a bit of hair behind her right ear. “I would always seem to just… short out when you were around.” 

     He grinned, easily recalling the overtly ungraceful girl, and how adorable he had found her. She couldn’t walk and chew gum at the same time, sometimes she could barely get a sentence out. How was she also Ladybug?

     “I am able to speak and walk with you around, obviously. I just couldn’t when we were younger and I was, you know, completely starry-eyed.” 

     His grin blossomed into a radient smile. “Wait, you did that because of me?”

     She blushed so deeply it almost looked as if she was wearing her mask. “You were just, sort of… blinding.”

     Adrien slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her lips to his. “I know exactly how that feels.”

     “Mmmmm.” She nuzzled against him, and it felt as if everything was right with the world. 

    “I just can’t believe Ladybug felt that way about me.”

    Her body parted from his; she sagged down onto the soles of her feet, sagged backwards a bit. The blush was gone, and those stars in her eyes were, as well. “Marinette,” she said quietly. 

     Adrien’s heart plummeted, and his expression changed so quickly it literally hurt, thanks to Luka. “Yeah,” he stammered. “Of course. I just mean—“

     She nodded, but only became more distant. Her arms wrapped around herself in a form of self-comfort, and she was an entire universe away from where she’d been a moment before. Her shoulders shrugged. “Like you said,” she forced a laugh, “you have no romantic interest in Marinette.”

     All of him collapsed inward by a few centimeters. Clearly, he hadn’t been as successful in putting his mindfuck to bed as he’d hoped. 

     Adrien stepped forward, loosely embracing her again. “Marinette,” he said, “is one of my best friends, Ladybug was my crush. Even if you did have a bit of a crush on Catwalker, you can’t tell me that finding out he was your major crush didn’t take over.”

     She was quiet, still in his arms, and his heart thumped ever harder. He couldn’t exactly point out that she, also, had not— still did not— have any romantic feelings towards his other side. He knew how that hurt, and he’d slipped. 

     “You said you loved me,” she whispered. “Me, Marinette. Do you? Or is it just loving Ladybug in a Marinette costume?”

     He blew out a long sigh, and was carefully condensing his thoughts to be able to answer honestly, in a way she would be able to comprehend his dilemma and hopefully accept it. 

     But he didn’t get to answer.

     Marinette sighed, stepping back out of his arms again. “It’s okay,” she muttered, “don’t worry about it. I need to go, there’s an Akuma. Spots on.”

     He frowned. “But—“

     She forced a smile that was hardly convincing. “Hawkmoth rarely has good timing. It’s alright, don’t worry.”

     “Be careful,” Adrien implored, kissing her forehead. “Will you come back, after?”

     Ladybug shrugged as she walked towards a window in the direction that he was, likewise, being pulled. “We’ll see how exhausting this is.”

     “It’s okay to come back exhausted. You could—“

     She nodded, swinging the window outwards. “I know.”

     He sagged as she was absorbed by the gathering darkness of night, but forced his focus to something of more immediate concern. “Plagg? You can cover this mess up, right?” He motioned to the entire left side of his face.

     The little monster, who had appeared from the direction of the kitchen, crossed his arms beneath a look of not-empathy. “For Chat,” he affirmed. “Adrien is going to have to deal with it.”

     He sighed. “I know.” 

     Fortunately, there were no public requirements of him for a few days. Hopefully, long enough for the swelling to go down and the discoloration to fade into a state that would allow concealer to be effective. He’d learned in the past that the greens and yellows were much easier to hide than the purples and blues— and that there were certain things you did not say to Kagami, when dating her. 

     “Claws out,” he uttered, in much the same unenthusiastic tone that Ladybug had requested her own transformation, and checked his reflection in the window before exiting it. He still felt the pain and the swelling, but could no longer see it. With a careful pat, he found that it was still there, physically, and wondered if this type Kwami fuckery worked on the skin or the brain. 

     As he made his way towards the Akuma, Chat Noir recalled the thousands of times that he had done just that. Sometimes he was tired, sometimes he was annoyed, a few times he had even been drunk, but each and every time he had known that the Lady he would find when he got there, powerful and majestic and mysterious, would inspire him to be the best version of himself he could possibly be. 

     And she was Marinette?

     She’d left his apartment, this time, but, before, she would’ve left the one she shared with Alya. And, before that…. 

     He remembered finding Marinette up on the little rooftop patio above her childhood bedroom many times, as Chat Noir. He could never resist the pull of that little island of peace above the city. He’d spent time with her there, both as Adrien and as Chat. But now all he could think of was how Ladybug must’ve emerged and returned there, for years and years and years. 

     Marinette. 

     He should’ve been slower to respond. Being the unwanted filling in a Ladybug and Viperion sandwich was less than optimal. 

     The battle was to be at the Écluse de l’Arsenal, a lock between the Seine and the bassin where, he saw, Luka’s mother still moored her houseboat. Perhaps a small blessing, in that he’d be more focused on the emotion of the location than his low-grade urge to kill Chat Noir. 

     With a flick of gaze his way he saw that, no, Viperion was still looking towards him with an expression that suggested, at the very least, a mid-grade urge to kill him. And looking to Ladybug didn’t make him feel any better: she looked to be turned down to half of her usual energy. 

     Marinette.

     How had he managed to fuck up so much in such a small amount of time? 

     Come on, Carapace, he projected a wish that his teammates would be hurried to the location. Rena, Bunnyx, Pegasus, please.

     A battle was what he needed, he told himself. He couldn’t make things worse here, his days of letting Ladybug down were long behind him. He’d bolster her mood and help his team to victory. This was perfect timing, really!

     “What’s happening, beloved teammates of mine?” he asked, twirling his staff in an attempt to look casual. In addition to being a respirator, communication device, pole vault, pogo stick, telescope, and umbrella, it was also a wonderful fidget object. 

     “I’ll let you know when I figure it out, kitty,” said Ladybug, observing the scene with a keen eye. 

     Said Marinette. 

     He stared at her, back mostly to him, and tried to overlay another woman atop her. But it didn’t work. Even though he knew, without any possible doubt, that it was Marinette, Chat Noir still couldn’t comprehend it. 

     Really, how was the baker and seamstress also the strongest person he knew? How was the clumsiest also the most nimble? Her attempt to try out for the fencing team in school had been beyond comical. Even if the bulk of her bumbling was supposedly connected to crush-related nerves, what was the rest of it? Marinette was amazing, in a whole lot of ways, but… Ladybug was someone else. 

     He tried to frame it a different way:to her, Chat Noir was (hopefully) amazing, but he wasn’t Adrien, and vice versa. Would she be able to look at Chat and see him? 

     If she had just been someone, a girl he had never seen or only knew in passing, would there be an issue? 

     It was an adjustment, that’s all. Once he got used to the idea, it would almost certainly seem like a no-brainer. It wasn’t bad, it was just weird. 

     He wondered how Luka had dealt with the revelation that Ladybug was his ex, and how long it had taken him to get used to knowing it was Marinette beneath the red mask. 

     Unfortunately, he wasn’t pretty sure they weren’t on talking terms, at the moment. 

     “Chat!” 

     He blinked, to find an irate partner glaring at him from several meters away. Hands on her hips, eyes narrowed, chin jutted just slightly forward. He’d seen that posture before, usually directed towards Chloe. 

     “What are you smirking at? Can you please focus?”

     “I’m focused!” And he was incredibly relieved, to spot Carapace and Rena Rouge sprinting towards them along the bassin. Now, he just had to manage to not get killed, because, for the first time, he wasn’t completely certain that Viperion would do anything about it. 

     “What’s going on, bugaboo?” Chat asked gently, once they had successfully dispersed with the threat and all of their teammates had disappeared back into the night. “You seem… off.”

     “Nothing’s going on, kitty,” she sighed. “I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind.”

     They were on one of the small pedestrian bridges that crossed the bassin, deserted and dappled in shadow. When Ladybug hadn’t immediately taken off as had the others, he couldn’t help but take the opportunity to gauge her headspace. And, already, he was wondering if she hadn’t been lingering simply so she didn’t return to Adrien Agreste’s apartment.

     “Nah, something’s definitely going on. Because you’re too smart to be this distracted by just having stuff on your mind.”

     A small smirk touched the corners of her lips. “Well, one of us has to be.”

     He let his mouth fall open, one hand raised to his chest in offense. “I’m incredibly smart, thank you!”

     She walked casually towards the center of the bridge. “Smartass,” she teased as she leaned against the railing, “is not exactly the same thing.”

     Chat grinned, following. “I just happen to be incredible enough to be both.” 

     “Of course you are,” she allowed before turning, her arms going onto the railing as she looked out at the now-quiet scene. “I once had a breakup right here,” she sighed. “It was a terrible time in my life. It broke my heart, leaving him. I loved him.”

     He frowned, heart sinking. He hadn’t known the details of the end of her adolescent relationship with Luka, but he couldn’t imagine she was speaking of anyone else. Not here. “Then why did you?” His voice was soft, gentle. 

     Ladybug shrugged. “Because of… this. Me. And not just me, I mean, but becoming the Guardian… there was too much I had to focus on, and too much I had to lie to him about. And that, the lying, all the responsibilities that I had to juggle without being able to tell him what and why, it was destroying him. He even….” She trailed off, but he finished her thought in his head.

     Was akumatized. 

     He remembered that battle. He remembered all the battles against his friends, and this one against Luka— Truth— had been especially difficult. It was a Megakuma, the very first, and aimed at drawing out the secrets of everyone it hit. Chat had to be on the top of all his various toes to keep Ladybug from revealing her secret. 

     Now, he knew, that secret was the same as Marinette’s. 

     How horrible that must’ve been for her, having to watch someone she loved be so deeply hurt by her, and then having to battle the monster she, herself, had created. 

     All because she couldn’t tell him what she had just told Adrien. 

     “He was the first person to really love me. Maybe… maybe he’s been the only one.”

     Chat Noir drew a deep but quiet breath. He had to manage and moderate the emotions that she was unaware were swirling within him. Were compounding. 

     He owed her so much. Her, Marinette. She was the most incredible person— the reason Ladybug was all that she was. Marinette was the superhero, Ladybug was only the mask. He owed her so much, and also could never live up to all that she was. 

     He should have listened to Luka, no matter how much it would’ve hurt. But he hadn’t understood— couldn’t understand— just how much and how well he knew Ladybug’s struggles. 

     Yeah, he deserved that punch. And worse. 

     Shhhhhhhhh he urged himself. Stop, or Hawkmoth will feel it. 

     Maybe he should let Marinette be as disappointed in him as she had every right to be, and not fight it. Not try to save himself in her eyes, not try to save them. Even if it meant losing his love and his friend, maybe he owed her that. 

     Or maybe he should tell her. 

     He closed his eyes. Tight, against burgeoning tears.  

     “You’ve suffered so much,” Chat said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Not just as Ladybug, but because of Ladybug. I’ve never truly realized the depth of that, m’Lady, and I am so very sorry.”

     Ladybug was examining him, he could feel her attention on the side of his face. He kept his eyes closed, though, because no matter how much acting he had done and how much of his life he had spent hiding so much from so many, he was too overcome with emotion for her to not see it all.     No, he couldn’t tell her. Not ever. 

     A boat glided beneath them, small and quiet, the water of its wake breaking making more noise than the craft did. Chat Noir watched it, envying those aboard. People who were also affected by Hawkmoth and his chaos, but only for the moments of battle. Not always, not forever.

     “It’s not any different from you,” she offered. “The secrecy, the commitments.”

     “It is,” he insisted, observing the way the lights of the city were made to dance by the churning of the water. “Because I’ve never really had to hold anything back from someone I really cared about.”

     “Your family—“

     His head shook. “I don’t have that sort of family. And I’ve only ever truly loved you.”

     Ladybug frowned, but it wasn’t an angry expression. Not even a frustrated one. It was… accepting. Understanding, even. “You’ve had sort of a lonely life, haven’t you?”

     He shrugged, then hopped up onto the railing. He balanced there for a moment before sitting down. “If I hadn’t become Chat Noir, I think I would’ve had a really lonely life. But this, and you, saved me. Showed me I was more than just… I was more than what was wanted, for me.”

     “You are more,” she told him. “Whatever that was, you’re so much more. Maybe too much!”

     Chat chuckled. It was nice to see her cheeky smile. Any of her smiles. “I’ve gotten a lot, from doing this. And the things I give, they’re things I want to give. You, my Lady, it seems as if a lot has been taken.”

     Her lips pursed. She turned again, leaning back against the railing once more. Leaning back farther, bending over it to look up at the sky. “It’s a big job.”

     “That guy, the one you had to end things with, here. Was that… you always said your heart belonged to—“

     “No,” she said, abruptly, standing straight again. That was… that was a crush I had on someone.” 

     It was me. 

     Ladybug blew out a long breath. “Life is stupid, Chat.”

     He sighed. “You’re not wrong, bugaboo.”

     Things were quiet, for a few minutes. He was looking out, towards the Seine and the city at large, and she was looking back into the bassin, into shadows. Into the past, he was certain. 

     “You know,” he said, when he became desperate to break the silence and her thoughts, “I don’t want you to think I’ve been sitting around all these years twiddling my thumbs. This whole thing was a big change for me, a lot of excitement, a huge rush. And you were all tangled up in it. Everything smacked me in the face at once.”

     She boosted herself up onto the railing beside him, facing the other way. Arms brushing. “I didn’t think you had. You’re far too big a catch to have been able to successfully fend the girls off this long.”

     He chuckled, giving her the touch of snark without comment. “Well, it hasn’t been easy.”

     “Have you ever wanted to tell someone who you are?”

     Chat drew a slow breath, considering the reason behind her question more than how he would respond to it. Would she admit that she had? Would she admit regret from doing so? “I… I have. But, I know—“

     “Don’t. Don’t do it.”

     His brow furrowed. “I know, bug. We have to—“

     She shook her head. “Not because of that. I mean, yes, of course, secrecy, but I mean, don’t. Don’t want to. Don’t think it would be a good thing.”

     Fuck. 

     “We’re too big to be anyone else. Too… ugh, too impressive.” Ladybug rubbed her eyes, as to ward off sleepiness. “We can’t just be human, not when someone knows that we’re this.”

     Chat Noir didn’t have to fake his slow consideration of her words. Though, his thoughts couldn’t have been what she would have expected. “You told him,” he observed. “Catwalker.”

     Her shoulders dropped as she sighed. “I shouldn’t have. It’s wrong to let anyone know our identities, I just… I felt like there were two options, and neither were great. I thought I owed him honesty, because…. But I shouldn’t have.”

     “Well, if you were trying to have more than a fling, you’d sort of have to at some point, right? Be a little weird to be with someone for any amount of time that only ever got to see you in a mask.”

     “It was a mistake. All of it. Trying to have a relationship, as Ladybug.”

     He frowned. And wondered, in passing, if Luka was hiding out somewhere close by, having a silent celebration. “It would be a mistake to deprive yourself of something that could make you happy, because of Ladybug.”

     “I—“

     “I can’t imagine it wouldn’t be a really wild experience for someone to have to adjust from a superhero to a person, or the other way around, even if he was one of us for a night. I’m sure you didn’t tell him on a whim, Ladybug, you’ve never been the least bit careless.”

     She let out a humorless laugh. “I had to become the Guardian because I was wildly careless.”

     “Well, fine, but you’ve never made a mistake twice. Your judgement is ironclad. Give the guy a little while to get his bearings.” 

     Ladybug was considering his words, and he almost felt worse for it. He may be buying himself a momentary reprieve, but was a deeper hole he dug in order to do it. Lying, manipulation, all because he had been selfish. And, then, not even been a big enough person to accept the outcome. 

     “You think… just, his safety. You think he’ll be okay?”

     Another sigh. “I do. That’s actually the least of my worries. Maybe I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself to even bother focusing on what matters.”

     He bumped her shoulder with his. “Hey, stop it. Be fucking human for a minute. We’ve been doing this for half of our lives, I hope you haven’t spent all that time denying that you have a life outside of that suit.”

     She shrugged. 

     “Yeah, of course you have.” He shook his head in lighthearted disgust. “Bug, you’re the most headstrong person I know, for better or worse, and that’s proven by the fact you’ve fought so hard for so long. You’re going to give up after a minor bump in the road? Because you didn’t get an immediate, perfect fairytale? Get the hell out of here. Go be with your guy.”

     Ladybug was scowling. 

     “I get it, with all the fucking struggling we are forever dealing with, it would be nice to have something easy and perfect for once. But guess what, no one gets that. You wish he could just see you as a normal person? Normal people have to deal with stupid things. Stupid, silly, annoying little things. You can’t have everything be big and black and white just because this is: we’re good, Hawkmoth is evil. But there is a lot of gray and a lot of little fluctuations in life at large. You’ve rolled with literal punches, so I know you can roll with metaphorical ones.”

     Her head was shaking, but it was with a pinched smirk. “You’re a jerk.”

     “Only when you need it.”

     “Yeah.” She huffed, and jumped back down to the surface of the bridge. “That doesn’t mean you’re right.”

     “You don’t have to admit that I’m right. I know I am.”

     “You’re smarter than all of us by orders of magnitude, Chat.”

     “Yes, I am.”

     A shove at his back had been expected, but he allowed himself to fall a meter or two for her entertainment, grasping onto the under structure of the bridge as Ladybug laughed. 

     And then, once her footsteps faded, he bolted back to his apartment, to wait and hope she would return. 

     She didn’t. 

Chapter Text

     “I said no. No means no. I learned that at your school.”

     He lifted his head from where it had been hanging off the side of the bed, and fixed Plagg with a scowl. “And yet that answer never seems to stick when you’ve polished off the cheese supply and I don’t feel like going to the market.”

     The Kwami, with part of the aforementioned supply filling both his hands and his cheeks, looked nonplussed. “I would be happy to get it myself, but someone here has a no-stealing policy. It is not my fault I’m not allowed to interact with people the same way you are.”

     Adrien’s head fell back to its former position. “You’ve spied for me before, it’s not like there’s no precedent.”

     “I spied to make sure that you’d be able to enter and exit your house without being caught by your asshole of a father. That was necessary shit. Finding out just how big of an asshole Marinette thinks you are is very much unnecessary.”

     “It’s necessary to me!” His arms waved for emphasis, then fell down to dangle alongside his head. 

     “I am not spying on the Guardian.”

     Adrien managed to lift his head again. “Luka’s not the Guardian.”

     “And yet you want me to spy on his interactions with the Guardian.”

     His head dropped, his body going limp. Plagg tossed the last of the cheese into his mouth and floated off, probably for more. 

     Everything’s fine, Marinette had responded to his text after that last battle, when it was clear she wasn’t returning. I’m just really tired and the bakery was close.

     I really have to focus on some commissions.

     It’s been a really hectic day, I just need to sleep. 

     I’m fine, I’m just taking a little time to think. Maybe you should, too. 

     That last one, the night before, was at least honest. And he’d been honest, when replying that all he had been doing was thinking. Those thoughts were getting more and more desperate and less and less helpful. 

     Obviously. 

     Was she thinking alone, or did she have some help? Perhaps from the ever-helpful Luka, whose true feelings on the matter were still not quite gone from Adrien’s left cheek. If so, he hadn’t told her why he felt the way he did, or the Guardian absolutely would’ve appeared by now to confiscate Plagg. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be nudging her one way or another. And Adrien was pretty sure the way he would nudge would not be in his favor.

     He had been thinking. A lot. About Marinette, not Ladybug. He’d been going back through old photos, and seeing the scenes within them in a fresh way. 

     There was Marinette, helping with Rose’s birthday party, smiling and laughing, but more focused on making sure everything went perfectly than having fun of her own. And it had been a great party, up until it was interrupted by an Akuma on the other side of town. Adrien had used his readymade excuse of his father requiring him to leave, which no one was ever surprised by. But, Marinette? How had she gotten away? 

     It struck him, just how many times they’d been together— through school or through friendship— when their secret duties would pull them away. And yet it had never registered that she would abruptly need to leave as the same time as he. Or, was he too focused on his own escape to notice? And what of her? 

     He’d laughed, once or twice, at needing to steal away from Nino and Alya and Marinette, only to end up immediately meeting back up with Nino and Alya. 

     And, as it turned out, Marinette. 

     He and Marinette, she holding the trophy they had just won in a video game competition between schools. It had been handed to them both, of course,  but Marinette had been the one to thrust it into the air. He, having roughly eight billion fencing trophies, had just laughed and let her bask in the glory. And she had been the strength of the team, anyway. Adrien had thought it adorable, at the time, just how wildly competitive she turned out to be. It seemed so out of character. 

     Of course, it wasn’t. He and Ladybug were constantly going head to head in dumb little competitions that he usually began and she always won. 

     He did better at imagining the suit on her in photos. Especially younger photos. Having had a huge collection of pictures of his partner back then, it was easier. Marinette with her girlish pigtails, and Ladybug with hers…. Ladybug still had them, though they’d become a more mature version with twisted plaits. Marinette didn’t wear them at all, anymore. 

     Rewinding everything, reworking his vision of her from the start, it wasn’t easy, but easier. 

     Adrien perked at the sound of his phone ringing, and flopped emergently sideways to where it was charging on his nightstand. Only Nino, but he could use the distraction. 

     “Yo mister important, what happened to hanging out soon?”

     He smirked. “Been focused on my own bullshit, buddy.”

     “Well, focus on something else. Alya abandoned me to go to dinner with Marinette, let’s do something.”

     He shot upwards, sitting up so quickly Plagg nearly inhaled his new chunk of cheese in surprise— as opposed to just because. “Let’s do that.”

     “Huh?”

     “Let’s join them. Alya and Marinette, dinner.”

     Nino made a sound of confusion mixed with disappointment. “Really? Howabout we just go drink or something?”

     Adrien slapped at the light switch in his massive closet and began to flick through shirts and pants. “No, dinner. I’m starving. I’ll pay.”

     “But why with—“

     “I’ll be over in a few.”

     His heart was galloping as he selected an outfit. It was the perfect opportunity. He could see her in a relaxed atmosphere, no pressure to be anything. They could just be there, he could just remind her that they had always liked to be around each other. He could show himself that Marinette was everything he wanted, Ladybug or not. 

     In fact, if he hadn’t been so fucking heartsick over Ladybug, Adrien couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t have realized that long before. 

     The Metro was the fastest way to Nino’s, and he got to the station via a fast jog. Leaping down the stairs to the platform three at a time, he was able to bolt through the doors just as the warning tone sounded. 

     Swaying with the train, doing his best not to huff from the extended sprint, Adrien focused. All the idiotic things he had ever said and done, as Adrien, around Ladybug and Marinette: he had to both make up for them and avoid making any more. There was certainly more than enough material for him to learn from. 

     As he attempted to pull all the lessons he could from his recent stumbles, however, he kept getting sucked into little mindfuck eddies. Screw up: nudging Marinette towards Luka, to distract Luka from his crush on Ladybug, who was Marinette, and thereby again showing Marinette he wasn’t interested in her, as well as teasing Luka with the thing he wanted most and yet couldn’t have.

     The universe was playing four-dimensional chess with his brain, and he was getting his ass kicked. 

     Adrien shot out of the car as soon as the doors opened, and charged up the stairs nearly as fast as he had before descended. The run to Nino’s apartment, and then up his stairs, had him huffing in a way that could not possibly be hidden. 

     His best friend had already been confused by his sudden, firm request, and the speed with which he got there only strengthened that. There was clear suspicion in the eyes behind heavy black-framed glasses, when the door of the flat was opened. 

     “Come on, let’s go. Grab your jacket.”

     Nino’s eyebrows knit together. “Mon pote, what the fuck is going on?”

     Adrien passed to grab Nino’s jacket for him, but, of course, there was very little order to his very little home. “I’m hungry,” he answered, slowly spinning about to find something to throw onto his friend so that he could drag him out into the evening. 

     “And your culinary options are infinite. Like, literally, for you. Like, get a pizza delivered from Italy infinite. So why you running over here and getting all sweaty to get me to go with you to have dinner with Alya and Marinette?”

     Merde, he was sweaty. 

     Nino’s eyebrows created a perfect stack with his glasses’ frames and his hat’s brim, as they raised to signal he was waiting on an answer. 

     Did he spill, and admit that he and Marinette had something, even tenuous, going on? Or did that create too much expectation from his friend, which could only possibly seep out in Marinette’s direction? And grief, when things didn’t go well. 

     “Mm…” He wandered into the bedroom— being large enough for a bed and that’s about it— still theoretically looking for a jacket but also to have an excuse not to have to be glared at for a second. “I stopped by the bakery the other day when Marinette was working and misspoke, stupid me, and when you mentioned her being with Alya I thought I could use an opportunity to make sure she isn’t pissed.” He was pretty proud of himself for that one. 

     “Why not just text her?”

     Adrien winced. “Yeah, like I said, I’m hungry. Putain, Nino, how do you live like this?” he asked of the completely random assortment of belongings by which he was surrounded. 

     “I know exactly where everything is.” 

     He turned to give his friend an incredulous look, to find he had somehow produced a hoodie and already pulled it on. 

     “Come on, mec, I thought you were in a hurry?”

     Adrien huffed, but didn’t waste any time half-hopping out of the room. “Where we headed?”

     “Not far.” 

     He had to continuously remind himself not to get ahead of Nino, since he was theoretically the one leading. But he could’ve sworn the guy was walking more and more slowly, simply for his own entertainment. 

     “So, how’s it going with your mystery lady?”

     A lump seemed to suddenly form in his throat. Merde. How did he answer that? In a way that wouldn’t give away anything, arouse any further suspicions? “It’s… fine.”

     Nino made a noise of acknowledgement, but Adrien couldn’t read the subtext: suspicion, doubt, or perhaps even approval. 

     He realized his pulse was increasing, it seemed to be with each step. More so than it had been with actual running, his heart was thumping with a force that was rattling his chest, sending vibrations down his bones to cause his hands to tremble and his legs to feel weak. 

     “Did you, uh, tell them we’re coming?”

     “Nah. They should be somewhere around here, though.”

     Adrien glared. “You mean you don’t actually know where they are? So we’re just walking in some random direction.”

     “There they are.”

     His heart nearly leapt straight out of his throat, spotting Marinette seated across from Alya in front of a little cafe on the other side of the street. Suddenly, it seemed like a horrible idea. It seemed like an ambush. An emotional ambush, in public and with friends, where she was trapped by propriety and forced into civility. 

     Not that Marinette was ever not civil. 

     Her eyes caught on him as they crossed the street, and her body went rigid. Her heart, he imagined, also was attempting to jump out of her throat. Adrien offered a weak, embarrassed smile that she did not return. Alya twisted in her seat, appearing surprised and slightly concerned. What did she know, how much had Marinette said? Had they just been sitting there, discussing what an asshole he was?

     “Hey again, chicas,” Nino greeted, sitting down at the empty table for two beside them, scooting it and his chair closer to Alya’s side. Adrien was left standing by what now seemed to be a misplaced chair, smiling awkwardly and frozen like someone who had forgotten how to speak. 

     “Adrien,” Alya said, her gaze laced with suspicion, “what a surprise.”

     He sort of laughed, though it sounded more like a croak, as he was broken from his trance. He scooted the chair closer— but not close— to Marinette and sat. The expressions on Nino and Alya’s faces, their twin furrowed brows, made him realize the violent asymmetry of the seating and he glanced downwards, as if he had before only been stopped from going closer by something on the ground, and then rectified the situation. Mostly. 

     Adrien could feel the tension in the body beside him even with their separation, even without looking. He felt it and its wrongness, when he had only recently known it as so soft and relaxed, so much closer.

     The couple across the table were looking back and forth between them with continued confusion, and he realized how his parade of faux pas were was continuing. “Salut, Marinette,” he greeted, abruptly and far too loud, angling his body towards hers. Like he was the least gifted actor in a stage play, and throwing around his prescribed motivations with a complete lack of measure. 

     “Hi, Adrien,” she muttered in response, her eyes firmly focused on the menu she had picked up. 

     “Okay,” Alya proclaimed, as if to declare the interaction sufficient and closed. 

     It was quiet for a moment at the table, he and Marinette being awkward with Nino and Alya watching them. 

     “You know what I was thinking about, today?” Adrien forced out. “I was thinking about the time that Marinette had like six things going on, but when she found out that Mylene had gotten a spot at poetry festival but was terrified about reading in front of strangers, she organized this huge show of support for her— got a gigantic group of people together and figured out the logistics of going, reserved a room at her favorite tea house to celebrate at afterwards, even made this big, amazing banner. Remember that?”

     The two across the table were looking at him oddly. Or, still looking at him oddly. 

     “Um, yeah,” Alya responded. Adrien didn’t dare looking over at Marinette, herself. 

     “Or, when Madame Bustier lost her place in a fire, Marinette found out and spearheaded a massive effort to help her recover. Fundraiser— no, like three fundraisers, had people get together over a weekend to clean and repair what was able to be salvaged, then scoured an entire arrondissement to find perfect new accommodations for her. We weren’t even at the same school, anymore! But she didn’t hesitate. Isn’t that incredible?”

     “I’m pretty sure you made a substantial donation to that fundraiser,” Alya said. Nino had stopped listening. 

     “Of course, but I didn’t come up with the idea.”

     “Where the shit is the server?” Nino muttered, as if they weren’t in a country infamous for snail-paced service. “I’m starving, all of a sudden.”

     Alya made a show of leaning over to take a sniff of her partner. “Gee, wonder why.”

     “Adrien, was I smoking when you got there?” 

     He was startled by his name, like he’d forgotten there was anything outside of he and the girl beside him. He stuttered, having been much too focused on himself and his burgeoning plan to have noticed if Nino had actually been on fire. “Uh, not that I recall.”

     Alya didn’t seem convinced. 

     Nino picked up the menu and was flipping it front to back at a firm ADHD pacing. “Do they have—“

     “Reminds me of when Marinette pretended she was somehow forced by an overabundance of ingredients to make too much food when she heard the father of that girl a year below us lost his job, and then took this completely unnatural path through the cafeteria so that she would walk passed her, and manage to give her a full lunch without making her feel needy. For what, like two months?”

     “Absolutely fucking starving.”

     “She also made you that bomb scarf.”

     Adrien frowned, searching his memory at Alya’s mention. Marinette had given him some really nice things over the course of their friendship, but he didn’t recall a scarf being one of them. In his periphery he saw her shift in her chair. 

     “Oh, that’s right!” Alya chortled. “She was too shy to give it to you in person so, instead, she took it to your place later and gave it to your father’s assistant. Next day you showed up to school wearing it, but said it was from your dad.” 

     His brow furrowed as he brought up the details. A light blue scarf? Yeah, he’d loved that thing. In fact, he’d been crushed when it disappeared with the rest of his wardrobe when his closet was systematically cleared out to make room for the summer line. 

     Marinette was several shades more pink than usual when he looked to her. 

     “You made me that?”

     She shrugged, her gaze suggesting that she was deeply invested in the saga of a man on the other side of the street struggling with a bike lock. He wished she would turn to him, that she would relax her jaw and allow an honest expression. 

     “Why didn’t you tell me?”

     Her eyes fell, now examining the tabletop. Another shrug. 

     “You know, I’m not all that hungry anymore. Let’s go, Nino.”

     “What? But I’m—!”

     The presence of their friends faded, but the slight increase in privacy didn’t seem to spur Marinette to conversation. 

     “I loved that scarf.”

     Now, a nod. Her voice was quiet. “Yeah, you were really excited about it— that it came from your dad. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

     He smiled as warmth cascaded over him, even more comforting than that scarf had been. That she had done something so kind: making instead of buying something, knew he genuinely loved it, and gave up the benefit of her effort, all because he was happy thinking it was from someone else. 

     He reached out, gently taking the hand that was curled around her drink as if the glass was a comfort object. It was cool, moist from condensation, and he sandwiched it between his own. “I have been thinking,” he told her, resolute. “I’ve been going back through pictures, through memories. I realized how central you are to so many. I’ve been thinking about how many times I admired you, was entertained by you, was awed by you. That I went to Nino when I needed cheering up, but when I was really struggling, no matter why, I went to you.”

     Finally, she looked to him. No longer carefully disconnected, her expression was unguarded; unsure, but curious. 

     “There were so many times, back then, that I reflected on just how much I valued you. I was always drawn to you, when we were in a group. I was drawn to your energy, your humor, your spirit.”

     Her hand moved, in his. No longer passive, she slid her skin against his in a close caress. 

     “I’ve been thinking that Ladybug is very fortunate she’s as strong as Marinette.”

     The sheen of those incredible blue eyes began to shimmer, and tears burst over onto her skin, displaced by sudden movement. Sudden movement, towards him. The force with which her mouth met his would’ve been considered a little painful, if he was able to feel anything other than the surge of joy that hit him at the same time. 

     “I was thinking about how many things I love about Marinette,” he whispered, his fingers caressing the back of her neck. “About how much I love her.”

     She let out a little sob of emotion, and the touch they shared afterwards was much more tender. It felt, even, more intimate than any had yet. In full view of the public, in a little no-name cafe, he experienced the most incredible kiss of his life. More awe-filled, even, than his first with Ladybug, because, this time, he knew and knew he loved the entirety of her. 

     “I’m so sorry it took something like this to make me realize that.”

     A flash went off somewhere nearby, painting their combined forms as something to pay attention to. Marinette startled and then swore, and Adrien laughed. 

     “I’m afraid you might be stuck with me, now.”