So, here we are. I finally got sucked into this fandom and found out a bit too late about Marichat week so I'm coming in fifteen minutes late with drabbles and whatnot. I don't know what I'm doing, these two are consuming my life.

And here I thought I'd get the chance to post another fanfic first, but I think this one will help me get comfortable with the Miraculous Ladybug universe. I'd be lying if I said I didn't start learning French online because of this show, go me.

I have no idea how to write the love square, to be honest, but I hope this is enough?

i: secret dating

People rush about her on the square, heading home after a long day or a night out, yet Marinette keeps her position on the top step of the stairs, sitting among the pacing feet and the mingled conversation as if everything around her is calm and there is only pure silence. She examines the city lights, the moon and the few stars that can be seen; she looks down at her shoes and picks at the ends of her midnight blue dress that matches the sky. Her hands touch the tip of her braid and she considers once again if she should let it fall loose or tie it up in a bun, or its usual pigtails, or something else entirely while she waits.

She waits and her parents think she is at home sleeping or pulling an all-nighter. Tikki busies herself inside her purse with today's batch of caramel cookies, and while Marinette has nothing to keep her mind occupied as she sits in place like a statue, she finds that watching the civilians retire to their homes is quite entertaining. There are lovers and executives and all kind of people that pass by the Eiffel Tower each day and often forget to admire its beauty, its uniqueness. Then she stands when her watch reads its well past eleven, brushes the dust from her outfit and heads down the stairs, fingers racking through her hair as she finally decides to let it loose.

It blows back when wind howls in her ears and she hugs her cardigan tighter around her body, walking a few blocks from the tower until she finds the designed place. A dead end street that by day has nothing really eye catching to it – it is just a dead end street after all – but on certain nights, it becomes the best place in all of Paris. There is a towel on the floor, two velvety cushions, one lonely lit candle and a basket sitting before his waiting form. He has told her he can take her to better places, but she is happy with this as it is.

He sees well, so well in the dark, that she is not surprised when his lips twist into a frown when she shivers in themed autumn air, his arms open invitingly, and her feet hurry their pace against her own wishes as she strides towards him. Marinette snuggles by his side, nose brushing his neck lightly and taking in the scent of leather and a perfume he makes sure to wear in the nights when he meets with her. His arm falls over her shoulders, pulling her close as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, and their usual teasing banter is forgotten tonight as they talk in whispers and hushed giggles, fingers twined together as they get lost in each other's warmth.

His green eyes glint in the candlelight as he moves to open the basket, taking out two very expensive looking wine glasses and a bottle of grape juice for they both do not drink. She laughs aloud when he starts pouring the crimson liquid and cracks a joke about it. He takes out a plate of sloppy sandwiches next, made with a baguette that she knows all too well.

"I really wish I knew how to cook," she silences his laments with a kiss, because whether it is the most expensive and fancy dish or just bread with butter, it does not matter to her.

"It's the effort that you put into it that counts," her reply is sincere and her smile is gentle. Chat Noir blinks his bright eyes at her and cups her face, pulling her in for a kiss that would drive both of them breathless in a matter of seconds.

They sit on the cushions close to each other and enjoy his homemade meal as he vows that next time he will make her something better. Her thumb brushes soothing circles on the back of his hand and she says that she is not such a great cook, despite having a family that owns a bakery and an uncle that is a super chef. Marinette sits between his legs, her back to his chest as he tries to place pieces of chocolate in her mouth, but all he does is poke it against her nose and cheeks and she has to wonder if her does that on purpose.

And her suspicions are proven to be true when the hero tilts her head back to kiss all the dirty places, his tongue sweeping out to lick the corner of her lips, and Marinette helps him by moving on her own, capturing his mouth and letting him taste all the chocolate he just fed her. Her head is spinning when they pull away and he glances up at the sky, seeing that dark clouds rolled by while they were lost in their own world and that droplets of water started falling.

"Seems like we need to leave, Princess." His tone is rueful, and she brushes back his wild hair to kiss his forehead before they rush to pack everything inside the basket once again.

Her late night outs are never the same anymore now that she has fallen for the one person she thought she would never harbor romantic feelings for. Sometimes she considers telling him the truth; after all, she has to transform into her heroic self to leave her home unnoticed and it is so hard to not stand too close when they are both on patrol, but when he is carrying her on his back and the wind makes her face so cold that she has to bury it in his neck, Marinette cannot find it in her the courage to part her lips and say it.

How did she get caught up in all of this, she wonders dazedly when they land on the balcony of her house. Chat is grinning when he plucks a flower from one of her vases and places it behind her ear; she responds by turning her head to kiss his gloved palm, her thumb pressed against his pulse on his wrist, mind racing and trying to summon any ounce of strength possible to say it. Just say it.

He beats her to it. "Happy birthday, my Princess," and presents her with a necklace resting on his other palm.

She looks at it. It is silver and the pendant is the face of a cat. It is simple and beautiful and makes her heart flutter when he clasps it around her neck and the pendant rests in the hollow of her collarbone. The rain falls on their faces and for some reason she feels a sting in her eyes as she presses her lips together to keep from laughing, and he looks at her expectantly, green eyes ever so bright.

"You are insufferable!" Marinette exclaims, her body crashing into his and mouth seeking for his. His hand rests on the back of her neck and her palms are flat on his chest, inching up to grip his shoulders. He pulls away first, gently bushes his lips on her jawline and bids her goodnight with a promise that he will come by again and soon.

She stands in her balcony, flower in her hair and clothes soaked to the bone, watching as he disappears into the darkness of the night. She is cold once again, her mind finally registering the way she is shivering under the falling rain, and her fingers play with the pendant that no one will ever know who truly gave it to her, because he is Chat Noir, a hero and a public figure, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng is just a civilian.