AN: Wrote this back in spring 2016, and realized I never actually posted it on here... so here it is.

This is NOT an angsty trans fic, though it does deal with dysphoria, the fear of transphobia, and coming out. It's more of me dealing with my gender musings through Adrien, if I'm honest.

"Sorry, I have to go." Adrien, relying on the few practical skills he'd learned from years of modeling, forced his expression to remain pleasantly neutral. "See you tomorrow!"

Nino pulled a face at him. They'd made plans to see a movie after school, but he was used to Adrien's sudden disappearances and half-hearted excuses. He blinked and the gym door was already swinging closed behind Adrien. Nino was tempted to follow - who knew why his friend was rushing off this time - but he could only hope that it was just another forgotten appointment, even though Adrien's suddenly blank face worried him. Past experience had shown that it was no use trying to follow, because Adrien had a curious talent of disappearing without a trace. For someone whose main hobby was video games, he sure could move fast when he wanted to.

The small cluster of classmates stared at the door for a few seconds longer, surprised by the rapid exit, before returning to their conversation. Marinette was silent and a small frown creased her face. After her third glance over her shoulder, as if considering making a break for it herself, Alya stuck her elbow into the girl's side.

"What's up with you, space cadet?"

"Uh... I just... I have to go home and help my parents-" Marinette stuttered with her standard deer-in-the-headlights excuse face. Without finishing her sentence, she turned tail and bolted, leaving Alya with her mouth hanging open.

"Marinette, you forgot your - Oh, never mind." She pulled out her phone and wrote 'Mari, I'll drop your bag off in the bakery on my way home,' before rolling her eyes at Nino. They may be used to their friends, but that didn't mean it wasn't annoying when they took off without warning.

"So, Nino, you got plans this evening?"

"Not anymore... but I have it on good authority that there's a good movie showing tonight."

Adrien dropped onto the park bench and closed his eyes, breathing quickly. Girl, pretty girl, you'd make a pretty girl, you'd make... his thoughts ran in circles and echoed through his head. Pretty girl, pretty girl, girl. He forced a deep breath into his lungs and held it, clenching two large handfuls of his blond hair and pulling until his chin was pressed to his chest. It had just been a joking comment from Kim, after Adrien had taken it upon himself to prove that yes, his hair was in fact still long enough to braid after the recent haircut (it was, though the strands slipped out unless tied immediately). But it didn't mean anything. It was just... He sighed. Of course it was just a bad joke, the sort of thoughtless comment teenagers made to tease each other. He had simply shut down reflexively, panic taking over as sudden awareness of every cubic centimeter of his body swept through him.

Pretty girl..

Still focused on his inhales and exhales, Adrien slowly relaxed his hands and massaged his scalp, straightening his hunched back. Rolling his shoulders, trying to work out the knots of tension that had formed, he heard the fallen leaves crunching as hesitant footsteps approached as Plagg hid himself in Adrien's shirt pocket. The kwami had been saying something, he realized belatedly, dragging himself back to the real world.

"Adrien? Are you... is everything ok?"

Marinette. She'd become less awkward around him since the Mecha Strike III tournament, to the point of carrying on full conversations. Last week, she'd invited him, along with Alya and Nino, to the bakery for lunch, which he'd quickly accepted, remembering the absolutely glorious quiche her parents had pressed on them during their training session. She still didn't seem completely comfortable around him, but progress was progress and he was glad for another person to talk to.

"I'm... fine, thanks." He was taken off guard by the question. Nino was usually the only person to ask him how he was doing, but Marinette definitely had, and she continued staring at him as if she didn't quite believe his brief answer. Drawn in by her sincere expression, he opened his mouth to elaborate, or reassure her (he wasn't sure which), and then closed it again before he could say something stupid. Like, "I thought Kim was threatening to tell everyone I'm trans because I am a paranoid mess!"

Still, he was tempted to let the words past his lips anyway. Sometimes it was a challenge not to shout it from the rooftops, daring anyone to see him for someone other than who he was... Which, admittedly, he had done once before.

"I'm trans!" Chat Noir had yelled gleefully as he stood on his hands, making eye contact with Ladybug from his position at the peak of the roof, before gracefully flipping upright. She merely maintained eye contact, obviously trying not to smile or roll her eyes at his adrenaline-induced acrobatics, before tipping her head slightly to invite him to continue if he wished.

They had taken to spending time together after less difficult fights, the ones that didn't necessitate Lucky Charms or Cataclysm, leaving them secure in their magical suits. And sometimes, after the akumatized victims who came a little too close to completing their missions, Adrien would placate Plagg with extra Camembert. Several minutes later, Chat would climb the Eiffel Tower and breathe, watching his city spread out below, undamaged and, for now, safe, beneath him. More often than not, he would spot a lithe figure out of the corner of his eye, and Ladybug would drop down beside him to gaze down at Paris. During these quiet moments, they would sit together, silently, until their thoughts forced themselves into speech. Then they would talk, about anything and nothing. For all the secrets Chat Noir and Ladybug had to keep from each other, conversation came easily.

As the pressure drained from his head, his exclamation seemed to filter through his brain, adding another twist to the flutter in his chest - his heart was still racing, driven to a staccato beat by the remaining terror that always gripped him after the akuma was cleansed, as a voice in his head whispered "Someday... someday," in tones uncannily similar to his father's. When he heard his own words, however, he wasn't afraid. It just felt... right. To finally be able to tell someone, tell anyone, without keeping secrets, or upsetting his delicate social balance, or imagining the dark look in his father's eyes.

He was who he was, and she knew, and the world was still standing.