Adrien awoke with a groan, rolled over in his large memory foam bed, and with a feeble hand clicked off his beeping alarm clock. It was a Monday, what would normally be time for school, but not today. It only took one glimpse of the sunlight which permeated his window to make him recoil in despair. Light hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt.

"Crap," he complained, sliding out from underneath the covers to feel the sensation of cold marble flooring underneath his feet. Why can't Dad invest in carpet? It was freezing. Struggling with nausea and dizziness, he made his way to the bathroom where a warm shower awaited.

Clink! The pipes rattled lightly as water shot through them and, within seconds, the blond-haired teen felt the welcoming drizzle of water running down his body. It caressed his skin soothingly, easing every muscle, and the rising steam which pooled in the air did wonders for his migraine too. Maybe that crappy 'steam inhalation therapy' actually works?

He stepped out of the shower, watching as water ran down his body and slowly pooled on the floor, and found his eyes drifting to a mark on his inner thigh. That's new. It was a small cut, but it seemed permanent - perhaps yet another scar on the list of injuries attained during his adventures with Ladybug. Ladybug...

Just the thought of her made his legs turn into jelly and his stomach feel like a butterfly house. At first glance, one might call it a teenage crush, but if anyone were to know him well - not that they could - then they'd understand how it was so much more. Ladybug was everything!

Between the sickness and thoughts of Ladybug, he felt weak. His body wobbled on the spot, meek and weak, as though he could collapse at any minute. He made his way over to the sink, grabbed a toothbrush, and after applying the paste set to work on maintaining those pearly whites. For Dad. Although brushing his teeth was obviously a necessary part of daily life, for Adrien it was yet another way in which his father saw him as little more than a poster child - something to proudly display on the cover of a magazine. After all, when the model was his own son, he never had to worry about payment or ensuring their brand loyalty. Instead, it could be forced upon him, and that was exactly what happened. Everything was regimented: his toothpaste contained whitening elements, his diet strict, and a workout plan to keep that lean aesthetic. Nothing less than perfection was acceptable.

I feel awful. Finishing in the bathroom, he returned to his bedroom. The house felt cold - even more so than usual. Gabriel Agreste was away on a fashion trip, Berlin if Adrien remembered rightly, whilst Nathalie and The Gorilla had gone shopping. It was dead silent, which made it purr-fect for some self-indulgence.

Clad in just a towel which hung loosely on his hips, revealing a lean torso thanks to years of fencing and a model's dietary regime, he made his way over to a mirror that was bolted into his walk-in wardrobe.

"Well," he remarked aloud, going along with his mind's wild fantasies and swaggering towards his own reflection as if it were someone else's vision. "Ladybug, fancy meeting you here..."

He flexed. Adrien wasn't a weightlifter, but nevertheless his aesthetic was attractive. Striations ran across his stomach, whilst his arms were alluringly vascular, and his obliques were well-defined. Between his time as Cat Noir and his fencing, it was hardly surprising though. The fringe of his still wet hair hung low, covering his eyes partially. Need a haircut...

Tap! Tap! Tap! What? Expecting Nathalie or one of his father's staff to burst through the door at any moment, he flung open a nearby chest of drawers to grab some underwear and slipped them on without hesitation as the towel dropped to the floor.

"Adrien?" came a questioning voice. It was surprisingly feminine - not a random staff member. However, it was too high in pitch for Nathalie. Who?

. . .

Marinette watched from outside his window, a pang of guilt tugging painfully at her heart, but nevertheless failing to stop her spying. Her crush had been absent from class for almost a week now. Whilst Marinette could hardly scale the wall to his bedroom window, both from a legal and practical standpoint, there was nothing stopping Ladybug. Besides, Adrien was a fan. It's just fan-service.

"Adrien," she called, sliding in through an open window without hesitation. Oh...

The blond-haired teen had just finished slipping into a pair of boxer-briefs, which were flattering to say the least. She had walked in on a near naked Adrien Agreste! What made the situation even more awkward, however, was their design: red with black spots in the style of a ladybug.

"Ladybug!" he shouted, cupping a hand over his mouth in shock, before blushing intensely and averting his eyes awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh..."

"It's f-fine. Uh... I saw... Alya and Marinette earlier, they said you could use cheering up."

Great excuse, Marinette.

"Sure!"

. . .

Adrien was gushing internally. Oh my God! She came to see me - the real me and not Cat Noir! However, it wasn't long before embarrassment returned to his mind, and grabbing the first shirt his hand could find he slipped it over his head in desperation. What now!?

"Uh... Thanks," he mumbled in response, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. It was a trademark response of his to nerves. "Do you want a drink?"

It only took one nod from Ladybug for him to shoot downstairs, grabbing everything he could from the kitchen that didn't require preparation time, as he could hardly ask the chefs to cook for a guest his father hadn't allowed for. He returned with a platter of meats and cheeses, something which Plagg would love if the little kwami wasn't busy hiding, and set them down on a coffee table near the sofa.

The pair sat next to each other, at first a comfortable distance, but soon Adrien became more daring and shuffled closer. He looked out of the window, across the Parisian skyline which was covered in the warm, orange hue of the morning's sunshine. Carefully, out of the corner of his vision, he watched her: his love, his lady, his everything. She's really here!

Her hair was perfect, styled into ponytails which were coloured a dark blue like the night sky. Meanwhile, her eyes - those eyes - glistened beautifully. She was perfect. Just her mere presence in such a relaxed environment made his heart skip a beat. His palms were sweaty and, no matter how many times he tried to discreetly wipe them down his shirt, it wouldn't pass.

You can do this...

. . .

Marinette watched Adrien from the corner of her eye. Either he'd forgotten, or he was far more confident than she could have ever imagined, because he was still wearing nothing on his bottom half but underwear. That underwear...

She felt wrong, perverted even, but staring was impossible. His bare thighs were there and, within a mere arm's reach, she could feel the bare skin which she dreamt of. What would it feel like to have that skin brush against hers? Better yet, how would his hand feel if it caressed her cheek? They were larger than hers, masculine, and veins popped in the way that boys' hands often did. However trivial, however common it was, none of it stopped her pure adoration.

"Adri-"

"Ladyb-"

They turned to face each other, each cutting the other off and then blushing in embarrassment. Unintentionally, their eyes met. It was inevitable - a mixture of teenage lust, curiosity, and innocent love. Her lips met with his.