"Shh Tikki, the girls are a-hic-sleep. I'll be really -hic- quick, I promise," Marinette wobbled slightly on her feet as she stared beseechingly at the kwami.
"Marinette! This is a really bad idea, I don't think you should be-"
"Tikki, spots on!" Marinette cried, giggling to herself.
Her friends had come over for an eighteenth birthday party that had quickly escalated with the help of drinking games, suggested by Alya and Alix, of course. It was a girls only party, so nothing untoward had happened, but now Marinette was decidedly... tipsy. And she thought it would be a good idea to transform into her superhero alter-ego, Ladybug, just above a room full of teenage girls, girls including her reporter best friend who was desperate to find out the identities of Paris' heroes.
She also thought it would be a good idea to call Chat Noir.
Naturally, since it was gone two in the morning, Chat didn't answer the call and it went to voicemail. Ladybug headed out to the balcony giggling softly, nearly tripping and falling back onto her bed, and waited for the beep to indicate that she could record her message.
"H-hey, Chat Noir," she tried and failed to suppress her giggles, causing her hiccups to worsen. "It's Marinette, leaving a message for you, of course, because it's your voicemail." She paused to laugh again, snorting inelegantly and nearly tripping over a pot plant. Who had put that there? She wondered. Oh yeah, I did! This time she did collapse to the floor, her fit of laughter uncontrollable.
"Sorry, sorry," she apologised, the laughter still evident in her voice. "I fell over a pot because I put it there!" It was amazing what people found funny when they were drunk.
"So, I was -hic- just calling to leave you a message," she guffawed again, "did I already say that?" Marinette pushed herself up onto her knees and shuffled over to the railing to look over the Parisian skyline.
"Paris is beautiful," she sighed down her yoyo.
"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you I have a crazy crush on you but I think Adrien Agreste is the best thing since sliced bread so we could never be a thing. You're my fest briend and I love you. I love you so much. That's a funny word isn't it? Loooooove," she drew the sound out, fascinated with the vibrations of the 'v'. "Lo-Ve. V-v-v-v-v-v," once again she broke down into laughter.
"That's quite funny. I love love love love love Chat Noir. Well, call me later, see you, bye."
With that she dropped her yoyo on the ground, muttered "spots off" and fell unconscious on her balcony.
Adrien was awoken the next morning by Plagg's usual groaning for cheese. After he had satisfied his kwami's insatiable hunger, he headed towards the shower. Even though it was the weekend, his schedule was still packed full.
He was just about to close the door of the bathroom when he heard a large belch and then a lazy drawl.
"Oh yeah, by the way, Ladybug called last night. She left a message." Plagg said, eyeing up another piece of camembert and seeming completely disinterested in the information he was passing on. Adrien was back out in a flash.
"What? And you wait 'til now to tell me? Was there an akuma attack? Is Ladybug okay? Plagg?" Adrien was starting to get annoyed at the cat god's indifference. "Forget it, Plagg, claws out!"
The fading sounds of Plagg's protest was all that could be heard before Chat Noir stood in Adrien's place, baton already in hand to listen to the message.
It had been ten minutes and Chat Noir was still stood there, staring at the now silent baton. He was still trying to take in what he had just listened to, but all that his brain could process was; drunk Marinette is not as funny as she thinks she is.
How that was the thought that kept circulating he had no idea. Maybe that was the only thing his broken mind could process, because the fact that Marinette and Ladybug were the same person was pretty mind boggling. Simultaneously, the fact that they were the same person came as almost no surprise. The fact that she loved Chat Noir and had a crush on him too was overwhelming. The fact that she thought Adrien was... how had she phrased it? The best thing since sliced bread...
Could a person die from happiness?
He had to go and see his lady. Now.
"Adrien? Be ready to leave for the photo shoot in ten minutes," came the dulcet tones of Nathalie from outside his doorway.
He always had the worst luck.
Then he thought back over the voicemail he had listened to, looking down at the baton and making sure to save it. Maybe his luck wasn't so bad after all.