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Chapter One

(Per the description, Marinette's dad does not interrupt Chat and Mari's moment.)

As with most things she said, it had just slipped out. It wasn't entirely her fault; Chat's prompting had made her finish the sentence as naturally as a phone's autofill feature. Her running into his arms was both to convince him of the supposed truth of her hastily blurted confession and to hide the blush that overtook her face. This was Chat Noir; not Adrien.

She pulled back after the hug. Baby August had become fussy in being pushed aside for Marinette's hug but still tugged on her pigtail when she pulled back. "Labybug" August babbled.

"That's what I was going to say," Chat muttered. "But there's no way you're m'lady. She doesn't love me; she's said as much."

"I'm sure she cares for you in her own way," Marinette said, trying not to let the indignation she felt seep into her voice.

"How can you say you love me if you don't even know me, though?" Chat's tone wasn't accusatory but genuinely curious.

She responded, "I was just using…a hyperbole! I'm a big fan, that's all ahahahah…" She averted her eyes.

"Wow, really?" She wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic, coy, or the bumbling idiot persona he usually reserved for encounters with Ladybug. "Look, Marinette, whether you love me or are just a fan, it's still nice to be appreciated. Can't remember the last time I had a fan."

At this he seemed genuinely sad. "Well, consider yourself a celebrity," she said, beaming in an effort to cheer him up.

He smiled back at her. "Thanks, I may stop by again." That was when her resolve was made; Chat Noir would be celebrated just as much as Ladybug as long as she had something to say about it.

It wouldn't be easy. His visits were few and far between, and when he did show up to talk to his "number one fan," she was usually too busy to really get to know him. It was crazy, she realized, how little her role as Ladybug had taught her about being a superhero. From the way Chat spoke, every minute of his everyday life was a test, every action a measure of his heroicness. He told her that he struggled to be the peacemaker in the situations he knew would cause conflict; without naming them, he told her the difficulties of sorting out fights between his friends and their enemies without making those people his enemies. He told her that half of him wanted to rebel against the rules that kept him in line while the other half kept his feet rooted firmly to where he stood, not challenging the authority of a father who loved him. Marinette took all this in, notepad in hand, though she wrote nothing down. Her goal had been to start something of a copycat (excuse the pun) of the Ladyblog; it was be called the Chatroom and would feature any cool facts about Chat Noir that she could weasel out of him. She found herself in a predicament, however, because it seemed that everything she asked could be turned into some sort of philosophical discussion.

"What's your favorite food?" She'd ask, twirling her eraser around.

"Well, I'd say ravioli for taste, but my real favorite is spaghetti because it was…someone-important-to-me's favorite." He would smile up at her as she struggled to fit all that into a normal answer. "Spaghetti" would have to suffice.

"What are you drawing?" he'd asked one night, looking at her notepad.

"Nothing," she smiled nervously, trying to change the subject. She didn't want him to find out about her blog, which was still in the works. "I wish I knew some other Chat Noir fans I could talk to." Why do I always revert back to the whole "I'm a huge fan" excuse?

"Hey, I'm a fan." He flashed a smile, but she gave him a deadpan look. "Alright, well I have it on pretty good authority that Adrien Agreste is a HUGE Chat Noir fan."

Marinette's breath caught in her throat. "But I'm around Adrien Agreste all the time. He never talks about it."

"He doesn't talk about much at all—I MEAN, I know because I…visit him, just like I visit you." His smile grew more and more nervous.

"I'll have to ask him about it, then." She knew she would never get the courage to do so, though. "It's just so hard to talk to him, though," she mumbled.

Chat looked confused. "I'm not—I don't find him hard to talk to."

"That's because he LIKES you. He's your fan. It'd be way easier if I didn't…"

"If you didn't what?" He was closer now, too close.

"If I didn't have a huge crush on him…" She looked away in embarrassment.

"I think you should still talk to him," Chat added lightly. He couldn't promise her Adrien's affection, because it was already given to Ladybug. "You could have an amazing friendship, who knows? Just talk to him. Promise me you'll do it tomorrow."

She looked up at him in disbelief. "I won't promise that! I can't even look at him without tripping all over myself and stuttering."

Chat internally snickered at this. You're looking at him right now and you're doing just fine. "Well," he said, sighing and standing as he stretched out his arms. "I guess I'll just have to tell him to talk to you."

"Wait! No, Chat!" she yelled, but he was already out the window and gone.