When Adrien wakes, the events of last night come to him with a dream-like clarity. He blinks up at the ceiling with a strange, detached memory of Chat Noir kissing Marinette against the wall above her bedroom. Of her breath against his cheek and her hands in his hair and the way his name came out of her mouth in a thick whisper.
He hadn't just been Chat though, and she responded so fearlessly after his transformation wore off that he was left with rubber knees. He is in love with Ladybug. Sure as the sky is blue and the sun is hot, he is desperately, desperately in love. And while he has his suspicions about her identity, there is no solid proof other than vague speculations. He decided a while ago that he would respect Ladybug's desire to keep her double life separate. It's unfair to Marinette, to have asked for that kiss. Unfair, he thinks, that he had been left so breathless, that it had been like pulling a tooth just to leave her there in the dark.
He hadn't wanted to leave. He hadn't been quite through with her yet.
She was looking at him all night through familiar, summer sky eyes, talking to him with a voice like warm sugar. When she touched him, it was like flame to a paper, and he was the one burning. He'd been so drawn in by her likeness to Ladybug, by the echo of her words and the mirror of her actions, that he could not help himself. Even though he'd never particularly thought about Marinette that way, he had wanted to taste her.
And she had let him. Oh, god, she had let him. His mind had glazed over so completely, so enthralled by her mouth and the heat of her hands, the line of her body, that even when his transformation ran out, he had wanted to stay. Forever, he remembered thinking, in the circle of her arms where everything was alive and passionate and warm. Everything his life currently lacked.
So maybe. . .he is curious about Marinette. Maybe the thrill he feels in his stomach every time he looks at her is trying to tell him that his curiosity is something else. That she is something else. He wants to follow it. He wants to know her more. What would Marinette think if she knew that it'd been him with her last night? Not just as Chat Noir, but as Adrien, too. Would she be disgusted? Would she. . .would she like it?
Adrien pulls his blankets over his head and tries to calm the erratic beating of his heart.
"I kissed her," he says out loud to make it real.
Plagg's irritated drawl comes through muffled from the other side of the blanket, pulling him away from the memory of Marinette back to the white-linen sheets of his bed and the cloud-grey sunlight streaming in through the windows. "I know," the kwami is saying.
Adrien licks his lips, eyelashes fluttering against the sheets. "She kissed me back."
"Yeah, and next time, keep me out of it." Plagg makes a disgusted noise.
It breaks Adrien's thought process and he laughs into the blankets. "I'll make it up to you. Another all-you-can-eat-cheese buffet coming right up."
"Speaking of," the kwami grumbles, slightly less disgruntled than before, "don't you need to be up and doing something about that modelling thing?"
Adrien flings his covers away from his face with a curse word sitting on the tip of his tongue at the exact moment that Natalie knocks on his bedroom door. "Adrien, you're late for breakfast and the car is waiting out front."
"One sec, Natalie!" he calls, frantically rolling out of bed. Hastily, he snatches up a shirt he wore last Wednesday and a pair of jeans from the floor. He'll probably be in trouble for being tardy to the last dress rehearsal before the show, but for some reason it doesn't bother him. He can't remember the last time he felt so. . .unaffected by the dreary expectations of a fashion show itinerary. It's almost liberating and for a moment, he feels like Chat Noir.
"You missed breakfast," Plagg complains, "and I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry," Adrien whispers as he shimmies into his change of pants. His hair is a cowlick, bed-headed disaster, but he doesn't have any time to do anything with it. Hopefully the hair and makeup team will get to him before his father does. "I'll get you something to eat as soon as I can." He scoops Plagg up and tucks the kwami gently into the sports bag Adrien has been living out of over the past two days.
"Did you say something?" Natalie's voice is garbled through the door.
He stuffs his feet into his sneakers without socks on and runs a quick hand through his hair once, twice, before zipping up his back and slinging it onto his shoulder. Adrien grins as he opens the door. "I said, I'm ready!"
She eyes the messy, unkempt state of him - an unusual thing; Adrien always appears before everyone as put together and immaculate as possible - and he wonders if she's seeing the smile he can't wipe off his face or the utter disaster of his appearance.
"You're in a good mood for someone who woke up five seconds ago," she observes.
He steps into the hallway and closes his door behind him. "I had a good dream last night."
::
Adrien is Distracted. Absolutely.
He's trying really hard to focus on what he has to do. Really he is. The rundown of the order on the catwalk was a piece of cake to memorize, and he'd been present enough while the hair and makeup team had been getting him ready for the promotional photo shoot. All in all, he'd been impressively concentrated on his work all morning, considering what he'd done the night before.
The lunch hour he's been granted is the beginning of his ruin. Without the chatter of the hairstylist, he's left to run his own thoughts ragged and immediately, his mind flies to Marinette. He finds himself sitting in a quiet corner with his phone in his hand, staring at her contact information.
He can't stop thinking about her.
It's messing him up.
While sneaking Plagg cubes of cheese absently, he begins to entertain the idea of Marinette as Ladybug. Allows himself to think about the things he'd blocked from his mind so that she could keep her privacy. The coincidences, the vague excuses, the similarities. He thinks about Marinette's strengths and Ladybug's weaknesses and he starts to feel flustered from how well the pieces fit.
It can't be that simple, he thinks, eyes fixed on Marinette's picture in his contacts list, hand gripping the phone tightly. Is it really this easy? Has she really been right there, right behind him in class, all this time? He doesn't have proof, he won't set his heart on it. But he'll. . .he'll hope. He'll pray. And he'll figure it out.
Ladybug may want to keep herself hidden from him but if Marinette is Ladybug, then what the hell had last night been about? She would have known exactly who Chat Noir was. He has to know what she was thinking. He has to get to know her.
For the first time today, he wishes he could be in school so that he could talk to her. Feel out the situation and how she is reacting. His stomach jitters with nerves at the thought, but they aren't entirely uncomfortable.
"Plagg," Adrien says, dropping his phone to the table with a frown, "you have it so easy."
"Me? Stuck with a sap like you?" Plagg snorts from his spot hidden in the sports bag.
"All you care about is cheese," Adrien mumbles. Life would be so much easier if all he cared about was cheese. "And I . . ." He cares too much, about too many things. With a sigh, he drops his head to the table to hide the burning blush on his face.
He's gotta figure out how to get closer to Marinette, but he doesn't know how to even start. Or who to be. Does he approach her as Chat Noir or Adrien? What will he say to her? This is such a mess.
"What am I doing?" he mutters into the table. He doesn't have time to be thinking about her, or about this situation that he's gotten himself in. And he definitely doesn't have the time to be entertaining the idea that Marinette is Ladybug. Not now. Not with this stupid fashion show and this photo shoot ranking so high on his father's list of priorities.
Adrien's thoughts come to a screeching halt as he sits up again, his back straight as a line. Marinette likes fashion, right? He thought he remembered Nino saying something about her being into that sort of thing. Of course, there was also the fact that she won that hat designing contest his dad held. It had by far been the best one entered into the competition - it had looked professionally made and the look on her face when she presented it was glowing with pride.
He remembered being so happy for her, that the shy, cute girl who sat behind him in class got her chance to shine. That was months ago, though, and now Adrien just wanted to see her smile like that again. His fingers tapped against the table as he considered how he could make it happen, a plan taking shape quickly in his mind.
Maybe getting closer to her wasn't going to be such an issue after all.
::::
Marinette almost decides to skip school. Her stomach flutters with sticky nerves every time she thinks about seeing Adrien again and she doesn't know if she can bear it. She does know that she shouldn't have kissed Chat Noir last night - he is her partner, her most trusted friend in every sense of the word - and yet, she can't really bring herself to regret it either.
She liked it.
It would be easier to insist she didn't. She wants to say she didn't, but it would be a lie and Marinette already keeps so many secrets from the world she can't afford to keep any from herself.
Tikki's encouragement is the only thing that got her out the door this morning. When she reaches the school steps, she nearly turns tail and flees the scene, but Alya sidles up on her other side and hooks her arm into Marinette's elbow.
"I have some bad news for you," Alya says by way of greeting.
Marinette's stomach trembles but she has to keep the apprehension off her face. "Oh no, what is it this time?"
"Adrien won't be here again today."
She holds her breath. "How do you know?"
"Nino told me."
Suddenly, it's easier to breathe. Every rigid line of her body softens and she sighs deeply in relief, pressing a hand to her chaotic heart. So her luck has returned after all. Thank God. Thank every god ever!
Alya must sense the way she relaxes, sees the way Marinette's tight expression unwinds into relief and she's instantly curious. "What's that look for?"
Marinette straightens up again and starts marching her best friend toward the school doors. "What look?" She plays innocent. For as clumsy as she can be, it's unnervingly easy to disguise the truth of her heart from Alya.
"Don't you want to see Adrien?"
Crap. "Of course I want to see Adrien!" Sort of. Maybe. It's complicated. She slips out of Alya's arm and smiles widely, convincingly. If there was a way she could tactfully talk about her problems, then she would. But Alya is a journalist at heart, and she'd be able to sniff out any tentative half-truths that Marinette could think up. There's no way she could bring up kissing a boy who wasn't Adrien and then play it off as if it were nothing.
And it wasn't that she didn't want to see Adrien. Marinette could feel her mouth go dry and her heart ache every time she thought about the handsome boy. He didn't know how he felt about her, which is probably the only thing that really convinced her coming to school today wouldn't out right kill her. But the fact that she'd kissed Chat Noir last night - really kissed him; kissed him because she wanted to, not because she had to - made her feel guilty.
Alya narrows her eyes, suspicious, ready to interrogate, but the first bell rings and Marinette skips ahead a few steps. "Come on, Alya! Or we'll be late for class!"
The school day passes in a blur after that, thankfully. Luck is in her favor and the day goes much more smoothly than yesterday. She doesn't trip, no one spills paint in her on art class, and Chloe seems too preoccupied with the latest gossip magazine to inflict any real damage. Alya is the only real challenge of the day, and Marinette knows better than to hope that her friend dropped the topic of Adrien. But Alya is distracted mostly by Nino, who hangs with the two of them at lunch due to Adrien's absence.
At the end of the day, Nino and Alya decide to meet up and work on their literature report since they were assigned together. Alya tries to convince Marinette to come along.
"We're gonna get ice cream too," she says, with a tone that suggests there's more to it than that. The sharpness in Alya's curious gaze lets Marinette know that her friend is eager to do more than just eat ice cream with her and Marinette cannot talk about what she's struggling with today.
"I have to get back to the bakery and help," Marinette laments with exactly the right amount of dejection. "There's a huge order that's getting picked up tomorrow morning, and I promised I'd help." It's vague - there is a big order due tomorrow morning, but her parents had insisted she focus on her homework rather than ice a thousand cupcakes. Alya doesn't need to know that, particularly, and Marinette needs time to sort out her scattered thoughts.
"You're not off the hook, you know," Alya says with a grin as she shrugs. "I'll be picking Nino's brain about this too."
Marinette laughs. "There's nothing to find, Alya. I'll text you later."
"See ya!"
She waves at her friend as she begins to walk back toward where Nino is talking to Juleka. "See ya!" Marinette turns on her heel and starts the trek home, grateful for the sunshine. She makes an effort to avoid the street she nearly got robbed on last night, so she sticks to the busier streets, trying her best to retreat back to her room where she can bury her head in her pillow and figure out whatever the hell is going on in her head, and in her heart.
The sidewalk is crowded with the typical after-school traffic, so she finds herself bobbing and weaving around groups and couples with dance-like ease. As she's turning a corner on the outside lane of the sidewalk, she missteps - damn her clumsiness! - and her foot slips on the curb, sending her teetering toward the street.
A gasp flies out of her mouth and closes her eyes to brace for the impact of the concrete and the possibility of a car running her down, but a hand snags her around the waist and tugs her back to safety. Her heart pounding from the rush of adrenaline, she opens her eyes as she's pulled against someone's chest and suddenly it's not just the adrenaline that's got her blood pumping when she recognizes the bell at his throat.
"Seems like I'm always in the right place at the right time."
She steps away from him and glances up to see his green eyes smiling down at her with a smug sort of air. There's no trace of apprehension or awkwardness about him, but then again, it's Chat Noir. She's not sure its possible for him to even get embarrassed.
Marinette does, though. Her cheeks light up like a stoplight and she clutches both hands over her chest. "What are you doing here?"
He pauses at the expression on her face before his grin widens. "You've been thinking about me."
She'll punch him. She would do it now if everyone in a thirty foot radius wasn't staring at them. Mostly at Chat, thankfully. "You need to work on your subtlety," she says factually, turning on her heel and walking away. Honestly, seeing his stupid face is the literally the last thing on this earth she is capable of dealing with right now.
He follows her. Of course he does. "I wanted to talk to you."
The truthful admission in his voice makes her face feel even warmer but she doesn't turn to face him as he sinks into a stride beside her. They're still attracting the attention of nearly every pedestrian on the street and Marinette quickens her steps. "That's fine, silly cat, but I'm not about to have any sort of conversation with you where all of Paris can watch us."
For the first time, he seems to notice that they have an audience. "Can't blame them for staring; I do look good today," he smirks. She catches him winking and waving at people across the street and if she were by his side as Ladybug she would have smacked him in the shoulder. "If it's privacy you're looking for, Princess, then allow me."
She yelps in surprise as he grabs her and slings her onto his back before breaking into a run. Her arms wind tightly around his throat and her knees dig into his sides as he dodges the crowd on the sidewalk, resisting the urge to scream at people to move before he can run them over. But his cat-like grace allows them to thread through the throng easily and she finds herself gasping when he launches himself at a building and begins to climb.
Ladybug isn't afraid of heights, and neither is Marinette for that matter, but being up so high without her yo-yo is unsettling and she buries her face into the back of Chat's neck as he uses an awning to bounce up high enough to find another foothold.
"You stupid cat!" she cries out, her arms taut around his neck. "You could warn me next time!"
"You wouldn't have let me do this if I had!" he calls back to her as he moves, laughter in his voice. She hears the sound of a window being opened and then he jumps again. Their landing is soft - there's carpet under his boots and she pulls her face away to glance at their surroundings once she's sure he's done moving.
"Your knight has rescued you from the masses," he says cheerfully, "you can come down now."
They're on the second floor of what sounds like a cafe, though the tables up here are empty. The clinking of forks on plates and delicate chatter carries up the staircase on the far side of the room and Marinette slowly unclenches her knees from Chat's sides. She keeps her arms wrapped around his neck until her toes touch the floor, her cheek pressed to the strong line of his shoulders. It makes her blush and she pulls away quickly.
Now that they're alone again, the air becomes charged with tension and it makes Marinette's knees tremble. She crosses her arms and leans against the corner of the window as he turns around to look at her, doing her best to look completely unaffected.
"So," she says, meeting his eyes fearlessly, "what did you want to talk to me about?"
His gaze slides over her from head to toe in a quick pass that seems to linger even though it doesn't. She feels electric. "What do you think I wanted to talk about?"
Ooh, she really is going to punch him if he keeps this up. "Chat, I don't have time for word games with you."
"What about other kinds of games?" he smirks.
Her face ignites, her breath leaves her body. "I-I-If you think we're going to be k-kissing every time you - "
"I'm kidding, Marinette!" He holds his hands up in surrender, eyes wide at the way she's clutching at her chest again, cheeks burning.
She averts her eyes, embarrassed that she's falling apart in front of him. This isn't like her! Chat Noir is her friend; a kiss shouldn't have changed anything about their relationship. It didn't last time she kissed him! Even if that had been a dire situation to bring him back from the possession that Dark Cupid had cast over him, it had still been a kiss. Why is she so weak to him now?
"Right," she says, licking her lips, staring at the chipping paint on the window sill. "What was your point then?"
He takes a step toward her slowly, as if he's trying not to scare her off. "Uh, right. Well, a friend of mine said that you liked to design clothes and stuff."
The strange direction of the conversation nearly makes her forget her confusion and her embarrassment. She peeks at him. "Yeah. I do."
Excitement explodes across Chat's face and he reaches for the zipper pocket at the front of his suit. "Good. I wanted to give you this, then." He pulls a slip of paper from the pocket and extends it toward her, practically shoving it into her hands. She gives him a quizzical look before glancing down to the slip and then her breathing stops. Again.
"This is a ticket for Gabriel Agreste's fashion show," she mouths in awe, her hand shaking a bit at the realization. A feeling like too much water pressing against a dam nearly ready to break wells up in her and she tries to push it away because there's no way this can be happening. Her head snaps up to him again. "This is for me?"
Chat's hands come up to hers and close her fingers more tightly around the ticket. He's smiling with a tenderness she's never, ever seen on him. It's softer than any expression he wore last night and the existence of it sends her heart into a panic. "You don't have to go, of course, but I thought. . .well, I guess I . . ." he trails off and she stares. Chat Noir speechless? She didn't know that existed either!
"Where did you get this?" she asks, hoping that he didn't do anything ridiculous just to get this for her. "These are expensive, you know. And nearly impossible to get a hold of." Especially since its a Gabriel Agreste show and especially because it's in Paris.
"A good friend of mine is in the show," he says.
He's closer now that he was a moment ago. She doesn't remember him moving. "Are you going too?"
"Yes."
His hands are still wrapped around hers. The entire realization of the situation comes crashing down on her. This is a ticket to a fashion show! The fashion show! She's dreamed about being able to attend an event like this ever since she discovered her affinity for making clothes and now it's going to be real and palpable. Her heart explodes with undiluted joy and she beams up at Chat, feeling herself glowing.
"Thank you so much, Chat! I've wanted to go to one for forever!"
He stares down at her as if transfixed, eyes flicking over her hair and her nose, lingering around her own eyes, before moving down to her smile. She remembers that last night, he had dropped his mask and she wonders again who he is. Does she want to know? She still feels very afraid but she's not sure if that's because the Chat with her is as goofy and self-sacrificing as the partner she knows or if it's because he's also softer and kinder than any other person she's ever met.
His green eyes are burning into her again, like before, and the weight and heat are familiar. A gaze she's felt before. "Who's your friend in the show?" she whispers, feeling suddenly as though she's on the cusp of realizing something too big to comprehend.
"No one important," he replies with a smile that's almost bitter.
She frowns, but directs the topic in a different direction. "I said thank you, kitty. Your manners are lacking - you can hardly call yourself a gentleman if you keep this up."
The bitterness of his smile turns into a smirk and he leans a little closer to her, his hands drifting from her knuckles to her wrists. "You're welcome, Princess."
"I hope you don't expect anything in return."
"Of course not, my lady. It is a gift to be in your presence after all. I need nothing more."
She snorts. "You kiss-up."
His eyes flash and he leans even closer, stealing her breath as she presses her back into the wall. How do they always end up like this? "A kiss-up, you say?" He tilts his head, his lips hovering over hers close enough that she can feel the warmth of his breath. Every inch of her body feels alive and it takes her back to the night before.
"You've been thinking about me too," she says softly, emboldened by the way he's affected by her. She can feel his weakness in the closeness of his body, like gravity. It feels good to know that she's not the only one who's losing their mind.
He makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, something like a purr, and even with the ticket still in her hand she finds herself reaching for him.
"I want to kiss you again," he confesses.
"But you won't?" she responds breathlessly, unable to feel disappointed when he's this close.
"I don't have the time to kiss you the way I want." There's something deep about his voice and it sends heat straight through her. "People are probably wondering where I am. Maybe I'll see you at the show tomorrow, Princess." His lips brush against her parted mouth softly, like a whisper, like a promise, and then he pulls away and jumps out the window.
She comes to her senses immediately, leaning out the opening to watch him as he hits the ground. "Chat!" she calls.
He glances up, grinning. "Yes, Princess?"
"Thank you again!" She waves the ticket, her face still hot, her body still trembling.
Even from this far away, she can tell that he winks and then flirtatiously blows her a kiss. She notes, as he walks away, slipping through the crowd with uncanny speed, that the set of his shoulders looks vaguely familiar.
"Tikki," she says, drawing the kwami out from where she's been hiding in Marinette's purse, still watching the pedestrians move about below, "what am I doing?"
Tikki laughs. "Chat Noir isn't the worst person in the world to fall in love with, Marinette."
No, she thinks, but he is the most complicated choice. Can they afford that? Is it safe? "I. . .I always wanted to keep our superhero lives separate from our personal lives," she says softly. It's the smart thing to do. Besides, she loves Adrien. What she feels for Chat Noir feels different. She's not sure in what way yet, and she's not so sure she's ready to find out.
"Are you going to go to the show tomorrow?" Tikki asks, pulling her out of her thoughts.
Marinette grins, glancing down at her kwami for the first time. "Yes! My whole life has been leading up to this!"
She's going purely for the show, of course. To see the new summer fashions, to watch how the industry works in close quarters, to observe and take notes and simply cry over how wonderful it all is. Maybe it'll even give her the push she needs to finish that dress she's been working on for the past three weeks now. A thrill of excitement races over her skin as she tucks the ticket away.
The possible promise of seeing Chat again at the event is just an added bonus, she thinks, refusing to dwell on the complications the appearance of Paris's cat-like superhero could cause.
She won't think about how Adrien will be there, either.
Marinette looks back out the window. "He was going to kiss me again, Tikki."
Tikki has a smile in her kind voice. "Did you want him to?"
"Yes, I did. I still do."