**A/N: OMG, I got so much love for this last week! Thank you all! I love you! 3


CHAPTER 2: ITCH

"Will you stop fidgeting? You're making me tired just watching you." Plagg sprawled out along the back of the white sofa in my bedroom. He theatrically yawned to accentuate his point.

"What are you talking about?" I spun in my computer chair a couple of rotations.

"That," he grumbled, "You haven't sat still for more than ten minutes since dinner."

"So I have energy to burn. I'm fourteen, what would you expect?" I put my feet up on my desk and pushed hard to jet myself over to my sofa. I then spun around and scooted back to my desk before pushing off again.

"This is more energy than I've ever seen you have. It's none of my business, but it is exhausting just watching you flit all over the place."

"Don't be so dramatic." I scooted back to my desk and began drumming against the glass top with my fingers. I got a good rhythm going and grabbed some pencils to really get into the beat. I grooved out for nearly three minutes before I flung the pencils over my shoulders, stood up, drummed my thighs a bit, and wandered over to my arcade game cabinets.

"Seriously? Since dinner you have checked the Ladyblog six different times for updates, pined for Ladybug at least twice, shot hoops for about ten minutes, started up an anime series, but shut it off before the first episode was even done, started up a different series, only to do the same thing, started up Ultimate Mecha Strike III, and then turned it off again before you even selected a character, checked your profile online, checked your phone, took a shower, flipped through the news, did whatever it was you were doing in your chair, drummed on your desk, and now you're starting up another video game."

I had already turned the game back off even though I had beaten the first level. My fingers twitched against the controller buttons.

"Okay, so I might be a bit restless. Nothing seems to be keeping my attention tonight."

"Really?" Plagg drew out the word in mock shock. "Look, why don't you just become Chat Noir and go on patrol or something? I know you want to run into Ladybug again."

"No!" I caught how urgent I sounded and cleared my throat. "I mean, we already beat an akuma today. There won't be another one until at least tomorrow, unless Hawk Moth's powers started allowing him to create two in one day. Ladybug didn't say anything about a patrol. She won't be out. There's no need for Chat Noir." I stared out my windows, played with my ring, and wished I was wrong.

"Well, you need to do something to clear your head. You're driving me crazy with your pacing. What about visiting Marinette? That seemed to calm you down last night."

"No! No, that was wrong. I didn't mean to spy on her, and I shouldn't have stayed around as long as I did. No. I'm not going to purposely go over there." I stormed back over to my desk and plopped into my chair.

"I didn't say to spy on her. Call her, and see if she wants to hang out. No spying needed."

I blushed that my mind instantly went to spying on her again instead of simply visiting a friend.

"First of all, Plagg, it's late, I'm not going to leave the house as Adrien at ten o'clock on a school night. My father would never allow that. Second, I'm grounded, remember? I couldn't go anywhere as Adrien anyway, especially not to go socialize. Third, I don't have her number. Finally, it wouldn't really matter even if she would accept guests this late. Marinette's cool and all, but she gets so nervous around me. Just hanging out isn't going to be the same as last night. She isn't going to be as goofy, care-free, or spontaneous."

"Fine, then just show up as Chat Noir, but knock on her window or something and ask to spend time with her."

Would that work? It seemed a good happy medium. She was pretty calm-headed when we worked together to try to take down the Evillustrator, and again when I saved her from Gamer. Maybe we could finally hang out as friends if I were Chat Noir.

Then again, those times were cases where she was confronted by a supervillain. Maybe she's just calm in times of crisis, because she seemed pretty star-struck when I first introduced myself as Chat Noir to her. If she got flustered around Adrien, she probably would be equally, if not more so, around a superhero.

"Nah," I eventually told Plagg as I shook my head. "I wouldn't want to keep her up just because I can't seem to get settled."

Plagg shrugged and drifted over to my bed. "Eh, I tried. If you're going to stay in tonight I'm just going to sleep."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea, Plagg. I should just go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow I'll be over these jitters."

"What has you so wound up anyway? Are you that anxious about how your reshoot went this morning?"

I had woken up surprisingly at peace that morning. Every trouble that weighed me down the night before had washed off in my sleep. I was chipper, and Vincent commented on how I had never been more brilliant at a shoot before. I was positive my father would be happy with the results this time.

If I wasn't nervous about my shoot, then what was making me so unsettled? I did well in school, I was helpful to Ladybug against the akuma earlier, and my father even had dinner with me that night. Granted, it was only a brief ten-minute meal before he jetted back to work, but it was something. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why such a good day had me craving to be outside as bad as the night before.

I shrugged at Plagg and walked around my room, gathering up the DVDs and video games to put away.

I didn't think much of it while I was cleaning up, but when I put Ultimate Mecha Strike III back on the shelf my chest clenched for a heartbeat. I hadn't played it since I practiced for the tournament with Marinette a few months before. I realized I was wondering what she had done after school that day.

Was I fidgety because of Marinette?

Yeah. As much as I hated myself for it, the only thing I actually wanted to do that evening was spy on her again as Chat Noir. I felt sleazy admitting it to myself, but there was a thrill in catching a side of her that she didn't let others see, or at least a side of her that she didn't let me see. Nothing else held my attention because nothing else was as exciting or entertaining.

As I walked back down the spiral steps to the main floor of my bedroom I realized that the burning tug at my chest felt familiar to me. I knew the sensation of that twitching throughout my body. It was an itch, a mental itch, that I just couldn't scratch.

I would get that itch whenever I was engrossed in a TV series and needed to binge-watch the rest of the season, even though I knew I had wasted enough time on the sofa already. It was there when I was about half way through a video game and I needed to know what the next level would bring. I couldn't settle if I was only a few chapters from the end of a book, even if it was already past midnight.

Stories. That's what would give me those mental itches: that sensation of wonder and restlessness until I knew what happened next. Just like everything else that gave me that mental itch, I was caught up in Marinette's story. She had such an intriguing tale, and I burned to know more of it. I couldn't turn my brain off until I did.

I needed to learn how to turn it off, though, because I wasn't going to spy on her. I had promised myself the night before that I was never going to do that again. It was a one-time thing. It was bad enough I invaded her privacy even that much. I had felt so guilty about it that I couldn't look her in the eye at school.

And yet, Plagg wanted me to try to calm myself by spending time with her. I softly chuckled at the thought.

My room clean again, I changed into pajamas and snuggled into my king-sized bed. I watched Plagg drool onto one of my pillows before I closed my eyes and chanted to myself. Forget about Marinette; you're not spying again. Forget about Marinette; you're not spying again. Forget about Marinette; you're not spying again.

Soon I lost track of how many times I mentally chanted my mantra in an attempt to lull myself to sleep. My sheets felt too tight, so I tossed a little to loosen them up. Forget about Marinette; you're not spying again. I was too hot, so I kicked a foot out from under my covers and pushed my heavier blanket to Plagg's side of the bed. Forget about Marinette; you're not spying again. I opened my eyes and stared at the blank white ceiling that made up the second floor of my bedroom. Forget about Marinette; you're not spying again. My muscles twitched and ached like invisible bugs were crawling all over my skin.

Huffing a low growl, I tossed around some more. Onto my stomach. Back to my right side. Bounce around until I was on my left side. My Egyptian cotton sheets felt like fine sandpaper. I looked over at my desk beside me to see what time it was.

Nearly midnight. I had been tossing, turning, and trying to shut off my brain for close to two hours. Giving up, I tossed the covers off me and sat up. As I scanned my room for something that could distract me I spotted my jeans draped across the back of my computer chair. Poking out of the pocket was a thick, pale pink bead attached to a red string.

I walked over to the pocket and pulled the bracelet out. It was too small for me to actually wear. It looked like it was designed by a seven-year-old: mismatched beads lining the length of yarn, and a large loop at the end of it to thread the loose end through as a fastener. I had kept the good luck charm on me every day since Marinette gave it to me during our gaming training session.

I still wasn't sure if Marinette had been messing with me when she told me that the bracelet was what made her so good at the game. Considering her and Max ended up winning the tournament, I assumed it was some sort of attempt at a Placebo Effect to raise my confidence while playing. Still, it was sweet of her to offer it to me, and it did seem to bring me a little bit of luck. As I ran my fingers over the beads I was again grateful that I forgot it was in my pocket during the tournament.

I actually didn't realize I still had it on me until the next day, and I didn't have a chance to give the charm back to Marinette. After nearly a week of failing to return the bracelet, I began to feel weird about how long I had it. Marinette never asked for it back, though. Maybe she really did believe that she was good because of the bracelet, and, after winning the tournament without it, she realized she didn't need it anymore. Maybe she just forgot I was the one that had it. Or, maybe she did mean for the charm to be a gift instead of just a loan. Whatever her reason was for not asking for it back, I had decided to keep it, and was glad I did.

The mental itch subsided as I held the charm, feeling the plastic beads against my palm. Picturing how sweet and humble Marinette was when she gave me the bracelet calmed me. My muscles stopped twitching. Pinching the loop of the yarn between two fingers, I drew the length of the string up in front of my eyes so I could inspect each bead. Focusing on each one she had threaded onto the yarn helped silence my mind. I climbed back into bed and stretched the bracelet out for me to stare at while I tried one more time to sleep.

It almost worked. I was calm. My mind wasn't running nonstop. My bed felt comfortable. Then a random switch in my brain went off. I couldn't stifle my impulses anymore. I needed to check in on Marinette. I knew I just needed to peek in through her skylight, see that she was sleeping and safe, and then I would know that I wasn't missing anything. I'd be able to sleep.

"Plagg." I hated myself as my kwami stirred in his sleep, muttering a soft whaa? "Claws out!"

Plagg instantly woke up as he was sucked into my ring. He barely had a chance to complain before he was absorbed into the metal. I quickly went through my routine of transforming before leaping out of my bedroom window.

"Quick peek to shut my mind up and then it's back home. Simple." I shook my head at how pathetic I was. "She'll just be asleep. Why am I being a creeper?" I stared off to my right, knowing full well that I should go in any direction but that one. My legs decided to move of their own accord.

I felt terrible for prying into her personal life like that. It wasn't right. As a famous model, I knew full well how intrusive it was to have people always watching; never a private moment to yourself. Yet, there I was, doing the same thing to Marinette. Worse yet, I was nearly caught the night before. Thankfully, I was quiet enough that she eventually shrugged the sound off, and then just hung out on her balcony for a little bit before going to bed.

I couldn't chance her catching me watching her like that; invading her privacy like that. What if she told Alya that Chat Noir was spying on her? What if Alya wrote about it on the Ladyblog? What if Ladybug found out? No, I knew I shouldn't take the chance. I knew I should let it be. I knew it should have been a regrettable one-time thing, but watching Marinette was an impulse I couldn't squelch. I had found my way of learning more about her without her bashfulness getting in the way. I couldn't give that up.

So, for the second night in a row, I snuck over to her house as Chat Noir.

I landed softly on her rooftop balcony and knew this was my last chance to stop myself. You're a superhero, Adrien! I scolded myself, Act like a superhero.

I was too close though. The window was right there. I just needed to check real quick; just a second, really. Make sure she's safe and asleep, that's all. I wasn't going to watch her sleep or anything.

My heart raced as if protesting my invasive urge, but my muscles twitched more than they had all night. This was a need now. I crawled over to the skylight.

She wasn't there.

I closed my eyes, and I mentally called for Plagg to put on my night vision. When I opened my eyes again everything had a green tint to it, but I could see every detail. I did another quick check through Marinette's window, assuming I just couldn't see her in the dark before.

Her sheets were disheveled, tossed to the side and towards the foot of the bed. Her pillows were askew and still had wrinkles and indents from her sleeping on them. Marinette had at least gone to bed that night, but she wasn't in it now.

Panicked, my heart wedged itself into my throat. Was it past midnight? Could Hawk Moth send out another akuma already? Did something happen to Marinette?

I was about to lift her window in order to jump into her room and look for clues when a soft melody reached my ears. I ran over to the eastern side of her balcony - the one facing our school - and slid down the roof until I stood just above the gutters lining the top of the third floor. Pressed against the building, the melody was a bit clearer.

Once again she was listening to Jagged Stone, but it was his unplugged ballad to Ladybug. His voice wasn't as gruff as he softly sang to the piano accompaniment. Even though I enjoyed the rocker version of the song, my favorite was still that unplugged version. The one he played for the very first time at my first ever live concert. Jagged had only written the song a few hours before, after Ladybug saved his life from an akumatized supervillain. He only had the time to write the melody for the piano. Still, it was raw, sweet, and powerful. Just like Théo, Jagged had found a way to capture my lady within his art.

As I was brought back to that concert, and thoughts of Ladybug, I forgot for a moment that it was really late, and Marinette wasn't in bed. I snapped back to the present as the song looped through a second playthrough. I slid under Marinette's window and slowly stretched up to steal a glance inside to check on her.

I nearly fell off the side of the apartment as I was blinded. It was like a flash of the sun when you're not expecting it. That's when I remembered I had my night vision on. Blinking it back off, I let my eyes rest a second to get re-acclimated to the dark before trying again to look in on Marinette.

Without my night vision activated, I couldn't see much in her darkened bedroom. However, I could see her slouched over at her desk just off to my right. Her desk lamp – which was blinding with night vision on - was aimed at her like a spotlight. No, not her, her sketchpad.

She looked like she was about to pass out. She listed to the side, and barely held herself up with her left arm braced on the desk. Her right hand moved slowly but purposely across the page of her sketchbook.

"Don't worry, I'm almost done," she yawned.

I jumped from the window and pressed my back firmly against the building. Had she somehow caught me? I didn't even see her eyes lift from her book. Did she hear me?

"I just need to get this out of my head before I forget. I'll go straight to bed once I'm done, I swear."

Her words were too muffled to be directed towards me. I ventured another look. Her eyes never once moved from her artwork. In fact, I was surprised she saw even that much considering how heavy her eyelids were. Was she maybe talking to herself? Words to keep her focused and awake?

My muscles tensed as I fought a second impulse that night: one to enter her room and force her to go to bed. She looked so weary and drained, but she was also determined to finish whatever it was she was working on.

Her body sank lower and lower as her left arm drooped. Her head followed so it was barely hovering over her draped arm. However, as much as the rest of her body wilted in exhaustion, her right hand still drew steady lines curved in elegant moves.

Marinette's concentration was remarkable. It was obvious that she desperately wanted to be asleep, but she was determined to not lose whatever design was in her head. However, she also didn't rush her work in an attempt to just dump the design and go back to sleep. She took such pride in her designs that she poured as much effort into it as she could afford. Done once. Done right. My father would have been proud.

I don't think I have ever been as passionate for anything as I saw Marinette be over fashion. She had a drive that kept her awake when her body yearned for sleep, and a love that kept her hand steady while the rest of her body drooped over her desk. I had a new admiration for Marinette and the determination she had to accomplish what she set out to do without any shortcuts.

"Last touches." For the first time, Marinette's eyes lifted from her sketchbook, but they drifted farther from me, looking to the left of her computer monitor as she talked. Did she have a reference picture over there that she was checking?

A minute or two later, she pushed her chair back and rubbed her face with her palms in an attempt to wake up enough to at least climb into her bed. She clicked her music off before also switching her desk lamp off; flooding the room in the already encroaching darkness.

I huddled below the window until I heard the soft creak of her sliding back into bed. The show was over. I had gotten in my fix of Marinette's secret life, and I could go home now. Go to bed myself. Something held me against those shingles though.

The drawing. The design that Marinette was so desperate to not lose. I needed to know what had kept her up with the same mental itch I suffered. I blinked my night vision back on and stretched to try to see the sketchpad she had kept open in her haste to return to sleep.

I couldn't see the colors she had used while I had my night vision on, but I instantly knew why she had Jagged Stone's ballad to Ladybug on loop. The drawing was of a flowing, sleeveless sundress. Even without seeing the color, I knew the top half was black with a tiny, circular, golden bell in the middle of the u-neckline. A zipper line traced straight down from the neckline to the navel, and on either side of the zipper, just above the waist line, was an angled pocket sealed shut with another zipper. The black of the bodice curved in an asymmetrical arch, stopping just above the left hip, and coming to a point just below the right hip. The knee-length skirt had large black spots, and I would bet that the rest was red. It looked like she wanted the dress to be made out of stretch lycra and hologram fabrics, giving it a similar appearance as Miraculous super-suits.

She had designed a dress that not only combined the style of my suit with Ladybug's, but tied them together in a stylized yin-yang: two halves creating a whole. The two looks flowed perfectly together; proving how well Ladybug and I fit as partners. My body chilled, but my heart burned like a welcoming fire at the mere thought of Ladybug and I working as well together as Marinette's dress. That we could be just as intertwined. That we were two halves of yin-yang, balancing each other out.

I knew that Father needed to see that drawing somehow. I needed that dress to become real. I wanted to see girls spinning around in Marinette's design, giving her the praise and acknowledgement she deserved for the effort she put into that drawing. If Father's reaction to Marinette's derby hat was any indication, he'd love the dress. He might even gladly take Marinette under his wing as his fashion protégé.

I just didn't know how to have Father see the design. Adrien didn't see it; shouldn't know about it. Even Chat Noir didn't see it, officially. Marinette was incredibly shy about her designs, even when she had no reason to be. So the only time I actually saw them was when Alya was flipping through Marinette's book. It was unlikely Marinette would simply show off her latest designs to me unprompted, and I couldn't very well ask about that particular one without raising suspicion.

I needed to figure it out, though. It was the least I could do for spying two nights in a row.

The worst part was that she proved to me yet again that she was more interesting than she let on. Even late into the night, she had something to show me, though she didn't realize it. There was no way I was going to shut off my brain now. I was hooked. Figuring out Marinette via these night prowls was officially an addiction, and I had no clue how to quit.


**A/N: Man, I love that dress Marinette designed. I'm a terrible artist though, so I have no clue how well it would work in the real world. I hope as awesome as Adrien thinks. Also, the poor baby. He tried to be good. I know a lot of you are going to give Adrien some slack simply because you want some MariChat goodness. I know some of you will give him slack simply because it's only fair after all the creeping on Adrien Marinette has done. Even so, I really wanted to show that this is a struggle for him. That he hates even himself for doing this. That even he thinks he's a creeper. I want it to feel justified. I want a slow decent into this Sin Bin.

I hope I did that as well as I wanted. I hope this feels in-character for our dear Cinnamon Bun.

Also, in regards to the bracelet, I'm taking facts from the second season to make this feel more "real", but I'm not necessarily writing something "season two compliant." Therefore, this story doesn't exactly neatly fit anywhere within the second season episodes, but it IS after the first season ones.

Finally, I would like to again thank everyone for all the love I got this past week for this story. I'm so glad you love it as much as I do! Does every author's heart good to know their baby is just as adored by others. I hope my writing can keep you just as excited for each weekly update. I want to do you proud and make sure this journey we're on is worth your time.

So, please, always feel free to Con/Crit so I can make sure to get this story as good as it can be. On that note, I would like to address a guest comment on the first chapter. While it is VERY rare to see, and is largely NOT recognized as a word (it sort of fizzled out in the 50s), "thrusted" does indeed exist as a past tense of "thrust." However, now that I know that most consider it a grammatical error, I did go back and changed all of my "thrusted" to simply "thrust." Thank you for your critique.

Until next Friday!