note: Prompt was"cookies".

Afterwards, it's both surprisingly easy and just as hard as she'd imagined it would be.

Adrien and Chat slot neatly into one, because all along she'd never been pulled in two different directions by two different boys. The suits are magic, but as Chat—Adrien—had said, a mask is just a mask.

It's the little things that change in the biggest of ways.

—

—

For example:

When they're doing something together as a group, sometimes Marinette will catch the strangest look on Adrien's face and realize it's because he's trying to hold back a pun.

When it's a really good one Marinette, I swear, he'll pull her aside as everyone's leaving and proudly present it to her like the metaphorical dead bird on her pillow.

Marinette is exasperated to find that even when Chat Noir's puns are coming out of Adrien Agreste's beautiful mouth, their quality does not improve.

(But she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy seeing Chat's face light up without a mask in the way. Marinette will gladly endure all the bad puns in the world if it means that Adrien will get to keep having a reason to laugh so hard that he cries.)

—

—

True, Marinette had been reconciling Adrien and Chat in her head and her dreams for over a week now, but being confronted with Adrien's innate kindness and Chat's enthusiastic playfulness in one intense, undivided package proves to be a lethal combination.

Adrien doesn't try to separate his two halves when he's around her anymore, and the thrill that buzzes in her bones whenever they exchange secret, knowing glances or whenever she glimpses Adrien doing something that's pure Chat Noir wars with the guilt heavy in her stomach.

I'm Ladybug.

Barely two and a half words, and yet the weight of them pulls Marinette down, down, down.

It has only ever been her own secrets in the way.

—

—

A small package of cookies drops into her lap from above.

Marinette doesn't even blink, eyes trained on her sketchbook. There's no helping the familiar smile that curves her lips though.

"Chat Noir."

Chat drops down next to the lounger Marinette's laying on with a soft thump. "It's im-paw-ssible to surprise you, Princess."

She rolls her eyes, but when Marinette finally lays her sketchbook aside, the small smile has unfurled into a full-blown grin.

"You always cast a shadow, chaton."

"Awww, you're too smart for this plain old cat."

Their words keep their teasing lilt, but the earnest happiness written in every line of Chat's face mirrors Marinette's own.

"Hello," Chat finally says.

"Hello," Marinette returns.

A beat of silence, and then Chat points at the small bag still sitting in her lap, "Um, I got you cookies."

Marinette looks down, and her eyes widen when she recognizes the distinctive orange box inside.

"Adrien, these are from a Pierre Hermé boutique...They must have cost a fortune," she raises an eyebrow. "You know I live on top of a patisserie, right?"

Chat shrugs and settles at the foot of the lounger, his gaze landing anywhere but on Marinette herself. Pink dusts the skin at the edge of his mask, and Marinette realizes that this is the first time that she's ever called Chat Adrien while he's still in the suit. Immediately, she feels the heat of an answering blush on her own cheeks.

"You're always bringing us stuff, Mari. I thought it'd be nice if someone else did the same thing for you for once."

Chat still isn't looking at her, but this is said in such a matter-of-fact tone that he might as well have been commenting on the weather.

Except that the weather wouldn't have made Marinette feel as if her heart has jumped from her chest to lodge itself firmly in her throat.

But Chat isn't done: "I, uh, I wanted to make them myself but they got awfully burned. Our chef chased me out of the kitchen."

Ah, Marinette thinks, goodbye heart. Goodbye soul.

"So I tried to get you the next best thing," Chat finally seems to have gathered his courage, and the sheepish expression on his face when he turns to face Marinette threatens to break whatever's left of her resolve. "It's probably for the best, I don't think mine would have tasted very good either way."

"But why?" The question leaves her mouth before she can stop herself, and Marinette immediately backtracks, "Not that I'm not grateful! I just...I was just w-wondering what the occasion was…"

Chat gets up and stretches, surveying the setting sun laid out before him. The light turns the stark darkness of his suit red and gold and warm, and his smile is soft but no less potent when he turns to face her again, "Someone should always do nice things for you, Marinette."

—

—

Marinette can't seem to shake her shock even long after Chat murmurs an apology about needing to set out for patrol and leaves.

She wants to cry: here are the beginnings of the bond she's always wanted with Adrien, yet Marinette knows that now more than ever she has to tell Chat the only truth that can make him hate her.

I'm Ladybug.

Barely two and a half words. Just enough to break a heart.