Notes: THIS IS THE ACTUAL END I PROMISE. Because while I should have ended this with Adrien floundering like Marinette did in ch6, there was a certain feeling of incompleteness that just didn't sit right with me. (Honestly, with how I've been playing things, this whole fic has felt like Cole Swindell's "Middle Of A Memory". "Right when I was just about to lean on in – why'd you have to go then?" I'm all for readers filling in their own blanks, but I was getting a little mean.)
Adrien Can('t) Bake
Chapter Eight: In Which Things Are Wrapped Up
Ladybug had been avoiding Chat Noir for four days, eleven hours, and forty-six minutes.
Chat Noir was painfully aware of this, as her avoidance – and really, what else could he call it by this point – seemed to stem from his gift of homemade chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate chip cookies that he had dyed red to look like little ladybugs, which he had – at the time – thought she would find endearing. Which, despite her immediate protests upon receiving them, she apparently had not as she had immediately hightailed it outta there in a desperate attempt to put as much distance between them as possible. Plagg had found no end of amusement in this, but upon seeing the distress the debacle had caused his charge he had immediately reminded him that Marinette, at least, had loved the cookies.
…except he had arrived at school the next morning to find out that, apparently, she hadn't.
Adrien would be the first to admit that his relationship with Marinette had not been the easiest. Their first meeting had been marred by Chloé's antics, and while he had apologized and thought he had amended the misunderstanding, for the longest time he had believed she still disliked him. He had eventually changed that theory to thinking maybe he just intimidated her: after all, he was the son of her career idol Gabriel Agreste, and while he considered himself harmless enough the clout that came with the Agreste name would be intimidating to anybody – especially if that somebody respected (feared) his father. So he had done everything he could think of to make himself appear more approachable, friendlier. And while he had been slightly envious of how carefree and open she seemed with her friends, he hadn't given up hope that maybe one day she would consider him among that count. His patience had seemed to be paying off, too. There were still times she would stutter and fumble around him, but on the general whole they seemed to be getting closer – especially after Nino and Alya had started dating, forcing them into more social interactions. And even before that, when they had spent an afternoon playing Mecha Strike or the day he had acted as translator for her Chinese uncle…he had thought they were making progress.
And then that stupid presentation.
And he just had to make her cookies.
And, after seeing how well the pink cookies turned out, he just had to make Ladybug cookies, too.
He found it ironic that cookies, a treat he loved and thought was universally adored, had been the cause of the destruction of his life.
Marinette had given him the third degree the entire morning of his presentation, her mood only seeming to worsen as he told the class about puns and dished out some of his favorites. He had had every intention to question her when Mademoiselle Bustier had dismissed for lunch, but before he could even turn around she had fled the room. She failed to return for evening classes, but before he could consider his opportunity at rectifying whatever slight he had committed lost Alya had shoved a stack of papers at him.
"I'm stuck with babysitting duty tonight," she had said. "Take these to Mari for me? Notes and homework. Thanks, A!"
But when Madame Cheng – Sabine, as she had insisted on being called – showed him to Marinette's room, his poor friend had still found herself unable to talk to him. He was willing to write her odd behavior off as the illness, as she had claimed she still wasn't feeling well. So maybe it hadn't been his cookies after all, and he had wished her well before making his leave.
That had been the last he had seen of her all week.
Well, he had seen her, but it wasn't like she had actually spoken to him. And it wasn't for lack of trying! He greeted her every morning, attempted to invite her to every lunch, and had even tried to coax her into joining Nino, Alya, and him at a new arcade that had opened. Every invite was spurned with some quickly muttered excuse (or outright dismissal, as by the end of the week she had taken to simply running whenever he looked her way), and he was trying his best not to be hurt by it all. Nino had insisted she was just going through something and he needed to give her time, but it was hard. It would have been easier, he thought, if Ladybug had been more responsive, but things were also bleak on the masked end of his life. While he was grateful there hadn't been any akuma attacks, she had refused to answer any of his calls (and he was slightly ashamed to admit there had been many). By the time Friday night and their second weekly patrol rolled around, all he had heard from her was a quick message – relayed by Plagg, no less! – that she wasn't feeling well and would be grateful if he could handle patrol on his own.
He was beginning to wonder if the superstitions about black cats and bad luck really did hold any merit.
By the time Saturday arrived, he was almost grateful his father had packed his schedule so full he wouldn't really have a chance to dwell (he was not moping, no matter what Plagg said!) on Ladybug's dismissal or Marinette's avoidance – until he had arrived at the park across from the school to find her sketching on a bench. He hadn't been able to help the initial excitement upon seeing her – or the nerves that immediately washed it away. He had waved at her, but she was lost in her work and failed to notice him – or at least pretended not to. He honestly couldn't be sure which by this point.
He had gone through the motions of preparing for the shoot: dressing in the clothes Jennie handed him, allowing Claudia to tease his hair and apply more makeup than any male should comfortably wear, and awaiting Vincent's spaghetti-crazed rantings as he posed for picture after picture. He was lounging on the fountain, completely lost to whatever Vincent was stressing over that time as he surreptitiously (or not so surreptitiously, Plagg would be keen to point out) watched Marinette. And when Vincent began screeching about Hazel and how irresponsible she was to fly off to Milan when she knew she had a prior engagement, he saw an opportunity.
"Hey, Vince," he had called, drawing his photographer's attention. When Vincent arched a perfectly manicured brow at him, he pointed over to the bench. "Could…I dunno, maybe Mari could help out?"
Hindsight, it probably hadn't been the best idea. Maybe he should have considered Marinette's shyness. Maybe he should have considered she would be uncomfortable in front of a camera like that. Maybe he should have remembered she had been avoiding him like the Plagg-ue all week and might not actually want to help him with anything – but, unfortunately, that had been exactly what he had been thinking about. It had been all he had been thinking about all week: how he had, with one box of cookies (ok, technically two), lost both his Princess and his Lady. He would have done just about anything for a chance to talk to either of them, even if it meant manipulating Marinette's natural kindness and willingness to help out anyone in need.
Even knowing that, that she would never turn down a friend in need (even if the friend – a term he was sure he had to use loosely – was him), he had still been amazed when she had agreed.
And it had all gone…surprisingly well. Sure, she had been nervous at first – but maybe, really, so had he. She had been stiff and awkward, all of her smiles appearing forced and never quite reaching her eyes. Vincent had been frustrated, and it wasn't until Adrien had started pulling faces at her that she finally relaxed enough to laugh and just go with it. Everything was so effortless from there, or at least it had been until Vincent had sent him towards her to get some of the couple shots. Even then she had only hesitated for a moment, but once they had been in the relative privacy of the other side of the camera and had actually been able to talk…
He wasn't above admitting he had missed her during the week. She had opened up to him over the last year, and he had grown fond of her. She was a close friend, and the sudden way she had shunned him had hurt. And then Vincent had to go and ruin it all – or, maybe…actually, maybe he had fixed it all.
Chat Noir landed on the roof across from the Dupain-Cheng's bakery with a soft thud. He sighed heavily, his head dropping as he recalled the exact moment when everything had…he wasn't sure what had happened, actually. One minute he was joking with his friend, posing for pictures while his eccentric photographer cheered around them, and the next…Vincent had told her to think of him as Chat Noir, and Marinette had started laughing. And then she was calling him Chaton – something only Ladybug called him – and thanking him for the red cookies, not the pink, and to make everything worse – better – she had kissed him! On the cheek, but it was still a kiss!
And, like the idiot he was, he had just stood there as Vincent called a wrap and she skipped out of his arms – ohmyGodhadheactuallybeenholdingLadybuglikethat?! – to speak with the photographer. He had continued to stand there, gawking after her, as Jennie took her back to the tent to change. Claudia was dragging him past her when she emerged, and he remembered forgetting how to breathe when she winked at him and said she'd see him later.
And then she was gone, and now it was later, and he…
It made sense. If Marinette was Ladybug, and his cookies had led her to figuring out he was Chat Noir, then the awkward avoidance on her end all week made perfect sense. He knew he felt like his head was imploding at least, and a good part of him wanted nothing more than to run back to his room. The larger part, though, wanted to know if he was right. If he had finally found his Lady. If…
God, could he actually be lucky enough that Ladybug would be Marinette? It was his experience that things typically didn't work out that way outside of movies – especially in his life. But if she was…
Stop stalling already and go talk to her! Plagg whined in his mind, and he sighed as he shook his head to clear it. Plagg was right. He had to know, and lingering on the edge like this wasn't bringing him any closer to the answers he needed. A final leap found him crouching outside the circular window three stories above the bakery's entrance. He quickly ducked to the side, out of the glow of the light streaming through the open window, when he heard voices coming from inside.
"…for the best," Marinette said. She sounded close to the window. "I know you said I couldn't tell anyone, but…"
"But it's Chat," a tiny, sweet-sounding voice said. He peeked around the ledge to see a small, red creature – her kwami, he knew – fly up beside Marinette. "When I told you that, Marinette, it was mainly concerning civilians. Most Ladybugs and Chat Noirs have known each other's identities – it usually makes things easier, and their partnership grows stronger."
"You always supported the decision to keep our identities secret, though," Marinette said, turning to the kwami. She flew closer to Marinette, laying a tiny hand on her cheek.
"Because you weren't ready," the red god said. "Marinette, look at how bad you reacted when you realized who he was. Yes, I wanted you both to know, but it had work out in its own time. When you were both ready."
"I guess I wasn't, huh? I still can't believe it's Adrien, but…I guess it does make sense. I feel so stupid, though! Both for not realizing it sooner and for how I've treated him all week," Marinette sighed as she took a paper off her wall. His eyes narrowed as he tried see what was on the sheet she had placed on the stack in her arms, and with a jolt he caught a glimpse of himself. He recalled seeing the posters on her wall when he had delivered her homework. He had been surprised, to say the least, but he had written it off easily enough: after all, his father was one of her fashion heroes. He had figured the posters had showcased some favorite designs. If they had also happened to showcase him, it was only because he was the public face of the Agreste line.
Recalling the kiss she had given him earlier, and what Alya had said on Tuesday, he was starting to wonder if maybe the pictures meant something more. And realizing that, seeing her take the pictures down made a lead weight drop into his stomach.
Alya had said she liked him. She had kissed his cheek and flirted with him in the park. So, naturally, he had reason to hope that – despite whatever confusion had been thrown into the mix with their secret identities – his Lady actually did like him and they could work through this. But if she was taking his pictures off her walls…
"He's looked so upset at school…I hate that I caused that," Marinette's voice snapped him out of his quickly-spiraling thoughts, and he sucked in a breath as she laid a hand on the top poster. "And because of something so ridiculous…I really need to make it up to him, Tikki."
Her kwami – Tikki – smiled encouragingly.
"Does this mean you're finally going to talk to him?" she asked, her little hands clasping together hopefully. Marinette turned to face her, allowing him to better see the confident, determined smile on her face. It was a look he had seen countless times before, he realized, both on Ladybug and Marinette.
"Yes," she said, nodding. Her smile warmed as she looked to the posters in her arms. "I think I can now. I think…you know, Nino told Alya that Adrien thought I was intimidated by him, and as ridiculous as that sounds I think he might have been right. In a way, I was. I was so overwhelmed by my crush on him – by him in general – that I couldn't really think straight around him for the longest time. I just…he was so perfect, you know? And I just knew that, compared to how great he was, plain old Marinette couldn't hold up. Who was I kidding, thinking he could ever like someone like me?"
He wanted to burst through the window, grab her shoulders, and shake her as he screamed how wrong she was. How could she think so little of herself? Didn't she understand how amazing she was? Hadn't he told her countless times already, both with and without the mask?
"And now?" Tikki asked, looking down at the posters as well. Marinette bit her lip, her smile turning wry.
"Now…knowing he's Chat, that he's the same friend I've confided in, the same friend I trust with my life…" she snorted lightly, glancing at Tikki with a grin. "…the same friend that I've tossed halfway across Paris into the Seine and used as a weapon on multiple occasions…"
He balked at that, but the two inside shared a giggle at the countless memories her words must have brought to the surface.
"It brought him back down to my level, in a way. Before, he was the perfect Adrien Agreste, who I was madly in love with but was too intimidated by to actually string a coherent thought together around," Marinette quipped, and his breath hitched as his suspicions were confirmed: she was in love with him. Marinette – Ladybug! – was in love with him! "Now, he's just…he's Chat. He's my perfect partner that I wouldn't want to be anyone else."
"And you're still madly in love with?" Tikki giggled, and Marinette laughed as she tapped a finger against the kwami's nose. Chat felt his breath hitch as he waited for her answer, because that was the question, wasn't it? It was one thing to know she had had a crush on him, that she had been madly in love with him. But if she had freaked out that badly over finding out who he was…if she was taking the pictures down…
"Yes, who I still happen to be madly in love with," she laughed, and he sighed gratefully as the weight that had been weighing him down seemed to lift. She still liked him – loved him, by her own admission. She took another poster off her wall, smiling as she looked at the picture. "I told you before, Tikki: if not for Adrien, I would have given Chat a chance a long time ago. I honestly have started to care for him, but I was always so loyal to Adrien I couldn't imagine betraying my feelings by liking Chat. Go figure they end up being the same guy."
He smiled sardonically, leaning back against the roof. Figures, indeed.
"I'm still confused, though!" Tikki said, looking at a picture she had grabbed from higher on the wall. "If you still like him, and you're happy about all this…why are you taking his pictures down?"
Later, when he looked back on that night, he would probably come to regret choosing that moment – that way – to make his presence known. Teasing, even good-naturedly, was probably not the best option, and it was maybe just a little mean, but comedy was his default defense mechanism and he couldn't stay silent any longer. He had to talk to her, and she had just given him the perfect opening, right? So taking a breath, he rolled away from the roof and leaned into the window, propping his elbows on the sill. He rested his chin on his palm, tilting his head to the side in the purr-fect picture of innocent curiosity.
"Yeah, Purr-incess," he said, and she squeaked as she spun around, pressing the collected posters close to her chest as she gawked at him with wide eyes. Well, squeaked was a little generous. The shriek was just a few notches below an outright scream. "Why are you taking my pictures down, if you're madly in love with me?"
Saying it out loud…reiterating it, confirming it…he smiled for a living, but he honestly thought his face was going to break if he kept it up. His cheeks were certainly starting to hurt enough. His Lady was Marinette, and she was in love with him. Madly so, by her own words.
"O-oh my gosh, you peeping tomcat!" she screeched, dropping the posters as her hands balled into fists. He blinked, eyes widening in surprise at her reaction. He had thought she'd be embarrassed, surprised even – not…angry. She seemed angry. He leaned back slightly, gulping as she stalked towards him. He didn't miss the way her foot solidly landed on one of his faces on the floor. Meow-ch. "How long have you been there?!"
"Long enough to confirm that you are, in fact, Ladybug and that you are, as you said, madly in love with me," he answered quickly, leaning back and holding up a hand in the universal signal for hey, chill. Her hands came down on the windowsill, and she leaned out the window towards him. His grip on the sill tightened as he leaned back, his cat-like ears flattening against his head.
"Eavesdropping is rude, Chaton," she said sternly. He barely had time to process her words before she was smirking at him, and the next thing he knew she had placed a kiss against the tip of his nose. He gawked at her as she moved away, waving him inside before she started picking up the posters. "Well? Aren't you coming in? I figure we should probably talk."
He was warier as he slowly climbed into the room. He lingered by the window, crouched on all fours with his ears still flat and his tail swishing agitatedly behind him, until she shot him a look. He scurried over to her and began helping with the posters. He hadn't really noticed how many of them there were the other day. The sheer volume was impressive – or creepy. He was choosing to find it endearing.
"You know, last week I would have been mortified if you had seen these," she said, laughing slightly as he handed her the rest of the posters. She placed them on her desk and began to fold them before putting them in a box. His eyebrows raised as he walked over to her. Tikki waved at him from the top her monitor, where she was munching on one of the red cookies.
"Hello, Chat," the kwami said. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"You eat cookies?" he asked, blinking in surprise. When she nodded, he sighed. He glanced at Marinette for a moment before releasing his transformation, and when the glow cleared he shot a look at Plagg. He missed the bewildered look Marinette gave him, as if she had known he was Chat but still needed a moment to adjust after actually seeing it. "Why can't you eat cookies? I would love to smell like cookies instead of stinky cheese."
"Tikki's too sweet for her own good," Plagg quipped before tackling the other kwami. She laughed as she dropped her cookie, but she didn't seem to mind as she returned Plagg's hug. "Tikki!"
"You just saw me this afternoon, Plagg!" Tikki laughed, but Plagg only winked at her as his tail swished.
"Yeah, but these two morons finally figured it out, so I can see you without sneaking now," he said.
"Wait – sneaking?" Marinette asked, her hands going to her hips as she glared at the black cat god. Plagg grinned at her. "You mean you've known this whole time?"
"Well, duh," Plagg sneered. "We did choose you dummies, after all."
"I told you, Marinette: it was best if you learned the truth on your own," Tikki said. She at least looked more remorseful than Plagg.
"Plus, it was fun watching you suffer," Plagg added with a grin, and Adrien groaned as he slapped a hand against his forehead.
"I'm so sorry about him," he sighed, but to his amazement Marinette only giggled. He watched, astounded, as she reached out and scratched Plagg between the ears. The little cat seemed to love it.
"Tikki warned me," she said. She stood and faced him, a smile on her face. "So."
"So," he echoed, and he hoped his smile wasn't as goofy as he feared it was. It certainly felt like it was just the goofy side of mushy. He reached out and caught her fingers in his own, and he marveled at how they felt. It occurred to him that, for all the times he'd held her hand before behind the masks, he hadn't really done so as Adrien. It was nice to not have their gloves in the way. "You're Ladybug."
"And you're Chat Noir," she said. He nodded, and she grinned at him. "Saving me from terrifying monsters. Rawr!"
He snorted, but she was laughing again – and he found he really liked her laugh. He had thought so before, but suddenly it was so much better. Or maybe that was the way she had launched herself at him, or how her arms were now wrapped around his neck and her face was nestled against him as she hugged him. Yeah, it was definitely the hug.
"I'm sorry for freaking out all week," she mumbled against his chest, and all he could do was sigh as he wrapped his arms around her back and held her closer. He liked this. He could get used to it, he thought. "But, for what it's worth…I'm really glad it's you."
"Yeah?" he asked, his voice barely audible to his own ears. She hummed and squeezed him tight.
"Yeah," she said. She pulled back and smiled at him, a hand coming up to rest on his cheek. "We should talk. And it's probably going to be a long one, so…"
That mischievous grin was back, and Adrien was struck by the feeling that the girl in his arms was perfect. He also had the sinking feeling that he was going to have his work cut out for him, but he didn't mind. She was Ladybug, and Marinette was every bit as bold and spunky as her masked alter-ego – he had seen it with everyone but him, and now it seemed she was finally comfortable enough around him to let him see it, as well. The thought was only confirmed as she nodded towards her door and asked, "…I'm thinking snacks would be good. What are your thoughts on cookies?"
Omake/Deleted Scene: The Posters
Much later, after too many cookies and three mugs of hot chocolate each, they were curled up on Marinette's chaise binging some anime on YouTube. They had discussed the important things, but they both figured there would be time later for talking. In that moment, they just wanted to relax and bask in the fact that their masked partner was exactly who they had hoped it'd be. They had lapsed into a comfortable silence when a thought occurred to Adrien.
"Hey, Mari," he whispered, nudging her a little. She looked up from her phone, where he saw she was ignoring another frantic text from Alya. "You never did answer…why did you take the posters down?"
"Oh," she said, as if it should be obvious. She dug around in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive. "I asked Vincent for copies from the shoot. I figured…well, I'd hoped you'd start coming around more, and I thought it might be weird to see all those posters of you."
"Well, maybe," he agreed, nodding. He smirked at the thumb drive, amazed at how quickly Vincent had gotten the photos to her.
"Plus…I was kinda hoping I'd have new pictures, like these," she said, waving the thumb drive again. His smile grew, pleased at her words and the light blush that was dusting her cheeks. "I mean…real pictures. Of us. Not in a magazine."
"I think that can be arranged," he grinned, pulling her close. She laughed and squirmed, but his eyes widened as he nudged her again, bringing her attention back the episode they'd been watching. "Oh, oh – shhhh! I love this part!"
