A/N: Not dead ~
Okay, so—the results of the survey! Honestly, idk the exact numbers—I just wanted to work through some ideas, and group brainstorming seemed like the best way. One thing I can tell you, though: I will not be choosing secret option C (combining suit and dress), because even after research I have no idea how I'd even manage that. (I basically wore cargo shorts for the first ten years of my life, okay. Fashion is not my forte.)
That being said, I… kind of did pick both, since the option I'm not using here is going in the epilogue later. I wasn't planning to have an epilogue, but here we are.
Also: I think took some liberties with the layout of Adrien's room later on. I did have a reference picture pulled up, but… eh, it's probably fine.
Lastly, I have an account on AO3 now, so I'll probably start posting the chapter over there as well! (Sans author's notes because these are getting seriously out of hand.) So if you see this story on that site… fear not. It is I.
And now, the chapter.
So far, operation Get To Know Marinette had been more successful than Adrien had ever thought possible. Not that it was over. But for now, he decided, it had to take second place to a new mission: operation Don't Act Weird around Marinette Even Though You Probably Like Her and She Maybe Likes You Too but It Might Just Be Your Face—And No Pressure, but the Only Girl Who Has Never Seen Your Face is Ladybug and She Is Not a Huge Fan of You Which Implies Some Pretty Questionable Things About Your Personality.
Operation DAWAMETYPLHASMLYTBIMJBYF—ANPBTOGWHNSYFILASINAHFOYWISPQTAYP for short.
He'd come up with the name and plan when Marinette had marched up to him in the hallway between classes the day after she and Cat had made up, with a determined set to her chin and raccoon circles under her eyes.
Well, actually, his first thought had been to turn tail and run.
Second thought? I should use that next battle—turn tail. When I've actually got a tail. It'll be great.
The reshuffling of priorities came third, riding in swiftly on a wave of nervous energy.
It didn't make sense. Last night he'd decided he wouldn't worry anymore. Not about the twisted, unrequited love triangle—rectangle? Whatever, some shape—that his partner, his friend, and both of his identities were tangled in. Not about having possibly-maybe-feelings for a girl other than Ladybug, and how it felt like cheating and flying and falling all at once. And especially not about whether Marinette liked him as a person or as the perfect, lifeless mannequin he had to play most days.
He'd conveniently forgotten that deciding not to worry was kind of like deciding it wouldn't rain tomorrow, despite all forecasts pointing to showers. And now Marinette surged toward him like an oncoming storm.
She stopped in front of him with her hands fluttering and fidgeting like they had a life all their own—adjusting her purse, straightening her shirt, twisting around each other then flying apart to clench, unclench, and repeat at her sides. After a moment, she slid her feet apart in what was almost a fighter's stance and met his eyes squarely.
Her hair was down—just like last night.
The thought brought a wave of memories crashing across his brain: Marinette in dressed in fuzzy pjs. Marinette with her eyes closed, resting her head on his shoulder as she dozed. Marinette with her eyes alight, chewing on her lower lip as she sketched a design. Marinette, avoiding his eyes as she held out a black and green blanket, face dusted with pink.
All of which was making it hard to focus on Marinette, standing in front of him right now—or even meet her eyes for too long. He was sure she'd be able to see his thoughts written all over his face.
"Adrien." He jumped a bit. "Hi."
"Hey," he returned.
Marinette nodded, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and he felt himself start to sweat. Was he acting normal? Was this normal enough? Why hadn't he come up with a better plan than acting normal—something that was actually possible?
No, he knew why: Plagg wouldn't cooperate when he'd tried to brainstorm plans last night, and he hadn't been able to come up with anything else on his own. Ladybug would have a plan. Marinette would probably have one, too. But he was the catlike reflexes and clawing-stuff guy, not the planning guy, and he couldn't exactly ask the girls he was crushing on how to handle it.
This was fine. He was handling this.
Meanwhile, Marinette had psyched herself up enough to speak again. "So," she began. "I… wanted to ask you a favor. And you can totally say no if you want—like, it's not that big a deal, and I know it's out of the blue and weird and I'd understand, but—do you know where I can get five yards of high quality gray wool on short notice?"
It took him a second too long to respond. "Yeah!" he said quickly. "I mean, yeah, I know a guy. I'd love to help."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Of course."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"… really?"
"Really," he confirmed. "This is about Chloe's party, right? The competition thing?"
Marinette sighed. "Yeah. The competition. I need to get started on my entry," she muttered, pushing a hand through her hair. "Because of course it had to be a whole big competition with judges and audiences and hate-vites."
"Well, escalating is kind of Chloe's thing."
Marinette jumped—like she hadn't realized he could hear her.
"It's okay," he added. "Chloe… isn't the nicest person sometimes. I think she has her reasons." He paused. "I mean, I don't think they're good reasons, and they doesn't make what she does right. She can be… well. You know."
Marinette's expression went flat. "Yeah. I know."
Adrien winced. Trying to defend Chloe to Marinette, one of her favorite targets, was not his best idea. But it also wasn't his intention. "It's not—I'm just saying, when she does stuff like this, it's probably more about her and whatever's going on in her head than about you. If that helps."
"Because everything's about her," Marinette mumbled.
He couldn't really argue with that.
A long silence followed.
"Um, anyway—fabric," Marinette said abruptly, mustering her courage once more. "The gray is the biggest thing. But there are actually a few others? No pressure. I made a list." She fished a scrap of paper from her back pocket and handed it over.
Adrien scanned the bullet points and nodded. "None of this should be a problem. When do you want me to bring it?" He answered his own question. "Probably as soon as possible, right? I can have it all later today if I make some calls—but since there's so much, it'd be kind of awkward to bring it all to school. Should I take it to your house?"
Marinette's eyes went wide, and he wondered if he'd overstepped. He worried even more when she just stood there, swaying on her feet. Staring at nothing.
"Marinette?" he said. "We can do something else, if you want."
She jumped again. "Sorry. That's fine, it's fine. Sorry, it's not you, I just—god, I'm so tired." She shoved a hand through her hair again and then paused. She reached behind her head and patted at her loose locks.
"Marinette?" he said again.
"I forgot my hair ties. And I didn't even notice."
"Yes," he said—though it hadn't really been a question.
"Why." Her head fell back and she gazed at the ceiling, as if it might have an answer.
It was then Adrien's mouth decided to betray him. "It's nice," he found himself saying. "Your hair. You look pretty."
Marinette froze. Slowly—slowly—she looked at him. A fierce blush spread across her face, all the way to the tips of her ears. Her mouth opened and closed a few times.
Marinette had short-circuited.
Adrien was flustered, too—but he racked his brain for something to say, because she looked like she was a second away from bolting, and… he didn't want her to go yet. Even if his heart was beating so fast he half-thought he was having a heart attack.
"How's your design going?" he asked.
Marinette blinked, and gradually she came to life again. "Um. Good. I think. I spent most of last night researching free patterns and reading blogs. I think I have all the basic techniques I'll need down, since I've made a lot of other stuff, but I'm still working out how to put everything together. And I'm not totally sure it'll look right, since I haven't put the stitches and seams and hems together quite in that way before—especially the jacket, and the vest, since I've obviously made pants before. I mean—come on. So I mean—it's probably going good?"
"That's good." He smiled. Then he remembered she'd told Cat about her plans last night, not Adrien, and he should probably try to act like it. "Wait, so you're designing a suit for the party? That's so interesting. Probably not what Chloe had in mind when she made the competition, right?"
He was a terrible, terrible actor.
Marinette smiled grimly. "I might be playing Chloe's little game, but I don't have to play by her rules." The steely glint in her eyes made his stomach do flips. In a good way.
Adrien swallowed. "Cool."
"Yeah… maybe," she said. "I'd feel better if I could actually look at some real suits, or something. Turn one inside out, see how it falls. Make sure I'm visualizing things right. Sometimes stuff in my head isn't the same as stuff outside it, and stuff on paper doesn't work off of it. I usually work bugs out during the construction stage, but I just don't have that kind of time with this project…"
Her eyes went round suddenly. "Oh my god," she mumbled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to, like, ramble on and on and bore you and—I'm still doing it, aren't I. Um. I should stop talking now. Sorry."
Adrien frowned. "No, I was asking about it. And I like hearing about your projects. You don't have to apologize for it."
"It's nice of you to say," she told him. "I should, um, go. Now."
She took a few steps back—and once again Adrien spoke without thinking. "You should come to my house today!"
Marinette stared.
Words. He needed words. "I mean—sometimes I get to keep clothes after a photoshoot is over. I wound up with a lot of suits. I'm supposed to wear them around, so it'll be good publicity or whatever, but I'm not going to wear suits every day, so most of the time they just sit there. You could come look at how they're made and stuff. If that would help your designing."
"Thanks, but… I couldn't. Really," she said—but she'd stopped walking and made no move to leave.
"It wouldn't be a hassle or anything. It would be nice if somebody got some use out of them." He shrugged, trying to keep it casual.
Wait. Did he even have free time today after school? He mentally ran through his schedule. What about—no, that had been moved to Saturday. But his—no, wait, his tutor had just called in sick that morning. Not so great for her, but it helped him. And his dad was at a conference, so he wouldn't even be home to make things weird.
Or accidently cause a friend of Adrien's to turn into an akuma. Again.
Ha, yes! For once the schedule gods were smiling on him. This was the perfect day to invite someone over.
Marinette's face was an odd mixture of intrigued and terrified, the sort of expression only she could pull off. "It would probably help…"
"Then come. If you want, I mean."
A barrage of complex emotions flickered across her face as she considered. It was amazing, really, how expressive Marinette was—how much she could say without speaking a word. He could watch her all day and not be bored for a second.
Not that he would do that. Or anything. Because that would be creepy.
"It's kind of short notice, and I'd have to call my parents first," Marinette finally said, "but... I'd like that. Coming over."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They both stood there for a moment, smiling shyly at their shoes.
It was actually Marinette who broke the silence. "I should probably—"
"Oh! Yeah. See you. Later. Maybe?"
"See you later." Marinette scurried away.
Adrien turned to do the same. But first, he glanced over his shoulder—just in time to see her punch the air and do a little victory dance.
This was definitely the best idea he'd ever had.
. . .
This was the worst idea he'd ever had.
Everything had been going well up until a few minutes ago. He and Marinette had taken the limo back to his house. She'd been silent all the way there—but their earlier conversation had gone so well, it seemed only fair to make up for all the awkward silence they hadn't had before. The calls he'd made during lunch had paid off, and they'd been greeted in the entrance hall by a table piled high with rolls of fabric. He'd led her up to his room in high spirits.
He'd even remembered to run ahead and hide the blanket Marinette had given him—well, given Cat—before she could see it. With enough extra time to hug it again before he pushed it under his bed.
But then he'd shown Marinette to the walk-in closet, where she'd pored over the clothes there like they held the secret to life itself. He found himself watching her examine them—her frown of concentration, the way her nose wrinkled up just a little. He was so distracted he didn't hear her request the first time: To work out what parts of its construction she'd have to change for her own design, she wanted to try it on. He'd agreed—and that was when things went south.
Now Marinette was taking her clothes off in his closet while he sat here, on the couch, regretting everything.
His face was boiled-lobster red and showed no signs of fading.
At least Plagg wasn't here to tease him about it. The little pest had been dancing in and out of sight since they'd walked through the door, grinning at Adrien's panic from over Marinette's shoulder or above her head. As soon as Marinette was out of earshot, he'd bribed his kwami with enough cheese to make him sick provided got out and stayed out. One less thing to worry about.
But that also meant he and Marinette were alone, which was one more thing to worry about.
He just couldn't win.
With a thump and a clattering of wooden hangers on hangers that made him jump like a startled cat, Marinette burst out of the closet door. She made a beeline for her backpack, grabbing the first notebook she found, and began furiously scribbling down notes.
Meanwhile, Adrien forgot how to breathe.
The suit fit her surprisingly well. Sure, it drooped in the shoulders, and the sleeves and pants were just a little too long. It fit a bit too snugly around the chest. But it looked… good. Her hair was still down, and her eyes had that faraway look of concentration she got when she was designing.
She was wearing his clothes.
Okay, he had basically invited her over to do just that. He knew that. But actually seeing it was just—it was—
Wow.
Like fireworks going off in his chest.
And… other things. Happening. In other places.
Thankfully Marinette was distracted. She still stood over her discarded backpack, notebook propped on one arm and pen flying across the paper. She wrote and sketched and wrote some more, giving him plenty of time to regain his composure.
"Alright," she announced, closing her notebook and hooking the pen over the cover. "I think I've got some good ideas to go off of. Thanks for letting me do this."
"Uh—no problem."
"Right. So. That's done." She picked at her sleeve—or, technically, his sleeve. "I should—you probably have stuff to do now, right?"
"Actually," he said, "I don't. For once. So you could stay and hang out a while, if you wanted." He gestured around vaguely with both hands. "I mean, I have plenty of room."
Marinette's eyes followed his hand-waving and went comically wide.
She'd been so focused on the task at hand earlier—and staring at the floor the rest of the time—she'd somehow managed to not notice his room wasn't your average bedroom. Now she finally looked around at the impossibly tall ceilings and all the things beneath them, utterly speechless.
Adrien squirmed. He knew he had a lot of stuff that other families couldn't afford, and bringing friends home always made him feel sort of like he was rubbing it in their faces.
Marinette turned suddenly and raced up the spiral staircase. She peered down at him over the clear balcony wall, and—wait, was she laughing?
"What's up?" he called. "Besides you."
"Your room is awesome!" She gestured to the towering bookshelves behind her. "Look at all this!" The computer setup. "Look at that!" The basketball hoop. "What is that even doing here?"
He was pretty much used to it all—he did see it every day—but Marinette's excitement was contagious. He followed her up the stairs, grinning as she called out attractions like some kind of tour guide for his bedroom.
Marinette was scanning his bookshelves when he got to the top. "You've got the new Heaven's Rim game? And the whole Call of War series? Oh, I've wanted to play that one forever! There's even some manga mixed in here. Kinda random."
"I have a system," he protested.
He did not have a system.
Marinette let that comment slide. "I read this series last year—so good. And this one was amazing, oh my god. You've even got… oh." She pulled out a volume and made a face. "Was this a gift?"
"What? No! That's my favorite series!"
She put the book back carefully, quirking an eyebrow. "Note to self: do not get manga recommendations from Adrien."
"Hey!"
"I'm sorry, but it's true! This whole series is pure cheese."
"It's a classic and you know it."
"The original was a classic. This is a spinoff of a spinoff of a time-skip."
"Note to self, never ever take recommendations from Marinette."
He was mostly joking—mostly—but Marinette shrank back, looking horrified. "I—sorry, I'm sorry, that was so rude. I didn't mean to come over here and talk bad about your favorites. And it's not a bad series or anything, it's… kind of fun."
Crap. She was feeling bad, and that was bad. What would Cat do? Or—what would he do if he had his mask on right then?
"I don't need your pity." He struck a dramatic pose, eyes closed and hand to his forehead. "Just leave me and my bad choices alone."
He realized suddenly, in the silence that followed, that being an idiot was a lot less embarrassing while he was also a being kickass superhero.
Then Marinette giggled, and he relaxed.
"Seriously," she said, "your room is the best. Games and books and—and—basically everything you could ever want all in one place? Can it even get any better?"
"There's this, too." He walked past the overstocked bookshelves, put a hand and a foot up onto the plastic rocks dotting the wall, and grinned over his shoulder as he hoisted himself up.
"You have a rock climbing wall." Marinette was practically vibrating with excitement.
He made his way up and around the corner where two walls met ceiling, down above his skateboard ramp, and jumped, sliding down it with his socks and sticking the landing. "I do."
Marinette hopped up and followed him, coat tails flapping behind her. She scrambled across the rocks with surprising agility, retracing his path with no problems, and landed beside him a second later. Which, considering he had years of practice on those rocks and was Cat freaking Noir, was pretty impressive.
And then, her eyes shining with a mischievous light, she dashed back up the staircase and did it again.
"Are you secretly a gymnast?" He wasn't even kidding.
"I dabble, I guess."
"Really? Like as a hobby? What do you—?"
"Hey," she interrupted, "let's play a game! Can we?"
He'd have to ask later. "Sure, I'm game if you are," he replied. Then he grinned: he hadn't even done that one on purpose. Nice.
"Was… that a pun?"
Uh oh. He didn't like that look in her eyes—it was a figuring out secret identities kind of look. "Maybe?" he hedged. "Let's play that game now. You want to pick one?"
She squinted at him. "Alright," Marinette said finally, smiling and shaking her head. "You're on."
What followed was hours and hours of gaming. Literal hours.
They kind of lost track of time.
Marinette had changed back into her own clothes when the overlong sleeves got in her way of her game controller one too many times. It was somehow a relief and a disappointment all at once—in no small part because, without the sleeve handicap, Marinette was crushing him at Call of War 7.
She'd apologized the first time she beat him, but he told her in no uncertain terms she didn't have to and he'd prefer she didn't. Now she just laughed at him—but she seemed so happy about it he didn't really mind.
"And you're sure you've never played this game before?" he asked again, tossing his controller to the floor with a grimace.
"Nope, not this one. Though I have played other games from the same series. And, you know, other games. In general." She smirked. "Have you?"
"Very funny." He stood up and stretched, then glanced toward the windows. He was met with the dusky oranges, purples, and pinks of a sunset sky. "Wait, what time is it?"
Marinette followed his gaze. "Uh oh." She set her controller down and jumped up, hurrying toward her backpack. She checked the time on her phone. "Shoot. This has been amazing and I'd love to stay and keep winning your game, but I was supposed to be home now."
"Just when I was going to make my big comeback," he joked. "I'll walk you home. Or I can ask for the limo to take us—"
"No, it's fine," she interrupted. "I know where my house is; I can walk. And it isn't even that far, or that dark. And I can take care of myself."
Adrien wanted to protest, but he didn't really get the chance. Before he could even open his mouth to argue, Marinette had donned her backpack, called "See you tomorrow!" and disappeared out the door.
"… see you tomorrow," he echoed.
The empty room didn't reply.
He crossed the room in a few long strides, opened the door and looked out both ways into the hall. Marinette was nowhere in sight.
He checked one last time, to be sure, then took a breath. "Plagg?" he called. "Where are you, you little rat?"
"That's cat, thank you very much. Cats can like cheese, too."
Adrien whirled around to see Plagg hovering behind him—in the doorway to his room. "What—were you in there the whole time?"
"You think I'd miss watching you embarrass yourself on your little date? That's cute, kid."
"It wasn't a date!" he protested, feeling his face heat up. "Now come on, we've got places to be. Plagg, Claws Out!"
. . .
He found her in an alley only a short distance from his house, fiddling with her shoulder bag for some reason, and decided to make an entrance. So he dropped down behind her from the rooftops with barely a whisper of noise and leaned against the wall, folding his arms. He cleared his throat.
"Hey, Princess! Fancy meeting mew here."
Marinette spun around at the sound of his voice, slapping a hand over her purse to hold it closed. He could've sworn he heard something squeak—but that might have been Marinette herself.
"Cat!" she said, her voice an octave higher than usual. "I was just—when did you get here? Oh my god, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you doing?"
"Just the usual," he said. "Paw-trolling the city, helping out, making people's lives better. For example: it looked like you needed some company, so here I am. And now your life is better."
Marinette snorted, relaxing. "Is it, now?"
Cat winked. "Mind if I walk with you a while?"
"If you must."
"After you." He waved or her to go with a little bow.
"It's this way, Cat."
"I knew that."
Marinette started forward without further comment, leaving Cat to hurry after her.
He jogged to catch up, then settled into a saunter beside her. "So, what brings you to this part of the city?"
"Visiting a friend," she said.
"Just a friend?" he asked.
"Well… him, actually." She smiled. "You know—the guy."
He nudged her in the side with his elbow. "The one in all those pictures on your stalker wall?"
"It's not a stalker wall!" she protested, elbowing him back with more force than necessary.
"Sure it isn't," he said.
Honestly, he still wasn't exactly sure how he felt about The Wall. Seeing all those pictures had been… a little weird. Flattering, sure, but weird. Not that he was judging her for it—not with all the Ladybug pictures saved on his computer. But he was definitely going to tease her about it.
"It's not," Marinette said, vehement. "But—yeah, that guy. I went over there to do design research, and I ended up staying."
"Did you have fun?" Cat asked, trying not to sound too invested in the answer.
Marinette blinked. "I was with Adrien Agreste. We were hanging out. And it didn't even go that badly! I still think I might've dreamed the whole thing. Of course I had fun!"
"Oh," he said, feeling decidedly warm. "That's…that's good."
"Wait. Do you think I wouldn't like hanging out with him?"
Had he thought that? He didn't even know. Maybe?
"Is this about all the stuff I said that one night?"
"It's just—I thought you got really nervous around him. That doesn't seem fun. So I figured you'd have a better time with someone who doesn't make you worry so much. I mean, there are loads of other pretty guys to pick from. There's a whole industry based on it. Modeling." He stopped abruptly—this was sounding a little too much like Adrien talking, and not Cat Noir. "There's a one right next to you," he fake-bragged, puffing out his chest.
Marinette laughed. "Okay. First of all, never say that again. Please. And, for real?" There was a dark undercurrent in her voice. "Don't ever say I could just pick another random model. It's stupid, it's not true, and I will have your tail. Got it?"
She was deadly serious. Cat gulped. "Got it."
"And about the nervousness… it's not that simple. I get nervous about a lot of things—even stuff I want to do, stuff I enjoy. Doesn't mean I want to avoid those things forever." She paused. "Although it feels like that sometimes. Especially in, like, peak nervous mode. But you can't really trust your judgement in nervous mode, you know?"
"I… maybe?" Cat had thought he worried a lot, but Marinette made it into an art form. He was way out of his depth.
"Well, do you ever worry about what Ladybug thinks of you?"
"Of course." Only always. Even more ever since he'd run off during their last patrol.
"But you still want to be her partner, and you still seem to like her just fine."
He nodded.
"It's like that, sort of. The contradiction. I get nervous around Adrien, and I worry about making an idiot of myself. Sometimes I do. That sucks." She took a deep breath. "But all the reasons I like him are still there. I like that he's funny, and loyal to his friends, and thinks about other people. And has awful taste in manga."
The "hey!" escaped before he could stop it. Cat disguised it as a coughing fit.
"And guess what? He likes terrible puns, too. Just like you."
Suddenly the fake-coughing turned into real spluttering. This was not a good road to go down. Marinette was a smart girl; it wouldn't take too much for her to realize that the similarities between her crush and her nighttime visitor were a bit too uncanny.
"You okay there?" she asked.
"Fine! Fine." Cat rubbed at watering eyes with a knuckle. "My puns are paw-some, alright? You're just a hater."
Marinette snorted. "You're such a dork."
"Wait," he said—knowing he ought to drop it and physically unable to do so. "What about him? I'm a dork, but when he makes puns it's a-okay?"
"Puns are never okay," Marinette declared. "But… sometimes, when some of your favorite people make puns, and they get so stupid happy about it you just can't help but be happy, too, then… I guess that part's okay." She studied her shoelaces. "Just don't let it go to your head, alright?"
"My head?" It took a moment to sink in.
She was talking about both of his identities. Adrien and Cat.
She—it was just, just—
Wow.
Fireworks.
He liked Marinette, Cat realized. He really, really liked her.
"So," the girl beside him went on, oblivious to his inner explosions. "Back to the topic. Do I get nervous around Adrien? Yes. Did I have a minor panic attack before school ended and need three pep-talks from Alya just to unlock the bathroom stall?"
"What?"
"Also yes," she continued. "But would I do it all over again to just spend time with him? Yes."
"That makes no sense," Cat mumbled.
"Feelings are like that sometimes." Marinette stepped closer and bumped her shoulder against his. "We're here, by the way. Thanks for the company."
Cat looked up—and, sure enough, there was the bakery, its windows glowing a cheerful golden yellow. Marinette's parents were probably waiting for her to get home, he thought. Maybe eat with them, too, all together around a little table, and tell them about her day. He thought of his own house: empty, windows dark. He could probably walk through the front door in full Cat Noir dress when he went back and no one would see him. Or care.
No. It was stupid to get jealous over something he was just imagining. And even if it was real—good for Marinette. It's not like he would wish his home life on anyone.
It was amazing, he thought, how quickly stupid little things could wreck his mood.
"No problem, Princess. Have a nice night," he said. He meant it. He honestly did. But Marinette clearly noticed the undercurrent of something else in his voice.
He sprang into action before she could comment on it. With a series of rather impressive leaps he perched himself on a nearby roof, already planning a route home that would push him to his limits. Tearing through the city like a cat out of hell would help.
"Cat!"
He looked down and saw Marinette staring up at him, both hands cupped in a faux-megaphone around her mouth.
"I'll see you tomorrow night, right?"
Huh.
He smirked. "Purr-haps," he called down.
"Never mind, you're uninvited!" she called up.
"I'm coming anyway!"
"Good! Bring snacks!"
He waved goodbye, and she waved back enthusiastically.
It was amazing, he thought, how quickly Marinette could take a bad mood and make it better.
. . .
He still got home in record time, because honestly—what was the point of having superpowers if you didn't use them to fly across roofs like a cat-themed bullet?
He de-transformed, stretched the soreness out of his muscles, and had just flopped down on his couch when he heard a strange thumping sound. Adrien glanced around tiredly, not really knowing what he was looking for.
But it definitely wasn't Ladybug knocking at his window.
He jumped up to let her in, mind going a hundred miles a minute. Tonight wasn't a patrol night, was it? Crap, if he'd somehow missed it—no, he couldn't have. He'd never.
So what was she doing out without him?
Then he remembered, somewhat guiltily, that lately Cat Noir had been going out without her plenty. It was only fair for her to do some things without him—even if he was about to die from curiosity.
Curiosity killing the Cat. Heh. He ought to use that one some time.
"Ladybug! Hi," he said, stepping back to let her drop in through the opened window. "Can I help you?"
"A friend of Cat's flagged me down. Asked if I could pick up some things she forgot at her friend's house. I figured, since I had time…" She scuffed a foot on the windowsill.
A friend of—Marinette? It had to be. Although, now he thought about it, it was weird to imagine Ladybug and Marinette meeting each other. For some reason.
Besides, he'd just seen Marinette. When had she found time to flag down Ladybug?
He should say something already. "That's really cool of you. Helping out random citizens."
"Not really random, though," she said. "A friend of Cat's is a friend of mine, right? He is my partner."
Adrien opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Sure, but… aren't you mad at Cat right now? For, like, skipping out on heroic duties?"
"Who told you that?"
Crap. He cleared his throat. "I—read it? Online. Forums. Somewhere."
"Oh. Well, you shouldn't believe everything people write about us. Why would I be mad at Cat? He hasn't done anything to deserve it." She paused to think, and the barest trace of amusement curved her lips. "I am still kind of pissed about 'Bugaboo', though. Of all the ridiculous nicknames… and it had to be a pun. Of course."
Adrien stared at her for a moment, then started to smile. "That's… good to hear." He stood. "I'm going to go get that stuff you asked for." He was about to walk away, until he remembered—she hadn't told him yet. "What are you asking for?"
"Um, some fabric for her projects. Or something."
He felt like smacking himself in the head. Of course. That had been half the reason Marinette had even come. He'd run right past them on his way out the door and hadn't noticed. He'd walked home with her and still hadn't noticed she was clearly not carrying five rolls of fabric.
"Right," he said, turning quickly to hide his embarrassment. "I'll just go get those. Hang on."
He was back in under a minute, panting. He may or may not have been running.
He held out his load and Ladybug carefully took it off his hands. "Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome."
"Okay, now I've just got to bring it back. Somehow." She shifted the bulky load in her arms as she reached for her yoyo, struggling to keep hold of it all. "Wait—no—there we go. I can work with this. Okay."
Just as she was about to leave, Adrien remembered something. "Ladybug," he called out.
She turned away from the window. "Yes?"
"What's your favorite color?"
"Huh? Um, I—" Her blue eyes met his green ones for a moment before skittering away. "I guess—green. Green is nice," she mumbled.
His brain helpfully pointed out that Cat Noir's color was also green; he told it to stop over-analyzing things. "That's cool. I would've expected red, honestly."
"Well, expect differently," she said, shooting him a haphazard grin. "Wait—that didn't make sense, did it."
"Not really?"
"Darn it."
He stifled a laugh, and Ladybug—Ladybug!—pouted in his direction. "It almost made sense," she protested, her cheeks turning pink under her mask.
He grinned. "Close enough, I'd say."
"Exactly," Ladybug said, pointing at nothing in particular. "Exactly. Thanks."
"No problem.
"Anyway," she said, drawing out the word. "Got to go deliver this stuff."
"Yeah, of course," he told her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you from… whatever."
"No, it was fun. We should do this again some time." And then Ladybug smiled at him, and his stomach and knees and maybe his entire self turned to jelly.
Not fireworks—not quite the same as fireworks—but no less incredible.
In that moment, as Ladybug turned and yoyo-ed into the night, Adrien realized he liked two girls very, very much.
This could be a problem.
