Chloe Burgeious' 16th birthday was exactly a week from today, and I carried the plans for a smooth and extravagant party all bound in a three ring binder, color coded and ready to roll. The doorman ushered me through, and I entered into the hushed grandeur of Le Grand Paris. Of course the event would be held in the hotel's dining room. That'd been one of the easier decisions. I strode past the desk into the scarlet room of tinkling glasses and wafts of soups and smoked fish battling in the air.

I'd come to meet Chloe for brunch, mostly to help with minor details and last minute preparations. Though I'm not sure why she insisted she needed my help to plan this whole thing. Chloe was plenty opinionated for the both of us. In a small way, it was nice to know she valued my taste. After all, she'd asked me to help her throw a sweet sixteen so sweet it would rival my parents' bakery.

There was barely an empty table to be seen in the entire room, and I paused in the doorway, eyes roving to spot Chloe without much success. I can't tell you how much it scared me when she stepped out from behind a freaking tree.

"AH." I clenched the binder of party plans to my chest, simultaneously almost dropping it all over the floor. "Chloe!?"

She didn't seem the least bit ruffled, despite her entrance being a little less than dignified. Her hair pristine, nails freshly done. Too clean to excuse her odd behavior as tending to the plant. "Bonjour, Marinette!"

". . . Good morning." As we drifted forward into the dining area, I turned my head to cast another strange look at the foliage. I glanced just in time to catch a blonde head slipping out the room. He peeked over his shoulder and our gazes met briefly, still green crashing into blue with all the force of a storm. It pulled at my heart in an odd way, but my voice fell silent, and Chloe tugged me on, demanding my attention toward our table. As if to distract.

If I thought Chloe popping out from behind a potted plant was strange, I was now thoroughly and completely confused. Should I say something? If I did that could lead to awkward confrontation, and she hadn't breathed a word to me about the whole Adrien Ladybug ordeal. Perhaps it was best then, that I lay suspicion aside and focus on the task at hand.

She led me to a table near a window that overlooked the shops on the street below. This was a fashionable part of town, so I spared a moment to take in passersby and their clothing before I slipped into the chair across from her. I settled my three ring binder on the table and flipped it open where samples lay waiting. Today we needed to pick the flavor for the cake (that Papa was baking), needed to decide on what kind of punch to serve, how many flowers she wanted, the napkins, the music. . . The music! "Has Nino called you yet?"

"Oh yes. He said he'd be able to come around and show me the playlist today." Something mischievous twinkled in her eyes. "I may have mentioned I was having brunch with you. . . I'm sure he'll turn up soon, seeing as there's food involved."

"I'm sorry I forgot to schedule a meeting with him." Which was in fact, a lie. I'd been apprehensive about contacting him since the. . . incident. All the party plans had begun long before this mess, and now, it just seemed strange. I couldn't imagine Nino placing any blame or holding anything against me in all this. From his point of view I seemed entirely a victim, but he was Adrien's best friend. Wasn't he?

"Nonesense." She waved a hand, as if to brush my excuse from the table. "You're doing a fantastic job, 'Nette. I knew I chose the right girl for the job."

My cheeks warmed at the praise. Honestly? I'd been afraid the whole event would turn into a disaster. Not because I didn't think myself capable of planning it, but because I'd hesitated to work so closely with Chloe.

Perhaps it wasn't fair to hold her past to her. A part of me still worried I wouldn't be able to please her. That she'd be particular to an extreme. That we'd have a fight, or huge disagreement. And after all, Chloe had such. . . refined taste. It just seemed a bit precarious to say yes. Yet here we were, a week til, and everything was going smooth as custard.

"There's something we should clear up before we go any further."

I stilled, gaze stubbornly on the varying shades for napkins laid out between us. Smooth until now, that is. "Go ahead."

"Look." Her resolve seemed to crumble a bit, and her voice grew halting. "I've been putting off talking to you about this because I don't want to hurt you." Chloe fidgeted in her seat. "Alya has insisted I remove Adrien from the guest list. But I've decided not to rescind his invitation."

"Oh." Unbidden, my mind drifted to secret rendezvous behind potted plants. I nearly broke down, desperate for answers. Lucky for me, Ladybug had an excellent poker face. "Chloe–"

She held up a perfectly manicured hand. "No, no. Let me explain. Despite the mistakes he's made recently, he's been my friend for so long, and has been a friend to me when I don't think I deserved one. How can I simply ostracize him that way, when he did the very opposite to me, Marinette?"

Water gathered in my eyes as I looked at her, not because I was hurt the way she feared, but because I was moved to see how far she'd come in just a few short months. Chloe had changed and I was beyond proud to call her my friend. "Don't feel badly, Chloe. Adrien and I. . ." I sunk further into the back of my chair, feeling small at the sound of his name. "We've talked things through. I'll be alright."

"Thank you so, so, so much. It just wouldn't feel right if he weren't there."

"Am I interrupting something?"

We both turned, and there stood Nino, ball cap, headphones and all. Another time, I might have giggled at how out of place he seemed in the luxe hall. His eyes shifted between us, like he'd heard something he wasn't sure he was supposed to, and I rushed to make him feel at ease.

"Oh, Nino." I splayed a hand over the papers that rested in front of me, as if just realizing they were there. "No, you're totally fine."

Chloe offered him a glittering smile. "Sit down. I'll go let the server know we're ready to order."

His eyes brightened at the mention of food. She knew him so well. "Thanks, Chlo." He waited until she excused herself to lay a hand on my shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"That's alright," I offered weakly.

Nino shifted, then his hand dropped to his side. He took the chair beside me, eyes eating up the table, either to distract himself, or more likely because he was hungry. "You and Adrien really talked things through?"

"Uh. Well."

"No, it's chill. It's none of my business."

I huffed, and beneath the table my fingers fidgeted in my lap, because it most certainly should not take Chloe this long to grab a menu.

"I'm sorry he hurt you." His voice was so quiet, I almost didn't hear. And when I looked at him, his expression was dark, filled with a gloom very uncharacteristic for sunny Nino.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and closed. "I've uh, forgiven him for that. . . so."

"Just like that?"

Now he sounded just like Alya. I took hold of my glass of water and took a good long drink, because really, I must have been super dehydrated. Nino reached over to lay a hand on my arm. It was comfort in a way I didn't know I wanted til that moment, but totally not the way he meant it, I knew. My grip tightened around the glass and I stared into it at the slivers left from melted ice. "I'm okay. I swear. Thanks, Nino."

His fingers tightened their grip, just enough. "Of course. You're Marinette."

I pursed my lips.

"But listen. If you're ever 'not okay', I'll be there for you." He smiled. "I know you have Alya for that, but sometimes. . ."

"Alya's Alya."

"I'll listen and I won't try and fix your problems. I'll just be here. I'll be whatever you need. Okay?"

I smiled back, my eyes growing misty again. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"I'd do anything for the chick that got me my first big DJ gig," he said, along with a wink.

Chloe returned, at last, with a menu for Nino. She handed it to him and gave him a brisk pat on the back. "A server will be here in a moment to take our orders. Meanwhile." She settled into her chair, perched on the edge, eyes determined. "We can get down to work."

Feathers. Feathers everywhere. And when I lay my head on my pillow tonight, I knew I'd dream of them too. They were faux of course. The real deal would have been a trial for my kitty

My shoulders slumped in a posture probably unhealthy for my back as I sat at my desk. This desk was larger, longer than my old one by a good three feet. Papa had insisted, and I saw his love in every corner and joint of the wood, since he'd made it just for me. It was amazing, especially since I'd begun to attempt more ambitious projects. Now, a dress sprawled over the length, only in pieces at this stage. I held another in my lap, nearly identical but lighter, dovelike, but mostly just a temptation to curl around it like it was my pillow.

I'd been growing steadily stiffer, though for now it was drowned out by my concentration as I stitched the feathers together in an intricate pattern. I barely noticed when the trap door above opened, and a shadow dropped in.

Again, I chose not to acknowledge him. Perhaps if I didn't, he'd leave. Though that tactic proved fruitless last time. I caught footfalls, almost too soft to discern. I could almost feel the prick of his sharp eyes trained on me, though I didn't turn for confirmation.

He crept nearer. Then I jumped in my chair, not realizing just how close he'd gotten. Close enough to rub his head against my arm. It jostled my elbow. He'd crouched on the floor beside my chair, and moved further, until his head poked through my arm. My kitten looked up at me, acid eyes blown wide. And slowly, lucidly, he blinked.

I narrowed my own eyes, refusing to let him know how endearing it was. "You," I said, tone measured, "are not actually a cat."

"Mew."

With a flash of emerald his suit rolled away, leaving Adrien to nuzzle into my side. Plagg didn't linger, and flitted across the room where Tiki had settled beside a sleeping Morte. She still had my phone, forever entertained by candy crush. I'd given up trying to beat her highscores long ago.

"I'm cute enough to be a real cat, though." He blinked again, as if in a need to prove his point. It was less hypnotizing without the mask and unnatural eyes, but hardly less adorable. "Right?"

This time I couldn't stop the smile that pulled at my lips. "Yeah." I allowed my hand to rest atop his head. "I guess you are."

Adrien peeked up at the desk, then studied the dress pooling in my lap. "Watcha workin on?"

"It's supposed to be Chloe's dress for the party."

He examined it again, this time with comprehension. He allowed a hand to roam over the softness of the fake feathers, and gave a deep sniff for good measure. "Hm." Green eyes flicked up to me. "You sound tired."

"I just have a lot on my plate right now." My gaze faltered, because I wasn't sure I entirely believed my next words. "I can handle it, though."

He extricated his head from the crook of my arm and inched onto his feet. Hands dropped to my shoulders. I instantly relaxed at his touch and sighed, now fully aware of my exhaustion. Adrien spun the chair, just enough to be in a position to give me a massage.

Mmm. I can die happy now. I rolled my shoulders. But not before I finish Chloe's dress. And finish planning the party. Or before I find and crush Hawkmoth. Paris' safety came above rest, after all.

"Adrien?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you an angel?" I asked, voice soft, dreamy. Because I swear this felt too good to be real.

"Funny." And he did chuckle. "I've been meaning to ask you the same thing."

I hummed again, but faltered because I almost broke into a giggle. "Silly kitty."

"How was your day?" He slowed long enough to plant a kiss to my shoulder, then moved on to press deeper into a spot just below my right shoulder blade where a knot of tension had formed. "I guess you saw Chloe."

"We had brunch together." I knew I'd turned tense again. I wasn't sure whether to mention what she had said about him. Instead, I latched onto the mystery of the plant rendezvous. "What was my kitty doing lurking around the hotel this morning?"

"Oh, uh. We just had a chat."

"Behind a bush?"

"Right." He cleared his throat. "So your day was good?"

"It went alright," I finally gave in. If he wanted to be cryptic, so be it. I trusted him to tell me if it was something important. It had probably just been Chloe being Chloe. Butting her face in where she shouldn't be. I bit my lip. "Everything's better now that you're here."

"You just say that because I'm giving you a massage."

Normal enough. He was quick to quip, always with a joke. But there was something off in his voice.

"Adrien?"

He didn't answer.

"How was your day?"

"It's been stressful. Father's new line and all." His tone grew mocking. "He's trying to get it out fast, while the news is still 'hot'. I mean, he could have at least said 'buzzing'." That cat and his puns. "Hm. I bet he's really expecting these new designs to fly off the shelves."

I turned my chair with a toe against the floorboards until I came to face him. I tilted my head back to take in my gentle giant of a kitty. He was getting to be so tall. With Gabriel as a father, he was pretty much doomed from the start. I took his hands in mine and offered a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged it off. "You don't have to apologize for Father. He is who he is."

I could apologize until the moon turned blue, but that wouldn't change a thing. He was right. There was no changing a man like Gabriel. So I switched to a different strategy. If words would not solve his dad issues, I could distract him with food. "You want a snack or something? I can sneak down and grab leftovers or some pie."

"Some Camembert would be delightful," Plagg called.

"Don't listen to him." Adrien's face dropped to a frown. "He's had so much to eat today, I'm surprised he can still fly."

A pitiful moan. "He's starving me!"

"Plagg," Tiki piped up. "You shouldn't be dishonest with Marinette, you know."

There was a beat of silence, then a queasy sigh. "Alright, alright. I suppose I'll suffer through the hunger pangs. . ."

I covered my mouth with both hands, because Adrien didn't like it when he caught me laughing at Plagg. Said it went to his head, and it was already big enough.

Plagg burrowed deeper into Morte's soft fur. "This game would be better made of cheese."

Tiki paused her gaming just long enough to roll her bluebell eyes. "There's no such thing as cheese crush, silly."

Adrien didn't seem as amused by the playful bickering. He gave a skittish glance at the trapdoor that led down to the kitchen and living space. "What about your parents? You think it's a good idea for me to be here?"

At this, I bit my lip, because I didn't know. It's not like they tucked me in every night, but still, it would be pretty bad for one of them to come up and find him here. Just the thought of having to explain to them, of explaining Adrien made me feel sick. "I think. . . if we're quiet it'll be okay. They should be getting ready to go to sleep soon. Baker's bedtime and all."

A troubled expression fell over his face, and his eyes stayed insistently on our clasped hands strung between us.

"Hey." My grip tightened. "You alright?"

"I'm just. . ." His shoulders hunched, and if he'd had them, his ears probably would have been flat against his hair. "I don't like it."

"Me either."

"No," he said, voice tight. "I mean. . . I don't like being dishonest to your parents. It doesn't feel right."

I reached up to cradle his cheek in my hand, to tip his face toward me. "Oh, Adrien."

"I know we can't exactly waltz down and say 'hey I'm Chat Noir and your daughter is Ladybug. That's why I kissed her, why we're in this mess. But hey, least I'm good at sneaking behind your back'."

I let a puff of air through my nose. Ridiculous. Ridiculously sweet. "Hey."

His eyes flicked down to mine, lips curled in distaste. "What?"

"You haven't kissed me in a while, you know."

It took a moment, but soon enough the irritation drifted away, replaced by a tenderness. He stooped, more so than he usually needed to, and rested forehead to forehead with me. "This cannot stand, my lady." He moved closer, to press into my lips, consequently rolling my chair back. His hands came to the back of it, to steady us as he gave me a gentle kiss.

"That's better," I said, a hairsbreadth from him. I pressed in again, allowing my hands to wander. I found a grip on his shoulders, and rose up, pushing him backward. He bumped against my desk, and let out a sound of surprise, though we didn't part. My hands trailed over his chest, then abdomen, and he shuddered beneath my touch. It really had been too long.

His arms curled around me, drawing me close. Together we drifted down, Adrien's back against the desktop. The unfinished dress was brushed away, falling to a heap on the floor. I smirked, knowing I would never tell Papa we'd proved the excellence of his craftsmanship, in that it was strong enough to hold both Adrien's and my body weight combined.

Our kiss grew deeper, as we stretched out in a rather suggestive position. It sent a thrill, a hum through me to have him this way, so close, bodies flush. How many times had Ladybug and Chat Noir been thrown together this way in the heat of battle? I remember, I used to push him away. And now? Now he was mine.

Adrien took hold of me by my upper arms and pried me away. "S-slow down, Mari."

I froze, fingers still tangled in his shirt, still mesmerized by the green in his eyes, lost in the scent of his cologne.

His grip went slack, doubt creeping into his voice. "I'm. . . sorry."

I swallowed, heat still racing through me. I couldn't help the way my eyes strayed back to his lips. "D-don't apologize." Slowly, I untangled our legs and slid over the edge of the desk to the floor to give him space.

Adrien straightened, legs swinging back to the floor. He pressed a hand to his face, forcing a couple deep breaths.

I hesitated to touch him again, but finally placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is something wrong? Did I. . . I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

His hand dropped to grip the edge of the desk. With him sitting at this height, and me standing, we were at just the right eye level, but his gaze went stubbornly to the floor. "I just." His mouth tightened, so much like his father in that moment. "I'm sorry. I know it's dumb."

"Adrien." I pushed past the blush rising up my face. "You know we don't have to. . . rush at all. We can. . . take everything slow." I moved my hand to thread through his hair, stroking it, because that always seemed to calm him. Finally he looked at me, more relief in his eyes than I would have expected. "It's not like you're going anywhere," I said, lighter, almost teasing.

He winced away.

"Adrien, what's wrong?"

He didn't answer at first, and then I thought he wouldn't. When he spoke up, it was quiet, strained. "It's my parents. I see everyday how much she hurt him when she left."

"Adrien, I would never leave you–"

He took my hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it. "I know. I think it's so stupid. I trust you." His eyes bored into mine with a rawness, an honesty, and the pain that was there. I was quiet now, waiting for him to go on. Adrien didn't open up like this very often. I wanted to give him the chance to. I wanted him to trust me with the things going on inside. So I waited.

"It's not that I don't want that ever." His face pinked. "Not now, of course. Someday. And I know it's going to be you, Mari. I just need. . . I don't know. I guess I'm just afraid." Green eyes met mine uncertainly. Vulnerable. "Please don't hate me."

Crap. Crying for the third time today? Perhaps it was weariness that lowered my defenses. But the pain I saw when I looked at him broke me. "Oh, Adrien," I whispered.

He ducked his head. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, of course not." I swallowed back the tears. "Please don't think I hate you. I don't. I'd hate myself if I made you feel like you need to do anything you're not comfortable with. That's always more important."

"Mari?"

I took a deep breath to steady myself. "Yes?"

"I. . . Can I have a hug?"

"Mm." I edged closer, my arms wide open. I folded around him, and his head rested in the softness of my shoulder, tucked under my chin. His arms gripped at the back of my shirt, and his breathing shuddered for a moment, as if he'd suppressed a sob. My throat closed, and I was unable to speak. It was in moments like this, it hit me hard to see how starved he was for things I took for granted. For even a hug.

We stayed that way for minutes, just in silence and comfort. I stayed with him until his breathing evened. "Hey, kitty?"

He straightened, but didn't take his hands from me. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

"And I you, bugaboo," he said, his voice soft, still raw with emotion.

I glanced over at Morte, who slept soundly in his doggie bed, little gods curled up beside him. My phone lay dark, slipped to the floor. "Looks like it's past our kwamis' bedtimes."

His eyes flicked to them, before he cast a look to the side. "Hey, Mari?" Adrien asked, his voice strangely timid. Even more than when he'd asked for a hug.

I looked at him curiously. "Yes?"

"Nevermind."

"Adrien?"

He was quiet, and again I waited. Though I won't pretend being patient with him was easy. He just needed time to work up the courage, I guess–

"Could I stay the night?"

I froze, my eyes rounding. ". . .What?"

"Never mind." He abruptly stood, which forced me back, a step away from the desk.

"Adrien–"

"It's fine, Mari. Forget I asked."

I grabbed at his hand, before he could slip beyond my reach. "Wait. I didn't say no. I just. I want you to promise never to push yourself to do something. I told you not five minutes ago we'll take things as slow as you want, and I meant it."

"I only meant it to get out of the house," he said. "Y'know. My Father and all." He cleared his throat. "I didn't mean. . . I'll sleep on the couch, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Oh." I stilled. "That. . . that's fine with me."

"Thanks, Mari."

My lips pooched as I took in the room, considering the proposition. As long as my parents didn't see him. . . "Oh. I don't have anything for you to wear." He used to make it into my baggier stuff, but with the way he'd been growing lately, I really didn't have a chance keeping up now.

"That's alright." He smiled. "I'll manage."

I picked up the unsewn dress at my feet and folded it back on its place on my sewing desk, before I went to the closet to pull out an extra blanket. I left it folded on the chaise lounge, and slipped into the bathroom where I switched into some pajamas and brushed my teeth. When I came out, Adrien was already curled up with the comforter, scrolling through some feed on his phone.

"You need anything?" I asked, hesitating at the foot of the chaise.

"You mean like a glass of warm milk?" He shot me a smirk. "I'm good, thanks."

"O-okay." I went to the light switch, and with a click, the room flooded with dark, lit only by the warmth of fairy lights strung over my bunk, and the blue light from his phone. Instead of thinking about being in a dark room with Adrien, of having Adrien sleep in my room, I made my way across the floorboards, concentration on being careful not to trip. Because that would have been embarrassing, and I doubt he'd let it slide without some teasing. I made my way up to my bunk, finding some comfort and sense of safeness in it. Not that I felt unsafe. Just. . . nervous? I shook my head. Don't be dumb. There's nothing to be nervous about.

What if I snored really loud and didn't know? What if I said something embarrassing in my sleep? Tiki would have told me if I snored, right?

I held my breath, and looked out into the dark as my eyes slowly adjusted. Enough to make out his form as he arranged his pillow, then lowered his head. I couldn't help but notice how he pulled his knees up, his body curled tight. Hm. Almost like a cat. It brought a sly smile to my face, though I decided not to voice the thought. So I pulled the covers over me and flicked off my fairy lights. I swallowed, then worked up the nerve to speak. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Marinette."

Saturdays are wonderful because Saturday is Mama's day to spend mornings with Papa. So I get to sleep in instead of getting up at 5 to help in the bakery. As you would guess, the arrangement suited me as well as warm chocolate chip cookies dipped in milk.

It was with a contented sigh that my eyes finally drifted open. It wasn't til I turned in bed, to where I could look out on the room and saw the blanket folded on the end of the now vacant couch that I remembered. A frown tugged at my sleep dazed face. If Adrien was leaving, he should have woken me up to say goodbye. Though in fairness, rousing me wasn't easy. Perhaps he'd tried. Perhaps he had a shoot to be at. Perhaps he wanted to avoid raising suspicions with his Father, or didn't want to risk getting caught spending the night somewhere else.

Upon further inspection, I noticed neither Morte or Tiki were accounted for. I edged from my covers and tiptoed down the steps til I reached my waiting slippers. I headed up to the balcony, and soaked in the waiting morning light. As my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I saw Adrien sitting in one of the patio chairs, science book in hand. I rubbed at my eyes, unbelieving at how Morte had nestled in his lap.

"I must be dreaming. Since when are you two friends?"

"Well. . . Friend is a strong word. We've just. . . Come to an agreement," he said vaguely. Even so, I could see a hint of fondness in his eyes as he glanced down at the sleeping dog. Morte let out a contented sigh, and nuzzled his damp nose further into the crook of Adrien's arm.

I yawned, with such fierceness my eyes screwed shut, and I couldn't seem to breathe deep enough. I shook my head, pigtails coming even looser, as the holders had slipped during the night. "Are my eyes all puffy? They feel puffy."

Adrien inclined his head, studying me closely as I settled in the other chair beside him. "Hm. . ." His hands lifted from his textbook, and he took hold of both sides of my face to squish my cheeks. "There. Now everything matches."

"Adwien," I said, my speech impeded by his grip. "Pwease. It's too ewly for dish."

He grinned. "Aw, look at that. Who knew sleepy Mari was so cute?"

I pouted. Not by choice, of course. "I'm always sweepy."

"Yeah, you're right." His eyes glimmered with that hint of mischief. "You're always this cute."

"Okay. Dats enouwgh." He kindly released me. "Hey, know who else is cute?"

"Oh?" He leaned closer in anticipation. "Who?"

I stroked the dog's chestnut fur. "This lil guy." I grinned evily. "He's adorable."

This time he pouted. Because he's silly that way. "I see. Hey, Mari what're you doing today?"

"Not much. I've got a couple loads of laundry to do. Alya will probably call me sometime and want to go somewhere or hang here." I shrugged. "She's been a bit clingy since. . ."

"Oh."

"I think she's just trying to distract me. Like that might help." I tilted my head. "She's concerned I'm not 'letting out my frustrations'."

Adrien's hand trailed to rest atop mine, and our fingers lazily twined together. "I know what else you're doing today."

I studied him expectantly. "And what might that be, oh great and wise oracle?"

"I'm going to help you do laundry," he said, and looked a little too excited for something so mundane.

"Uh. You don't have to do that."

"Nonesense! Where my lady goes, I go. Even to the ends of the earth."

I turned my attention back to Morte, to try and disguise the hint of blush I felt coming on. "I guess if I had to be stuck with someone, it might as well be you." And then we met each other with smiles, both wondering whether I truly spoke of the ends of the earth, or simply doing chores together. Maybe. . . maybe they were one and the same.

I should have known from the get go that this wasn't a good idea. With a hamper balanced at my hip, I carefully made my way down the basement steps into the laundry room, with a certain kitty trailing behind. I clicked on the light switch, which lit up a single exposed bulb. I eyed the door, teeth worrying at the inside of my lip. While my parents were both busy in the bakery, they were only a floor above.

My voice low, I turned to give my little kitty a serious look. "Just keep things quiet, alright?"

"Quiet as a mouse, m'lady."

With that, I sat the hamper down and began to sort the contents into two piles of dark and light. It got a bit awkward when I pulled out one of my undergarments, but I was quick to toss it in and move on. When it came time to load the washer, Adrien insisted we put the sock in with their mate, so they wouldn't "get lonely". The dork.

"Look, how about I put the socks in?" I tried to tug one of Mama's cozy socks from his grasp. He looked up from where he was crouched beside the basket and his grip tightened. "Adrien. Let go."

"I want to help," he insisted. His attention on the sock vanished when his eyes caught on the sleeve of something soft and blush colored. He tugged it from beneath some pants and shirts, and pulled the wadded hoodie into his arms. He went so far as to rub his face against it, and the fuzzy texture turned his hair static. "This is your favorite," he purred.

I perched a hand at my hip. "It's your favorite." While he wasn't looking I chucked Mama's single sock into the washer. "Give it here."

Instead he burrowed his face inside of it. "Mine now."

"Adrien."

"So warm."

At least now I could get some work done. He was fully distracted for three minutes, hunched over, with his face stuffed in my hoodie. Which wasn't strange at all. I shook my head and refused to laugh at him, because it would only encourage his antics. I loaded all the light colors and started the washer's cycle.

At the sound of the machine starting up, Adrien pulled from his burrow, hair standing on end. His eyes came to rest intently on the washer as the clothes spun around, and the water washed over the garments. "You're done?"

I set the detergent back onto its home on the shelf. "With the first load."

"Now what?"

"Now I'm going to sort the second hamper."

This wasn't the answer he'd hoped for, apparently. With head drooped, he let the furry hoodie rest in his lap, brow furrowed in concentration. "I know," he said, and looked up at me, his eyes shining, as if he'd come up with something absolutely brilliant. "I'll make breakfast for us."

I paused in my rummaging through the laundry to give him a considering look. "Really?"

"Sure." A beautiful smile slipped across his face, though his hair still clung with static electricity. "Breakfast for the Princess."

Such charm. Such green eyes. How could I refuse? "Well, alright. Just make sure to be quiet."

He offered out my hoodie, and eased off the floor and toward the door. A moment later I was left to do my laundry in peace. I heaved an armful of tee shirts out of the basket, slowing when a slip of white caught my eye. I let go of everything except the faded tee, and smoothed a hand over the knit, speckled with paint in blue, and pink, and green. The warmth of a memory seeped through the contact. Of the time Adrien came over after a fight with his Father. When we made chocolate chip cookies together. Before we were a couple. Before he knew I was Ladybug.

Tiki had said to me then that it didn't matter what secrets we still kept from each other. We were more than akuma fighting partners or friendly classmates. The tie of our souls was beginning to tighten.

"It's more than being like a family," she'd told me. "I've seen it with Ladybugs and Chat Noirs over and over again. Whatever your relationship will look like, it will be something miraculous, Marinette."

It was just as hard to believe it then as it was now, in light of recent developments. But my kwami never let me down. I would just have to trust her.

Eventually I had the second load running and the first in the dryer. After tidying up some odds and ends I went up to the main living space. I'm not sure why, but I didn't announce my presence. The soles of my slippers were soft against the wood floor, and I paused at the bottom of the stairs to my room. I curled a hand around the banister, content to watch as Adrien moved uncertainly through the kitchen. The oven was on, and from the smell of cinnamon, I could only wonder what lay baking inside. Although it wasn't as large as our old one, a new family recipe book lay open on the he'd chosen was an special family recipe.

Adrien crouched to paw through a lower cabinet. Despite his attempts to be quiet, bowls and pans clanked together as his search went on. I smiled and pulled my weight from the railing to go help him. He began to quietly hum to himself, and I immediately stilled. The tune wasn't a familiar one, but it almost sounded like a lullaby. It came from him so soft, a part of me just knew he was thinking of his mother.

Now I watched him through blurried eyesight, as he padded across the space, a hot pad triumphantly in hand. He stooped to open the oven and pull out the mysterious tray of our special breakfast. The humming came to a halt as he concentrated. I still couldn't see what it was, as his back shielded the oven from sight. Though it was apparent what happened the moment he squeaked, and yanked his hand away from the tray.

I gasped, a moment later reacting. I rushed forward and knelt beside him where he'd sunk to the kitchen tile, hand cradled gingerly against his chest. "Oh, Adrien, here. Let me see."

He winced, then held out his hand to display the red mark blooming across the thumb. "Is it bad?"

I took him by the wrist to pull it in for a closer look. "I know it hurts, but I think you'll be alright. Go put it under cold water."

He picked himself off the pink and white patterned floor to follow my instructions. "Do I put butter on it?" He turned on the sink and held his hand under the cool stream. "Is that a thing? I feel like I've heard that somewhere."

"No, kitty." I retrieved the hot pad from the tile where it'd been abandoned in the excitement. "Just keep it under the water."

"Yeah." He shot me a tiny smirk. "You were never one to butter me up."

"That's because you can flatter enough for the two of us." I slid the tray out of the oven and set it atop the stove. I took in the collection of gooey cinnamon rolls, all differing sizes but a nice golden brown.

"Hm. I think we have an ointment around here somewhere." I moved toward the cabinet where we kept medicines and vitamins and the like. I hooked the stepping stool with my foot and slid it into place to help me reach. It took a bit of rummaging through bottles and boxes of bandaids, but I found what I was looking for. "Here we go."

Adrien turned off the tap and followed me away from the sink to the end of the couch in the living space. We'd only taken the sheets off the furniture yesterday, after the painting had all been completed and dried. I settled on the cushion beside him and took his arm in hand. I squeezed a bit of the ointment out of the tube to smooth over the burn. He winced at the contact. "Ouch."

I cringed. "Sorry. Does it hurt real bad?"

"Guess it's what I get." He shrugged, shoulders hunched. "Mari, I'm sorry."

"Shh." Though I'd finished with the ointment, I still held his hand in mine. "It's not your fault. It happens to everyone."

"Yes, it is. I was an idiot to think I could bake something. I can't cook."

"Adrien. You're not an idiot." I released his hand and angled myself better to see him as I cupped his face in my hands. "I. . . think it's sweet you'd want to cook for me. You were just trying to be helpful, and that means more to me than a silly breakfast. Besides, the cinnamon rolls look really good. You haven't ruined anything."

"Marinette!" My kwami swooshed into the room, phasing through the closed trapdoor to my room with my ringing phone in tow. "It's Alya." Tiki was just a red spot, swishing across the room, til she halted in front of me.

"Thanks, Tiki." I held out a hand, and she lowered the phone into my palm. I tapped to receive the call, and lifted it to my ear. "Salut."

"Hey!" Alya chimed. "Just wanted to give you a heads up. I'm headed over with a movie and some ice cream."

My eyes bugged. "But A-alya–"

"It's your favorite flavor. Last one at the store, too. You're a lucky girl."

"Alya, really. You didn't have to do that." I bit at my lower lip. "I'm fine, really. I'm having a pretty good day so far."

"Don't try and weasel your way out of this. You've been so busy with meetings and babysitting and working in the bakery, it's time for a little chill with your girl, Alya." She laughed. "I may even do your nails, if you can sit still long enough."

I cast Adrien a helpless look. Alya was sweet, really. I knew she was doing this for me. But I couldn't help feel disappointed. Somehow I'd thought I could spend the day with him. But that wasn't realistic. Not with things being the way they were. "Okay." I suppressed a sigh. "I guess I'll see you in a bit."

"You bet."

I lowered the phone, limply to the cushion beside me.

"I guess she's coming over here, huh?"

I turned again to Adrien. "Yeah." Absently, I picked up the burn ointment, and drifted back toward the kitchenette. "I'm. . . sorry. You know how Alya is. Once she's made up her mind."

He rubbed at the leg of his jeans before getting to his feet. "Yeah. I know."

"You want a cinnamon roll for the road?"

"Ooh, those smell amazing, Marinette!" Tiki said, her eyes bright. She came to hover by my shoulder, and buzzed in excitement. "Did you make them?"

"No." I cast a purposeful smile at Adrien, who had come closer, and lingered by the fridge. "My sweet boyfriend made them for me."

Tiki beamed at him. "Oh, Adrien, you're getting better and better at baking. Soon enough Tom and Sabine will have you slaving away downstairs!" She froze, her face suddenly wrought with distress. "Oh. . . I'm sorry."

Adrien gave her a soft smile. "It's alright. Thanks, Tiki." Then he shot me a sly look. "You better not let Mari eat them all. You deserve a couple, at least."

Tiki twirled in the air, a giggle bubbling from her tiny body. "Oh, thank you. They smell amazing."

Adrien stepped closer, and his uninjured hand came to rest at the small of my back. "I'm not really hungry. I think I'll just head out."

"Are you sure?" I set the spatula down. "Not even one?"

"You're plenty sweet enough for me," he said, then leaned down to peck my lips. "Patrol tonight?"

"I can't. Have to babysit." I wrapped an arm around him. "But tomorrow night. I'll be there."

His smile faltered. "Okay."

I reached up to adjust his fringe, and let my hand rest on his shoulder over his wrinkled shirt from yesterday. "I'm. . . sorry. I know this isn't easy."

"I just miss you."

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Tiki flit away. She was always good about giving us privacy. Plagg too, for that matter. I suppose it's something they'd become sensitive to over their innumerable years of coexisting with humans.

Adrien didn't say more, his gaze boring into mine, an unspoken question there. Do you miss me?

"I. . ." I'd been so busy. . . I mean, of course I missed him. Sometimes. But with everything on my plate, it was easy to be. . . distracted. "I know."

He wanted more from me. I should have told him, right then. But I hesitated, and the moment was gone, as sure as if it had slipped through my fingers.

"I should go before Alya shows up," he said, and stepped back.

My hold on him tightened, and I stretched to tip toe, to get another kiss. Though he responded, he didn't linger, and I wondered if it was paranoid to think it was because of something I'd said. Or didn't say.

He pulled away, and slipped up the stairs to my room, to rouse Plagg, as it was quite likely the kwami was still sound asleep. I turned my concentration to the cinnamon rolls. No doubt, Alya would snag a few. So in foresight, I set a couple aside for Tiki.

It didn't take long to whip up some icing, and only a couple minutes slipped by before the door to the bakery opened. Alya came in, toting a grocery bag, presumably with strawberry ice cream inside.

"Hey," I called.

"Marinette." Her tone was accusing. Even angry.

My mouth tightened. Really? What now? She'd sounded fine when we spoke over the phone. What could have possibly happened? What had changed? I turned from the stove, to face her. "What's wrong?

She closed the door behind her, eyes narrowed, shoulders set. "I saw him."

My heart stopped. "You. . . you what?"

She stepped forward, didn't take her steel gaze from me as she set the paper bag on the counter. "I saw him leaving." Her arms crossed. "Well? I'm waiting."

"F-for what?"

"An explanation." She cocked an eyebrow. "And it better be good. Or I'm marching right down and telling your parents and you better believe that's not a bluff."

"Alya!"

"Are you going to pretend he wasn't here?" she pressed. "How many times has he come to see you?" Alya threw both hands, flat down against the counter. "Marinette. I don't understand."

I set the bag of icing onto the counter. I couldn't believe she'd found out. And I kicked myself we weren't more careful–

"And of all people, you had to go and choose Chat Noir as your rebound."

"What!?"

"Don't try and pretend!"

And she meant it. If I lied, she'd know. "H-he's only a friend, Alya." Okay, still a lie. "He's a superhero–"

"He's trouble." Alya folded her arms again. "Haven't you seen the way he flirts with Ladybug? I don't know about him hanging around you, Mari. Especially. . ."

"Especially?"

"Since. . . You know. You and Adrien." She shook her head. "It's too soon."

"Shouldn't that be my decision?"

"Is this a game to you? Is this your way of getting back at him? To date Ladybug's partner?"

"No!"

"Marinette it's dangerous."

I bit the inside of my lip, and inhaled, hoping it would be enough to keep me back from completely dumping all the things I'd had to bottle up since this crazy started. "Dangerous?" I asked, voice dulled. "You're one to talk."

She looked away, unable to look me in the eye. Gotcha. The storm seemed to still, and as the fury left her I saw that she was really only worried. "They don't know, do they? Your parents."

"I know what I'm doing." I bit at my bottom lip, knowing full well I didn't. It was getting easier and easier, this lying thing.

My friend slowly went to work getting out the ice cream, the paper bag rustling the only sound in the canyon between us. As she tugged the lid open, to reveal the perfect, glassy surface of pink, her resolve came back. She fixed me with an amber gaze, hot enough to melt the contents of the carton. "But I promise you, super hero or not, if that boy messes up he'll have something more than Hawkmoth to deal with."