This song and dance continued once they both returned to work fully. He'd return to her office at twenty hours sharp, and stay with her for the extra hours Marinette worked. Sometimes their chatting would barely leave room for a breath throughout the hours; other times, they enjoyed the silence. To be honest, he didn't know when he started falling asleep in her office, or when Marinette made a special blanket and pillow for him, or when she would start dozing off and Chat would stay awake to watch the time. Regardless, they'd leave the building at twenty-two hours, and he'd walk her home to her apartment, where they'd part with a wave and smile. He didn't know when it all started, but he didn't want it to stop. If they could use time manipulation for selfish causes, he'd have relived those weeks every day.

But there was one thing he'd be glad to put an end towards.

"Dude, just ask her out, oh my god." Carapace rolled his eyes as he chewed on his sandwich for lunch.

"Okay, but consider this…what if she only sees me as a friend?" Chat whined. The thunk of Rena's head on the lunch table reverberated throughout the chattering cafeteria full of agents.

"Please tell me he's joking—please tell me he's joking—please tell me he's joking—"

"I think you broke Rena," Carapace said with mock seriousness. He reached for his drink, sipped through the straw loudly, and pointed it at Chat as he said, "The two of you have been spending every night together for weeks, and you're worried that she doesn't like you?" He whistled. "You say cats always land on their feet, but I think you've landed on your head a few times, dude."

"I'm going to hit him over the head," Rena groaned. Chat opened his mouth to respond, but stopped once an agent passed their table. He recognized that tuxedo—Marinette used that piece to teach him how to sew on buttons. He couldn't stop the drunken grin from bubbling up like punch. Carapace laughed and Rena groaned again.

"Dude, you've got it bad," Carapace said. "In this case, I think it's the seamstress that has your tongue."

"No shit," Chat replied. At this, Rena stilled, then leaned forward, her eyes every bit of the fox she was.

"I've got an idea to light a fire under your ass," she spoke quietly, excitedly. Chat's stomach turned over. He knew that tone of voice. "Word is on the block that Viperion is thinking of asking Marinette out to the New Year's Party."

"No," Chat growled.

"Yes," Rena replied sweetly. "He already talked to me about it because he knows I'm her best friend. He's thinking of asking her out the day of the party—that gives you a month or so to beat him to the punch. Marinette's looking forward to the party, so don't be the reason she won't enjoy it." Rena winked.

"Does…does she like Viperion too?" Chat asked slowly.

"Girl code. Ain't saying anything," Rena responded simply. "Go find out for yourself."

"Oh but come on, you're right here!"

"Go find out for yourself." Rena pointed at him with her fork.

"But what if she doesn't see me that way? What if she turns me down?"

"It's Marinette," Rena said flatly, "you think she'd hold it against you?"

"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know!"

"Ugh, go find out!" Rena threw her hands in the air. "Or Viperion will find out before you, and then we'll be dealing with your moping ass for months afterward."

Carapace shuddered.

His blood boiled.

Why was Viperion here?

"Chat!" Marinette beamed under the pile of undergarments she carried out of the closet. Viperion followed behind her, carrying his own box of clothes, his smile gentle. "You're earlier than expected." She dropped the box down on her rickety desk, clapped the dust off, and turned to him with her hands on her hips and a grin. "What's up?"

"Uh," Chat said, like an idiot. "Finished work a bit early."

"Isn't that a nice change from usual?" Viperion grinned. Chat stared. I can think of five different ways to hit him right now.

"Well, Viperion just stopped by to chat," Marinette said after the awkward pause. "And he offered to help while he was here."

Six.

"I'm happy to help, Marinette." Viperion smiled. "Lord knows you're overworked and unappreciated."

Seven.

"Right," Chat responded. "Well, thankfully I'm here, so you can get back to work, right? Before Marinette and I are busy later tonight." Marinette blinked wildly.

"Oh, I didn't realize you two had plans." Viperion rubbed the back of his neck, his face a little warm under the mask. "That's fine, I should probably get going anyway. I've got a session I need to get ready for."

"Oh, Viperion, you don't have to—"

"We can take it from here," Chat said simply. Viperion turned to Marinette with a warm smile, to which she returned a little nervously. On the way out, Viperion shot another smile towards Chat. Chat simply nodded. When his coworker left, Chat plopped down on the chair across from Marinette's desk. To his dismay, the seat was warm.

He's been here a while. Great.

"What was that?" Marinette demanded.

"What was what?" Chat innocently said.

"That!" Marinette pointed to the doorway, her scowl never leaving her face. "You were rude to him!"

"How so?"

"You kicked him out!"

"I did him a favor."

"Let's get one thing straight, Chat." Marinette's voice raised, not quite enough to a yell. "This is my office—my space—my time—and you don't get to decide what I can do with any of that."

"I wasn't—I wasn't—" Chat straightened into a sputter. "I came early today to help, so there wasn't any need for Viperion to be here anymore!"

"Not. Your. Office." Marinette leaned forward with every word. "Chat, I enjoy spending time with you, but not when you act like a jerk. You're…alright, I don't know how old you are, but you're an adult—act like it."

"I'm 28, actually," Chat replied automatically.

"Chat," Marinette warned. Chat threw his hands up in a surrender and leaned back further. Marinette eyed him for a moment, then sank down into her chair with an exhausted sigh. Twinges of guilt bruised his gut as Chat eyed her tired frame.

"Have…have you had a break today?" Chat asked slowly.

"Hmm?" Marinette lifted her head up. "What? Oh, um, I don't think so…I've got a lot of orders to finish today."

"Princess, you need to take care of yourself," Chat said gently.

"Are you gonna kick out my sewing machine next?" Marinette asked dryly. Guilt bruised his gut again.

"Maybe you should call it in early tonight."

"No, absolutely not." Marinette shook her head. "I'm getting all these done tonight." She looked up at him, and he could see the dark bags beneath her eyes. Shit, was she sneaking out costumes and working on them at home again? "Chat, I'm sorry, but you have to go. I really need to focus tonight."

"Oh, right," Chat said, the words as hallow as his guilt. "I understand." Truthfully, he did. She was overworked and wasn't allowed to use their time machines. She needed space to finish everything, and he wouldn't blame her for it. As if sensing his internal turmoil, when he stood to leave, Marinette reached out and grabbed his glove hand.

"Uh," she stuttered, "um, can we still go home together tomorrow night? Rena is taking me home tonight but…I'd like to see you tomorrow, if that's okay?"

"Yes," Chat replied quickly, relief flooding his system better than any painkiller. "Normal time?"

"Yes," Marinette said. He gave her a mock salute and left without a second glance. Where is she? Chat thought as he tore down the hallway the moment he was out of earshot. He jogged down two flights of stairs and down the hallway.

"She better be here," he muttered as he opened the door without knocking. Rena looked up from her desk, as if expecting him.

"Look at who the cat dragged in," she said, amused.

"I just saw him!" Chat fumed. "Viperion—he was trying to ask her to the party just now!"

"Well, doesn't he move fast?" Rena mused. "So, did she say yes?"

"Well...I don't know if he was going to ask her today," Chat admitted begrudgingly. "But he was at her office at a really weird time and—"

"And so were you," Rena cut across. "Our little chat at lunch today really got to you, hmm?"

"Help me out," he whined. "I didn't think that Viperion would act so soon!"

"I think that you think that I think that you need more help," Rena replied, pointing her pen back and forth between them. "And honestly? You don't. Ask her out. You'll be fine."

"Ha—so she does like me!"

"I'd say the same thing to Viperion, just to let you know." Chat growled with frustration and sank into a chair in the corner. Rena rolled her eyes. "Adrien, you're driving me crazy here, and there's already enough crazy in this room without you."

"Thanks, Alya," Chat responded flatly, "you're a real help, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yup." Rena popped the "p." "Now seriously, get out of my office because I'm about to travel and I don't need you here for it." Chat groaned but left. Behind the closed door, the familiar heat of the miraculous brushed against his back. After years, time travel didn't even phase him anymore. Too bad he couldn't use it to go back in time and ask Marinette out sooner…but something told him that Tikki would shut that down quick.

He twisted the ring on his finger. If only.

Over the next two weeks, Viperion seemed to cozy up to Marinette far more than before the holidays. On a completely unrelated matter, Chat found himself squeezing Marinette into his day more often—stopping by before lunch, after lunch, offering to run errands, helping with the sewing…which Viperion seemed to be getting better at as well. It was infuriating. But he learned his lesson—he didn't "kick out" Viperion whenever Chat encountered him in Marinette's office. However, that didn't stop him from complaining to Carapace and Rena.

"Why don't you ask her out already?" they'd say.

"What if she only sees me as a friend?" he'd say.

"You're an idiot," they'd say.

Chat would usually ignore them afterward. In fact, most days they seem to be ignoring him—which, really, was stupid, as he was a joy to spend time with, thank you very much.

When someone knocked on his door first thing in the morning, his muscles tensed. Chat looked up as Monkey stuck his face in.

"You're in trouble," he smirked.

"Oh boy," Chat replied dully, "what's Plagg gonna do this time?"

"It's not Plagg you're talking to. It's Tikki."

Shit.

"I thought she was supposed to be abroad right now?" Chat said quickly.

"Seems like she came back for you," Monkey said, his smirk widening. "Good luck, I'll tell Marinette not to mourn too long. Viperion won't mind, anyway." He shut the door behind him before Chat could spit back a retort. He growled and dropped against the back of his chair, his hands fisted and pressing the palms into his eyes. What the hell did he do to make Tikki come back from abroad? Groaning, he forced himself up and out of his office.

On the way down the stairs, he replayed all of the past weeks in his head, but couldn't find anything severe enough to warrant Tikki's sudden arrival. Shit, was he getting promoted? Or demoted? Or fired? Why couldn't I talk with Plagg, he thought sullenly. Plagg was all about the "I don't care"'s and the "don't get caught next time"'s; Tikki, however, was all about the guilt and the disappointment and the "I hate to see this, please do better next time"'s that always hurt more than any injury you could get on the job.

He stopped in front of her door.

"Now or never," he muttered to himself. He knocked, waited for Tikki's reply, and came in with the best winning smile he could think of. "Tikki! Look at you, Brazil seemed to have treated you well!"

"You know your flattery won't work on me, Chat," Tikki shot down politely with a smile. "But that's sweet of you, thank you. Sit down, please."

"Right," Chat replied, biting back a frown. Instinctively, his eyes flashed to the red box on Tikki's desk. She noticed him, put the box in her drawer, put a finger to her lips and winked.

"No peaking."

"Right…So, um, what's going on? Word on the block is that you're not supposed to be back for another week or so…did you miss me so much that you couldn't wait?"

"Chat," Tikki laughed. Inwardly, Chat pumped his fist. Score! "I am here because of you, but not because I missed you—although that doesn't mean I didn't. But we have serious things to discuss."

"Can we go back to talking about how you missed me?"

"I've heard word that there's been some tension between you and Viperion," Tikki said gently. "Enough tension that I've been hearing about it abroad." Oh fuck. "And I was surprised to hear it. I've never heard of you having issues with the other agents…if anything, you've always been welcoming."

"You came back…for that?" Chat said slowly. "I—Tikki, everything is fine, Viperion's completing his missions and I'm doing mine and—"

"—And the Agency is worried," Tikki said patiently. "Adrien," she said slowly, seriously, "you know we need you the most. You have to be the bigger person here. You're the one with the most direct connection to Gabriel—to Hawk Moth. You're his son. Viperion isn't. We can't afford for you to fall of the top of your game. And I know you don't like that fact being mentioned that you two are related—"

"I really don't," Chat said quietly. "Please don't remind me that I'm related to a monster like him. Especially right before Christmas."

Tikki stared.

"Have you been able to talk to our therapists about this?"

Chat smiled tightly.

"I don't think I'm a good fit for therapy."

"Adrien," Tikki gently started, "therapy could be a huge help here. We know this is a lot to ask of you…realizing the truth behind your mother's death and your father's identity—"

The chair toppled backwards as Chat stood.

"I need to go finish filling out paperwork," he said automatically. "Thank you for talking to me about this. I'll do my job better. You won't hear anything else about me and Viperion, Tikki."

"Adrien, please, wait," Tikki urged.

He shut the door without hesitating.

Two days later, Christmas arrived. From what he could remember, Adrien spent it with Natalie, waiting for his father to return from a flight. It wasn't until after dinner that they heard that the flight was delayed, and his father wouldn't make it until the next morning.

Adrien dismissed himself to his room. He didn't come out again.

"Chat?"

He turned to see Marinette bite her lip and shuffle a bit on the spot. The falling snow peppered her hair and scarf, continuing to grow on her coat as well. It had been snowing nonstop since Christmas, five days ago. "We're here."

"Oh," he said. His fingers pulsed from the cold as she hesitantly walked up to the steps. Before she got on, she turned around and said, "Chat, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm always feeling great around you, Princess."

"You've already said that. Twice." Oh. "Chat, you can talk with me if there's something going on…I'm worried."

"You don't need to be, Princess," Chat said automatically. "I've always handled anything thrown my way. You don't need to worry."

"But I am." Marinette stepped forward and pressed a gloved hand to his cheek. Chat bit his lip to stop it from trembling. "You've been quiet all week, and I noticed that Rena and Carapace were shooting you looks for just as long and you didn't even notice." Her voice dropped. "You forgot about lunch with me today too. And you didn't mention it when you stopped by later tonight."

"Shit, I'm sorry." His throat burned and he threw his vision to anywhere but her. His lungs hiccupped as he squashed down the urge to cry.

"What happened, Chat?"

"I…" He trembled. "There's…" He paused. He could see the threads of emerald sewed into the gloves, emerald threads that curved and formed…"A snake," he said quietly. "Viperion gave these to you. He made these for you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Marinette replied slowly, "but what does that have to do with anything?" He met her eyes. She shrunk back. He couldn't help it—he replayed every moment he saw between Viperion and her. Every intake of breath. Every brush of skin. Every time that bastard smiled at her. How close they stood. How often they mimicked each other.

What the hell did it mean?

"Marinette," he impulsively said, tone low and quiet, "what does Viperion mean to you?"

Marinette recoiled.

"Why does that matter?" she gaped. "I'm worried about you, not Viperion!"

"You haven't answered my question," he said urgently. His veins thrummed and his lungs heaved and the stomps of his heart urged go go go ask ask ask. "Is there something going on between you two? Am I being stupid again? Am I—am I getting tricked? Fucked over again?"

"Chat," Marinette cut across, "I don't know what you're talking about—what do you mean? There's nothing going on between me and him!"

"Please don't lie to me," he begged. He stepped forward. "Please please please please don't lie to me."

"Lie? Have you considered," Marienette said, her voice struggling under the weight of her words, "what I mean to you? Because I don't know either!" She threw her hands in the air. "For years all you do is flirt and flirt and flirt with me, and I never know if you're being serious, and then you get so jealous when Viperion's around—even though he's just a friend—and now you're accusing me of things that aren't even true! And you won't even say why!" Her voice broke. "I…I thought we trusted each other, Chat. I thought we depended on each other. Please, I want to help, but you need to let me in."

Chat stared helplessly. Before him, he saw Marinette, her trembling lips and hands and pain; he saw his mother for the last time, her smile before she was murdered, never to return home; he saw his father, staring soullessly at his son, enraptured by grief and barely a shell of a human; he saw Hawk Moth behind Marinette, a smirk on his face, the blade of his cane pressing deliciously against her neck.

"Marinette." He could barely get the word out. "Please. Don't make me say it."

"Then…I think we need some space, Chat." She could barely get the words out either. "I need space. I…goodnight, Chat. Please get home safely." He watched as she closed the door.

The snow continued to fall.

The day afterward, Chat stayed in his office all day. Carapace had checked in on him earlier—from what Chat could remember, anyway. The whole day was a blur. It didn't matter. The New Year's Party was tomorrow, he royally fucked things over with Marinette, he was in trouble with his job, and nothing could change the fact that tomorrow he was doomed to spend New Year's alone in the house, where his mother should be, and his father should not—right? Maybe Plagg could sense his depression. He had stopped by earlier with a new gadget: a baton, equipped with a height control and made of the strongest metal money could by.

"Merry Late Christmas, kid," Plagg had gruffly said. Chat huffed a smile and ran his thumbs over it. Plagg clapped his hands onto Chat's shoulder with a nod and left before Chat could respond. Not that he would know how to, anyway. How do you say that your boss gave you a better gift than your father? Easy: you didn't.

Someone came in without knocking.

"Nino was right. You look terrible."

"Hello, Alya," Chat responded tiredly. "Thanks for your honesty, as always."

"Adrien, you're not planning on spending all night in here again, are you?" She plopped in the chair in front of his desk and knocked on it to get his attention. "We've talked about this. You've got a bad habit of punishing yourself too much—even if you did fuck up last night."

"…So I take it you talked with Marinette."

"I did." Rena softened. "And I talked with Tikki. No wonder why you've been so withdrawn all week." She tilted her head in sympathy. "Adrien, we're your friends. You need to tell us when you're going through an episode so we can help—and before you say anything, tell that nasty voice inside your head to shut up. It's never helped you in the first place." Chat huffed in acknowledgment, but stayed silent. Rena did the same, letting the silence settle until she spoke a few minutes later. "Have you talked to your doctor about going on medication?"

"I'll be fine. I don't need it."

"Funny. You say the same thing about therapy. And yet, both things would be really useful right now."

"Alya." He pressed his lips together. "Don't."

"Alya, do," she corrected. "You're punishing yourself because you don't think that you deserve any of those things. Well, as someone who is smarter than your depression, lemme tell you this: you deserve help. Tell you what," she said with renewed vigor, "you and I haven't had a game night in months. Why don't you come on over to my place?"

"Alya—"

"You understand I'm giving you the illusion of choice, right? I'm working late tonight, so meet me at the front doors at 22:00. Don't be late."

"There he is!" Chat looked up from his spot in the front lobby. His heart stopped. Next to Rena, all grins and bright eyes, stood Marinette, looking equally as shocked and gripping her bag tight. "And here I was, thinking you wouldn't have come." She put a hand on the back of Marinette and guided the two of them forward. When they approached him, Rena slapped Chat's back in a pull yourself together way. "Here's the thing, you two. I've got a game night with Chat, but we need to drop Marinette off at home first. You two are okay with that, right?"

"Uh," they both said, obviously not okay with it.

"Oh, wait, I should add, neither of you two are getting these things back until we drop Marinette off." Rena lifted up a ball of yarn and Chat's baton.

"What—hey!" Marinette sputtered. "How did you grab that?"

"Never trust a fox, sweetheart. Now let's let going, you two. It's supposed to be cold tonight and I want to get back to my warm living room as fast as possible—oh, wait, nooo, hold on, I forgot something upstairs—I'll be right back." She slapped her hands to her cheeks in a overdramatic flare and was gone in a blink.

Well. Shit.

Chat coughed into his hands and looked away. Marinette shuffled on the spot.

"So…are you going to the party tomorrow?" he asked awkwardly.

"I don't think so," Marinette responded politely. "I-I think I'll spend it at home."

"You were looking forward to it so much," Chat said, "why the change of heart."

"I…" She looked away, then back at him. "I was waiting for someone to ask me. But I don't think he will anymore." Chat's heart thumped with renewed vigor. He swallowed thickly. Does she mean me?

"I'm—"

"You're wearing the gloves I made," Marinette interrupted. He looked down at the paw insignia sewed onto the woolen gloves.

"Best pair of gloves I ever got," he said quietly.

"Ready!" Rena appeared from nowhere and looped her arm through Marinette's. "Let's go, team."

Chat closed the door behind them and shuddered. He shoved his hands into his pocket to resist the urge to grab Marinette's.

"Out of all the days I forget to bring my mittens," Marinette cursed bitterly into her hands. Her breath squeezed through her fingers and dissipated into the air. "I could've sworn I brought them this morning. Of course I forget them when we get a cold snap…stupid."

"I'm with you there." Rena's teeth chattered as she pulled her coat closer. "You got a pair to spare for Marinette, Chat?"

"You two each have one of mine," Chat offered to the women. Marinette politely shot back—to which Chat shot her down—and the two walked on ahead, politely arguing over who should keep the gloves. This…this is almost nice, he thought to himself. It felt like things were almost normal. Marinette seemed to have come to the same realization—she shrunk back and forced a little more distance between them as they crossed the street.

"You really don't have to worry about it," she said, almost formally. "I'll be fine." Just then, the wind snatched Chat's glove from his hand and threw it to the snowbank. Marinette stood back as he ran forward and picked the glove up from the snow.

Behind him, someone screamed.

He faintly registered the snarl of an engine—Marinette's yelp—Rena's cry—the smashing of something heavy against glass—and the screech of pavement as the car rounded the corner and out of site. Chat spun around.

The world stilled as he stared at Rena's body.

A/N: I did say "crashing halt," to be fair. Thank you all for the lovely reviews, follows, and favorites! The last chapter will be out next week-see y'all then :)