Seven: Secrets

The next month was a blur of activity as Midnight Designs Company went from an idea to a fully functional website hosted out of New York; the month after that was spent fulfilling the eye-popping number of orders that had poured in, despite little to no advertising on her part. Chat had told her repeatedly quality fashion could sell itself, and it had turned out he was right; while the receipts weren't quite enough to offset what it was costing her to run the business, the curves were far better than she had expected. If the holiday season was at least as good as how the summer lines were selling, there was a real chance her nascent company might break even in January.

For his part, Chat had shown a remarkable awareness of the fashion industry writ large; while never directly stepping into her creative process, he had made a few well-timed (and well-received) suggestions about one outfit or another and had even prudently recommended placing a large ad in several American and Canadian magazines that, it turned out, managed to get her massive exposure with the exact demographic she'd been targeting. By late May, it was clear that she had outgrown her small studio apartment – despite the fact that her feline boyfriend seemed to truly enjoy playing games of Chat and Mari among the piles of fabric and other notions cramming every available square centimeter.

Marinette found nearly the perfect space just a few blocks from her parents' bakery, a three-bedroom end unit featuring a protected balcony that would allow her alter-ego (and a certain black cat) unfettered access to come and go as needed. Chat had assured her there was plenty of capital available for the investment, so she'd taken the plunge and signed the lease from Double-A Properties just as the calendar turned to July. The day she picked up the keys from the leasing agent, though, he had joked that it was likely to be very quiet up on the fifth floor.

"Why do you say that?" she asked as she slipped her keys into her purse, trying to ignore the wide smile on her kwami as she did so.

"It's just you and some reclusive rich guy down the hall from your place," he replied. "The rest of the units are leased, of course, but they're all empty. I think someone is using them as an investment, or as is more likely in the world of real estate, a tax write-off."

"Good to know," she smiled, for given how she was trying to fly under the radar anyway, it wouldn't hurt to be by herself for all intents and purposes. At the very least, she'd only have to worry about explaining the courier traffic to the one other person living on her floor – a discussion, she expected, that would go a bit easier with freshly baked goodies as a peace offering.

Under the cover of darkness, Chat had airlifted as much as he could carry from her old apartment to the new one; the bigger items had required a small moving van. The afternoon of Bastille Day, she collapsed upon the new couch that was just big enough to handle a human and her human-sized kitty, a glass of wine in one hand and her phone in the other. "You were just here," she said to the masked figure smiling back at her from the device.

"I know," he laughed, "but I already miss you."

"You could have stayed tonight," she reminded him. "The roof here has a great view of the Tower; the fireworks should be spectacular."

"I would love nothing better than that, Princess," he replied. "But my alter-ego is needed elsewhere this evening. Trust me, I'll be there just as soon as I can."

"You could stay... permanently," she said softly, bringing up something that they had discussed once or twice already. "I have plenty of space now. You could totally use the spare bedroom for when you need to de-transform."

He smiled warmly at her. "I know," he replied. "I need to work out a few things first," he reminded her, "and then you won't be able to get rid of this stray kitty-cat."

"Promise?"

"Purromise."

"Were you able to get the paint off your costume?" she asked, seeing in her mind's eye the streak of sky blue that had run diagonally across his chest after she'd accidentally nailed him with her brush. In fairness, though, he'd been trying to sneak up behind her to steal a kiss, so it was kind of his fault.

"Yes," he nodded, his out-of-control mane bobbing in the process. "One quick transformation and I was as good as new. But," he smiled slightly, "it did give me an idea about how to change up things a bit."

Marinette's eyes went wide. "Don't you dare," she said. "I like you just the way you are."

"That I knew," he smiled wider.

"Don't let it go to your feline head," she warned him, trying to look stern.

"Never crossed my thoughts."

"Right," she smiled. "See you later tonight then?"

"Bell and all," he replied before blowing her a kiss.

She returned the favor and then put her phone down. Suddenly alone for a few hours and with no desire to pick up a new project – or fill any of the orders that had piled up while she'd been moving – Marinette took a quick shower and donned a tank-top, shorts and flip-flops, then made her way to the rooftop of her apartment building. The manager had told her about the party when she'd moved in, and she thought it would be a good chance to get to know who else was living in the building with her, if for no other reason than to discover when to avoid them when Ladybug needed to head out and save the day.

As the sky darkened, she did feel her own tension ratchet up, for events such as the annual celebration of Bastille Day tended to be moments when Hawkmoth – oh, crud, now he was going by Shadowmoth, wasn't he? – crawled out from beneath whatever rock he normally hid under and wreaked havoc with Paris. For once, though, he seemed to be MIA, allowing the magnificent fireworks to proceed normally. Still, she kept an eye on her phone for any potential akuma alerts and didn't breathe easier until the final burst of light faded and her fellow apartment dwellers began to file toward the stairwell.

Marinette hung back, just in case, and in short order found herself quite alone. The whisper of the traffic below her building gave her a strange sense of peace, and she stood for a few moments more, watching the Eiffel Tower glitter in the distance. Chat had no way to know that the particular girder where he'd told her about Midnight was one Ladybug had often retreated to when she'd had a particularly difficult day; there hadn't been too many of those as of late, owing primarily to his presence in her life now, but she wondered a bit at the karmic significance. One more indicator, perhaps, that the universe had already decided a thing or two about their most unlikely relationship.

Sighing contentedly, Marinette moved to the stairwell and started down a floor to her apartment. Maybe it was the wine she'd been drinking, or perhaps the day had been longer than she'd realized, but whatever it was, she failed to see the blond-headed body standing just on the other side of the door as she came barreling through it; plowing into him, the two tumbled to the tiled floor in a heap of limbs, rolling twice before she came to rest on her back.

To her surprise, she was staring up at two very familiar green eyes. "Adrien?"

"Marinette?" he asked. "How-?" the supermodel started to ask before he realized he was perhaps intruding into her personal space just a little too much. Face flushing, he pushed himself off her and into a kneel, helping her sit up against the wall of the hallway. Coughing slightly, he smiled again. "Sorry, I was reading a text on my phone when I came out of the elevator." His head nodded in the direction of the small device that must have flown from his hand; it had come to rest a few meters away from them, though she wasn't sure she'd heard it clatter to the tiled floor. "So much for being aware of your surroundings."

"Yeah," she smiled. "I didn't expect anyone else to be on this floor. How did you know I was living here now?" she asked, drawing the obvious conclusion before seeing him frown. "Wait - you weren't coming to visit me, were you?"

"No," he replied sheepishly. "I was just getting back from hosting a Bastille Day party for House of Gabriel employees. Father is out of town, so guess who had to fill in for him."

"Fill in—wait, just getting back?" Her eyes went wide. "You're the reclusive rich guy," she replied, connecting the dots.

"Is that what they call me downstairs?" he laughed. "I guess so, though I'm not sure about the rich part. Or reclusive. But I can see why they are saying that – I'm out and about more than I'm here, given my line of work."

"Oh," she said.

"So, you're my new neighbor?" he asked, smiling warmly. "What are the odds?"

"Incredible," she replied, eyeing him. "I thought you were still living at the mansion?"

"It was time for a change," he replied, but his eyes darted from hers for a moment. The expression looked familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on why. "But like I said, I'm away more often than not. But I'm glad to know you're here. Maybe we can get a cup of coffee sometime?" he asked as he helped her up.

"I'd like that – assuming you can talk to the enemy."

Adrien's expression hardened. "What father did was unacceptable," he said darkly. "I did try to talk him out of it, but once his mind is set..."

Marinette put a hand on his arm. "I know you did," she smiled. "I never thanked you for that."

"No need to," he smiled back, then yawned wide enough she could tell he'd never had any dental work; even his teeth were perfect. "Sorry, it was a long day. I've got to turn in – early photo shoot tomorrow."

"Do you ever get tired of those? Of the life of a supermodel?" she impulsively asked.

Something crossed his face before he smiled. "I might not have chosen it for myself, but it has allowed me to do things I never thought I'd be able to do," he replied. "So... no? Or maybe more specifically, not yet."

"What would you do if you didn't model?"

"I don't honestly know," he replied, but his eyes darted away again. "Maybe write a book?"

"I'd read it. Especially if it's the inside scoop on the dog-eat-dog world of fashion models."

"More like ca-" Adrien started to say, and then coughed. "Sorry, I'm a bit parched after the speech I had to give. I'll see you around?"

"Absolutely," she replied.

They said their farewells and she continued down the hallway to her end unit, only vaguely aware of hearing Adrien unlock his apartment door behind her. Opening her own door, she closed it behind her and leaned against it, closing her eyes for a moment to wonder at the insane coincidence her old friend would show up in the same apartment building – and the same floor – especially since it had been some time since she'd crossed paths with Adrien. That in itself wasn't all that unusual, given how she'd been in something of a self-imposed exile at her old apartment along the edge of the city, but then again, Paris wasn't that big...

The whisper of fabric interrupted her thoughts, causing her to open her eyes; in the darkness of the living room, she watched as a somewhat darker portion detached itself from the corner by the open door to the balcony, allowing two faintly glowing eyes to begin to move toward her. A moment later, the shadow resolved into the human-sized feline she was madly in love with.

"Hey," Chat said softly as took her into his arms for a hug. "I caught the last of the fireworks on my way over. I bet the roof was a clawsome spot."

"It was," she smiled, reaching up to run her finger along the edge of his mask. "I'm sorry you weren't here."

"Maybe next year," he replied as he leaned down and kissed her.

She'd wanted to tell him about Adrien, but Chat appeared to have other matters on his mind; Marinette simply laughed and let her feline swiftly take her into his black-cladded arms so he could whisk her away toward the master bedroom. As he closed the door behind them with his rubbery boot sole, she set aside whatever it was that was tickling the back of her brain regarding her neighbor and instead focused on providing her kitty his own extremely personal fireworks show...