A/N: #letadrieneat2k16

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

xvi.
embrasse-moi

Tu vas bien ?

Marinette couldn't find it in herself to pull away even as the fluttering of her pulse grew to be too much. She tilted her head curiously at the question. Fingers finally halting in their movements, shifting with slight discomfort beneath his head.

"No," she breathed out all too quickly and she wondered if this was okay, to speak so earnestly when she had been hiding so much for him, even now. Enthusiasm mingling with guilt, warmth with unease—she discarded the thoughts as she added, more calmly this time, "You can stop by whenever you want."

Chat Noir opened an eye; she seemed almost desperate to get out that first word. He wasn't sure why… it was as though something had worried her. Regardless, he offered a relieved, happy smile. "Good. I—" He hesitated, uncertainty clear in his expression, before continuing, "I'd like to be your friend. But, it's pretty hard to hang out in public. Hah, who knew cat ears and leather would stand out so much?"

"I can't imagine they'd stand out at all," she snorted quietly.

"I know! Some people are so weird—a man should be allowed to look nya-ice and pawsome without getting strange looks."

She suppressed a laugh and pride crossed his face to be able to coax such a reaction from her.

But then Marinette appeared timid. It was peculiar because she was the perfect picture of his own emotions. Tentative, insecure. Worried that honest, earnest affection will be rejected and he couldn't blame her for it.

"Aren't we… uh, already friends?" Ears burning, throat cleared. Fingers leaving his hair to hook around her nape. It was a painfully innocent question, straightforward and inquiring. She wouldn't ask him for anything more. Just to know that he wanted to visit on his own accord felt wonderful.

Wrapping an arm around her waist and squeezing her close, the hero remarked with elation, "We are. I didn't want to make the claim if you weren't comfortable with it." Chat Noir could admit to himself that he was a lonely child, that he didn't know how to ask for the warmth he desired. On the other hand, Marinette deserved to know how much she was adored and he felt determined to show her.

She stiffened, sitting straight up. Blue eyes flitted from their fixated state on the wall to the kitty cat in her lap—chest fluttering, stomach doing flips. He was the embodiment of sincerity in that very moment; relief escaped in Marinette's sigh as she dropped her hand to gently pet his head again. "Right. Just checking," she lamely murmured. "I guess I'm glad to hear you say it. It's not a lot coming from me, but I'd like you to know that I think you're a great friend."

Before now, Marinette wouldn't have been so honest with the other. And while she would match his playfulness when the time called for it, tease him, challenge him—occasionally ignore him like Ladybug had the tendency to do—she would also be the pillar he could lean on whenever he needed one. Just as he'd been here for her.

Chat Noir pushed his head into her hand, his grip on her wrist loosening, but not quite letting go. "It means a great deal. Especially from you." Because for how difficult it had been to get close her, he knew how good of a friend she was. In the way Alya adored her, how kind and supportive she had been to Nino during that disaster of a date, how hard she worked as class president.

A girl who would hurt her chances with her crush to let him think his father cares. "You are an exceptional person, Marinette," he told her, allowed his eyes to fall closed again and trying to not let on how his insides fluttered.

For some reason, hearing her actual name on Chat Noir's lips—not 'Princess' nor 'My Lady'—suprised her and she forced herself to pay attention to the words that left him next. Of course, a reassurance. He was always doing this, making her feel better about herself and while she wanted to tell him that there was no need… her confidence skyrocketed. It was impossible not to return the smile. She huffed out a small laugh and continued to comb through his hair with slim fingers. "Mm. Merci."

"De rien." He enjoyed the silence. Well, near-silence; he couldn't resist purring when her fingers were in his hair. He was content to stay there and enjoy her presence. There was no need to put up walls and it was nice. A few minutes passed in which they said nothing.

At once, the aching in her shoulder was prominent. Flinching slightly, Marinette nudged the arm around her waist and mumbled, "I should go down and take painkillers for the next few hours. At least before my parents come up to check on me themselves…" She really didn't want them interrupting their time together, as silly as it sounded. They would definitely have questions regarding why Chat Noir, of all people, was in her room.

"Hmm?" He appeared dazed before what she said finally registered within him. "Oh! Oh, yeah, sure," he agreed, moving his arm off her and sitting up so she could move more easily.

"Do you want me to bring anything back? Something to eat?" she trailed off, unsure of what else she could give him, settling inquisitive blue eyes on vivid green.

He paused at the question. "…Well, the cookies always smell really good whenever I end up here," he murmured, glancing to the side with reddened cheeks and a playful curve to his lips. "That is to say, if you're not sick of me yet."

Marinette straightened her legs out when the other moved off of her. It was endearing, the way he shyly mentioned the cookies. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she pushed herself off of the bed with her good arm. "Not yet.~" I'll grab some cookies for you! Papa made my favorites this afternoon." They sold well, though she was positive her parents had left a few aside for her.

He perked up when she agreed. "Sounds wonderful." He was careful about food. Years as a model led to a strict diet and snacking was discouraged, yet being Chat Noir burned a lot more calories than they were accounting for, so he was fine with cheating. Even so, it was awkward to ask for a treat. He had been disappointed when she rejected all the offers while he was there to practice for a certain video game tournament. Admittedly, he was glad to have the chance now.

Wait… Was her crush on Adrien the thing they were talking about at that time? He knew they had been acting invasive; Marinette had been so annoyed, but he'd thought they were so friendly and perhaps a bit oddly persistent in trying to feed him. Had they simply wanted to know if things were going well for her?

God, she was adorable.

Clearing her throat, Marinette moved towards the hatch leading to the staircase that went down to the first floor.

There was time to kill. Chat Noir moved over to her desk, snooping around. Surely, she had scrap fabric somewhere…

With one arm rendered useless, she had to be careful and grip the railing through each step. The trip afterward didn't take long; she greeted her parents in the parlor, answered questions on her well-being and denied any sort of help they might offer before moving into the kitchen to down a glass of water and Ibuprofène.

She then warmed up the plate of cookies Sabine had placed on the counter for later, and while she'd attempted to sneak it upstairs undetected—she was caught and ended up sheepishly explaining, "I wanted a snack while doing homework."

That was a close one.

She didn't need them snooping after her… at least sometimes they found it in themselves to knock before entering. With a sigh, the girl pushed open the hatch again and peeked into the room. "Ah—could you help me out really quick?" she quietly asked Chat Noir, trying to balance the plate in her grasp.

The boy in question looked up from his little scrap project at her voice. "Oh, right," he said, moving over to take the plate, ready to offer her a hand up if she needed it. Marinette breathed out a word of thanks and proceeded to climb up before closing the hatch. "Here! I warmed them up first. Take as many as you'd like," she exclaimed, moving to sit on the chair by her desk.

"You did?" Warm cookies? That sounded even better than regular cookies. He set down the plate on the desk, settling down beside her as he tried a cookie—promptly wolfing it down. "He really is an amazing baker!" he remarked between bites.

The eagerness with which he'd eaten the cookie made Marinette grin. He was like some child who had been rewarded for good behavior; she wondered just how often the kitty cat was able to indulge in sweets like this. "Mhm, Papa is the best!" she proudly declared. There was no harm in being supportive of her parents' works, after all.

"I am very inclined to agree. Helpful with heroes, and a grand pastry maker. The more I learn, the more I like him."

"And he likes you, too, Monsieur Super-héros."

"What a relief."

She'd grabbed one cookie for herself, placing it between her lips—unable to help but notice the scraps of fabric strewn about. Marinette blinked, curiously shifting her eyes to the other. "Chat Noir, I hope you're not snooping around." The mock-warning was subdued with a smile. "What are you looking for? I might be able to help."

"Aha… Um. Fabric glue," he stated. "I found the colors I needed in your scrap fabrics. I mean, it looked an awful lot like a scrap fabric collection, but I thought we might want a signal for me to know when to visit." He gestured to the little cat face assembled on her desk when she moved for a closer look. "I'm sure you don't want me just peeking in at all hours of the night. I thought it might be wise to have something you can just hang up if you wouldn't mind me around that night."

To be honest, Marinette thought it was a great idea. Before she went to sleep, she might want to take it down. Or on the off-chance that she wasn't feeling well and may prefer to be alone. It would be much more convenient than kicking him out after he'd already arrived.

"Yes! I do have fabric glue." She rummaged through her drawers, retrieving the bottle and setting it aside. "This will work, right?" She didn't want to add that she'd probably have the ornament hanging up most nights but maybe it was obvious enough from the smile on her lips.

"It should. It's not like it has to be too hardy if it's just hanging." He picked up the container before retrieving another cookie and placing it in his mouth. Munching on it as he freed up his hands to glue the pieces together, using his claws to cut away any excess fabric.

He was meticulous—she grinned and reached out to poke the ornament once he'd finished. Fabric glue hardened fairly fast but it was still too wet to hang up.

"I'll find some string," she said and searched through the drawer for a piece of durable cord. She leaned in, carefully drawing the ornament closer, looping it through an opening at the top. Tying the cord with one hand proved to be difficult but she managed; after a few attempts, she'd created a loose knot that she figured her partner could take care of.

"There! Now we just wait until it's dry."

Chat Noir raised an eyebrow as he watched her. He tightened the knot and chuckled. "I suggest we find a place on the balcony, or on your window. And if anyone asks, you can just say you like cats," he added with a wink.

"Good plan," she sighed, leaning back in her chair and returning her gaze to Chat Noir with a smile. Blue optics drifting down to the other's mouth.

"…You have a little—" Her brow furrowed in concentration, reaching out on an impulse to grip his chin and brush a few crumbs from his bottom lip with her thumb. He stilled at once. It was such a small, soft touch, but he could feel his face grow hot.

She was getting rid of crumbs, he tried to tell himself. It was nothing. It didn't mean anything. Why was his heart pounding so hard?

Marinette appeared satisfied once she'd lowered her hand. Only a few seconds passed after completing the action when she realized just how intrusive it had been. Her cheeks warmed up to mirror his and she awkwardly shifted her eyes past the other, stammering out an apology. "Euh, I should have just told you."

He licked his lips and assured himself that, no, he couldn't taste her on his lips—don't be weird.

"Princess—" He cleared his throat. "It's… fine."

She blinked and felt as though she might die from embarrassment when Chat Noir uttered the pet name—was she imagining how low his voice had gotten? The heat pooled in her abdomen and she was left pressing a hand to her face, exasperatedly muttering, "I think I'm just tired, I can barely think straight."

Which wasn't a complete lie. Pain medication combined with the lack of rest at night and the syrup to help her sleep caused her head to spin around. It also didn't help that an [increasingly] attractive kitty cat happened to be in her room at the moment.

Needless to say, she was kind of distracted.

Marinette abruptly stood, ignoring the ache that traveled from her shoulder to her back in the hasty movement. Transferring the plate of cookies from her bed to the desk, taking her seat on the blankets once more. She grabbed the nearest pillow and drew her knees to her chest, face hidden from sight. A muffled, "You'll have to excuse me for anything weird I do," subsequently left her form.

…He would have been fine, he was sure of it, if he had been the only one acting bizarre. He'd received enough practice controlling himself that it shouldn't be a problem to reign in his thoughts and feelings.

Except, now, he wasn't the only one acting bizarre. He was worried that he had made her uncomfortable as he studied her on the bed, slowly crawling over to settle beside it. His arms crossed on the edge, chin rested upon them. "Like I said—it's fine, Princess. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She didn't know what kind of response she was expecting but upon sensing Chat shuffle about, move closer, and speak, she quickly raised her head and sputtered the first words that came to mind. "Oh, no, no, you don't make me uncomfortable."

It was a lie, but she didn't need him to know how hard it was to breathe around him lately. "Like I said, 'm just… tired." Asking him to leave remained the last thing she wanted to do. Subtlety might work in her favor. "I think I'm going to head to bed now. It's pretty late, after all."

He watched her, intently. To him, she had always been a puzzle. Perhaps not one he gave enough attention to, but the more he saw of her as Chat Noir, the more he realized he was missing out on a lot. She could be so shy that she'd lose her voice, so bold that she'd tell off a villain. She could go toe-to-toe with Chloé and she could dig a bullet out of an unexpected arrival.

She could calmly rebuff him and she could be… this.

Embarrassed, hiding, and he wanted to understand why. Was it him—was he projecting? Chat Noir managed to smile with some difficulty and straightened up, moving to stand on his feet.

"Yes. You need your rest," he affirmed. Then leaned over, quickly kissing her cheek. Starting back for the staircase, the hatch to the balcony. "Sweet dreams, Princess."

It had been a quick gesture, soft and completely unexpected. Started, wide, eyes followed the hero's receding figure—she knew much about la bise, the customary two or three kisses when greeting someone, though this was different.

Her stomach was fluttering, her face was red, and she was terribly glad that he no longer faced her.

"Sweet dreams," Marinette returned under her breath. And once the sound of the hatch closing had entered her ears, she released a long and frustrated groan.