If you aren't cackling like the wicked witch of the west or wheezing like koffing's evolution in this chapter, then we've failed. Utterly failed.
Chapter Three
Marinette was Ladybug.
Ladybug was Marinette.
And Adrien?
Somebody call an ambulance 'cause he was in cardiac Agreste.
That, and desperately hoping he hadn't missed the train—and by extension, valuable time spent with his lady.
The newly de-evilized Ella had been heartbroken by the delay and destruction she'd caused, and of course, Adrien felt it his princely duty to aid a damsel in distress. A recipe for tardiness, he knew, but why be early if he didn't spare the time to help someone out?
Chat Noir joined a distraught Ella on the sidewalk and placed a paw on her sob-shaken shoulder.
"I'm— I'm so sorry!" She buried her palms in her eyes, smearing mascara along with her tears. "Thi-This is— I-I shouldn't have— If Dion di-didn't want to be Aang, who am I to— I shouldn't force him t-t-to be something he's not!" Not the most coherent of phrasing, but he was something of an expert at deciphering word vomit.
"Maybe if you look a little closer—beyond the mask—you'll see the guy of your dreams is already there."
His words took a moment to digest, but he knew when they hit their mark; Ella lowered her palms from her eyes and peered up at him, and from a waterfall of sorrow emerged a small, wobbly smile.
"Ella?"
A boy in a Zuko costume—the guy she'd frozen in a massive block of ice—emerged from a nearby underground stairway; the one that led to the metro.
"Dion!" she cried, springing from the sidewalk with outstretched arms.
As they reunited in an entanglement of limbs and lips like every Zutara fic he'd ever read (and written), Adrien smiled to himself and turned on his heel. They deserved a little privacy.
Flicking up his baton screen to check the time, he shot ramrod straight.
The train.
It was due in just minutes.
"Can't keep M'Lady wading!"
One de-transformation later, Plagg spoke from inside Adrien's blue blazer as he moseyed out of the very much empty men's restroom. "Your puns are outta control, kid."
"You think I was pouring it on a little thick, don't you?"
Plagg unleashed a groan. "The way to a girl's heart is cheese, not puns! Have I taught you nothing?"
"Everything I've learnt about wooing a woman, I've learnt from shoujo anime."
"Ignore my advice at your own peril."
"Plagg, just let it Brie."
He may have been cosplaying Tamaki Suoh, but he was still Adrien Agreste, and Adrien Agreste never missed an opportunity to pun when in costume. Snickering to himself, he crossed the threshold from the empty corridor to the bustling platform, forcing Plagg to end another monologue about where Brie stood in the hierarchy of cheeses. (Fourth place, according to his kwami. The hierarchy never changed, but Plagg never tired of telling him anyway.)
His eyes darted about, searching the crowd of cosplayers for his friends and One True Love.
Alya and Nino were near a vending machine.
But where was Marinette?
As he approached, Adrien had his answer. There was the love of his life, bent forward, a paper bag expanding and contracting with her every breath. She threw the bag aside and gripped Alya by the shirt. "What if there was a sudden convening of international teenage models?"
He stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to one side, and his eyes locked with Alya's as Marinette shook her like a ragdoll.
"And, of course, being the beautiful specimen that he is, he would have HAD to show his perfect face! It'd be an absolute disservice to the conference if he didn't!" In a blur of pink, she zipped to Nino, clung to his arms and shook him frantically. "Nino! Where is he? Is he okay?!"
Adrien pushed forward once more. "Marinette—"
She sprung three feet in the air. Say what you will about her coordination; Marinette had the vertical jump of a gymnast.
"Are you okay, Marinette?" He stopped beside her, pressing his palm to her forehead. A little on the warm side. "You're a little hot—"
In a flail of limbs, she teetered three steps back from him and his hand, her eyes flying up and down his costume. Did her eye just twitch? "YOU'RE a little hot—" She bolted dead straight. "I - I mean, your eyes— Woo!" Her hand flapped in front of her face. "Uh, purple. You look very purple. And handsome—"
Wait.
Did she just call him handsome?
"Dah!" Her arms blurred through the air. "Your costume. It's very handsome."
Oh...
"Not that you're NOT, of course."
Oh?
"Who would've thought wearing blue would make your eyes look so dreamy— I - I mean, steamy— no, uhh—"
The fragrance of a rose wafted through the air.
His cue.
With a fanciful flourish, Adrien plucked the redolent rose from his blazer pocket and, with a princely dip of his head, presented it to His Fair Princess. "Though this rose is lovely, it could never compare to thee, M'Ladybug."
As her mouth popped open, Marinette went, dare he think, bug-eyed. "Cha… Chat Noir?" The name rolled off her tongue like warm honey, and the ecstatic smile that parted her lips was a magical sweetness all its own. "It's you. It's always been you!"
His heart fluttered like vibrant cherry blossoms dancing in the fresh air of Japanese springtime. "Yes, Marinette," he breathed, bringing her closer; so close the warmth of her breath fanned his face as she gazed up at him with that entrancing, sky-blue stare. "It's always been you and me—"
"—against the world," she finished, drawing closer still, the delightful scent of macarons filling his senses.
"Baby"—he dipped her with a suaveness befitting of a prince—"you're my forever girl."
With Marinette in his arms, her lips full, lightly glossy, and yearning to close the distance to his own, Adrien closed his eyes in anticipation of the kiss he'd be tasting for the rest of his perfect, thrilling, gloriously blissful life—
"Dude."
"Is he okay?" A girl's voice who was distinctly NOT his lady's intruded on his daydream.
"Were you hit by Water Queen? You're spacing out, my man."
He was about to space right out of this WORLD! His chest burned with embarrassment, and he dearly hoped this wouldn't be like one of the times Plagg caught him in the bathroom acting out his fantasies.
And then, a softer voice.
"That's a lovely rose." The words were a symphony from her lips.
A smile without judgment dispelled any notion of awkwardness. He remembered how kind she'd always been to him.
"Red roses symbolise passion." His thoughts flicked back to their shared moment atop the Eiffel Tower. Back then, he'd presented her with a yellow rose for friendship. "But you, err, already knew that."
Marinette blinked at him, her brows steadily furling. "I - I did?" Comprehension dawned on her face. "Oh, right. I did! A good friend once told me."
"Yeah. A friend..."
A montage of Weredad zipped through his mind. He grimaced, and before he could say anything else incriminating, the train whistle flooded the platform.
Alya slapped her forehead, dragging that same hand down her face. "I'mma just slam the emergency brake and dodge this trainwreck of a conversation." Plonking a hand on each of their shoulders, she swerved them toward the opening doors.
"We've got a convention to get to, awkward turtles!" Nino offered them an encouraging grin and a double thumbs up.
When the train stopped before them, it was more jam-packed with people than his closet was with clothes. A shoulder-to-shoulder sea of cosplayers, sporting home-sewn costumes and carefully styled wigs and other such impressive feats of wondrous creativity. One cosplay of Cloud Strife, complete with a perfectly-crafted replica of his super awesome broadsword, had his eyes blowing wide. Could he order that off Amazon?
But when his wonder waned, it dawned on him that they had to actually get through this crush of people. He started to suggest that they catch the next train, when Alya brushed past him, tugging Nino along by the hand. "Sorry, Sunshine! We've gotta get this train to make our connection on time. It'll only be three stops. Come on. Squish!"
What else could he do? He clambered on in, a tangle of limbs like every other metro-goer, and Marinette was right behind him. He'd never been in such a tight squeeze before. (Not in the literal sense, anyway.) Pulling a one-eighty—and trying his best not to elbow Nino in the nose—he managed, through sheer determination and force of will, to face Marinette, who'd pressed her back to the train doors.
Even while pancaked between a looming, admittedly intimidating Ryuk and a spectacular cosplay of Alphonse Elric, Marinette flashed him a grin. He didn't know why, exactly, but was all too happy to return it. His princess was so cute.
The train accelerated.
The crowd tumbled around, one guy knocking into him.
Adrien gasped.
Stumbled forward.
Held his hands out to catch himself.
And realised that in the process, he'd put Marinette in a rather compromising position.
Kabedon.
KABEDON!
Hands on either side of the door behind her. His face, hovering so very close to hers.
The perfect pose.
For a confession.
Adrien's heart pounded in his chest, loud in his ears, even over the hum of the train and the countless conversations around them. His tongue peeked out to lightly trace along his lips. "Hi."
"Hi," she practically squeaked.
He cleared his throat. "Sorry about..." He nodded to his arms, still pressed to either side of her. Made absolutely no attempt to pull away.
"You did warn us about the drain," Marinette breathed, staring up at him with those wide doe-eyes.
(He assumed she meant "train".)
"I can move if you want?" Only if she wanted him to, though. If the decision was his alone, he'd never move again. Ever.
Her rosy pink lips parted.
"I - I..."
Even the slightest movement of her lips was utterly spellbinding. What if he smoothed his hand beneath her chin? And tilted her perfect lips a breath closer to his own? What would Tamaka-senpai do?
His hand barely lifted an inch when a monotonous, automated voice punctured the romantic tension swelling inside of him.
"The doors are opening. Please step away from the opening doors."
They slid open behind her.
There was no time for words.
Adrien pulled her close, her petite hands finding purchase on his chest.
A stream of people pushed past them.
But she was there, safe in his arms.
And turning beet red.
Only when the doors slid back to a close did Adrien bring himself to release her. In the most princely voice he could muster, he asked "Are you alright, M'Lady?"
"Peachy." Her voice spiked in pitch. "Absolutely peachy!"
If peachy is a code word for being very much in danger of confessing her undying love for Adrien Agreste, then yes, Marinette is indeed feeling absolutely peachy. If you're feeling peachy too, please leave us a juicy review ;D