Hey hey! Did you miss me? I'm all moved in and classes have started and I'm already sleep deprived! Here comes chapter 20! Also, hit me up on Tumblr (Lastroseofspring) so we can scream about the Origins and season finale yeah?
20-My Inspiration
She spun the pencil in her fingers so the lead touched the blank page. Her fingers moved frantically across the page as she raced to keep up with the ideas churning in her mind.
Working out the kinks in any design was challenging, but this dress in particular had Marinette stumped. The Paris-wide fashion show for the Agreste Winter Collection was approaching and since she'd turned 17 last year, she was no longer eligible for the junior category and instead was placed in the 17-25 age group. Most of the contestants were much older than she was, many even studied design, art and or textiles at university which meant she was at a distinct disadvantage. To make matters worse, against her better judgement she'd gone online and searched the winning garments from last year's show to investigate her competition. After five minutes of scrolling and finding nothing but flawless, significantly superior pieces, her heart had plunged to her feet and her fingers itched to tear out the current design on the open page of her sketchbook.
It wasn't that she hated her design, in fact, she loved it. The tiny detailing that she'd spent days designing, the embellishments that would have to be hand sown onto the dress right down to the corset-style ribbons that laced the back together, she loved all of it, but... Her eyes flickered to the open web-page on her computer, last year's elaborate winning design burning into her eyes. She hissed in frustration-an annoying habit she'd picked up from Chat-and threw her arms onto the table. There had to be something that she could do, something she could change that would make her dress the star of the show and guarantee her first place. Something that would totally transform her name into something that was worthy of being written in the stars. Her head slipped onto the desk as her thoughts faded slowly into darkness, the moon outside her window lighting her room with a soft glow. It was the kind of light that reminded her of leather, sweat and sweet-smelling roses that only bloomed at night, in the presence of secret friendships that were confined to rooftops. The kind of light that reminded her of bad jokes and stray cats that like to cuddle. Piercing green eyes and a Cheshire-cat smile followed her into her sleep.
"Marinette." He is standing at the end of the street, voice unusually gentle, his back to her. With a jolt, Marinette realises he is wearing regular clothes, his messy hair devoid of his trade-mark cat ears which means he's not transformed. He is wearing a green shirt, the kind of dark green that made Marinette think of forests with overgrown shrubbery and wild animals. It's a button up with a collar and she wonders how she can tell that from the back, but then he moves and her eyes are drawn to his legs instead, casually crossed over one another as he lifts his arms to support his head as he stretches. It's frustrating her that he's still facing away from her, he called her name, and he knows she's there. So, why won't he look at her? The street is empty, and even if there were others around, no one would know he was Chat if he were to turn and face her, no one except her and it hurts her to know that even now, he won't face her without his mask.
"Marinette my Princess." His voice is still soft, with that annoying sing-song tone he uses when he's about to get his way. "Have you come to see the cat… walk?"
"What do you mean by that?" She said instead of giving him the satisfaction of groaning at his pun.
"Do you want to see?" For some reason his words feel suggestive, heavy and layered, like there's something else beneath them and it's not just the fact that he's not wearing a mask. It's something else that she can't name.
Silence ensues and he doesn't move, his button-up hitched up at the back, revealing a strip of tanned skin, muscles flexed due to his pose. A sharp intake of breath startles her and it takes her a second to realise it came from her.
"Yes." The word is a breath and she wonders if it was audible since he's so far away and not transformed right now, but when his position changes, arms falling to his side, his stance widening she knows he has heard. He moves to turn but before he can, the street plunges into darkness before the lights lining the streets flicker on, illuminating only the asphalt, like a runway. She can still see his back, he hasn't turned around yet but as she watches, his body swings as if in slow motion, the bottom of his shirt flapping as he does so, his face is blank, black and Marinette doesn't know whether to scream or laugh but as he walks-or is he stalking?-closer, she can see that his features are just hidden by the poor lighting and when he moves closer, she will be able to see his face properly. His walk is like his namesake, practiced, precise and graceful without a wasted movement.
He reaches the middle of the street, halfway to her and as he steps into the light he spins in a full circle once, shirt flying around behind him as he sheds it mid-turn and he is enveloped in green and white before his face is thrown into the light. Marinette takes a step back in disappointment. He has transformed, his cat ears and mask firmly in place as he finishes walking towards her. She casts her eyes resolutely to the ground, unable to look at him. Of course he wouldn't show her his face, he didn't know she was Ladybug and they only met three times a week on her balcony, talking until the sun rose and each time he left he promised to leave earlier next time so she could sleep, but he never had come through with that promise quite yet. It wasn't like they were friends… Expect they are. She can feel him, the heat radiating from his body warming her, she never could quite figure out how he managed to be so warm all the time, perhaps he naturally had a higher temperature than she did? Two fingers slip beneath her chin and tilt her face up. And up. He was tall, she noticed. When had that happened?
"Did I disappoint you Princess?" With a voice like silk and eyes boring holes into her soul she saw no reason to lie.
"I thought I would see your face."
He laughs and something strikes her in the chest, tight and painful. Something she'd sealed herself against. Feelings.
"In due time Princess. I promise." His hand slides around her face to cup her cheek, index finger skimming her jaw. "May I make a request?" When she nods, he steps back and bows, holding one hand out in an offering. "Dance with me?"
It is then she notices that though his mask and ears are the same, the outfit he'd transformed into is not. Black dress pants married with a green silk dress shirt, untucked and not buttoned up all the way, the designer in her knows she should be revolted by the silk, but it hangs on him just right, and the lack of tie and 'v' of skin revealed is enticing. She takes his hand and without missing a beat, he kisses her knuckles and pulls her into his chest, hand landing on the respectful spot on her hip, the other ungloved hand holding hers delicately like it is the most precious thing he has ever touched. She glances down at her feet to check her steps as they move into a slow waltz and immediately bursts into laughter when she sees his heeled dress shoes.
"They make me look taller." Chat grins as a way of explanation, no apology in his voice.
"I love to dance." Marinette giggles breathily after the music changes for the fifth time. Chat slows them down from the energetic swing dance and repositions her for another waltz instead. She rests her head on his chest, ear pressed to the spot over his heart, their bodies flush. His eyes catch hers.
She doesn't see him move in but she feels his breath warm her cheeks as he speaks. "And I love you."
Marinette jolted awake, smacking her head on the desk as she fell onto the ground. She placed a hand on her chest to quell her erratic heart rate. Dream. It was just a dream. Except for that one time when they'd danced in the rain on her balcony. That was different. And why had he been a civilian in the beginning of the dream? That was so strange and his transformation had been flawless as he'd turned, she'd only managed to catch a glimpse of cheekbone before he'd turned back into the Chat Noir she knew and lo- She shook her head violently and stood, using the edge of the desk to steady herself, her arms shook under the pressure of keeping herself upright until she managed to flop back into the desk chair. Sighing, her eyes found her sketchbook and the plain pink dress that would barely get noticed, let alone win first place. Sipping at her now cold tea, she tapped the eraser of her pencil on the page, mind wandering back to the dream. Chat standing with his back to her, walking over slowly, his transformation mid- Marinette froze. Transformation mid-turn. She spun the pencil in her fingers so the lead touched the blank page. Her fingers moved frantically across the page as she raced to keep up with the ideas churning in her mind.
The next major heart attack Marinette had in relation to the contest was when she found out that the designs weren't actually going to be on mannequins out the back for only VIP people to view. Instead, they had their own segment in the fashion line-up, something new that the Agreste brand was trying out this year. And even worse, the designers had to model their own designs.
"Oh my God, Alya, this is going to be so awful, I'm going to fall and what if I-"
Alya-who was used to Marinette's hysterics at this point in their friendship-had tuned out her friend's whining, preferring to leave her to herself for a few minutes to get it all out of her system before attempting to reason with her. Adrien on the other hand, was hovering over her like a bee trying to land on a flower.
"Quit fussing, she'll be fine in a few minutes." Alya mumbled, not taking her eyes off her phone screen.
"But…" He stepped closer to try and place a comforting hand on Marinette's back, but she moved away and began flipping through her sketchbook with such force he thought she might tear the pages accidentally. "She's panicking." He finished.
"She'll be fine." Alya stood and stretched, popping her shoulders and sighing in satisfaction. "There's Nino, I'll be back later okay?" She slung her bag over her shoulder and raced down the steps to talk to her boyfriend.
Two small hands gripped his shoulders with such ferocity he winced. "It's going to be a disaster!" Marinette wailed.
He pried her hands off his shoulders and sighed before adopting Alya's tactic of speaking objectively when Marinette was freaking out. "It's not going to be a disaster Marinette." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles reassuringly. She didn't react to the contact and instead her face adopted several emotions before finally settling on panic again. He gripped her hands tighter, rubbing circles over the back over her hand and tracing her knuckles. "What exactly is the problem?" He asked. "I'll help you I promise."
Her eyes darted down to their joined hands, pupils dilating rapidly. He hastily let go, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly but before he could apologise she spoke. "I'll trip."
He dropped his hand to his side and looked at her peeking up at him through her lashes, she was worrying at her bottom lip, looking utterly desolate. His mouth twitched and he burst into laughter. Marinette made an indignant sound in the back of her throat and huffed in embarrassment before turning away.
"No, no. Mari." He reached out and took her wrist, his fingers easily wrapping around it. "I'm not laughing at you I promise." She frowned deeply and he grinned. "Well, maybe a little, but it's so easy to fix that. I swear." Gently he pushed her fringe back behind her ear so he could see her face better, he left his palm on her face so she had to meet his eyes. "I'll help you okay? Don't worry so much."
Saturday came with two hours of instruction from Adrien; on how to walk, how to compose your expression, and how to pose at the end of the runway.
"Like that?" She asked.
"Ah, close." Adrien frowned and tilted his head to the side in thought. "Because you're… well… a girl… you need to uhm…" He wiggled his hips from side to side before he demonstrated the way he wanted her to walk. Marinette held up her hand to stifle a giggle. "Don't laugh." He whined, but the smirk tugging at his mouth told her he wasn't really mad. He flapped his hands at her in a 'go ahead' gesture as she attempted to mimic him. Marinette squared her shoulders and lifted her chin before placing on foot in front of the other as she sashayed across the room. Adrien felt his mouth dry as his eyes locked onto her hips which were swaying enticingly as she walked. It was exactly the walk he'd demonstrated but with her delicate hips, trim waist and shapely… figure, Marinette was a walking grenade and he'd just pulled the pin. Just what do you think you're doing? Don't address her part of her with such vulgarity, she's your friend for God's sake! But her hips… Stop it Adrien. She turned at the end of the make-shift runway and pulled a silly pose before flopping onto his white couch.
"Are we done yet?" She whined.
"We're done when I say we're done." He chirped happily, offering her his hand so he could pull her to her feet.
At two, Adrien walked Marinette home, taking the longer route and passing by the pop-up shops on the corner of the street. Mid-sentence, Marinette stopped speaking with a gasp.
"Oh. Wait here." She turned and patted his shoulder hard. "Wait, wait, I'll be right back I promise."
He watched as she raced into an open stall. Odd, he didn't think Marinette wore jewellery, other than her earrings he'd never seen her wearing any. His eyes found her as she chatted to the store owner, who after a moment, nodded and placed something in a small brown paper bag in exchange for a few euro. She returned to him, grinning broadly, the small bag clutched to her chest protectively.
"What did you get?" He asked her as they began walking again.
"Oh, nothing much." She said breathlessly. "Just a necklace to go with my dress for the competition."
"Can I see?"
She laughed and shook her head. "I can't spoil anything. I mean, you're totally trustworthy I know, but…" They rounded the corner and stopped outside the bakery, Adrien found himself once again wishing the walk from his house to hers wasn't so short. Although it did make it easier to see one another during the week. She reached up and tugged his shoulder down, putting her lips right beside his ear to whisper, "The walls have eyes and ears." He felt his face flush as her breath tickled his ear, her cheek brushing his as she withdrew. She raised an eyebrow and giggled at his expression. "Don't worry too much, you're coming to the competition, you'll see it then anyway."
"Ah," Adrien coughed, in an attempt to regain some control over himself, before raising an eyebrow and casting his forearm over his eyes dramatically, leaning into her heavily but not enough to make her fall. "But Mari, I thought we were friends!"
She giggled again, holding the back of her hand to her mouth to try and quiet them. A soft smile of affection spread on Adrien's face, one that would have made his Kwami gag in repulsion. "We are I promise, but it's a secret."
Adrien sighed loudly and straightened up. "Okay." He said with a sniff. "I understand."
"Ah don't be like that!" She laughed, pushing his shoulder affectionately. "Can I make it up to you with a croissant?"
"Yes." Adrien opened the door to the bakery, placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her inside. "Yes you can." He said over her giggles.
After they shared pastries, she made her way upstairs, him following closely behind.
"So I do get see what you're working on?"
"No. But…" She sighed in defeat. "I do need an assistant to hold some stuff for me while I measure." Adrien watched as she dug around in her sewing draw, withdrawing a fine needle and black thread. She flitted to the other side of the room, pulling out two long pieces of ribbon, one black and one gold. She handed the ends to him without ceremony. "Hold."
Used to being ordered around when she was in the zone, Adrien obediently held the ends together as she made quick work of pinning them together under his fingers. When she moved closer to him, facing away, her shoulders nearly brushing his chest as she held the ribbon at her left breast, looping it over her shoulder, he almost forgot how to breathe. When she reached behind her to move his hand-or rather the ribbon-to the middle of her back, he fumbled with the ribbon, nearly dropping it and dislodging the pins. Marinette cast him a strange look before adjusting the ribbon at her chest and sticking a few pins in it to mark the length. "You okay?" She asked, taking the ends from him.
"Yeah, no, you're fine-I mean I'm fine!" He resisted the urge to smack his forehead. He'd been friends with Marinette for two years now. When had the tables turned, reducing him to a stuttering mess around her while she now navigated through their conversations with ease? He nearly snorted in amusement. He knew exactly when the dramatic shift in their dynamics had occurred. It was the same day he realised that Marinette's eyes were bluer than the summer sky and that when she laughed they sparkled. It was the same day he noticed that her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks when she blinked and that her hair wasn't black, but the most peculiar shade of blue. Actually, it wasn't that day. It wasn't the day he realised that Marinette was in fact, very cute. It was probably a few weeks after that when he realised he'd developed the biggest, most inconvenient crush on his friend. He'd been in a panic for the rest of the week, becoming hyper-aware of Marinette and her every move. Convinced she would notice the rapid increase of his heart as it hammered against his chest. It was most inconvenient because they'd (meaning their group of four) had finally adjusted to Alya and Nino being an item, and now he'd developed a big, stupid crush on her, which would of course, shift the dynamics of their group again if anyone found out.
Adrien watched her as she hummed to herself, making tiny lines on the gold ribbon in lead pencil before she plopped onto the floor, legs crossed, tongue out as she flattened the two lengths of ribbon together, moving them side-by-side for a reason he didn't understand. Stupid big, fat, annoying crush. Stupid beautiful Marinette with her perfect hair and sparkling eyes and precious smile and oh, her cute cheeks. I kinda want to squish them… Stupid lovely freckles and that god-damned stupid, adorable butt-wiggle!
"You've got that weird smile on your face again." Her voice snapped him out of his reverie, he shook his head to clear it as his eyes zeroed in on her hands, now sewing the ribbons together, back to back.
"Do I?" He asked, not taking his eyes off her hands as her nimble fingers threaded the needle through the two pieces of material.
She didn't even look up from her work. "Yep. You're thinking about something weird again aren't you?" His eyes flashed to her face, her stupid playful smirk in place, and he grinned.
"Yep." His grin grew wider as she snorted.
"Anyway. You have to leave now." She jerked her head in the direction of the trapdoor. "You know I like having you around, but you're the son of the judge."
"I have zero power over the winner." He pouted
"I know." She didn't elaborate but her fingers slowed.
"So?"
She put her needle down and stood, placing her hands on his shoulders. It surprised him, usually she didn't get up once she'd started working. In fact, once she'd been sitting for nine solid hours as he, Nino and Alya watched movies, she'd eaten and drunk whatever they'd put to her lips and mid-way through a movie, Alya had to forcefully remove the materials from Marinette's hands so she wouldn't pee herself. She had no concept of eating, sleeping, drinking or peeing when she was working. "So no peeking."
"That doesn't make any sense!" He protested.
"I really want it to be a surprise." She pouted and he winced.
"Ah! Marinette, don't use that face at me, Manon said you're only allowed to use it for good, not evil."
The corner of her mouth twitched in amusement but she composed her expression quickly and her eyes watered. "I really, really want it to be a surprise Adrien."
The blond groaned in defeat. "Okay, okay." Marinette perked up instantly and began shoving her friend towards the door without much success. She grunted in frustration and to make her feel better, Adrien shifted his weight so it appeared like she was successful in moving him. "What if I stay in the corner and play video games?" He laughed as she shook her head, opened the hatch and pointed at it vehemently. His mouth twisted into a lop-sided grin, the one he reserved only for her. "I know, I know. I'm leaving." He didn't move and for a second confusion flitted across her features as he leaned in pausing for a second before touching his lips to her cheek quickly. "Later Mari." He darted down the stairs, bidding a hurried goodbye to Sabine and Tom as he rushed to his house, cursing Marinette and her stupid, perfect lips that he had very nearly kissed.
Marinette's good mood went downhill very quickly from that afternoon onwards, leading to the moment she was in right now, a black cover over her and her dress, shielding it from the other contestants backstage as people bustled around her, paying her next to no mind. The winner from last year, Désirée Roussel, was scheduled to go last, almost like a finale piece for their particular segment, which would have been no problem at all, except that Marinette was slated to walk immediately before her. She couldn't tell if it was due to her talent-her taking out every title in the junior category and placing anywhere from second to fifth in the all the smaller 17-25 age group competitions Gabriel Agreste had held that year-or because of the saying, "If you want to show how round a circle is, put it beside a square," and as the youngest in this category with little to no real experience, who else would provide the perfect square to Désirée's circle? Like every other contestant, Désirée donned an oversized black sheet, which was to be removed seconds before they emerged onto the runway (the reason being that last year someone's outfit was ruined due to jealousy), but unlike the others, she stood with her nose in the air, looking down at the other designers, even the paid ones that were part of the actual show. Her voice was nasally and it grated on Marinette's ears as the brown-haired woman continued her spiel on the benefits of veganism.
"Psst." A low hissing sound from the left caught Marinette's attention and she turned her head to search for the source of the sound. "Psst. Here." She spied it at the catering table, two bright green eyes gleaming back at her from under the table cloth and she stifled a giggle before walking over.
"Adrien?" She laughed quietly, throwing a glance back at the contestants. "What are you-oof!"
He grabbed her hand and pulled her under the table with him. "Hey." He grinned at her before the cloth flopped back into place, throwing both of them into darkness. They crouched together, Adrien's spine hunched over so his head didn't hit the underside of the table which would alert people to their presence.
"What are you doing? You'll ruin my dress!" She tried to sound irritated but it was obvious he knew she wasn't really annoyed. She felt his hands on her shoulders.
"I just wanted to wish you good luck." He whispered. "But I know you don't want the others to think you're… you know… using me to win or anything so I had to make sure they didn't see me."
Marinette coughed into her hand. "So dragging me under a table was your next best option?" She almost rolled her eyes but then remembered he couldn't see her. She felt him lean in, his breath warming her face and his hair tickling her ear. She felt very grateful for the dark so that he couldn't see her blush.
"Chloe's here somewhere." He whispered in her ear.
"Oh. Want me to rescue you?" She replied. Turning her head towards his voice was a bad idea, their noses bumped and sent shivers down her spine.
Too close! Danger! His mind screamed at him. It would be scarily easy to kiss her, their lips millimetres apart in the dark. But that would ruin their friendship and it didn't help that she smelt sweet, like vanilla and strawberries and that the stupid part of his brain demanded to know if she tasted like that as well.
"Nah." He quickly lifted up the table cloth and pulled her out, ensuring that the black sheet stayed in place over her dress. He pulled her into a quick hug. "Good luck Marinette." He whispered before withdrawing and disappearing back into the fray with a wink.
The wait was awful, designer after designer shed their sheets and stepped out onto the platform, more often than not met with applause and sounds of approval that mingled with the rapid clicking of camera shutters. The man in front of Marinette- Fabrice-stepped up behind the curtain after giving her a reassuring pat on the back. The woman before him exited the stage, her purple pantsuit gleaming under the flash of light that disappeared when the curtains swished closed. Fabrice peeled off his sheet to reveal a striking three piece suit that made her sick to her stomach. No way was she good enough to compete with that. He disappeared in a rustling of fabric, leaving Marinette alone with last year's winner.
"I love it when amateurs go before me." Désirée hissed in her ear. "Not that I need help to look superior, but it's always nice to be reminded how great I really am." She leaned away from Marinette with a sinister giggle. The dark haired girl turned around, fire flashing in her eyes. "I've been making nice with Gabriel all week. And my mother is a designer." Marinette held her hand to her mouth as she let out a pretty giggle. "What's so funny?" Désirée snapped.
"I was just thinking, you'll never be the man you mother is." Marinette shrugged sweetly and the assistant beside her snorted before hastily rearranging his features into something more neutral as Désirée glared.
"My mother is not a man!" She hissed.
"Really?" Marinette smiled and feigned surprise. "And here I thought she's where you got all your lovely masculine features from, though your hair is definitely an exception." At this, Désirée smirked and patted at her carefully arranged curls. "I have no idea how you managed to make them come out of your nostrils like that. And your moustache is so well-groomed, you'll have to give my father some tips."
Marinette flashed the twenty year old the biggest and fakest smile she could manage before turning back to the front, Désirée unable to say another word as three assistants descended on Marinette to ensure her make-up and hair was perfect. A stroke of blush and a pull on a too-tight curl later, the song America's Sweetheart started up and Marinette's heart jumped into her mouth as Fabrice returned to his spot behind the curtain, face flushed, a wide grin on his face and the MC introduced her.
"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 17 years old. Her notable achievements include designing several couture outfits for Rock and Roll singer Jagged Stone and winning several contests in the junior category." Marinette allowed the assistant to help her shed the black sheet as she stepped out onto the runway. "Marinette would like to present her dress Hei Mao, which she has designed and crafted herself." Marinette began her walk. One foot in front of the other Marinette you can do this. A few steps in she remembered to school her expression into something photo worthy. She allowed a small smile to slip onto her face as she crossed her legs and swayed her hips slightly, her eyes finding Adrien at the end of the runway.
The music swelled into the chorus-So kick out the jams, kick up the soul-and swallowing her fear, Marinette crossed her foot over too far for a regular step and began the turn. She had exactly seven seconds and once chance to do this right. As she faced the left she reached up and picked at the ribbon behind her neck, undoing the loose bow. Before she could face the back, the ribbon had been untied completely as she peeled the top of her dress down, retying the ribbon-gold side up-at her waist, the ends dangling down. This revealed a second layer of dress, a deep forest green, with a low neckline, that exposed her collarbones, easily hidden by the first layer of black. Soft gasps rippled through the auditorium, as she 'undressed' but Marinette wasn't finished yet. She was facing the back now and she slipped her fingers into the waist band, unclipping a clasp that no-one else could see, in a swift movement, she pulled the skirt up and tucked it in on itself, revealing a shorter, green tulle skirt underneath. Before she completed her turn, Marinette pulled on one end of what had been the black skirt, completely detaching it from the green dress and made two quick movements, reattaching it around her waist to join the black ribbon, another layer of tulle-black this time-joining the first, the now full skirt flying out around her as she spun.
I'm not America's Sweetheart. Once she'd completed her turn, the audience was silent before people began roaring in applause. The new dress was tea length, the skirt made of green and black tulle, a gold stain ribbon tied in a neat bow at her back, the low neckline exposing her collar bones and revealing a thin gold chain with a single charm that was unidentifiable from the audience. She reached the end of the runway and as she willed herself not to trip, she struck an unrehearsed pose that was familiar to many, one hand in the air above her head the other bent slightly towards her waist, she giggled a bit before locking eyes with Adrien momentarily, a large grin on his face as he gave her two thumbs up. She worked her way through the next few poses, the ones she'd rehearsed this time, before channelling her luck to give a final spin, blowing a kiss to the people in front of her and tossing a wink over her shoulder as she sashayed back down the runway, Désirée throwing her a dirty look as she stepped behind the curtain again.
Marinette sighed happily as she re-adjusted her second-place ribbon on her mannequin. Coming second to Fabrice wasn't too bad. At least she'd beaten Désirée and made something that she could really be proud of. She touched the gold chain around her neck and climbed the ladder to her bed, a tray of sweet treats balanced precariously on her arm as she pushed open the trap door. Chat was already waiting for her, twirling his tail in one hand and leaning against the railing with a large grin on his face.
"Good evening Princess." He stepped forwards and took the plate from her hands and placed it on the ground before reaching out for her and sweeping her up into a crushing hug. Marinette let loose a string of girlish giggles as she returned the embrace. His laughter joined hers and he swung her in a circle before dropping her to the ground so she could stand, but he left his hands on her shoulders and she didn't remove her hands from his chest.
"I came second." She beamed.
"Yes I know." His eyes dropped to the necklace she wore, a thin gold chain with a tiny golden jingle bell that chimed when she laughed. Hei Mao.
"Are you proud?" She prodded, giving his chest a poke.
Chat smirked and picked her up again, spinning her around several times, her laughter echoing off the brick wall. "Very proud." He adjusted his grip so his hands were clasped together at the back of her knees, her head above his and her hands naturally resting on his shoulders. "You did very well Princess."
"You inspired the dress you know." She grinned down at him, her hair glowing in the moonlight.
"Did I?"
"Hei Mao." She said, touching a finger to the bell on her chest, Chat's green eyes lingered at little longer than strictly necessary and Marinette fought to hide her blush.
"Chat Noir in Chinese." He loosened his grip so she slid down his front slowly, re-tightening his arms when their faces were level, Marinette's feet still not touching the ground.
"Yeah." Was it his imagination or does she sound breathless? "Yeah that's right."
"I didn't think you spoke Chinese." His voice came out lower than he expected, almost as if he were speaking to a lover in the bedroom.
"I don't. But you… you do. You told me when we were playing video games."
"That's right."
He could hear her breathing become irregular, her heart racing against his own. If there was ever a perfect moment to kiss her, now would be it. Her eyelids were lowered, as if she was expecting it, her hands on his chest. But… He couldn't, there was too much at stake if she rejected him. He loosened his grip and her feet touched the ground, her eyes flying open with a jolt. God damn it Adrien. Her expression was a mix of shock and something that looked horrifyingly like disappointment. No. Her eyes dulled and she looked down at the ground between them. No, no, no, no. Her shoulders hunched forwards, the way they did when she was trying to make herself look smaller. When she was embarrassed or afraid. Not this again, Mari please.
"So, yeah. I um, You… inspired… like your transformation…" No, don't stutter. Marinette, it's just me. Don't shut me out again.
Panicking, he grabbed her shoulders and gave her the biggest smile he could. "I saw my pose too. I am really flattered Marinette." She spied up at him through her eyelashes. That's it Mari, look at me. "The dress was so beautiful…" Say it! Don't say it! Say it! "Just like you." He almost winced at his cheesiness but it had the intended effect, her eyes lit up again as she laughed at him.
"Thanks Chat." She threw her arms around his neck, both bells chiming in harmony, and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek causing him to stumble back in surprise before he righted himself and returned her embrace.
Ah, all done! Let me know what you think by leaving a review! Reviews give me life ^_^
21-Never Again
