Chapter 13
That night when Chat Noir visited, he dropped his transformation as soon as his body hit the bed, not taking long to remove his shoes either. Marinette was already sitting there, waiting with a piece of camembert for Plagg and an excited gleam in her eyes. Adrien could instantly tell that she was yearning to ask him more questions, of which he'd happily answer. He didn't think he could deny her anything.
Plagg didn't waste any time in snatching the piece of cheese into his little paws. He turned to Adrien with a satisfied grin.
"I like her. You should keep her."
"Plagg!" he scolded, but sighed in resignation as he realized that no amount of admonishing would ever affect the kwami's bad manners. "You could at least thank her."
Marinette smiled in amusement, the corners of her mouth curling up even more when Plagg turned around with an almost bored expression on his face.
"Yeah, thank you," he quickly said, sounding like he wanted to get it over with. But Marinette had a feeling that the kwami wasn't always so rude. She knew that he had to be nice deep down, otherwise she doubted that Adrien would've stuck by him for all the time that he has.
Speaking of which…
After Plagg retreated to another part of the house to give the budding couple some privacy, Marinette steeled herself and took in a breath, trying to calm herself. She didn't want to overwhelm him by ambushing him with her questions.
Adrien, noticing this, laughed lightly.
"It's okay, Marinette," he assured with no hint of sarcasm or annoyance. "Go ahead, ask me anything you want."
She nodded, though still keeping in mind to not ask him too many questions. She was still wary of aggravating him by asking too much.
"How long have you known Plagg?"
"Since I was five," he answered without hesitation, smiling at the memory. "It was my birthday and my parents decided it was time I received my chosen kwami, so I could go outside during the day."
Marinette nodded once more at the new information. Although it answered what she wanted to know, a part of his response left her wanting to learn more.
"Chosen?" she repeated, perplexed. "How does your kwami get chosen? Who chooses one for you? Wait, are there more?"
Adrien chuckled, both amused and endeared by her curiosity.
"We have seven kwamis in France, but there are more in other countries. They're generally given to vampires of the nobility and royalty, like myself. In our kingdom we have a wise, older vampire who is entrusted with the kwamis and gives them to whoever is worthy. His name is Master Fu. He decided that Plagg would be a good fit for me."
"Are you happy with Plagg?" Marinette asked, wondering if he only tolerated the kwami because he had to, or if he truly liked him. "Do you regret having Plagg?"
Adrien shook his head.
"Not at all, I love having Plagg as my kwami. He can be a bit of a grouch sometimes, and rude…and a cheese-loving glutton…but he's one of my best friends and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Marinette's lips pulled up in a crooked smile at the sincere declaration. Adrien matched the expression, leaving the human and vampire gazing at each other in contented silence. It was only broken when Marinette cleared her throat, intending on getting back to business. Adrien took the cue and leaned back on his hands, relaxing himself for quite possibly the most pleasant interrogation he would ever face.
"So, how old are you?"
He didn't miss a beat when he answered.
"20."
Marinette rolled her eyes and grinned.
"Okay, maybe physically, but how old are you really? How many years have you been on this Earth?"
Adrien smirked, immediately clueing in on what she was thinking.
"I swear to you that I'm only 20, Princess. I'm not hundreds of years old like the books and movies like to claim that all vampires are."
Her brows knitted together in confusion, thrown by his statement. She honestly expected him to be at least a hundred years old, just like the way they're portrayed in the books and movies that he pointed out. How many other things did they get wrong?
"So, there are no vampires over a hundred?" she asked just to be sure, until she thought of another detail that only made things even more confusing for her. "But I thought you said that vampires are immortal?"
Adrien smiled, still ever-so patient and accepting of any question she might ask. Marinette couldn't help but marvel at his kindness; she was sure if she was talking to anyone else they would've become annoyed by now.
"We are immortal. I just said that I, myself, am 20. There are a lot of vampires who are over a hundred though, like Master Fu, for example. Another thing you should know is that there are two kinds of vampires: born, and turned. I was born, and thus when my body is at its prime, I will freeze in age and stay like that forever. It usually happens between the ages of 24 and 30."
Marinette nodded, showing that she was following along and understanding. Twenty years old, huh? She was turning 18 next month in December anyway, so the age gap didn't really matter to her.
A corner of his mouth arched up before he continued to further explain.
"However, turned vampires will freeze at the age and appearance they're turned. They'll be just as immortal as born vampires are, but they will never look youthful if they're older, nor will their bodies ever be at their peak of physicality. Sure, they'll have increased strength, but they will never be as strong as a born vampire. Does this make sense?"
"Yeah, that makes sense," she murmured, mentally sorting out the new information. She was glad that he was taking it slowly and wording it so that she could understand.
"So," he started after a minute, grinning crookedly and tilting his head. "Got any more questions? I'm sure there isn't one that I can't answer."
She fondly rolled her eyes at his cockiness. Maybe one day she would be able to ask him something that would stump him, but for now she settled on the easy stuff.
"Okay, Your Highness," she drawled teasingly, "do crosses bother you or any other religious stuff?"
Adrien shook his head.
"No, none of that bothers me. The sun is our main weakness."
"How about garlic?"
"Nope. Although, I personally don't think the smell is all too pleasant."
Marinette giggled, before brightening up and wiggling in her seat on the bed. Adrien looked on in loving amusement, wondering what she had thought of that warranted her getting so excited.
"Can you turn into a bat?" she asked with wide eyes shining with anticipation.
He chuckled; he was honestly surprised she hadn't asked him that sooner.
"Sorry to disappoint, Princess, but vampires can't turn into bats. It'd be pretty cool if we could, though."
She slumped, visibly disappointed by his response, made even more obvious by the pout of her bottom lip.
"Darn, I was really counting on that one to be true," she admitted, her mouth turning up in a grin. Thankfully, she didn't seem to be truly upset by his not being able to turn into a bat. Regardless, Adrien still felt compelled to impress her, somehow.
"Well, I may not be able to turn into a bat…but," he drawled mysteriously, before quickly propelling himself upward and using his hand as a leverage on the bed, so that his whole body lay horizontally in the air. Since vampires were gifted with strength and balance, the move was easy for him to accomplish.
"I can do this," he finished with a proud grin, absolutely sure that this would impress her.
Marinette playfully snorted, crossing her arms as she regarded him with a superior smirk. For a vampire, he was such a dork.
"So? Breakdancers can do that move, too. You're going to have to try harder than that to impress me, kitty."
His grin stretched even wider in self-satisfaction, as he adjusted his hand so that his entire body's weight was held up by solely his index finger. At this, he got the reaction he wanted. Her mouth hung open in a mixture of surprise and disbelief, as her eyes darted between his finger and his body balanced perfectly in the air.
"We have increased strength and sense of balance," he elaborated, not letting up on the proud grin.
"Well, I can see that," she remarked, observing how his finger didn't even give a strained twitch.
Meanwhile she actually manages to trip up the stairs.
"Okay, you can get down now, you big show-off," she said whilst having her arms crossed, her words not holding any real bite to them. She watched as he quietly obeyed, easily shifting from the otherwise impossible position to sit down in front of her again.
"So, anything else you want to ask?" he said breezily, as if he didn't just display the equilibrium that every ballerina in the world would kill to have.
"Umm," she faltered, having been distracted and now trying to think of her questions again. "Do you…uh-" She perked up, the question at last returning to her memory. "Do you sleep in a coffin?"
This time Adrien outright laughed, compared to the earlier chuckles. Marinette's smile and shoulders drooped considerably, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Her teeth worried her lower lip as her eyes strayed to the bedsheets.
"No, no, I'm not laughing at you," he was quick to reassure, his hands moving to take her shoulders in a comforting gesture. When she peered up, he looked mildly worried, although traces of his earlier amusement were still visible on his features.
"It's just that it's such a weird cliché. I don't even know where the whole 'vampires sleep in coffins' myth even came from. I don't get why people would think that; a coffin has to be pretty uncomfortable, in my opinion. It can't be as nice and soft as a bed, where I do sleep, when I do. And coffins don't really have a lot of toss-and-turn room either, or leg room, come to think of it. Honestly, who can sleep like that, just straight and stiff as a board like how the vampires on the movies do? I just don't-…are you laughing?"
Marinette, who was trying to keep her giggles inside, finally let them burst forth. They were getting borderline loud, so much that her parents might hear, resulting in her having to cover her mouth to muffle them.
Adrien didn't exactly see what she found so humorous, but seeing her laugh made him want to share in her mirth as well. With an airy chuckle, he asked what was so funny.
"It's just-why are you getting so worked up over it?" she replied, beginning to calm down enough to speak. "You were thinking way too much into this."
"Was not," he huffed, jutting out his lower lip in a stubborn pout. "I was just giving you all the reasons why 'vampires sleeping in coffins' shouldn't be a thing!"
"Mhmm," she hummed in faux agreement, not convinced.
"Fine," he surrendered, shaking his head. Not wanting her to think that he was truly cross, he flashed her a half-grin. "So, got anything else to ask me?"
"Yeah," she replied, getting back to business. "Can you see yourself in a mirror?"
"Of course." He smirked fully and ran a hand through his blond locks, much like a male model would during a photoshoot. "How else would I know I look this good?" He shot her a wink complete with a set of finger guns.
Marinette sighed, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. He actually did finger guns… And just how big was his ego, anyway? Oh well, at least he wasn't obnoxiously smug about his handsome looks.
When Adrien noticed her less-than impressed expression, he snickered but dropped the act. Marinette offered a small smile as she thought of her next question, and when she did, scooted closer to him on the bed with a conspiratorial glint in her blue eyes. Adrien arched a brow, silently urging her to continue.
"Can you compel people?"
Adrien drew back uneasily, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck as his eyes shifted away from hers. In truth, he hated whenever a vampire's power of compulsion was brought up in a conversation, or when he had to endure hearing a story of when it was used.
"Yes," he murmured, not elaborating on the subject. However, he should've known that Marinette would press for more.
"What's wrong?" she wondered, concerned yet confused for why he suddenly looked so tensed and disturbed. He honestly looked like he wanted to disappear. "Shouldn't you be proud of having that kind of power?"
His dulled eyes returned to her own, a breath leaving his throat in a humorless scoff.
"I'm not exactly proud of the ability to mess with people's heads, Marinette. I can't stand it, especially with how it's mostly used today."
"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyebrows knitted together in a frown.
Adrien sighed, putting aside his growing frustration toward his own power to explain.
"It was always meant to be used as a method for drinking blood from humans without killing them. The vampire would have their fill, then spare the human's life. Afterward, they would compel the human to forget everything that had just transpired and let them go on their way, the human never having a clue of what had just went on not even five minutes before. The vampire was fed, the human was alive, and the existence of vampires remained a secret."
His jaw tightened.
"But then over the years, vampires would come to abuse this power. They would compel a person to make them go mad, just for the fun of it. They'd turn them into blood slaves. They would compel women to-"
He paused, peering up to give a significant look to Marinette, who stared back with widened eyes and parted lips.
"Yeah," he finished awkwardly. "Basically, they would use this power for all the wrong reasons. That, combined with the fact that I just don't like to manipulate something as personal at the human mind, makes me not want to do it."
"Have you done it before?" Marinette whispered.
He refused to meet her inquisitive stare once more.
"A few times, yes. Usually I go to bars to get my blood, from intoxicated women who likely won't remember anything that happened. Or if they do, they'll only remember bits and pieces and just chalk it up to a weird dream. I know this is still manipulative and cunning, but there's honestly not much else I could do, aside from stealing from a hospital, which I will never do, since it could be the difference between life and death for someone. Anyway, when I didn't have any luck at a club or bar, or when the person wasn't as drunk as I thought, I compelled them to forget."
He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable from the memories, not to mention scared of what Marinette would think of him after this.
"I try to avoid using it whenever I can. I-I'm sorry if you still think I'm terrible. I mean, it's still wrong to take advantage of someone, but I need the blood, and I-"
"Adrien," she hushed, setting her hands on his shoulders. He was trembling. "Adrien, calm down. It's okay."
The way his normally brightened green eyes looked so dark and pained tore through her heart.
"I don't care that you do that to get blood. It's much better than stealing from a hospital, and you don't have to mess with anyone's heads. I think actually stealing a person off the streets and drinking from them would be worse, since they'll know what's going on and be terrified throughout it. With the person drunk, they won't know what's going on around them. But wait…won't they still feel it? I mean, a bite has to be pretty painful, right?"
He eventually relaxed at the feel of her warm hands, taking comfort in her support. A corner of his lips turned up, and Marinette returned the fond smile.
"Not necessarily," he said, not moving to get out of her hold, and Marinette not making any indication of drawing back. "A bite doesn't have to be painful, although the initial prick of the fangs will always hurt. But it can go away quickly if the vampire chooses to release the aphrodisiac chemical we have to make the bite pleasurable rather than painful."
"Aphrodisiac?" she repeated after taking her hands back, having a hard time understanding. Well, she knew what an aphrodisiac was and what it was for, but he couldn't possibly mean the pleasure felt from a bite was the same as-
But by the sardonic amusement written across his face, she knew that was what he exactly meant.
"There's that kind of bite, then the bite to turn a human into a vampire, and the regular, pain-induced bite. I use the first one when feeding, so the victim won't be in pain."
"The aphrodisiac one?" she asked, wanting clarification. A strange feeling swelled in her stomach, one she couldn't identify. She knew one thing though: she didn't like it.
"Yeah," he confirmed, giving her a lop-sided smile. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
"And you said you normally drink from intoxicated women?"
Adrien tilted his head, not understanding why she suddenly looked so vexed.
"Yes…?"
"And how do you drink from these women, anyway? You must be alone to do that, right?"
"Yeah, but why…?"
"And to do that, I imagine you must do something to persuade them to be alone with you. Is that right?"
Deep down, Marinette knew she was being irrational, but it wasn't her fault! Well, kind of. In her defense, Adrien was a gorgeous male, possibly flirting with drunk women, and then injecting them with an aphrodisiac. Something must happen during that time!
"I do, but I don't get why-" He stopped, as it finally dawned on him. He could only stare and gape at her in shock.
Marinette was jealous.
His Loved One was jealous! It shouldn't give him so much satisfaction, he was sure of that, but this meant that she was developing feelings for him!
Right?
Yes, it had to mean that!
However, he wasn't so blinded by his newfound delight to not notice how amusing her jealousy was. She had absolutely nothing to worry about, and he intended to make sure she understood that.
"Princess," he began in a smooth tone, taking her hands in his own. The action brought memories of the previous night, prompting a smile to stretch his lips.
Marinette, meanwhile, sat still, not relenting on her small scowl as she refused to meet his gaze.
"You have nothing to be jealous over. Nothing happens except me getting the blood I need. Yes, the women feel pleasure, and I do have to pretend to flirt with them to get them alone, but I don't feel anything during it nor do I feel anything for them. I only get the blood I need, that's all that happens."
Marinette's features relaxed, but she still looked at him in doubt.
"None of them can hold a candle to you, Princess," Adrien continued sweetly, picking up one of her hands to give the knuckles a kiss. "I only love you; I'm yours."
Marinette felt her face heat up in a blush, this time she looked away only because she was flustered and couldn't meet his eyes. Adrien didn't mind, on the contrary, he was glad he was could get that type of reaction out of her. She liked him, and maybe one day she could love him.
He could only hope.