After that basketball game with the children, Gabriel had returned to his office, using work and a sore back as an excuse. Adrien had looked a bit disappointed, but that had barely made a dent in in his obvious happiness. The boy had retreated to his bedroom with his friends, and you could hear the occasional bout of cheering and laughing from upstairs.
Nathalie was not fond of teenagers in general, but she had to admit Adrien's friends had done a good job. It was not easy to get Gabriel to relax, let alone to play.
She had spent a good part of the afternoon with a smile on her face.
That had been too good to last.
Twenty minutes after getting back to work, her employer had her bring him coffee and snacks. She walked into his office to find him cold . He had closed up, pretexting to work to shut Nathalie out, using his feigned concentration as a wall. She could tell: she knew him well enough, by now. He let her place her platter on his desk and return to the door without even acknowledging her presence. Her stomach twisted.
"Nathalie. A word, if you please," he ended up saying, right as she was about to walk out.
She stopped, closing the door with a trembling hand. She had worked with him long enough to know when he was about to unleash hell. There were minute signs. The look on his face, the tension in his shoulders, even the way his hands rested on his keyboard, all contracted sinew and forced angles.
She turned to him.
He leaned back against his chair.
"There seems to have been some kind of mix-up with Adrien's birthday gift last year," he announced. "A friend of his sent him a gift - a handmade scarf - and Adrien is convinced it came from me. Do you know how that could have happened?"
Nathalie's knees buckled. She kept herself upright by pure reflex, straightening her spine and moving her shoulders back.
Arrows and boxes drew themselves in her mind, flowcharts with only one endpoint.
Don't lie.
Twenty minutes were enough for Gabriel to have browsed through his credit cards' history. There was no order to be found, not the slightest purchase that could somehow have been construed as a gift for Adrien. He knew. He was not an idiot.
Don't lie.
He knew, and this was a test, it had to be. What Nathalie had to do was:
1) to come clean.
2) to apologize.
3) to clear things up with Adrien.
Don't lie.
He is testing you, don't lie.
Decades of self-preservation kicked in. You did not fall out of the habit of lying easily. It was a defense mechanism, a reflex, a compulsion of sorts. If she told the truth, she would lose everything . If she lied too, but lies was safe and honesty was not. She was well aware that the sentiment was a fallacy, but that did not help.
"That's strange," she replied, throat clenched, mentally screaming at herself for uttering those words. "I distinctly remember handing him your right after collecting it from the mailbox."
Cold blue eyes moved from her face to the wall and back.
"What did you get Adrien?" Gabriel asked.
"A video game. The one with the robots. The fighting one. 'Ultimate machine strike'?"
"And did he like it?"
"I… wouldn't know. I didn't wait for him to unwrap the gift, I had some work to finish, and I was late, with the soap bubbles incident." - She shuddered at the memory. - "You remember it was the day the Bubbler appeared, don't you?"
"I do."
"I… I assume there was some kind of problem with the delivery. There was one package in the mailbox, I didn't check if it was the game, I went straight to Adrien."
If it had been delivered by a store, it would have been in a delivery box, not gift wrapped. It's not even a plausible lie.
Gabriel studied her face.
"I see," he murmured. "Thank you, that clarifies matters." - He looked down at his work. - "You're free to go."
Nathalie waited by the door for a handful of seconds, drawing circles on her palate with the tip of her tongue. She couldn't force herself to admit the truth. At no point did he acknowledge her presence.
She walked out.
###
Adrien couldn't remember the last time he had been this happy. Happy, with a capital H, so full of restless energy that Ladybug had remarked on his acrobatics during their patrol, that she had grinned at the joy on his face.
That had made his day even better. He loved to see her smile.
They ended their patrol on Notre-Dame, in a hammock woven in yoyo strings, looking at the stars.
"What got you in such a good mood, kitty?" she asked.
"I had a greeaaaaat day," he replied, his grin so large his cheek hurt.
His father was doing better. Nathalie was taking care of him. Adrien's friends had been allowed to visit (and Gabriel had even been civil to Nino). Gabriel had not only let them play in the courtyard, but joined in.
It still felt like a dream.
" That great?" Ladybug commented, rolling to her side on the net of yoyo strings.
Chat turned to her too.
"That great. You know those days where everything just goes perfectly ?"
She nodded.
"It was one of those days," he explained.
She smiled and sniffed and looked at him with a warmth that made his heart stop. He blushed and rolled on his back, trying so hard to do so casually and failing. He felt like his entire body was pulled towards her, like it would slide and crash against her if he did not keep his fingers tangled in the hammock's strings. He wanted to slide and crash and wrap his arms around her waist. It was overwhelming. He was sure those thoughts were clear on his face, too.
"I'm happy for you," she said.
He would not have been able to answer if he had tried. He only managed a strangled giggle, then tried to relax and to focus on the stars.
All he wanted to do was sink into her arms and tell her about his day, about his life. He wanted to share everything with her, every bit of relief and happiness, every bit of hope. Not being allowed to clouded his joy with specks of loneliness.
He sat up.
Maybe it was his lucky day.
Maybe everything would go well.
Adrien couldn't know. What he knew was that he couldn't bear waiting anymore. He needed certainty. He needed closure. He needed not to be so confused that the presence of Marinette Dupain-Cheng became troubling.
"My lady," he said, turning to her with a smile that was neither Chat nor Adrien, but that serious, lovesick boy in-between them.
She took one look at him and paled, sitting up in a careful, tense motion.
Or maybe everything would not go well, he thought. But it was worth a try.
"I w-was wondering," he started. "I was wondering if you would do me the great honor of going on a date with me."
She blanched and panicked and fidgetted, recoiling a little.
"I-I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, looking down at the fists she had balled on her knees. "I, uh, I…"
He kept his smile on, but pursed his lips.
She breathed in and raised jittering hands.
" I don't mean I'm sorry, I mean I'm sorry, I mean… Agh. I'm making a mess of things," she moaned.
He rocked back and forth with the motions of the hammock, faking serene patience.
Ladybug composed herself.
"I mean I am sorry I pretended not to see that you liked me," she said, voice laden with guilt. "It's… I didn't always pretend , just the last few days, after… Anyway, I couldn't see it. I think I didn't want to see it. I'm sorry. I, I…"
She was rolling herself into a ball as she talked, and would have buried her face in her knees if Chat had not intervened.
"Hey. Hey, it's okay," he told her, leaning forwards.
"No it's not!"
He chuckled.
"My Lady, it seems to bug you more than it bugs me. I mean, a certain someone warned me he confessed on my behalf..."
She gaped at that, looking up at him with wide eyes.
"... And I could see the idea made you uneasy so I would never have mentioned it," he continued.
She forgot to breathe. He felt about to lose his nerve, so he turned to the sky and looked at the stars instead.
"The truth is I'm fine with being your partner. Your friend. I love you from the bottom of my heart but it doesn't mean I want you to be mine. What I want is for you to be happy . And whoever you end up loving, even if it isn't me…" - He thought of the magic of strawberry-flavored lip gloss, or absence thereof, and held on to faint hopes. - "I will be happy for you. That's what's most important to me."
She shifted closer, hesitantly squeezing his shoulder then taking her hand away.
He closed his eyes and breathed in.
"But I had to try, you know?" he said, looking up at the moon. "As happy as I'd be to see you happy, I would be an idiot to forever hold my peace." - He turned to her, grinning. - "I had to at least try. Even if it's to get a 'in your dreams, kitty'. I had to make sure."
She kissed him.
It was just a peck on the lips. It lasted less than a second, and she immediately moved away, raising her hands in a 'stop right here' gesture. He stilled. More precisely, he felt so tense that he couldn't tell if he had turned to stone or if he was trembling too fast to notice.
He still brushed his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, wondering about the strawberry thing. He did not taste sugar. It was a little disappointing.
Ladybug swallowed.
"I need to explain something," she announced.
Then she went silent.
A minute went by. It gave Chat some time to relax. He watched her, concerned, and waited.
"There's a boy I like," she said, looking to the side. "I have liked him since… Forever , really. That's why I didn't pay attention to anyone else."
Adrien took a deep breath. He knew full well who she was talking about, but it still stung, for some asinine reason he could not have explained in a century. Well. He had been jealous of Theo Barbeau. Being jealous ofhimself was only slightly more ridiculous.
"And by 'a boy', you mean Adrien Agreste," he commented when she failed to keep talking.
He tried to keep his voice casual.
The look of shocked aggravation she gave him nearly sent him into a fit of laugher. She was fuming.
"Did the two of you discuss everything? " she exclaimed. "What did he tell you?"
"That he confessed on my behalf, mostly. He wanted to give me fair warning. We didn't really discuss you," Chat finished.
Was that a lie or a truth? How did you describe talking to yourself?
Ladybug sighed.
"Alright," she grumbled. "It doesn't matter. What I was trying to say is that I have decided to move on from liking him."
Chat Noir blinked.
Secret identities made for a rollercoaster of feelings, all of them nonsensical and confusing. So she kissed 'him' but she didn't like 'him' anymore and it put him in a strange state of overjoyed vexation.
"Why?" he blurted out.
"Because it's for the best."
"But… why? You like him, he obviously likes you, so I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the issue."
Ladybug frowned, perplexed.
"Chat. Why would you of all people question that decision?"
"Curiosity?"
"You will not get me to say that idiom again."
Adrien laughed.
"It was worth a try."
His partner shook her head, sighing.
"The thing is… For a start, Adrien likes Ladybug , and Ladybug is a mask I put on when I need to be brave and save the world. She is an illusion... " - She saw the look on Chat's face and booped his nose. - "She is an illusion, and the girl underneath is nothing like that."
He tilted his head away and rubbed his nose.
"That's… I don't mean to discard your opinion, but that's… How are you an illusion? I've been by your side for a year now and you're pretty real to me ."
She gave him a sad smile.
"You know me better but you haven't seen everything I am either. Ladybug is this larger-than-life perfect hero who never does anything wrong, but it's just what she needs to be. Underneath, I am just some girl. I'm not like that at…"
"I don't think you're perfect," he cut in, eyes closed, chin up, in an overly serious tone.
"What?"
"I don't think you are perfect. I think you're amazing , but you are nowhere near perfect," he explained with a grin.
"What?"
"You are terribly stubborn," Chat said. "And sometimes, you rush into things. And I'm not going to say anything else because I really liked the whole kissing thing and I'd like to keep my options open."
She huffed, which made him chuckle.
"I don't think you are an illusion," he told her, growing serious. "There's a lot of things you can fake. You can pretend to be kind, to be happy, to be many, many things… but you? There is no faking the essence of you. You are brave, you are a leader, you are smart. You can't pretend to be that. The moment you act brave, you are brave. Leadership is a skill, and I wish I had half your brains. I don't see how you could turn into a pumpkin at midnight."
Silence fell. Ladybug stared at him, so flustered he could see her blush even under the moonlight. She was opening and closing her mouth but could not utter a sound.
He changed topics before she could come up with a rebuttal.
"So, now that that's off the table, what is so wrong with Adrien Agreste? I thought he was quite the catch!"
She snorted and choked and turned away.
"There is nothing wrong with Adrien Agreste."
Well, that was reassuring.
Ladybug sucked her lower lip in then released it with a smacking noise.
"The problem is that I don't think I know anything about Adrien Agreste. Now, I know everything there is to know about Adrien Agreste. I have pictures, I have posters, I have eleven binders filled with interviews photocopied from magazines. In French, in English, even one in German and one in Japanese. With translations. And then I have an index of all of those on my computer, by keyword, by date, by author. I can quote every word he ever told the press."
Adrien stared at her in disbelief, eyes growing wider at every syllable, until he felt laughter bubble up in his throat. He had to slam his mouth closed. His cheeks still puffed up, chuckles coming out of his nose in little snorts.
"So who is brave and smart and a leader now?" Ladybug mumbled, looking at a lamppost far into the distance.
He choked.
That was unexpected and incredibly cute.
"Are you done laughing?" she grumbled, sulking. "I was trying to make a point here."
Chat lost it, collapsing back onto the hammock and laughing until he couldn't breathe. His partner glared at him. Her gloom could only last so long, however. It took a while, but she ended up giggling.
"Now come on," she said. "I know it's silly!"
Adrien tried to calm down, taking long breaths and focusing on Serious Things. He was grinning so much his cheeks hurt.
"You should tell him!" he declared when he managed to regain a modicum of self-control.
"So I can get this exact same reaction and die of mortification? Thanks but I'll pass."
"I'm sure he would think it's cute!" Adrien swore.
"I am not telling him about that."
"I'm pretty sure it's his normal, you know? He won't mind."
"I am. Not. Telling him. About that."
"Alright, alright," Chat replied, trying to remain serious for more than ten seconds and failing. He chuckled.
Ladybug rolled her eyes.
"What I was trying to say is that I might know everything there is to know about him… And I know more than what I read in magazines. I saw him shield his friends from Timebreaker, I saw him comfort them, I saw him call a bully out, I know a lot more than what he thinks I do."
"That's starting to sound dangerously close to stalking."
She glared.
"Not that I have anything against stalkers," Chat Noir added. "My mom used to be one."
That answer got him a bewildered look.
He cleared his throat.
"From what I have been told, my parents had a very romantic - if slightly weird - courtship."
"I-I'm sure they did."
"So, you know-but-don't-know Adrien," he prompted.
Ladybug lowered her eyes, face darkening.
"I think Adrien… I don't think he gets to be himself much," she murmured, looking away. "He wears a mask too. He tries so hard to conform to the expectations of… others. And, for a long time, I couldn't see that. He toldme. He had to tell me, even if I knew 'so much' about him. Sometimes, there is a whole different boy shining through, if you pay attention."
Chat nearly tore his ring off his finger. He fumbled with it but kept it on, hands trembling.
Thankfully, his partner was not looking at him.
She swallowed.
"It made me realize… I might like him, but it doesn't count. It's not the right kind of love. He deserves someone who got to know all of who he is, who loves all of who he is, and-"
"You could be that," Adrien murmured, twisting his ring from left to right.
" And someone he will truly know. Someone who can be honest with him, share everything with him, and that can never be me because this mask is not coming off for him, ever ," Ladybug continued, patting her cheekbone. "Whether I interact with him as Ladybug or as myself - and that would be a whole new kind of dishonest - there will always be secrets. That's not right. I don't want that."
He smiled, trying not to let her see how clenched his throat was and how close to breaking down he felt.
"You could tell him who you are," he pointed out.
"We both know I can't. You understand, don't you? You are the only person who could understand."
"I do," he murmured.
"So I have to stop pining like a little girl and move on, because it is the way things should be. I have to let go. And that's fine. I'm sure there is better for him down the line. Better for everyone."
Adrien breathed in, looking at the sky. He let a few moments pass, then started rocking the string hammock.
He kept his ring on. It kept the game slightly rigged in his favor, and he needed to think.
"You kissed me," he said minutes later.
She had not said a word, settling for stargazing with him instead. The remark startled her out of her thoughts.
"I did," she murmured back.
"There would still be secrets if you dated me, right? The mask would not come off for me either. It would be just the same."
"It would not be the same at all," she replied, looking at the sky. "Because you know there is a secret. You know why there is one." - She turned to him. - "And you know me better than anyone , Chat Noir. You know me better than I know myself."
"What if I want to know all of you?"
"Well, for a start, you don't need to know my identity to know me as a person. There is that. And then…"
"Theeeen?"
She gave him a conspiratorial grin.
"I've been told getting to know someone is what dating is for."
###
Adrien woke up at nine in the morning with a smile on his face. Well, he woke up with the terrified confusion of someone whose alarm clock had not gone off. Then he checked his schedule and realized with great relief that his morning was free. Then he confusedly recalled slipping into the mansion at four in the morning, with great precautions because his father was awake, with every light in his bedroom and study lit. Then the boy remembered kissing Ladybug and agreeing on a date.
He had Ladybug.
She had kissed him first.
They were dating.
They were dating because he had conveniently decided to lie to her when he knew she did not want to date Adrien Agreste with secrets between them, but surely that issue could be solved through careful conversation and lots of apologizing.
Sorry, Adrien, for throwing you under the bus.
Don't worry about it, Chat Noir. May the best man win.
I intend to.
It would go well.
He hoped.
He was dating Ladybug.
"So are you finally going to get out of bed and find some food for me?" Plagg mumbled.
"I am dating Ladybug."
The Kwami grumbled.
"Yes. Now what about my breakfast?"
Adrien grinned to him.
"I am dating Ladybug!" he repeated.
"Yeees. I know. What an overwhelming surprise, I would never have expected it, it has certainly never happened to the Chats Noirs of the last five millennia."
"Do you have to be that grumpy?"
"I am always grumpy when I am starving."
"Fiiiine, let's get you food," his chosen mumbled.
He had barely finished getting dressed when there was a knock at his door. Plagg exploded into black sparkles, leaving him alone.
"Adrien, are you up?" Gabriel called from outside.
"Yes!" the teenager squeaked, stunned to hear his father's voice and not Nathalie's.
Had he done something wrong?
"Can I come in?" the man asked.
"Of c-"
The door opened before he could finish his sentence. An exhausted Gabriel walked in, a photo album under the arm. The look on his face was beyond tiredness. Adrien was not sure how to read it, but he thought he recognized sadness and guilt.
"Father?"
Gabriel sighed, crossing the room to take a seat on the sofa.
"There seems to have been some kind of mix-up last year," he murmured. "About your birthday gift."
Adrien frowned.
His father gestured at the vacant seat on the sofa, waiting for him to join him. The teenager did, sitting down carefully, with his spine straight.
Gabriel pursed his lips, looking at the red photo album he had placed on his knees.
"Miss Dupain-Cheng sent you a gift. A homemade scarf, which ended up being given to you as a gift from me, by mistake."
Adrien paled.
"What? But…"
It was impossible. She would have said something. He still remembered going to school with that scarf. He remembered Alya commenting on it, and telling her and Marinette that it was a gift from Gabriel. Neither of the girls had corrected him.
It couldn't be true.
Except no one was in a better position than Gabriel to know what gift Gabriel had sent Adrien.
"I… How?" the boy asked.
Rather than answering, his father clenched his hands on the album. It took him a moment to relax. He did not turn to Adrien.
"I wish I could say there was some delivery issue, that the package I ordered was switched with miss Dupain-Cheng's gift, or that my order did not arrive because of the Akuma attack. The truth is… I have no idea if I got you a gift. I can't remember. Maybe I just expected Nathalie to get one. Maybe I forgot to ask her to buy something. I don't know."
Adrien did not know what to say.
His father looked sincerely sorry, so the teenager's stomach twisted out of concern and not just hurt.
"Dad," he murmured, reaching for his shoulder without daring to touch him.
Gabriel handed him the photo album.
"I know this won't make up for it but I felt you deserved an actual gift," he told him. "So I put a little something together."
Adrien blinked and opened the album.
The first page was empty. He turned it and found not a photograph, but a sketch of a teenage girl with pigtails, posing with an umbrella.
Mom.
There was a note in the corner of the page, a simple "Alice, 16 year old", written in Gabriel's neat handwriting.
The designer was watching Adrien's face, observing his reaction with bated breath. His son turned the page and found two more sketches on yellowed paper, under impeccable plastic covering.
On the first, in colored pencil, his mother was sitting in a staircase, a red schoolbag by her side. "Alice, 16 year old, at school". On the right page, Adrien found portraits of Alice - doodles, mostly - with a range of devoted and blushing expressions he had never seen her display. "Alice, 16 year old, attempting to engage future husband in conversation".
Adrien turned the page again.
His father leaned a little closer.
"I figured you'd like to see those," he murmured. "So I went digging through my old art to-"
"Thank you," his son blurted out, voice strangled.
He was looking at a sketch of a dejected Alice being consoled by another girl, who did not have features, but long pale hair and a striped t-shirt. "Future husband would not converse".
The next page was a color portrait of a boy with glasses. Clearly, Gabriel had not drawn that one, because it was terrible . The eyes were not even remotely where eyes went, the nose was twisted, the lines shaky, and the glasses looked like ski equipment. "Future husband, as drawn by Alice, date unknown".
Adrien looked up.
Gabriel winced.
"I did try to teach her how to draw but she threatened me with a break-up," he commented, eyes turned to the ceiling. "I hear I'm not the most pleasant of teachers."
His son chuckled and went on to the next pages.
"Alice, 17 year old, bikini protest". "Alice, 17 year old, whining about the pose hurting her back(side)", said a note on a sketch of her where she was folding herself like a contortionist. "You told me you were drawing ME!", under a detailed drawing of a summer dress covering a barely sketched silhouette. "Alice, 18 year old, birthday party". "Alice, 18 year old, wearing (mocking) future husband's clothes". "Alice, 18 year old, wearing (praising) future husband's designs". A half-finished drawing, where Adrien's mother wore thick glasses, was accompanied by a larger blurb of text: "Alice, 19 year old, wearing future husband's glasses, prior to long argument on how considerably easier it is to draw accurate portraits when one is in possession of one's glasses".
Adrien turned two more pages and found color drawings of an apartment filled with cushions and quilts, the stark furniture so covered in fluff and pastels that it looked cozy. "First apartment", the note said.
The next sketches were Alice again, at age twenty, twenty-one, twenty two, and so on. In her wedding dress, in jeans and t-shirt, in her pajamas, in maternity clothes.
And then, Adrien found himself.
The first drawing of him showed him as a newborn in his mother's arms. "Adrien, 1 day old". His breath caught in his throat.
"Thank you," he repeated.
It meant so much. More than he could express.
Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder and turned the page with the other one.
"Adrien, 2 day old, and Alice". "Adrien, 2 week old, and Maya the Bee". Adrien remembered that Maya toy. He had kept it for years.
They went past a page where Alice, in crumpled pajamas, was sipping coffee and glaring at the viewer. "Motherhood", said the text in the corner.
"Fatherhood was not pretty either," Gabriel mumbled. "Don't expect to find pictures."
There were dozens of sketches of Adrien after that, either alone or with his mother. His dad only stopped turning the pages when they reached a colorful illustration of six month old Adrien sleeping on two hundred seventeen stuffed cats.
You could tell there were two hundred seventeen stuffed cats because it was written in the corner. "Adrien and the 217 stuffed cats".
Cats. Most of them black. The young superhero couldn't help but smile.
"Why did you have two hundred seventeen cat plushies?" he asked. "How does that even happen?"
His father grunted.
"Your mother wanted pastel cushions. It's a long, long, looooong story."
###