(A/N: I'm so sorry that this took three weeks! Turns out writing fluff isn't my strong suite. Who knew? But, at long last, here is chapter two! And I've already started on chapter 3, so hopefully I'll be ready to post it next week Happy reading!)

This would absolutely not be a good thing.

It took approximately forty seconds after detransforming for the anxiety to set in and for Marinette to realize that, in her disappointment and embarrassment, she had entered into one of the most short-sighted plans ever established. So many things could go terribly wrong.

1. Chat may not like real-life Marinette. Sure, he was convinced she was an actual goddess all of the time, but he hadn't even met her. He hadn't even—wait, no, he had met her, back when they were fighting the Evillustrator. But that was only once, and he hadn't seemed to treat her like anything special. He was certainly encouraging, and absolutely his own dorky self, but… it seemed like the show he had put on was about him. Like he had barely registered her.

That didn't bode well, actually. That didn't bode well at all.

2. She may not like real-life Chat. She only knew him as her goofy partner with the infinite puns and stunning eyes and admittedly nice butt. He was definitely a flirt, and she could see him being a playboy. He was so sweet and flirty and he had that smile. He probably got girls all the time. She didn't know how to feel about that. And he seemed like he might be the type to be rude to waiters, and what would she do if he was? Knowing each other personally introduced a lot more space for friction. What if they actually didn't like each other at all? They couldn't just stop working together. This was why she had maintained their distance all this time.

3. What if he really liked Marinette (unlikely) but she didn't like him? He would be crushed.

4. What if she really liked Chat, but he didn't actually like her? It would be an affirmation of all of the things she already knew: that Ladybug was just a cover for a totally ordinary girl. Ladybug was beautiful and magical and Marinette was nothing special and probably talked too much. She couldn't live up to her alter-ego.

She really didn't want that confirmation.

She had started to pace her room anxiously, and the thought of even Chat not liking her was about to trigger some sort of breakdown. And then her phone buzzed.

She had received an email.

From

I thought we could talk on our fan accounts, he had sent, since I tragi-cat-ly do not have your phone number.

First off, she responded, tragi-cat-ly? thats a stretch, even for you. second, why does your handle sound like a stripper name?

It took him approximately ten seconds to reply. Kitty's gotta bring home the big bucks somehow. Fighting crime doesn't put bread on the table.

Marinette choked. and now i have that mental image. thanks.

You want your man to have a steady job, don't you?

She rolled her eyes. And here i was worrying you would be disappointed in real-life me.

The next email took longer to arrive. You could never disappoint me. Masks don't make people. It's what's on the inside that counts. And your insides are beautiful.

That was so cheesy you could dip pretzels in it and sell it on a street corner. But she was smiling.

They chatted until Marinette fell asleep, warm and at peace.

000

Marinette had just gotten back from running deliveries on Saturday when she checked her phone to find a new message.

You purr-obably aren't going to let me facetime you, are you?

She smiled. Not yet. Still, she was starting to feel a little bit confident. It wasn't like Ladybug and Marinette were different people. Being the Miraculous Ladybug had helped Marinette to grow as Marinette. Their actions reflected each other. Being brave Ladybug helped Marinette to be brave herself, and Marinette's natural compassion motivated Ladybug. She wasn't ready to reveal herself, but she was getting there.

I can be patient [winking cat emoji]. Are you free tonight?

I can be.

Excellent. Meet me at the top of the Eiffel at eight. Don't eat dinner.

I'll clear my schedule.

LB?

Whats up?

Don't fur-get to miss me [insert winking cat emoji].

Marinette laughed. As if.

But, strangely enough, she did.

000

Adrien was working that afternoon, but it was hard to focus. He felt like a modelling robot, going through well-practiced motions while his brain was somewhere else. He already had a plan for his date with Ladybug, but he was so excited he couldn't think about anything else.

The photographer snapped his fingers, and Adrien quickly bit back his grin. Focus.

The shoot took forever, and by the time it was finally over, Adrien was left with two hours to prepare for his date and to wait.

He arrived at the tower half an hour early. Onlookers saw him scamper up near the top, back down to the bottom, back up, back down, and back up a third time. It was now 7:45. He spent his remaining fifteen minutes attempting to look nonchalant.

Ladybug arrived precisely at eight o'clock, and Chat greeted her with his model smile and an understated but expensive and beautifully fragrant bouquet.

She smiled widely, took the flowers from his hands, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

"I missed you," she told him softly.

Was it the light, or did his cheeks turn pink?

Blushing or not, his voice came out as a purr. "I'm glad." And then, sincerely, "I missed you, too."

Chat could swear he had never felt so warm inside. After a few seconds of simply smiling at her like an idiot, he caught himself and bowed deeply. "Now," he told her, "if you'll follow me right this way, we may commence with our dinner."

Three small coolers sat in a row. One had contained Ladybug's bouquet, one was now opened to reveal several take-out cartons of Chinese food, and one remained closed. On top of the last cooler sat a small speaker which began softly playing Claire de Lune when Chat connected it to his phone.

"I hope Chinese is okay," he said as they sat at the edge of the platform, dangling their feet over Paris.

"Of course!" Ladybug exclaimed. "You know, my mom is Chinese."

"That's so cool! I bet you eat this stuff all the time then."

"Not really. Chinese take-out isn't much like real Chinese food."

Chat grimaced. "I know I should have gotten pizza," he mumbled.

Ladybug's eyes widened. "That's not what I meant! I meant that I don't get food like this very often! I like it!"

Chat side-eyed her, still frowning. "It's okay," he said. "I'll get pizza next time."

"Chat Noir," Ladybug said seriously, looking straight at him. "I really like take-out Chinese food and I'm glad that you brought it because I never get to eat it." To prove her point, she took a large bite of orange chicken while maintaining eye contact.

He couldn't help but laugh. "I'll believe you," he conceded, "but only because I know for a fact that you're a terrible liar."

"I am not!" Ladybug cried. "I am a great liar!"

"Right. Name one time you've fooled me on anything, my Lady."

"Just now," she sniffed. "My mom isn't actually Chinese."

"You're not even being serious and you still can't hold a poker face," Chat noted gleefully. "That's so cute!"

"Don't make fun of me," Ladybug pouted, glaring at the skyline.

"Sweetheart," Chat gasped with exaggerated indignation. "I could never!"

Marinette hated that she blushed, which only made her blush deeper. Chat had stopped laughing. When she looked over at him, he was looking back at her very seriously, lips parted slightly, a strange look in his eyes. She cocked her head to the side, and he smiled slowly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She pursed her lips. "For what?"

"For giving me a shot. I'm really happy right now."

His green eyes were so honest, and his voice was so sincere, Ladybug could feel a little piece of her heart melt.

"Thank you for staying by me all this time," Ladybug responded. "You earned it."

"Are you finished eating?" Chat asked suddenly. "Because if we don't move onto the ice cream, I may do something inappropriate."

"I've only gotten through three bites, Chat," she laughed. "Now why don't you behave like a good little housecat and tell me something about yourself."

"Um… I fence."

"Really? That's so cool!" And then her smile slipped. Adrien fenced. And then she felt horrible for thinking about Adrien on her date with Chat Noir.

"LB? Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine!" she exclaimed. "I just… thought of something. But it's not important."

He cocked his head. "If you say so… Tell me something about yourself."

"Um… I'm really into fashion. I want to be a designer."

That was… ironic. So did Marinette. But still, the thought made him feel warm. He was a model and she was a designer. How perfect was that?

They chatted on for a good while, until most of the Chinese food was gone and Chat opened the third cooler to get out the ice cream. "I didn't know what you like," he explained, "so I just guessed on three. So are you a chocolate person, a strawberry person, or a cookies 'n' cream person?"

"All three are good, but… I think I'm feeling strawberry tonight."

"Strawberry it shall be, then." And then he froze.

"Is everything okay?" Ladybug asked, coming over.

"Yeah, I just…" He grimaced. "I forgot spoons."

Ladybug almost tried not to laugh, but then gave up. "Very smooth, Chat. Very smooth."

"Hey," he fielded, "cats don't need spoons, so it didn't occur to me."

"Chat Noir, I would bet money that I can eat this faster with my chopsticks than you can lapping it up. You realize you're not really a cat, don't you?"

He frowned. "You think so? But I was really feline the connection between us just now."

Ladybug groaned. "I thought you said you would stop if I said yes," she complained.

"Come on," Chat grinned. "You know you like them."

"Even if I did, I wouldn't say so."

"I'm taking that as an admission that you find them sexy. Now let's see if ice cream is better with chopsticks than it is with spoons."

Neither would say that it was better, although it was certainly messier—especially for Chat. Halfway through their dessert, a waltz started playing from the speaker and Chat quickly set aside his ice cream and jumped to his feet.

"My Lady," he said smoothly, holding out his hand to help Ladybug stand, "may I have this dance?"

She laughed. "I don't dance, Chat."

"It's a waltz," he whined. "They're easy. I'll teach you."

He was so corny, so predictable, and so sweet that Marinette couldn't say no. "Fine," she conceded, "but if I step on your toes, it's your own fault."

"My toes would be honored," Chat assured her. "Now come on. Your hands go here, and mine go right here. No, no, you have to stand closer—it's not me, it's the dance!"

When it came to swinging between buildings, her miraculous suit compensated for Marinette's clumsiness. When it came to dancing, however, it apparently did not. It didn't help that, in addition to his hand resting on her hip, gently guiding her through the motions, her own hand held his shoulder. She hadn't expected this to feel so intimate, but the strict distance Chat maintained between them felt like the taught space between two magnets. No matter how many times she stepped on his feet, he kept a steady count going, softly intoning "back, right, forward, back, left, forward," never losing patience, not even laughing at her. She was sure she was blushing as dark as her suit, and when the song ended, she felt breathless as they held their position. Lips parted, they were too close for her to comfortably meet his eyes, so she stared at the bell hanging at the base of his neck instead. Pulling her left hand back from his shoulder, she used it to flick the bell. It jingled just slightly and his shoulders lost their perfect posture as he laughed.

He wondered if he should mention that the bell acted as a zipper pull, but decided against it. Her reaction would be amusing, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"It's another waltz," Ladybug noticed.

"They're, um… they're all waltzes after this," Chat admitted. "In case you really enjoyed dancing."

"Wait. Did you make this playlist?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"I never pegged you as a classical guy," she noted.

"I don't know if I'd say I'm a 'classical guy,'" Chat responded. "I just have an appreciation for some culture now and then. And, if we're being technical, Debussy isn't really classical."

"Well isn't someone the expert," Ladybug teased.

"Someone has to be," he defended himself. "Besides, a gentleman should know something about music."

"You? A gentleman?" Ladybug scoffed jokingly. "Since when?"

"When have I ever been anything less?"

"You're a total flirt!"

Chat looked taken back. "I am not!" he exclaimed.

"You flirt with me all the time!"

"So? That's you. I don't do that with anyone else."

Marinette had not been expecting that. "Seriously?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Oh." She pursed her lips. It occurred to her that maybe she didn't know as much about Chat Noir as she had thought. The thought disconcerted her in a deep way, as if someone had asked her a question when she wasn't paying attention and for some reason, her answer was very, very important. "Chat?"

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Can we dance again?"

He smiled and brought her back into his distant embrace. Her feet began to fall into rhythm as she mulled over how this information affected her view of Chat Noir and what these warm and slightly anxious feelings meant.

Chat Noir, for his part, left Ladybug to her thoughts. He himself was a little bit put off. Did she really think he was a flirt? He knew she didn't know all that much about him, but… Did he really come off that way?

Well, maybe now was the time to set any misconceptions straight. He had thought that now, holding his dream woman and teaching her to dance atop one of the most spectacular structures in the world, he would feel totally satisfied, but something felt… off. He didn't like it.

The waltz ended, and neither of the superheroes spoke.

"Chat?" Ladybug said finally.

"Hm?" He met her eyes, dragged out of his own thoughts.

"Is it okay if… if I meet you?"

He bunched his eyebrows, not totally understanding. "Like… real life?"

"Yeah. I think I'm ready."

The weird feeling eased back to an ignored corner of his mind. This was exactly what he had been waiting for! A grin slipped back the corners of his mouth. "Yeah?" was all he said.

She shoved him. "Say something!" she demanded.

He shook himself. "Yeah!" he exclaimed. Then coughed, reigning in his grin. "I mean, yes, Ladybug. Yes, I would love to meet you in real life. We could… right now? We could just… detransform…" But even as he was saying it, it felt wrong. He needed to be ready, and he wasn't.

Ladybug wasn't either. "I was thinking… Monday, maybe. Monday afternoon? There's a café. We could meet there."

"Just email me the address and the time, and I'll be there," he promised.

Marinette nodded once, as if affirming the date for herself. "Cool," she said simply.

And then she dropped the waltz pose completely, wrapping her arms tightly around Chat and resting her face against his neck.

He froze at first, surprised, but then slowly slid his hands up and down her back. He smiled when she sighed into him. Yes, this definitely felt right.

Later, as they got ready for bed after returning home, a bubbly excitement fizzed up inside of both of them, Adrien in his mansion and Marinette in her loft.

It was finally time.