Very slight AU, in that I made their powers cooler. B)

Edit:

Okay so, there was a VERY specific kind of song in my head when I wrote this, but I couldn't for the life of me find one that fit. Then a very nice very awesome reader on Ao3 (clandestincinnamon) pointed me towards this song on youtube: Summer Hearts by DavidRussel323. And let me squeal for a second. Because not only is this song PERFECT. BUT IT GAVE ME A FLASHBACK TO SOMETHING (see author's note at the end) AND I REMEMBERED WHAT SONG I WAS THINKING OF?

I'm seriously so stupid, how did I not realize I was thinking of THAT SONG (SEE END NOTE AFTER READING). ANYWAY.

The piano song I was thinking of was: To Zanarkand from the piano collection of Final Fantasy X.

I know neither of these songs are exactly what I describe in the story, but know that these are both EXACTLY what I was picture. So if you want, listen to them while reading and imagine that the song Adrien plays is somewhere in the middle.


Untitled


While Chat Noir comforted the recently-rescued akuma and explained what had happened to them, Marinette danced around the evacuated concert hall, magic dripping from her fingers as she splashed it around. Light billowed in her wake and every reflective surface glistened, from the metal strips running along the carpeted aisle to the number plates embedded in each chair to the chandeliers hanging above. The rows repaired themselves and the burn marks vanished from the carpet. Chat was escorting the shaken pianist from the hall by the time she got to the stage. The waxed hardwood floor was ripped up in great stretches and it took a little while for her to finesse it back into its original smooth state.

"Poor guy," Chat Noir lamented as he joined her onstage near the end of her ritual. They were alone now in the vaulted concert hall, and his soft voice echoed strangely in the space around them. "One sour note and his biggest night is ruined. Can you imagine?"

"I can," Marinette sighed. Her imagination was perhaps too vivid for someone in her occupation. It was impossible for her not to identify and sympathize with each and every victim. She hesitated at the grand piano itselfㅡthe last thing left to repairㅡfeeling the weight of the pianist's heartbreak like it was her own.

"Hey, you've got enough magic left, right?" Chat Noir prompted when she'd been staring silently at the half-crushed piano for a little too long. "Don't push yourself too hard. That was a lot of damage you just fixed. We can always come back and finish up later."

"No, no," she assured him haughtily, "I haven't run out yet." If she'd run out of magic she'd have gone sprinting out of here already to protect her identity from him. He knew that.

To prove her point she waved a hand over the collapsed instrument, righting its broken legs first and prompting the rest to follow. Chat Noir leaned in close, watching the interior strings with rapt attention and awe as they reattached and restrung themselves. He looked like a regular old cat, the way his pupils dilated. She'd gotten over the shock-factor of her incredible powers within a week of receiving them. Chat, however... Two years later he was still watching her work with the eyes of an enraptured child. She couldn't lie to herself; it was somewhat endearing.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

When she was finished with the piano, Chat Noir snuck her a mischievous grin that she didn't quite like and flipped over the top of it to land on the padded bench. At first she was unsure what he was doing, but then he tore one glove off, casting it over his shoulder without a thought, where it fractured into shards of lime-colored light and fizzled out of existence. He struck a chord near the left end of the keys with a slow, show-offy wink. Walking up the scale with his left hand, he tugged off his other glove with his teeth. Atoms of leather collapsed into photons of light and without even a glance at the keys he struck a full, complex, two-handed chord.

"Yep," he declared, drinking in her reaction. "Good as new!"

She couldn't help it. The unbidden image of Chat Noirㅡthe most restless person aliveㅡpracticing at a piano for hours on end was completely at odds with anything she'd ever have guessed about his private life. "You play piano?" she asked incredulously.

He eyed her and smoothly shifted chords, a fifth to a third to a sixth. "Does that surprise you?"

"Yes, actually."

The latest chord dissolved into a series of lilting runs, each slower and sadder than the last, descending the scale into a deep resonant hum. He was still looking at her through his ruffled bangs instead of at the keys, where his fingers roamed freely. The song shifted into a minor key. She realized she was returning his stare and tore her eyes away.

"We should go," she suggested. "We're both running on empty and there's still a bit of damage left in the lobby."

But the song continued behind her and when she turned back to him he was off in his own world, smiling at the empty music stand and diving into an unconventional time signature that she didn't recognize. Despite herself, she longed to hear the rest of it. Whatever it was, it was a decidedly beautiful piece of music and the fact that Chat Noir was the one playing it made it all the more tantalizing. The only thing she'd ever seen him do with his fingers (besides touch her) was to rend, dissolve, burn, and crush. She'd never seen him create anything before. And like it or not, she wanted to see more.

So even though she felt the last dregs of magic trickling away into the air behind her and could see the faint sparkles evaporating from her suit (the telltale sign that she had less than fifteen minutes left till forced detransformation), she walked around the piano and sat beside him on the bench. His eyes flitted to her in brief surprise as he made room. But the colorful melody danced on without interruption.

Unable to meet his inquisitive gaze, she focused instead on his hands. The way they moved. It was strange, seeing them without the usual gloves. She noticed that his ring wasn't burnt charcoal black at all and was, in fact, a flawless silver. And the way his hands roved gracefully across the keys was similarly flawless, as if underneath the wild roguish shell that was 'Chat,' he was someone totally unrecognizable.

Someone else.

The key progressed back from minor to major and the whole piece ground to a bright, songbird crawl.

Marinette had to look away, toward the empty hall. She was never going to be able to think of anything else ever again when he took her by the hand. Try as she might to convince herself that she wasn't curious about his identity, every once in awhile something like this would come along, and it was a slap in the face. A reminder. That underneath Chat was a person she didn't know. A person that, no matter how she reasoned with herself in the dead of night, she desperately longed to know.

It had been almost five minutes by the time the song petered down to a single final chord that he plucked three times, the last time in the highest octave available. Only when the reverberations had faded from the farthest corners of the vaulted ceiling did Marinette speak up.

"That was beautiful," she admitted softly, hands still folded tightly in her lap. Normally she steered clear of feeding Chat's oversized ego, but this wasn't about Chat at all. That song had sprung from the man underneath.

He seemed to come to himself a little bit, shaking off the trance. One hand rubbed shyly at the back of his neck. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," she insisted. "You have such a talent for it, and the song was... It was so sad and somehow so happy at the same time. I've never heard anything like it." Having played cello for six years, she'd studied her fair share of classical music. But she couldn't place that song in her memories. The accidentals harkened of Chopin, but the complicated runs were all Bach, and the whole thing was held up with extremely modern, rock-esque overtones that were unlike anything she'd studied. It was driving her mad trying to recognize it. "What's it called? Who's the composer?"

For some reason this flustered him even more. The hand on his neck moved to his jaw, tracing it, and he bit his lip. It was uncharacteristic for him to show embarrassment about anything; he was possibly the most shameless person she'd ever encountered. Had she struck a nerve?

"What?" she giggled. "Who is it? I'm not a music snob. I'm not gonna judge your taste in classical composers."

He brushed his hair away from his face, hitting with with an vulnerable, unreadable look. "I wrote it," he told her. "For you."

"Oh," she breathed, and he might as well have punched all the air from her lungs.

For all the nonchalance with which he'd thrown himself into the song, she had assumed he was merely showing off for her like usual. Not in a thousand lifetimes would she have guessed that he was using this moment to share something intimate with her. And if she hadn't asked, would he have even told her? Probably not, since she was always scolding him for giving too much of himself away, or shooting him down when he sought a piece of her that she wasn't ready to part with. If she hadn't asked, she might never have known.

"That's not weird is it?" he laughed nervously when she took too long to respond.

And damn it all, she was hopelessly fascinated by the puzzle piece he'd just handed her. Here was a boy who had sat down in his free time, in his own life, and written her a song.

"Fuck, I knew it. It's weird."

"No, it's not weird," she spoke up. "I loved it. Really." She must have painted enough sincerity into her voice because he seemed to untense a bit. "Does it have a name?"

"Uhhh… no," he said, a little too slowly. Almost like he'd tried to name it and failed. "It's untitled."

"Untitled? That's okay," she teased. "The best things in life are untitled." He made to lower his hand from its position at the back of his neck, which drew her attention to that ring of his again; the brightest platinum underneath the black illusion that was his transformation. Without thinking she reached for it. It was cold and smooth to the touch, carved on the sides with an intricate geometric design. When she heard him sigh, she realized that not only was she touching his ring, she was basically holding his hand.

Before she could retract at lightspeed, he spoke. "Like us?"

His voice was closer than it had been a second ago and she didn't dare look up to see the evidence. She didn't have to ask. She knew what he meant. Untitled.

"Ladybug," he whispered, and her head snapped up. When it did her nose immediately brushed his, his leather mask catching on her satin one, riding it up the ridge of her nose.

She sucked in a sharp breath. His eyelids lowered and he pulled away just a fraction of a centimeter, only enough to let her mask unwrinkle. He watched it right itself with an air of extreme concentration, and his breath descended over her like a rising tide, warming her cheeks, her lips, her neck. She shivered. He noticed.

The hand she was holding slipped from hers, coming up to brush lightly at her chin. Their foreheads touched…

Then a green flash of light from below caused her to jump and him to huff with disappointment. They both looked down at the floor, where his boots were evaporating into particles of light, leaving behind a spotless pair of bright yellow converse. Huh, she thought. Yellow.

It almost hurt when he pulled away, smiling easily, as if a change the size of a continental rift hadn't almost just happened. "That's my cue," he said. "I must leave you to finish up the lobby on your own, my lady." He stood over her, clicking the dust cover shut over the keys. "Until tomorrow?"

"Wait," she blurted, heart still beating in her throat. "If Iㅡ Will you record that song for me? I'llㅡI'll bring you a flashdrive to save it on."

Surprise crossed his face again, and his cat ears evaporated next. He was really cutting it close. "Sure, Ladybug. Although," he chuckled ruefully, "I guess this means I'll have to name it."

She walked her fingers along the dust cover, thinking of the blissful look on his face as he'd played. "Nothing stays untitled forever," she murmured, unable to look at him. She didn't have to. He'd know exactly what she meant. Like us.

.

.

Nearly a year later, Marinette was sitting on a bench outside a bookshop, soaking in the last day of summer before she started her first semester of university. It had been a lovely summer. But as excited as she was for tomorrow, she was feeling strangely nostalgic. So instead of starting on one of her assigned texts early, she set her pile of books aside and put in her earbuds. She listened to all her favorite songs throughout lycee, letting the sun warm her lap and her closed eyelids while she retraced the highlights of the last couple years.

She'd been there almost two hours and her battery was running low when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Startled out of her trance, her eyes flew open, expecting to see someone asking her for change, or to sign their petition, or to scoot over and make room on the bench. But it was none other than Adrien.

She tore her earbuds out so fast it almost hurt.

"Sorry to interrupt," he was saying. His face radiated happiness, like the fact that he'd run into her here had made his entire day. "You looked like you were really into your music. I just wanted to say hi. It's been weeks!"

"Yeah," she breathed. "No worries! I'm glad you did. You wanna, um, sit?" she offered in a pitch three times higher than her regular speaking voice. She almost dropped all her books moving them aside for him, and in the end he laughed and took them from her, opting to set them on his lap instead of the ground. "What brings you here?"

"I was bored out of my mind waiting for the semester to start," he laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners endearingly. "I just wanted a book I haven't read before. Of course, this is much better."

Marinette must have flushed down to her toes.

"Although, I can leave you alone if you were going to studyㅡ"

"No!" she blurted, "I mean I was," she amended quickly, faltering under his inquisitive green eyes. "But you're right, this is much better. I've missed you." Internally she slapped herself for that last partㅡit had tumbled off her tongue without her permission.

But his eyes only crinkled even further. "I've missed you too," he said, and she swore she was this close to passing out. "It's been kind of a lonely summer in general," he sighed. "Hey, I saw your fall class schedule on facebook the other day. It's pretty similar to mine, actually. We should get lunch together sometime. Maybe study together between classes? I don't know how I'm going to survive without Nino attached to my hip."

"Um, yeah," she breathed. She didn't care if he wasn't talking about a date; he could have asked her to help him carry his books to class and she would have responded just as passionately. "Same with me and Alya," she laughed. "So I'd love that."

"Cool," he said, and if she wasn't mistaken it was with a great sigh of relief. "So, hey. What were you listening to when I so rudely startled you?"

She followed his line of sight to her phone on her lap, where her headphones were tangled in a haphazard pile after having been ripped out at lightspeed. The music app was still going. She hadn't bothered to pause. "Just a playlist I made back in lycee," she explained. "All my favorite songs." As she looked, the song she'd been listening to when Adrien tapped on her shoulder ended. It was replaced by the next on the list, and her stomach dropped out.

/ cover art not found /

[nothing stays untitled forever.mp4]

artist unknown

album unknown

The seconds on the recording ticked by. 00:01… 00:02… 00:03… Wordlessly, she picked up an earbud and offered it to him, keeping the other for herself. It was purely out of politeness. When someone asks what you're listening to, you offer them a quick listen. Manners. He accepted it happily, scooting closer until they were pressed up next to each other so that he could put it in his ear without pulling her phone off her lap.

Together they listened to the introduction, Marinette duly watching the cars zipping past. She couldn't look at him and listen to Chat's song at the same time. It felt sacrilegious. So concentrated was she on separating her emotions regarding the song and those regarding him, that she didn't notice he was acting strangely until his fingers brushed her wrist, curling softly around it. She ogled it, disbelieving. Then she followed the line of his arm, all the way up to his face, which was turned half-toward her with something like awe. There were tears brimming in his eyes.

"Marinette," he whispered, pulling the earbud out of his ear. "Where did you find this song?"

She followed suit numbly. "My friend," she whispered back. Why were they whispering? Why did it feel like the ground was crumbling beneath the bench? "He wrote it for me."

He blinked hard and one of the tears spilled. Marinette's lungs stopped working as he leaned over her, his breath warmer than the summer air, tickling her face. Their noses touched and the sharpest bolt of déjà vu cut through her, threatening to unravel her at every seam. It was hot, but she still shivered. He was preoccupied, but he still noticed. His hand left her wrist and trailed to her chin, pulling it towards him until their foreheads met. Automatically her trembling hand found his, lingering on the cold metal ring that had always been there, all this time.

Her eyelids fluttered shut. "Oh my god."

"Found you," he whispered. And this time, there was nothing to stop them from kissing.


.

.

In case you haven't noticed, I have an enormous love affair with music. This is the third one-shot so far to revolve entirely around music haha. I can't help it, it's a huge part of my life. I imagine it's as big a part of Adrien's life as well , since he plays piano (though I just realized literally cannot remember if this is canon or fanon, I read/write way too much fic haha). Marinette being an artist, I'm sure she would have gladly picked up an instrument for school, and I can picture her choosing something unconventional for the fun and the challenge. School orchestras are always running short on cellists, so I bet she's have volunteered to pick it up right away, no matter what instrument she wanted to play. Then of course, she found Bach's cello suites and fell head over heels for the instrument... BUT I DIGRESS.

I imagine piano is one of those things his father didn't have to force him into. In fact, my personal headcanon is that his mother is the one who taught him, before her disappearance/death. Perhaps this is why he dislikes his piano lessons. It's one more reminder that she's gone. :(

I guess I just love the idea of Lady and Chat (or alternatively, Mari and Adrien) bonding over music. I had an Adrien in high school too and I can still pinpoint the exact moment I realized I was in love with him. It was whole we were sitting on a piano bench together in the music building, and he was playing me a song. (Later I was to find out he fell in love with me first, during my solo at a concert). So this particular one-shot was a little piece of my heart. Maybe this is why I'm so thoroughly taken with the love square. It reminds me of my own relationship sooo much. (Though I'm more like Adrien and he's more like Marinette, funnily enough. Haha.)

I know this turned into a ramble, but I just wanted to share. If you ever meet an Adrien or a Ladybug you find yourself falling desperately in love, don't despair. Happily ever after is real. I got mine and so will you. ;)

xoxo