alskdjal;sfhalskdj this is embarrassingly sappy


He's awkward and he can't stop wiping his palms on his pants, but he knows too much time has passed (and one of them has to break sooner rather than later).

After all, it's been two weeks now.

She's shifting uncomfortably on her feet in front of him and he can't stand what's happened between them, can't stand how him being there makes her so uncomfortable.

Gosh, he feels like such a jerk for showing up at her home uninvited.

"Uh," he says intelligibly.

Come on, man–Speak words!

He shoves his hands in his pockets to look casual or to at least try to find something to do with his hands other than awkwardly rubbing his thighs with them. They're balled into fists, bunching out the material of the pockets. It doesn't really do anything other than make him look stiffer and likes he's hunching over at an unnatural angle. He quickly removes them and goes back to rubbing them on his jeans.

"Um, so."

She refuses to look at him, eyes glued to his shoes. Her eyebrows are furrowed and all he wants to do is reach out and smooth out the creases. But he figures that would do nothing more than freak her out, so he quickly clasps his hands behind his back to stop himself from doing anything stupid or creepy.

"Right. Okay. Maybe we should introduce ourselves?"

Her eyes flash upwards for a second in confusion.

That's something!

"Hi! I'm Adrien Agreste. I go to school with you and sometimes I model for my father's company. I'm also Chat Noir, local superhero."

He's stretching out his hand between them before he can even think to stop himself.

She looks at it. Then at him.

Something happens inside her head and she's suddenly shaking out her shoulders and holding her head up high. Her eyes meet his, finally, and she reaches for his hand.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I like to design clothes and sew them myself. I'm also Ladybug, local superhero," she says, echoing his words. Her lips quirk up slightly and he see's the humor in her eyes.

Her hand is shaking a little bit but that's fine because his palm is still sweaty. This is the longest conversation they've had since the reveal so it makes since that they're both nervous. And he's missed this. Interacting with her. Talking to her.

The stupid smile is stretching across his face without his consent, but he thinks that it's okay because she's doing the same thing. He genuinely cannot think of a time where he has ever felt more relieved.

"So, Marinette. Ladybug," he corrects himself. "Ladynette–Maribug? Buginette?" It's weird for him to be the one rambling, tongue flopping around uselessly in his mouth. But he's nervous and confused and he's not quite sure what to call her anymore because she's both of these people–the same person–and he doesn't want to mess this up after finally getting a smile out of her after going a solid two weeks without really being on speaking terms and he's missed her so much and now he really hopes he hasn't blown it by calling her the wrong name several times and oh nO! She's laughing at him.

…She's laughing!

He looks up at her face, surprised to see her smiling so widely and so familiarly. He's seen her like this before. As Ladybug.

The blush spreading across his cheeks is like fire because wow. She's beautiful and he's falling for her all over again.

"You silly cat," she says shaking her head

Silly cat.

His heartbeat skips, stops, then picks up speed so fast he feels like he's just finished hopping across rooftops all along Paris. The room is suddenly a little to warm. He tries to cool himself discretely, tugging at the bottom of his shirt to move the air around.

But he smiles through it and he fires back. "And you're beautiful, my lady."

He tried to go for suave, but it came out wobbly, too fast, a little too cheesy. He hopes she didn't notice. Hopes it had charmed her at the most or at the very least, that she chooses to ignore it.

She raises her eyebrow at him, and he gulps. Okay, so she hadn't really done any of the above options, but he can see the pink standing out on her ears, the light blush creeping up on her face. He wants to believe it's because of him, but he won't delude himself. She's his friend after all and she's still not quite entirely comfortable around him.

"Really," he urges.

"Adrien…"

"And smart, too," he adds. "And fierce and hardworking and brave and sweet and goofy and a great friend. You're a wonderful person, Marinette."

She's watching him now with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. Her hand is tugging on one of her pigtails.

"And I'm so glad that the girl behind the mask was you," he finishes. "B-but, hey don't–"

She simultaneously looks like she wants to cry and like she wants to hit him. He reaches out to comfort her or to give her something to hit (he's not really sure which), to try and do something, but he's not entirely sure what to do with his hands, where to put them.

She huffs and says, "You're such a sap," before she leans forward and wraps her arms around him. His arms circle around her automatically, like they only know where to go when she's there.

He can feel her sigh on his neck before she speaks. "I'm sorry."

His brows furrow. "For what?"

She squeezes her arms around him tighter. "For avoiding you. This." Her shoulders lift up into a shrug. "I just-I. I wasn't really…"

"…Marinette?"

"I was scared."

He pulls back to look at her, shocked. "Why?"

He has his hands on her shoulders, so he feels her shrug again. It's jerky and quick like she's frustrated at something. "I didn't…" she trails off and looks down, bites her lip. "I didn't think you'd like Ladybug anymore if you knew she was me," she finally rushes out.

"What–Marinette, that's–"

"And I know! I know that's stupid, I do. But everything happened so suddenly and I wasn't prepared. Especially when it was you and you–you're gorgeous! And you're kind, selfless, helpful, amazing, self-sacrificing, silly, and just such a good person. I don't know. I guess–I guess I didn't feel like I was good enough to…to stand by your side."

He's baffled, flattered, but also, to be a honest, he's a little angry too. To think she, Marinette, of all people, would ever even think that she wasn't good enough.

"Marinette, you're amazing. And no one will ever be too good for you, understand?"

She's peaking up at him, eye's shy and a little hesitant, but she nods. If he pushes her, she may draw back again, so for now it's enough. A quiet huff escapes his lips and he draws her back into a hug, squeezing her shoulders tightly.

His hands are still a little damp he notices, but his nerves have nearly died down now. And her shaking has stopped too, her body tucked snuggly against him. The weight of her arms on his back reassure him that this moment is real, that they've made up. At least for a while.

Her fingers cling to the material of his shirt, grip tightening when he tries to release her. He can take a hint.

He doesn't let go.