CHAPTER 10: Physical attraction, chemical reaction

A sudden buzzing sound on Marinette's sink startled her and made her miss her eyeliner. She looked down at her phone, seeing her sexfriend's name flashing on the home screen. She wasn't late yet. Was she? A quick glance at the time told her she still had thirty minutes ahead of her— child's play.

But then, what was the urgency of this message just before they met? Her brows furrowed and she put her eyeliner back on the sink, grabbing a cotton ball with one hand and her phone with the other. Her thumb slid over the screen, opening Adrien's message in a swift move to find out what was going on.

[Adrien:

"Can you wear your beautiful peplum, red dress?"

[Marinette:

"The one I wore at graduation last year?"

Luxurious tastes, does he? It was the most expensive piece she had sewed so far. It also took her many hours to finally get it done to her liking—including several hours of sleep.

[Adrien:

"That very one."

"Without any panties underneath."

Marinette almost dropped her phone when she read the second message following his confirmation about her dress. He would never give up the idea of her hanging out with him without her panties on, would he?

[Marinette:

"Are you serious?"

She stared at her screen and only waited a few seconds before she saw three dots popping in the chat, showing that he was already typing a reply.

[Adrien:

"Backing down from a challenge are we?"

She snorted; he must not know her. Not at all.

[Marinette:

"In your dreams."

[Adrien:

"You're not wearing panties in my dreams."

This man was never short of cheeky replies; teasing and brazenness must've been part of her search criteria to fall in love. Dear lord, have mercy on her!

She tackled her phone screen down on the sink, only for her to backtrack with a yelp and double-check she hadn't damaged it— she hadn't. Her hand clenched before easing and unlocking the screen saver to write an answer.

[Marinette:

"…"

Marinette stared astray at her screen meanwhile Chat Noir's background mocked her with his signature smirk. That's right, make fun of me, Chaton... It would be just like you to put me in such a situation... Damn blond boys and their tendencies to fucking tease her to death!

What the hell was she going to reply to top Adrien's last message?

She looked around the room for some sort of inspiration and started to type something out of the blue.

[Marinette:

"You're wearing a leather catsuit in my dreams."

Abort! She couldn't let her feelings for Chat Noir cloud her behavior with Adrien. She couldn't think of her partner while dealing with a fake date with Adrien. She needed her complete focus and to gather her means for tonight.

There was no way she was sending this. She deleted the message and began tapping her thumbs against the side of her phone.

She had absolutely zero idea what to say, and ended up choosing safety instead of messing this up.

[Marinette:

"I'll see what I can do..."

And…

Sent!

There was no way she took it back yet she already berated herself for what she had done—and was going to do. What was she thinking when she sent this message? She couldn't just walk through the door of the boulangerie as if nothing had happened—as if she were wearing panties—and stroll down the street with the cold breeze trying to play wind instruments with her… delicate armonica. Could she?

She wasn't the type to back down after saying something. Even less so when faced with a challenge so… be it.

Going back to her makeup, Marinette opted for something sober focused on the enhancement of her eyes. She then strolled over to her wardrobe, opened it, and searched for the red dress Adrien had asked for.

"What happened to that damn dress?" she grumbled as she pushed back one garment after another to get her hands on it.

"It's there." Tikki emerged from the depth of the wardrobe, pushing a hanger towards her, smooth, red fabric soon ending in Marinette's hands.

Staring at the dress she was holding with shaking hands, Marinette started to doubt whether she should wear that very dress or better not. Weighing the pros and cons of not wearing panties at all was totally justified, you might say, but for a simple piece of red fabric… it was bordering on paranoia. And yet... Marinette had her reasons.

This dress had a history on its own... the last time she had worn it…

"Someone definitely can't stop staring at you. Come on, girl, go ahead and talk to him."

"We talked together all evening, Alya."

"Hanging out as a core four doesn't count. You both need some privacy. I'm going to unhook my boyfriend from the bar, which might be more complicated than pulling off a newborn from latching on his mother's breast, but for you, I'm ready for anything... then you're going to hook Adrien on your pinky, or on your breast, whatever."

"Alya!"

"Just try to stop me... I am the mother whose child was torn from her titty."

Indeed she hadn't been able to stop her best friend and had found herself talking Adrien's ears off while drowning her nervousness in the punch bowl. Which, in her experience, turned out to be a very bad idea.

Not only had she gotten drunk, but so had Adrien. How, you might wonder? Because she systematically filled up his (barely) empty glass to avert him from speaking—which actually prevented her from answering too many of his questions and eventually taking the risk to make a fool of herself, one way or another.

Until they found another wonderful way to keep Adrien's mouth busy.

(Yes, you did understand what was going on in that flashback. Like any freshly, self-respecting graduates, they ended up making out in an empty classroom).

And like any drunk person worthy of this honorable title, and who didn't assume their life choices, Marinette had fled away.

She really did; perched on her stilettos and tumbling three times (three's a charm) on her way out before finally reaching the main door of the Lycée.

And as if a resounding failure wasn't enough, she had to fall on her partner at the next street's corner.

Literally. Her hands flat on his chest, a shoe now laying apart on the sidewalk, and her dress half raised on her hips. Hips where two strong, clawed hands were resting while gently replacing her dress appropriately—ever so the purrfect

(Wait. Had her inner voice cat-punned that day? Probably considering her drunken state) gentleman even in such jarring situations.

"Ah. Hum. Uh…"

Had she broken her partner that day? Thinking back about it, it was more than likely close to that.

"Fancy meeting you here."

The hero was probably redder than her dress—so much for her own embarrassment which only increased as she reached a shade of red that must be unknown to the human race.

"Chat Noir! I'm soooo sooooorry, let me… let me just–just–just…" She tried to stand up only to fall chest flat against his torso, her hands not even bothering trying to sustain her—the traitors! "Soooooorry!"

"Do...you, uh… do you want a lift?"

Would her stomach withstand the rollercoaster ride? She wasn't sure about it. She wasn't even sure she could stand up without disturbing the liquid that was peacefully bubbling in her belly and currently enjoying a free spa.

"Actually, I'm fine here. Five… by… five."

But Chat thought she would be better off in bed and after five minutes of arguing like an old married couple, he straightened up and lifted her up, causing the bubble bath to overflow. Read there: causing her to throw up.

Like any self-respecting heroine (and just like the day they took Monarch down—only a few weeks before graduation day actually.) Marinette didn't miss her target. Not that Chat Noir knew it was Ladybug actually drenching him with vomit (which didn't look anything like magical ladybugs—what a pity, it might have made him forget the mess she had just done on his super shiny cat-suit).

Again, it didn't take her long to take her heels and run scared, and even transform in her hurry (far from prying eyes though).

She had hoped her power and her ladybug luck would help her sober up a little. Thus far, she still doesn't know if it really helped. In any case, Ladybug's luck had to be a myth, that much was sure. The only place that she had chosen to take the time to collect herself back together (L'île aux Cygnes), was the same place that Aqua Noir had chosen for a midnight swim.

"L-Ladybug? Wh-what are you doing here?"

"What about you?" She had always been taught that answering a question with another question was the power of cowards. And tonight, she shamelessly was one of them.

Although she knew why he was here. She knew that he didn't know she knew (and this was getting confusing for her tipsy brain) Marinette had thrown up all over him like a newborn could do it to her mother when she least expected it.

"Hm. Graduation's mishap." Aqua Noir shook out his damp hair and came to sit next to her. "You're damn smelling alcohol, Buguinette."

"Hm. Graduation's mishap," she repeated.

"Do… Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No. Do you wanna… talk about it?"

"No."

They both remained silent for a while after that last closed dialogue, looking into each other's eyes as if they were each other's only way out from their inside turmoils. Until they made out again without knowing they were actually doing it again .

Once more that night, the awkward situation ended up in a 'we don't talk about Bruno' way. Both of them firmly kept denying wh a t had happened. It wasn't them. It was the alcohol.

Bullshit! You bet their ass it was…

And so Marinette reluctantly put on the famous red dress (without any panties underneath) she wore on graduation day... After all, she couldn't do any worse than that pitiful night, right?

Right?

See you in 2023 for more. Until then, I wish you an happy new year. May 2023 be better than 2022.

Miraculous Kisses