"Marinette," Adrien's voice sang. Or wait, was he in costume right now? She yawned and stretched, giving herself time to remember what was happening before responding. Her arm pushed against something warm and she looked up. A masked face smiled down at her.

Marinette bolted up from where she'd had her head in his lap. The sunlight coming through her windows was at a completely different angle than it had been when she'd closed her eyes. Overdue homework mixed with the fabric and thread from two half-unfinished commissions she was supposed to be done with by the end of the week. Why hadn't he woken her up?

"What time is it?" She swept an arm to collect as much of her things off the floor as possible.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked.

"No." She stuffed three pencils in her mouth, threw the fabric over her shoulder and tried to stack her papers with one hand and the pins she'd knocked over with the other. It wasn't working well.

"It looks like you are." He leaned over and brushed the pins into a pile so she could walk safely to her desk.

"I'm not mad," she said after dropping the pencils back onto her desk. "At you. I just don't know if you're lying to me again."

"Hm." He walked over, and she handed him a pincushion shaped like a tomato. "So you are mad at me."

It had been a difficult game she'd been playing, but one she knew the rules to by now. Chat Noir couldn't confide in her about his personal problems, and she wasn't allowed to ask. But Adrien wouldn't confide in her at school, and she had no way to help him if she wasn't supposed to know that he'd been coming to her house for comfort. He looked perfectly calm in class, never getting lower than an A, keeping a smile and an answer whenever the teacher called on him. It would seem odd if she said he looked upset and asked if he wanted to talk. She felt stuck.

"I'm really fine," he said once all the pins were put away. "I'm not lying."

Another rule of the game was that she had to pretend she wasn't Ladybug, and so she couldn't tell him he wasn't allowed to use the miraculous for friendly visits. But that one didn't grate on her as much. It was better that he felt he could come over whenever he wanted and not like he was imposing on her, for his own sake.

And he had taken advantage of the hospitality. What had started as an occasional hello when he was feeling down had turned into regular hangouts. Sometimes they sat on her balcony for five minutes to catch up on their uneventful days. Other times they stayed up for hours, swapping secrets, watching movies, or doing homework together.

Having him so close and still not being able to be with him wasn't the best for Marinette's heart, and trying to keep track of what he'd told her as which persona was confusing, but he was always happier when he left. That was worth any sacrifice she had to make.

Marinette took her time putting the pin cushion away, carefully rearranging the contents of her sewing basket while she collected her thoughts. She could feel Chat Noir standing right behind her. If she took a step back, she would lean into his chest. For a second she let herself pretend that if she did, he would wrap his arms around her and hold her.

But Chat Noir and Marinette were not like that. He wasn't like that with Ladybug either, not since she'd asked him to move on.

Marinette leaned forward, away from the temptation, and turned around.

"I'm glad you're okay," she finally said. "I didn't want to beat anyone up on your behalf today."

His cat ears perked up, and his lips twisted into her favorite grin. "How about tomorrow?"

She made a pretense of glancing at the calendar on her wall to distract herself from his mouth. "Sorry. I have to study for a math quiz tomorrow night. Can you save your personal problems for Saturday? I should have more time then."

"I'll pencil a crisis in for you."

Marinette swallowed an "it's a date" comment. It wasn't a date. They weren't dating. They would never date. They were never going to be together.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

She snapped her attention back to him. Chat Noir crouched down ever so slightly to get a better look at her face, and Marinette realized that she'd reached behind her to grab the edge of her desk in a death grip. Her nails pressed into the underside painfully.

"Fine," she said, forcing her fingers open and shaking her hands. Her weak heart beat painfully for him.

And he just had to smile at her anyway. "Now who's lying? What was that about?" Carefully, he reached to push a strand of hair out of her face, using his knuckle so he wouldn't risk getting a claw near her eye.

His fingers lingered. And Marinette willed herself to breathe. It wasn't fair that he could do something so normal and send her leaning onto her desk for support. He didn't see her like that, and they weren't ever going to be together.

"Nothing," she said. "Just swallowed wrong." She cleared her throat to try to help sell it. He didn't look convinced, just mildly amused.

"Well, if you're sure you're okay," Chat Noir breathed. His hand still hovered next to her face. It would be easy for her to lean toward it, cup it against her cheek, kiss his palm. "I should let you finish your commissions."

Marinette groaned. Work was the last thing she wanted to be thinking about. "You said you don't have patrol tonight. Couldn't you stay?" Her eyes flicked to the red box of fabric on top of her dresser. Tikki was in there, probably preparing a speech for later.

"Sorry, Marinette. I have to be up early tomorrow."

Her shoulders drooped. Right, Adrien had a photoshoot. "Who's going to save me from my work now?"

"Stop it. You love sewing." He reached past her to pick up her sketchbook, flipping back a page to the vest she'd been working on and waved it at her. "And you'll love the sense of accomplishment when you see how amazing they look when they're done."

Marinette finally pushed herself off the desk and picked up the pincushion. It was the perfect size to fit into her hand, and the heads of the pins were cool against her palm.

"Ugh. Maybe you're right."

"Good. I'm glad that you sound so convinced." He pushed the notebook into her hands and reached around for his baton.

"You could always bribe me," she said as he climbed up her ladder and headed toward the skylight above her bed.

"Huh?" He turned, knees on her mattress, always careful not to get her covers dirty even though she'd never thought to ask him.

"How about you promise to check on my progress tomorrow?"

He smiled and gave her a thumbs up at the unexpected invitation. She'd never done that before. It was always "come over if you need to." It was never a request on her part.

As Chat Noir's tail disappeared through the skylight, Tikki came out of hiding.

"You're doing enough to help him by letting him come," she said, tiny arms crossed and hovering inches from Marinette's face. "You don't need to invite him to come more often. He shouldn't be–"

"Using his miraculous for personal reasons. I know." She'd honestly forgotten about that in the moment, but she couldn't bring herself to regret the invitation. "It's fine. Plagg is lazy. He'll probably tell him no anyway."

"What are you going to do when he falls in love with you again? Have you thought about that?"

"When," not "if." Marinette had to hold back a smile, right until the logic set it. Chat Noir might visit her in his spare time, but Adrien didn't treat her any differently at school, which he would if he wanted to pursue a relationship with her.

"Don't worry, Tikki. He only sees me as a friend." Marinette pulled open her trapdoor to go downstairs, letting it fall with a slam behind her.

It had taken much longer than Ladybug had anticipated, but patrols had finally gotten back to normal. After the reveal, and her rejection, the duo had been understandably distant from each other, and their first few meetings were sterile and devoid of fun while he was nursing a broken heart. But their partnership had been strong enough that they quickly found a new rhythm. It was friendly and fun. It worked. But some of the warmth was missing.

And as much as she wanted to pretend that his time with Marinette was the only reason for his recovery, she could tell he was slowly getting over her. Knowing it was for the best, that everyone was safer that way and it was the right choice, didn't stop her wound from aching.

There were two solaces in the whole thing. One was that he was able to share details with Ladybug that he couldn't share with Marinette. He would talk about tests at school that he was worried about or the disappointments his father dished out almost daily.

Second, he talked about his friend Marinette frequently, how great he thought she was, and how much he loved spending time with her. Ladybug would try not to blush and often had to turn away to hide the tinge in her cheeks when she failed.

Today they were patrolling across the river in the first arrondissement, and Chat seemed particularly distracted. Three times he didn't hear her when she asked him questions, and twice she lost track of him because he was following behind and hadn't noticed she'd taken a turn.

"Are you okay?" she asked when they had finished their loop and were heading back home. "You aren't getting sick or something are you?"

"I'm going to ask her out."

A car below them kicked up pebbles onto the sidewalk. They hit something metallic.

Ladybug blinked, opened her mouth, and said, "Oh."

Chat Noir wasn't happier because he was getting over her. He'd completely gotten over and moved onto someone else already. She felt completely blindsided. A masochistic piece of her wanted to know who it was, but she pushed the question away.

"Sorry if I've been distracted today. I was just–"

"Thinking about her?"

"Worrying about it," he said.

For the past few months, she'd gotten very practiced in the art of pretending she didn't feel anything for him. It was far easier than it should have been to plaster on a concerned smile and say, "What for? That's great!"

Chat Noir hesitated. He nudged a loose corner of shingle with his boot. "Nothing, I guess."

"You have nothing to be worried about." Ladybug clasped her hands in front of herself, not sure if she wasn't selling it enough or putting in too much energy. He looked up from the shingle and smiled at her, so maybe it was the right amount.

It was good that he wasn't hurting anymore. She did want him to be happy.

But tonight she learned something about herself. She hadn't realized she'd been hoping that Adrien loved her too much to be able to move on. That was selfish, and she hated the jealousy that was spreading through her veins like poison, so she grabbed his hands and squeezed, pushing down the ugliness with a reminder that he was happy, and he wasn't hurting, and this was best for everyone.

They'd been only best friends for ages. She could do that again. "So when are you going to ask her?" she said, trying to channel her inner Alya.

He shrugged, looking away. "Soon, I think."

"You'll have to tell me how it goes. Our next joint patrol is Friday night, so you can give me all the deets." (Maybe too much inner Alya. That sounded forced.)

"Sure," he said, oblivious to how her smile was too wide and how her eyes prickled. "Before Friday."

"Okay, well, I'll see you then!"

She left without saying goodbye.

A/N: So... how are you? (I have nothing to say this time.)