Chapter 4

"What the fuck do you mean?!" Adrien shouted at Plagg, indifferent to drawing attention. It wasn't as if anyone was close enough in the mansion to hear him…nor concerned enough to care. A dirty thought flitted through the back of his mind but was quickly drowned out by his bewilderment…if this didn't bring their attention, what other noise wouldn't?

"It happens," the little black stomach-with-whiskers shrugged.

"It can't just happen. There has to be an explanation!"

Plagg sighed, his nasally voice hinting at the impatience of a petulant child (Chloe) as he explained for the seemingly millionth time. "The longer you're my holder, the more you will become like me."

"You mean I'll be a glutinous cheese-eating asshole?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." The kwami narrowed his eyes threateningly, destruction bubbling in their depths. He understood even without ancient wisdom that Adrien was going through an identity crisis, even if the identity wasn't his own; he was willing to give the kid some leeway. "I mean that latent powers will remain, and the more often you transform, the more magical residue is left behind." Adrien was staring at him, emerald eyes dumbstruck and blown wide. Plagg raised one impatient eyebrow and asked, "Don't you remember Prime Queen? You purred."

"But I was Cat Noir, not Adrien!"

"And how long ago was that? It's been years. Do you think nothing else carries over?"

Adrien fisted his hair, tugging at the golden locks. "But smell? Of all things?"

Plagg slowly flew close to Adrien's face, his smirk growing as he drew closer.

"You know one thing I've learned over the centuries? Cheese really is the best educator, you know, you can use it to explain complex ideas to plebeians and simpletons. It informs the palette, abolishes those with poor taste in matters more than ju- "

"What is it, Plagg?!" He was shouting again, but this time with a keen sense of overwhelming panic.

"Smell is very, very closely associated with taste."

? ? ?

/Present day

"Hmmm?" Adrien broke out of his reverie of certain associations, smell and taste, his body and hers, her perfectly pleasantly plump -

"When did you go to London?" Alya repeated.

"I…didn't?" he answered slowly, his eyes narrowing just before one perfectly waxed (ouch) eyebrow arched in a manner so reminiscent of Plagg that he hoped it wouldn't give him away…but unless anyone else knew Plagg as he did, it most certainly wouldn't. Did she know he knew? Did she know and not know he knew? What a mess…but nothing compared to the mess she could make in his pants. Fuck. Yes, please. Would you fucking stop?! No.

Alya held up a fresh-off-the-press magazine with an advertisement for the Gabriel brand.

"Oh, that was a while ago and -"

"Nino, do you remember Sunshine telling us he went to London? 'Nette?" Both her boyfriend and best friend, interested though they were, wilted under her reporter gaze.

"Nice try, Ladyblogger. You're not the first press I've ever encountered." Like pressing his body against Marinette's… "Now, if you'd like an actual answer, I'd be absolutely delighted to provide one. If, however, you'd rather hound me like a fox," and he couldn't stop the flitting image of stalking Ladybug like prey, his Lady squealing delightfully as he pursued her across the rooftops, "I'd be perfectly happy to provide none at all." He narrowed his eyes once more, daring her to continue (and internally telling himself to focus on what was happening before him rather than what was happening (could happen) in his mind). Alya stared right back in dogged determination.

Then Alya burst out laughing, throwing her head back. "Fair enough, Sunshine, I should have known better." He grinned right back at her, happy he had friends at all but nonetheless those with whom friendly antagonistic banter was possible. It was one of the few ways he balanced The Adrien AgresteTM with his actual self, the one more akin to Cat Noir. It was a balance he usually had no issue maintaining, one he was raised to embody as an Agreste, but when all he could think about was someone else's body, he found it was harder and harder (and harder) to balance.

"It's a backdrop, not actually London." He took a bite of his cold chicken salad (wishing he could take a bite out of something else) as Alya continued to ask questions. Marinette was quiet, but not in that shy way she had when she, he now knew, was afraid of saying something stupid in front of him. No, there was something else keeping her quiet. It took everything in him not to study her, for surely someone would notice him staring at her…but why was she being so quiet? She was never quiet when they -

"That's all photoshopped anyway," Adrien said dismissively, still smiling but mostly to himself.

"Huh?"

"Everything is, even the color of the shirt."

"Nah, bro, that's pretty much what you look like with your shirt off," Nino said skeptically. He knew things were photoshopped, he just didn't think it was as much as Adrien was implying.

"You sure, babe? You look at him that close?" Alya delighted in watching her boyfriend squirm with the unspoken accusation; she smirked.

"We play basketball," Nino said flatly, "and it gets hot."

"Oh yeah, I bet it is all hot and sweaty and there is a lot of grunting and - "

"Would you stop already?" Nino turned to glare at his girlfriend and Alya's only response was an evil laugh. Adrien finally understood the glee, the pure joy…and he fleetingly anticipated, hopefully, being able to tease Marinette in a similar manner, but more secretive.

It would only be secretive because she didn't, and couldn't (not yet, anyway) know. If and when she did know that he was Cat Noir, he couldn't wait to pretend to be naive The Adrien AgresteTM while she knew that he was not naturally completely like that but without being able to say anything about it. Why that was so thrilling to him was a mystery. Curiosity killed the cat, but he was still alive (thanks to her on multiple occasions) and boy was he curious.

He envisioned saying something, in his The Adrien AgresteTM voice, like, "That must have been a really hard battle. I wonder how they coped after," knowing full well that she had then fucked his brains out…and then fully capitalizing on the dumb blond trope by blinking at her innocently and watching her completely discombobulate because a) she couldn't answer truthfully, 1) she still disintegrated around him, and on a tertiary level, she still, after everything, could not merge The Adrien AgresteTM with The Cat NoirTM.

"I have freckles on my shoulders." Adrien had to consciously keep his eyes from seeking Marinette's. "And that shirt was bright yellow, not maroon." His tone was so very casual (thanks, Gabriel) but internally, his heart was racing.

Was it subtle enough? Would she make the connection? Ladybug had surely noticed the freckles dusting Cat Noir's shoulders. Then again, loads of people had freckles on their shoulders...but did a tall, fit, green eyed blond boy with freckles on his shoulders sound familiar to her? He hoped so, but he wasn't holding his breath. He was working against literal magic after all. Then again, maybe the personalities were so disparate that she would never even consider to compare them let alone fathom that it was possible. He couldn't be shit out of luck, after all, he was just full of shit luck.

"That wouldn't match your complexion, though, not in that lighting..." He saw Ladybug in Marinette's furrowed brow and little pout. It was difficult not to grin happily at the sight. It was one of his favorites. It usually meant somewhere in the not so distance future she was going to go mental on him for sacrificing himself for her, but he still loved it, loved how feisty she was, loved how she did not reserve that energy just for scolding him, maintained her passion in absolutely everything she did…including him.

"Exactly. It's the clothes and whichever part they're trying to showcase that matters, and even those are changed at their whim." Don't mention your ass...don't! "That's why the lighting changed, and the color didn't match…" Phew. But before he could stop himself further, "They suddenly wanted the design on the back pockets to stand out." He could feel Plagg vibrating with absolute mirth in his pocket, having unfortunately confided in his kwami about his impulsive need to draw attention to his ass. (What was that all about, anyway? Why did he keep doing that? What created that specific compulsion?) He bit his lip to stop himself from babbling more (now he knew in more than one way how Marinette felt) but caught up in his head as he was, he hissed, "Shit!", when he split the almost healed cut thereupon.

He looked up to ask someone for a tissue and found two pairs of eyes staring at him, shocked. A small bead dribbled down his chin as his eyes moved from Marinette's to Alya's and back to Marinette's. "Tissue, please," he muttered, trying not to move his mouth too much. Then he cast Nino an inquisitive look for some sort of explanation.

"I don't think they've ever heard you swear, dude."

"I didn't know you had it in you, Agreste," Alya quipped, handing him a tissue. Oh, he had a lot in him she didn't know about, and had himself in a lot of Marinette that she didn't know about…that Alya didn't know about…but Marinette did and did not know about it, too, and wow that was a really complicated issue that definitely needed addressed.

"I am not the image my father has made of me, thank you very much. I thought you would know that by now, but if even my friends want to treat me as some perfect pretty boy, I guess - "

"Oh shut the fuck up, Adrien," Alya swatted his shoulder and he stopped himself from grinning just before his lip would have bled anew. "You know we love you for who you are, not who your dad wants the world to think you are. Isn't that right, Marinette?"

Marinette snapped from her reverie and nodded enthusiastically, a blush rising ever so slightly to her sheepish face. For once, his blood was not pooled much lower, and he felt a gentle flush come to his own face…and then disappear just as quickly when his jeans became quite uncomfortable once again.

? ? ?

"Cat got your tongue?"

Cat Noir shook his head, a brief smile flitting across his face at her pun. "No, M'Lady, I was just thinking about something…important." Had been thinking about it for days. It seemed almost verboten to think about anything else and his pants almost felt comfortable again, however short lived.

"Care to share?" No, he absolutely did not want to share her with anyone, ever, wanted her all to himself, wanted other people to know she was his…but that was not his decision and that was not what he wanted, needed, to talk to her about. When he didn't answer immediately, her entire posture changed. She moved into his line of vision, cutting off his faraway stare and furrowed brow. "Everything OK, Kitty?"

He melted at her tone and offered her a reassuring smile. "Yes, it's just…I realized something at lunch the other day and." He swallowed thickly but forged ahead. He had to move past this. "What if you found out who I actually am and were repulsed by the thought of doing what we do with actual me?"

Ladybug's brow crinkled along with her nose. "This is getting awfully close to breaking rule number - "

"No, that's not what I mean." He shook his head and turned his body towards hers, leaning nonchalantly against the railing. "This is about consent, not feelings and iden-tiddies."

"Did you just - "

"I'm being serious, Ladybug."

"You just made a joke about boobs and are trying to chide me about not being serious?" She crossed her arms and looked at him flatly.

His grin was utterly Cheshire and broadened even farther when her huff ruffled her fringe. "As I was saying, what if you met me in person and would decidedly not consent to what we are doing, and then found out we were already doing it? Doing it?" Her lack of response made him fill the awkward silence with more explanation. "It's just-" Oh shit, was he really going to admit it? Admit that he spent most of his free time, and some of his not so free time, not just thinking but daydreaming, planning, fantasizing about them together. Looked like it. "I was thinking about…us…doing what we do…and Ladybug consents to Cat Noir but does she consent to - "

"Don't say it!" She jumped forward and put her hands over his mouth before he could say any more. He really wanted to lick her fingers just to see what she would do, but restrained himself...oooo, what if used her yoyo string to- "I don't need to know!" She must have felt satisfied that he was not going to say his name and withdrew her hands, his mouth clamping down on his tongue just before it made contact. She dropped her arms to her sides, resolution replacing uncertainty on her features. "I already thought this through before I ever said anything to you about it, and I don't care. I wouldn't care if you were my civilian mortal enemy, that's not why…that's not…"

She took a deep breath, dragging her eyes from his to look out across the city. "I chose you because I trust you." Her next comment was so quiet he almost didn't hear it with his regular ears. "It couldn't be anyone but you. No one else would understand."

He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Marinette never did anything by halves, so of course Ladybug didn't, either. She worried, planned, created, loved in overwhelming numbers that crashed down on and through him like a rogue wave, why did he ever think that this would have been any different? He was still uncovering their similarities at every turn and he fell even more in love with her that very moment…and he couldn't tell her. He may never be able to tell her. What if he died tomorrow? Wasn't that how they got to where they were now?

"I know." He had to swallow again, so overcome with emotion as he was. This time his fringe ruffled with his exhale. "I know, me, too." He had to do something to relieve the tension, had to change the subject before he couldn't uphold the balance anymore. He said, "So, you were talking about tiddies earlier…" and was unceremoniously shoved to his ass (why his ass?!) before she took off across the city on patrol.

? ? ?

Just as Adrien settled into his bed that night, finally free of his conscience's rightful restriction on his salacious musings yet still happily overcome with the breadth and depth of his feelings for Marinette, he realized something. Marinette was Multimouse. There was a not insignificant chance that he was not going to get much sleep.