Chapter Text
She loved Hawkmoth.
Or, well, maybe not loved him, or tolerated him, or felt anything for him other than a vicious, seeping hatred that gnawed deep at her bones, but in that moment she was glad that he was around. She wondered if maybe the next time she had a murder fantasy about him, she would choose a comparatively less excruciating death for the man than usual. Maybe.
Because right now, this akuma was the only chance she’d get to talk to Chat Noir.
Ladybug saw him, her Chaton, crouching on a building and surveying the damage caused by the latest villain. She swung over and landed on the same rooftop, but she was too nervous to be near him, afraid that he may not want her there, so she kept a respectable distance.
He didn’t turn his head. He stayed where he was, eyes narrowed and focused, looking at the mayhem below. She kept her eyes on him.
“... Hey, Chato— Chat Noir!” She greeted nervously, unsure of how familiar she should be with him in these circumstances. He didn’t acknowledge her presence. “Just a bubblegum akuma, huh? This should be pretty easy! No need for any extra heroes! Just the two of us should be fi—”
Suddenly, he whipped towards her and launched at her, tackling her to the ground. She yelped out, her back hitting against the roof tiles, and she laid there still, heart racing, as he peeled his body off of her and onto his feet.
Her gaze snapped to behind him, where a truck-sized wad of magically chewed-up gum was settling into the spot she was just standing. Oh.
Maybe akuma battles weren’t the best time to talk.
“Thanks,” she breathed out, and he said nothing, whipping out his baton and— “W-Wait!”
He launched off towards the akuma, running head-first into battle, and she leapt up onto her feet and after him.
The battle lasted about four minutes.
And as Ladybug threw her lucky charm into the air, a world’s smallest cat figurine, she saw Chat Noir pulling out his baton, about to leave, about to disappear and they hadn’t even talked yet.
“W-wait!” she yelped, stumbling towards him and grasping his wrist, “What about— you know! Pound it!”
She held her fist out with the hand that wasn’t currently holding him there, forcing a wide grin on her face, and he was just standing there, back still turned to her, and she felt sick to her stomach.
“... Come on,” she managed out, “Pound i—”
“Oh, so we’re doing that again?” he sneered, finally turning to face her.
“Hah… What do you mean?” she asked stupidly, as if she wasn’t fully aware of what he meant, as if they hadn’t forgone their routine pound it since that night in the hotel room. She kept forcing the smile, as if he would decide to indulge her delusions.
He rolled his eyes, raising his hand up and smacking his knuckles haphazardly against hers. She muttered out a “pound it” under her breath, but he said nothing. He tore his wrist out of her grip, turning back around and moving to press the button on his baton to extend it and leave—
“Wait!” she yelled a bit louder than necessary, and he stilled. “I— I want to talk! Can we please—”
“You want to talk,” he parroted back, tone flat.
“Yes,” she said, clasping her hands together with a clap, “Let’s talk—”
“So you’ve decided that it’s time for us to talk,” he said, still not turning to face her, and she stilled. “What if I don’t want to talk?”
“W-Well… If… If you don’t want to talk, then…” she said, “... Then I’d wait for you. Until you do. However long it takes.”
It was true. She would wait until the end of the world for him, if she had to. Whatever it took, no matter how much it hurt.
He was silent for a moment. He pressed a button on his baton, and for a second she thought he was going to take off, but instead he collapsed it and placed it behind his back. He turned back around to face her, and she sucked in a breath.
“I can talk,” he said.
“Y-You can?” she gasped, unable to hide her smile, “Okay! Then let’s—”
“But not now.”
“Huh?”
“I have somewhere to be,” he said, deadpan.
“Oh,” she said, “... Okay! That’s… That’s fine. When will you be free—”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay,” she breathed out, “Um… Then…”
“Maybe tomorr—”
“I’ll wait for you!” she said.
He blinked at her. “... What?”
“Until you’re done with your thing,” she said, staring at him, “I’ll wait. However long it takes. And… whenever it’s over, then… you can come, and we’ll talk.”
“I seriously don’t know how long it’ll be. It’ll probably be a few hours, but I don’t know how many—”
“That’s fine!”
He stared at her for a long moment, as if he were appraising her. She straightened her back and stared right back at him, hoping she looked as determined as she felt.
“Uh… alright, then,” he said, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, “Where are we meeting?”
“The hotel, of course,” she said.
He gave her a sour look.
“I mean—” she gasped, “Just because— it’s private! And we both know where it is! We don’t have to— I mean, I’m not saying we’re going to be using the bed or anything! The couch—”
“Fine,” he said, pulling out his baton and turning back around, “I’ll see you then, then.”
“Okay!”
Right when she was sure he was about to take off, he suddenly stilled, hesitating for a moment before glancing back over his shoulder at her, “It’ll be a couple hours, at least.”
She nodded dumbly, and he took off.
******
The first thing Ladybug did was go back to her apartment. After all, Chat Noir had made it clear that she didn’t need to start waiting for at least another couple hours.
The second thing she did was immediately panic that something was going to go wrong, like she’s lose track of the time, or her phone would die and all the other clocks in her apartment would start running slow, or the kwamis would start another fire, or Chat Noir’s thing would end early, and then she’d be late. And if she was late, then he would certainly never forgive her, and if he never forgave her then she wasn’t sure what she would do.
The third thing she did was immediately head to the hotel room, a whopping ten minutes after her conversation with him.
The fourth thing she did was sit on the couch and put on a movie, because there really wasn’t much else to do.
The fifth thing she did was get up and pace around, because sitting still right now was out of the question. She was too restless, and she needed to move. She let the movie continue playing in the background, but she barely paid it any attention.
The sixth thing she did was fiddle around uselessly on her yoyo. It had web browser functionality, after all, so that at least distracted her for a bit.
The seventh thing she did was go to the restroom to splash water on her face. The counters were completely bare.
The eighth thing she did was sit in the bed and cry. That lasted a while.
The ninth thing she did was put on a second movie. She didn’t know when the first one had ended.
The tenth thing she did was resist the urge to text Chat Noir.
The eleventh thing she did was try a bite of one of Tikki’s cookies. It was really stale. She threw the rest out.
The twelfth thing she did was rifle uselessly through all the drawers. All of his stuff was gone. She didn’t find anything very interesting.
The thirteenth thing she did was return to her yoyo’s browser. Apparently a new Ultimate Mecha Strike game was announced.
The fourteenth thing she did was debate getting food. She couldn’t order delivery though, and she worried that if she so much as stepped outside of the hotel room, he’d show up and assume she stood him up. She’d just have to stay hungry.
The fifteenth thing she did was some gymnastics. She nearly broke a lamp and had to stop.
The sixteenth thing she did was retrieve a pen that she’d found earlier and draw on the back of the room service menu. She doodled some cats, but their eyes came out wonky so she scribbled it all out.
The seventeenth thing she did was see if she could fill the entire page black. The pen ran out of ink before she could.
The eighteenth thing she did was put on a third movie.
The nineteenth thing she did was wonder if Chat Noir was even going to show up at all. She wondered if she’d even have the right to be mad at him if he didn’t.
The twentieth thing she did was wonder how many nights Chat Noir waited for her, how many days it took before he stopped sleeping there. She decided that she maybe deserved to be stood up.
The twenty-first thing she did was write up a text to Chat Noir, telling him how sorry she was and how badly she messed up. She deleted it before she hit send.
The twenty-second thing she did was some handstands.
The twenty-third thing she did was dispose of some broken glass.
The twenty-fouth thing she did was call Alya and check if the kwamis had gotten themselves into trouble. They were fine, apparently, but Alya asked her where she was and she hung up.
The twenty-fifth thing she did was return to the bathroom to pour herself a cup of water—
She heard boots hit carpet.
“I’M HERE!” she shrieked, dropping the plastic cup to the floor and scrambling out of the bathroom.
There he stood, pushing the balcony door closed.
“I’m here!” she repeated unnecessarily, forcing out a small laugh and clasping her hands behind her. She rocked on the balls of her feet, “Hi!”
He turned to face her. “Hey.”
“Was it…” she hesitated, mouth dry despite the water she just drank, “Did you… have fun?”
“What?”
“At your…” she said, gesturing vaguely with her hands, “... At your thing?”
“We’re not supposed to discuss our civilian lives.”
“Oh,” she sucked in a breath, “Right.”
“We’ve been pretty bad at that, lately.”
“Yeah.”
They were silent for a moment, standing at opposite sides of the room, staring at each other. Finally, he flicked his eyes away from hers, towards the TV.
“Did you want to finish what you were watching?”
“Huh?” she said, turning to the TV, which was still playing whatever movie she’d last put on, “Oh! No, no.” She rushed over to the coffee table, snatching up the remote and turning the monitor off. “I wasn’t really watching it, anyways… Ha.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Not long,” she lied, sitting down on the couch. She forced a smile at him, hoping for him to join her, but instead he walked to the wall opposite and leaned back against it, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her.
He wasn’t glaring at her, at least, which she supposed was a plus. He wasn’t smiling at her either, though. She couldn’t read his expression at all.
“Um,” she finally spoke up after their collective silence became too much, “G-good… Good job today, by the way! That… that battle went by really fast! Very efficient!”
He said nothing, still staring at her.
“Cataclysming the street light as a diversion? What a brilliant idea!” she raved, “They didn’t even see it coming!”
Still nothing.
“And your form was great! So defensive but offensive at the same time, they didn’t know what hit them—”
“Ladybug,” he said, startling her.
“Yes?”
“Is this…” he began, his eyes narrowing at her, “... what you wanted to talk about?”
She swallowed against the lump in her throat, clasping her hands together on her lap and squeezing. “... No.”
He continued to stare at her, expression hard, and she felt like she was dangling at the edge of a cliff, hanging on by only a thread.
“I…” she sucked in a breath, her eyes diverting from his for a moment before she forced them back, “... I wanted to… say that I’m sorry. I’m… really, really sorry.” His expression didn’t change, and there was a beat of silence before she continued, “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“So you’re sorry…” he said, and she sucked in a breath, “... that you kissed me?”
“Yes,” she said before she could think. His expression soured, and her heart constricted at the realization.
“I mean—” she gasped, sitting up straighter, “That’s not— that’s not all I’m sorry about! There’s more!”
“Why’d you do it?” he asked, and why did everyone have to keep asking her that?
“I don’t…” she breathed, “I don’t know. I-I mean— I know why, but it was a stupid reason, and I… It doesn’t matter why I did it, Chato— Chat Noir, I just shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“Was it that bad?” he asked, and she reeled.
“What!? No! Of course not, that’s not what I meant—”
“Then why are you sorry?”
“Because I hurt you,” she said, and his gaze fell to the floor, “I know I did. B-because I… Because I wasn’t thinking when I did it, and I… and I wasn’t thinking about how it could hurt you, because… I didn’t know that you—”
“You really had no idea?” he whispered to his feet.
She shook her head before realizing that he wasn’t looking. “I didn’t.” He didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, so she decided that she should keep talking. “And I’m s—”
“I’m sorry that I made it weird, then,” he said bitterly.
“No!” she gasped, “You didn’t! You didn’t make things weird, I’m the one who made things weird by starting it at all! And then I— I made it worse because I… I… Chat Noir, I’m so sorry that I—”
“You don’t have to apologize for not feeling the same.”
“That’s not what I was going to say!” she nearly shouted, and his gaze snapped back up to her, “I’m sorry that I left. I’m sorry that I ran, and that I didn’t say anything, and I… I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you, because that was really terrible—”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Because I’m a coward,” she said, feeling her eyes grow hot.
He let out a bitter chuckle at that. “Ladybug, guardian of the miraculouses and superhero of Paris, a cowar—”
“Yes,” she said, spine straightening further, “Yes. I am.”
“You’re not—”
“I am when it comes to this,” she said, voice beginning to quiver, “When… When it comes to… feelings, like these. I’m the… cowardliest coward. I get scared and I… and I run.”
His eyes fell back down, and she sucked in a deep, shaking breath.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” she choked out, “You don’t. I-I don’t… I don’t know if I— if I ever would be able to, i-if I were you. I was awful. Horrible. I-I hurt you, for no good reason, and you… you’d have every right to h-hate me. Or never want to talk to me again.”
He didn’t say anything, so she continued, “And I know things… they probably… th-they can never go back to what it was like b-before, and that’s my fault, but it’d be okay so long… so long as y-you’re still a part of my life, because I… I don’t know what I’d… what I’d ever do w-without you, Chaton, because you’re my… you’re my f-favorite person, the most important person in the world to me, and if I… if I lost you…”
“Ladybug—”
“I’ll do anything,” she choked, hanging her head and letting her tears drop onto the fists clenched in her lap, “Wh-Whatever it takes, whatever I need to do to not l-lose you completely. A-Anything, I’d do anything, because I would never be able to live with myself if you really h-hated me—”
“My Lady,” he said, voice soft and closer than it was before, and suddenly the cushions were dipping beside her. She looked up, and he was sitting there on his knees, reaching for her hand and grasping it in his own, “I could never hate you.”
“Okay,” she said, staring at him, and she wondered how she’d ever convinced herself that she wasn’t in love with him, because she wanted nothing more than to hold on to him forever and never let him go.
“And I… I liked the kisses,” he admitted, brushing a clawed thumb against her fingers, and she wished she could admit that too, “Even if it didn’t mean anything to you, I… … I just wish you hadn’t left.”
She sniffled. “Y-Yeah.”
He looked at her, a sadness in his eyes. “Or avoided me.”
“I know,” she said, pulling her legs up onto the couch so she could turn her whole body towards him, “I know. That was terrible. I’m sorry.”
“It was,” he agreed, and his voice began to quiver too, “You… I thought you… I was scared that you’d never talk to me agai—”
“No!” she gasped, reaching forward and clasping their free hands together, squeezing both of his hands, “Never! I’d never— I kn-know it was awful of me, Chaton, but I’d never do that. You’re too important to me.”
He nodded, and the two were silent for a moment. She swallowed back the lump in her throat, willing herself to stop crying so she could focus.
“I don’t know if I forgive you,” he admitted quietly, “... But I will. Someday.”
“Okay,” she whispered, willing herself not to start crying again as the silence hung in the air between them once more.
It was okay if he didn’t forgive her. It was okay if things were never quite the same, or if he had come to his senses and fallen out of love with her. It was okay as long as he didn’t hate her, as long as he was still a part of her life. She could live with loving him, madly and silently, because love just out of reach was a curse she’d long grown used to.
“... But I suppose you were right, My Lady,” he finally whispered, “As always.”
She swallowed. “Huh?”
“We should have kept the professional distanc—”
“I want to tell you who I am.”
He reeled back as if struck. “What?”
She stared at him, determined and never more certain of anything. “I want you to know my identity.”
He gaped at her. “... Pardon?”
“I want to reveal my—”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she said, straightening her spine, “And I— I’d like to know who you are too, of course, but only if and when you’re comfortable—”
“Why now?” he breathed out, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen his eyes so wide, “Why… Why do you—”
“Because I’m sick of it!” she yelled, and he stilled, “I’m sick of it! Aren’t you!? We— Maybe sharing a bed was a stupid idea, Chaton, but the stupid ‘professional distance’ was even worse, wasn’t it? Do the benefits even outweigh the costs anymore? I’m so sick of pretending like it’s okay that we don’t know who we are when you’re one of the most important people in the world to me—”
“Right now?”
She nodded. “Whenever. If it’s okay with you.”
He blinked, turning his gaze to look around the room as if to check for something that wasn’t there. “I…” He turned back to her. “... Okay.”
“Okay,” she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and steeling herself, “Spots—”
His hand slapped over her mouth. “Wait!”
She blinked her eyes open, staring at him confused. He removed the hand.
“We…” he said, hesitating and glancing around one more time, “... Let’s do it together.” He grasped her hand once more, and she shuddered at the butterflies in her stomach. “And then… open our eyes on three.”
“Okay,” she whispered, inaudible over the pounding of her heart in her ears. She watched as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and she closed hers as well. They squeezed each other’s hands.
“Spots off,” she said over his “Claws in.”
“One,” they said in unison.
“Two.”
“Three.”
Marinette had never wanted anything more. She was as sure of it as she was that the sky was blue, that grass was green, and that Hawkmoth was a dick. And yet, her eyes remained squeezed shut, and she felt frozen, petrified, heart racing, and she wondered if he was looking at her, finally seeing her—
“Marinette,” he gasped.
She already knew that he knew her. She’d interacted with Chat Noir as a civilian many times before, so it shouldn’t have come as a shock, and yet her heart bloomed at the knowledge that he recognized her. He recognized her, he knew her name, and a silly part of her wondered if she would recognize him, too.
She just had to will herself to find out.
She forced her eyes open, looking to the stranger sitting before her, and the sight of blond hair nearly made her cry on the spot. She looked to his eyes, his green eyes, but any relief was overshadowed by the fact that… that…
She shrieked, scrambling back and tumbling off of the couch, the back of her head bouncing off of the coffee table with an “OW!”
“Marinette!” Cha— no, Adrien shouted as he scrambled to his feet. She held her hand to the back of her head. “Are you oka—”
“How long have you been Chat Noir!?” she shouted, gawking at the man who was holding his hand out to her, and he was Adrien, Adrien was the man, but the man was supposed to be Chat Noir, but right now he was Adrien and that didn’t make sense—
“Forever?” he said, startled, “Well, I mean, not forever! Since I was thirteen—”
“Adrien,” she choked out, “You— You’ve been Chat Noir this whole time—”
“You’ve been Ladybug!” he countered, gaping at her, “Marinette! You’re Ladybu—”
“Oh my god!” she cried out, scrambling up to her feet without the help of his outstretched hand.
“It makes so much sense!” he exclaimed, stepping back and staring at her, his eyes wide with what almost looked like wonder as he pushed his hair back in his shock— his hair that was shorter than Chat Noir’s, but the perfect length for the man that’d been sleeping in her arms for months, “You…! Of course you’re Ladybug!”
She couldn’t return the sentiment, because it didn’t make sense to her. It didn’t make sense at all, because if Adrien was Chat Noir, that meant that she’d fallen in love with him twice. It meant that the two men weren’t two different, hugely important people in her life, but one single colossally important man, and that was too much, too overwhelming, and she thought maybe she might throw up.
But if Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste, then she had talked to him in the past couple weeks. They had talked, because Adrien was at her apartment, because they were trying to cheer him up, because he was sad because—
“Oh my god,” she choked out, “I’m your shitty coworker!?”
“I never called you shitty!”
“I did!” she gasped, “Multiple times! Constantly! To Alya and— and— oh my god! Wait, I thought you and her were having sex!”
His face went red. “I— I never said that! I said we were sleeping togethe—”
“Oh my god,” she cried out, dropping back down onto the couch cushion and covering her face in her hands.
He was cute. He was so damn cute. He was lovely, and he was perfect, and she loved him so much, and she’d been the one to break his heart. The woman who was toying around with Adrien’s feelings was her, and worst of all he was Chat Noir too. She’d hurt him— him, the two most important men in her life that were also the same one person all along, and she didn’t know how she could ever be able to forgive herself for that.
She felt the cushions dip beside her, and she could feel his presence. His overwhelming, intoxicating, terrifying, wonderful presence.
“Wait…” he breathed out, “I… I’m the guy you were talking about last night?”
She was going to die.
“I… I…” she stuttered, lowering her hands enough to peek at him, and he was staring at her like she was the most interesting thing in the world. She didn’t know how to answer him, but she didn’t have to. It was pretty clear.
“I give the best advice,” he declared, his lips turning to a smile as his eyes practically sparkled, and he looked so obviously like her Chaton in that moment that she wondered how she hadn’t seen it sooner.
“Yeah…” she rasped out, finding herself smiling at him despite everything. He always made her smile. “... You do.”
“I’m the guy,” he repeated, placing his hand on his chest.
“Ye—” she began, but then she realized what he’d meant.
“You’re in love with m—”
“No!” she shrieked, scrambling back up onto her feet, seeing the flash of horror across his face, “I mean— A-Adrien, it’s okay! You don’t have to worry about that right now—“
“What’s the problem?” he asked, expression hurt as he rose to his feet as well, “You… Are you… Are you disappointed that it’s me?”
She gaped at him. “What?”
“I thought,” he breathed, staring at her with wide eyes as he nervously twisted the ring he always wore— oh god, that was his miraculous. “You— You said you liked Adrien, though, right?”
She couldn’t believe this was happening.
“You said… back in collège and lycée—”
“I lied,” she blurted, her eyes locked on his.
He sucked in a sharp breath, stepping back—
“I never stopped,” she choked out, feeling her eyes well up. “Adrien, it was— it was never actually past tense.”
“What?” he whispered.
“I never— god, Adrien, I’ve been in love with you ever since you gave me that umbrella,” she said, grasping her hands together before her heart, “Because y-you’re so kind, and sensitive, and you’re so sweet, and y-you care so much for people and I… I’ve always loved you so so much… I always have, I always will, you’re… you’re so incredible, and wonderful, and I’ve always wanted to tell you how I felt but I never could…”
He took a step towards her, but she took a step back.
“You drive me crazy,” she choked, “I think about you all the time, I… I hate being apart from you. You… Adrien, I… I… I memorized your skincare routine.”
“You did,” he agreed, a watery smile on his face as he took another step towards her. She took another back.
“A-And then I… I fell for Chat Noir, too, but I don’t even know how or when, because h-he’s always been so special to me…”
He reached his hands out to her, but she recoiled away.
“But that doesn’t mean…” she sniffled, “That doesn’t mean… A-Adrien, I hurt you…”
“I don’t mind,” he whispered, voice desperate, “I don’t— I don’t care! I forgive you. It’s in the past, I forgive you, it’s okay—”
“Did you know that girl likes you back?”
He blinked, eyes wet. “Wh-what?”
“That girl,” she choked, hugging her arms around herself and stepping back again, “Y-Your… Your friend, you were talking about. The artist— oh my god, it was Kagami, wasn’t it? I forgot she does illustrations now.”
“Huh?”
“I could tell you liked her,” she said, raising a hand to wipe at her eyes, “Y-You were talking about her… s-so much, so fondly, and you said she got… red in the face near you, a-and she probably likes you back, and she didn’t take a-advantage of you o-or hurt you like I did—”
“Marinette—”
“—So before… before anything happens between us, I…” she sniffled, “I-I just, I wanted to make s-sure you didn’t lose your chance with Kagami, because you deserve someone like that who… who’ll make you happy—”
“It wasn’t Kagami.”
“Okay, well, then whoever it was,” she stilled, “Wait, who was it?”
“Marinette.”
“Yes? What?”
“You—” he began, interrupting himself with a laugh, and she blinked at him. “Marinette! I was talking about you. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
“... What?” she gasped.
“I was talking about you! Your designs and…” he said, gesturing vaguely to her, and she felt like she may pass out, “... And you. I honestly don’t even remember what I said about you, but I—”
“It was a lot,” she whispered, blinking away her tears.
“All good, I hope,” he said, and he was looking at her so affectionately, and she wondered how a single person could have such a great effect on her, because her entire body was tingling and numb and too hot and too cold all at once.
He took a step towards her, reaching his hands for hers, but this time she was too frozen to step away. He took her hands in his, grasping her fingers and closing the gap between them, and she was mesmerized.
“There’s nobody else, Marinette,” he said softly, and she sucked in a breath, “My Lady, it’s always been you. And I— You’re not gonna run again, right?”
She shook her head.
“I love you,” he whispered, and she closed her eyes as she felt his forehead press against hers, “It makes so much sense that you’re Ladybug, Marinette, because you’re incredible, and you’re so creative, and so intelligent, and so… miraculous.”
She huffed out a small laugh at that. He pulled a hand out of hers, and she missed it until she felt his fingers caress her cheek instead.
“I’ve been in love with Ladybug since the day we met,” he continued, and she stuttered out a breath, “I never stopped, I never could. And… And knowing you’re Marinette, too, I… I didn’t think it was possible to love you more, but I do. I’m so in love with you.”
She nodded pathetically against his forehead and reached up to cup the hand at her cheek. She turned her head, pressing a careful kiss to his palm.
“I love you, too,” she muttered against his wrist, shuffling closer and leaning against him, feeling his lips brush against her head, “I… I missed you so much, Chaton. I-I don’t… I don’t even know how to sleep without you, anymore.”
“Me neither,” he whispered against her hair, and she sighed. “I’ve slept terribly. I hate being alone, but Nino’s couch sucks.”
She sniffled and chuckled against him. “Does that… Does that mean we… can we go back to using the hotel?”
He hummed at that, and she found herself holding her breath.
“Well…” he said, wrapping his arms around her, “... There’s not much of a point, is there?”
“Huh?”
“I know where you live now,” he snickered.
“My bed’s a twin,” she snorted, “And the kwamis are nuisances. Loveable nuisances, but nuisances all the same.”
“Okay, fine,” he said, “You know where I live.”
“You’re inviting me into your bed, minou?” she teased, chest warm as she turned her head up and brushed her nose against his jaw.
“I suppose so,” he hummed playfully, “But if you’re going to try to have your way with me again, bedbug, you should at least buy me dinner first.”
“Dinner…” she whispered, blinking her eyes open. She was sure he meant it as a joke, but… “Have you had dinner yet, Chaton?”
“... No.”
“Me neither,” she said, pulling away to look at him, “Do you… wanna go out?”
“On a date?” he gasped, beaming down at her in such a Chat Noir way. She’d have to get used to this. “My Lady! You really are trying to seduce me.”
“Well—”
“Yes!” Plagg hissed, floating just beside them, “Let’s go out! Get a cheese platter! The fridge is empty, I’m starving!”
“Plagg!” Tikki scolded, “They were having a moment!”
“Yes,” Marinette said, ignoring the kwamis and gently tugging him towards the door, “A date. I want to treat you. It’s the least I could do. If you want to, that is.”
“You know I can never say no to you.”
******
Marinette patted blindly at the furniture, inching her way towards the bed in the darkness—
Thump. “OW!”
The bedside lamp flicked on, and she huffed.
“My Lady…” Adrien yawned, leaning over his bed with his hand outstretched to the lamp, “... You could have just asked me to turn the light on.”
“I didn’t want to wake you up,” she sighed, limping over and crawling back into the sheets.
“I was already up,” he mumbled, opening his arms up for her, “... You woke me up when you left.”
“Sorry,” she whispered, scooting into his arms and hooking her arms around his neck, “I had to pee.”
“I s’pose I’ll forgive you…” he said, voice laden with sleep as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She returned the kiss, ending it with a sigh as Adrien snuggled right back into her, burying his face into her collar.
“... Minou…” she whined.
“Mmf….”
“Your lamp… It’s still on.”
“Maybe I just like seeing your face,” he mumbled against her.
“You’re not even looking at me,” she said, gently kicking his leg.
“Maybe I like knowing I could if I wanted to.”
“You can look at me all you want in the morning. Turn it off.”
Silence.
She sighed, wiggling out of his grip—
“Nooo…”
—and crawling over him, reaching over towards the lamp—
His arms clamped around her middle and threw her back down on the mattress.
“Hey!” she shouted, and soon she was being pinned down under his weight, “Bad cat! Bad!”
“Mmmf,” Adrien said very coherently, lying limp on top of her.
She hit his back. “I hate you. Turn the light off.”
“You loooove me…” he crooned, and she rolled her eyes, “You told me so. You can’t take it back.”
“I do. You’re right. But I still think you should turn the light off. Also, you’re crushing me. I can’t breathe.”
“Sounds like you’re breathing fine to me...”
“I’m being suffocated,” she sighed.
He went silent, and she realized that she had to accept her fate. She supposed there were worse ways to die than having the love of your life sleeping on top of you.
She squinted through the light, which admittedly wasn’t very bright, and turned her head to look at him. He was so close to her, but she could still make out some of his features, like his tousled blond hair and maskless brows, and she couldn’t help but smile.
She pressed a kiss before his ear, raising her hands to brush her fingers through his soft hair, and as he started to snore she knew that there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
“I can turn the light off for you, Marinette,” Tikki said.
“No…” Marinette muttered, closing her eyes and relaxing against the sheets, “Leave it on.”