Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marinette trudged up to her room, closing the trapdoor behind her and slinging her bookbag over by her desk with a weary sigh. So much for studying in the park. It had been too cold anyway, and then there had been the akuma attack. Afterwards, she’d given up and gone to a café only to discover she’d left her history book at home. She’d read the assigned chapters of La Casa de los Espíritus by Isabel Allende instead and decided to call it a day.

Despite the fact that it was only four o’clock, Marinette was ready for a nap. Unfortunately, she climbed up to her loft to find the bed already occupied.

With a sigh, she pulled back the covers and slid in beside him.

One iridescent green eye slowly peeled open to assess her.

“Just me, Chat,” she whispered. “Scoot over or get out of my bed.”

With a grunt of acknowledgement, he acquiesced, giving her space.

Once she had settled in, he looped an arm around her, burying his face in the back of her neck.

“No snuggling,” she grumbled but did absolutely nothing to enforce her command. “My parents are going to have a fit if they find us.”

“I told Sabine I was here to nap. Me in your bed is old news, Princess,” he muttered into her hair in reply.

Marinette sighed in resignation, letting her eyes drift closed, wondering how she would explain Chat to a future boyfriend.

“I have this friend,” she imagined herself saying. “I swear we’re just friends, but sometimes he ends up in my bed—but not like that!—and we cuddle…a lot…but there’s nothing going on, Adrien. I swear. Just…pretend he’s a real cat.”

She saw that going over well…especially given how eloquent she was when she spoke to Adrien. She’d improved over the last four years to the point where they had actual conversations now, but there were still times when Marinette got tongue-tied around him, and she could see herself getting very flustered and tongue-tied during a conversation about what exactly Chat was to her.

If Adrien asked if she and Chat had slept together, she could honestly say no, but if he asked if they had feelings for one another…she could see herself being in trouble.

She woke an hour later with Chat’s head on her chest and his hand gripping the waistband of her skirt like a child grasping a security blanket. She could see dried tear tracks trailing down the side of his mask.

“Chat,” she called softly. “Time to wake up.”

He rolled off of her with a grumble that indicated that she was free to leave, but he had no intention of abdicating her bed.

“Chat, if you sleep any longer, you’re not going to be able to go to bed tonight at a decent time, and you’ll be completely useless at school tomorrow,” she warned, using the same authoritative tone that Sabine did when she had to coerce Marinette out of bed in the mornings.

“Don’t care,” he huffed, turning his back on her.

With a roll of her eyes, Marinette leaned in and gave his cheek a lick.

It tasted like salt.

Instantaneously, Chat Noir sat up, scrubbing comically at his cheek. “Geez. What are you, like, five years old? Gross, Princess,” he admonished even as he began to chuckle.

Marinette grinned. “I was going to lick your ear next, if that didn’t work.”

Chat shuddered, and Marinette couldn’t tell if it was a shudder of dread or anticipation. Normally, Chat liked it when she playfully nipped him—on the cat ears, his real ears, his arm, his hand, his fingers. She’d only licked him a handful of times over the years, so she couldn’t really say whether he liked getting a dose of his own medicine. Licking was usually something he did to her neck.

“Come on,” she urged. “Not that your ladybug-themed boxers aren’t cute, but it’s time for you to get up and put your clothes back on.”

“Are you sure?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows. “You look like you’re having such a good time appreciating the glory that is my bare chest.”

Marinette shrugged, feigning disinterest as she straightened her skirt and prepared to descend the ladder back to the main room. “Meh. Seen it before. It’s nice, but it’s old news.”

He followed her, grabbing his clothes from the foot of the bed en route. “Marinette, what I’m hearing is that I’m going to have to take my boxers off to regain your interest because there’s not much else you haven’t seen.”

“Enough,” she sighed. “You’re being crass on purpose because you’re upset about something and you’re trying to distract yourself.”

His shoulders rose up to his ears, and he averted his eyes, pretending to be fully occupied with straightening out the ball of leather his suit had become. “I always feel so naked in front of you…even when I’m actually wearing clothes.”

“What happened?” she prompted, lowering into her desk chair and sliding over to her sewing machine to resume work on the tie she was making for Adrien for Valentine’s Day.

Chat gave a shrug, slipping his legs back into his pants.

“Your father?” Marinette guessed (only she didn’t have to guess because it wasn’t so much a question of who had upset Chat but what Chat’s father had done to upset Chat this time).

Chat nodded miserably. “I didn’t do well enough. It was important to him, and I didn’t do well enough, and he said…” Chat swallowed and forced himself to take a steadying breath. “…that I was a disappointment…and that my m-mother…”

He couldn’t say it. His eyes were beginning to sting with tears once more, and he couldn’t bear to repeat what Gabriel had said to him. He’d come home from a rough fight with one of his supervillains to Gabriel berating him over his subpar performance at the previous day’s photoshoot for the important new collection his father had been working so hard on over the past few months.

Adrien had always known that he wasn’t perfect, but it hurt so badly whenever Gabriel rubbed that fact in his face. And then bringing up his mother had been like a knife to the gut, shoved in and twisted.

Marinette’s arms were around him in seconds, her palms below his chest, her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. “Chat, your mother would be so proud of you. She’d be proud of the young man you’ve become. If your father knew you were Chat Noir, how much time and effort you put into saving Paris, he would be proud of you too. Don’t let what he said get to you, Minou.”

He struggled to coax a smile back onto his face, and it came out sort of ironic because if his father did know that he was Chat Noir, he would be horrified. He would lock Adrien up and steal his miraculous, and that would be the end of that.

“Thanks, Princess.” His words sounded more hollow than he intended.

“…I’m proud of you,” she whispered, giving him a squeeze of encouragement.

“Thank you,” he repeated, more convincingly this time.

She sighed, slowly releasing her hold and going back over to her sewing project. “One of these days, I’m going to figure out your identity and have a serious talk with your father.”

This got a genuine laugh out of him. He rolled his eyes, pulling up his zipper and slipping on his gloves. “No offence, Princess, but you haven’t figured out my identity in the three years we’ve been regularly hanging out. I’m not really optimistic about your chances at this point.”

Marinette stuck out her bottom lip in a comic pout. “Hush. I’m bound to get it eventually. Just…give me a little more time.”

He rolled his eyes, slipping the cat ears back into place atop his head.

“And a hint would be nice,” she grumbled.

“You want a hint?” he baited. “Here.” He went to stand beside one of her Adrien posters, assuming the same pose: the fold of his arms, the cocky grin, the tilt of his head, the beckoning gaze. “Who am I?” he challenged.

She stared at him piteously for nearly a minute before shaking her head sadly in defeat. “No idea. Do I even know you without your mask on? You’ve implied before that you’re famous, but, unless you work in fashion, I’m not really familiar with celebrities. When I look at you, you’re just…you.”

With an exasperated smile, he shook his head and went to lounge on her chaise longue. “You’re hopeless. Absolutely beyond all help. The girl has seen me as close to naked as possible, and still this flimsy little mask around my eyes keeps her from recognizing me.”

“You have a magical glamour that keeps me from recognizing you!” Marinette whined. “It’s not fair.”

Chat snickered as he shrugged, flipping over to lie on his back with his feet over the end of the chaise. “You probably wouldn’t even recognize me if I took off the mask. My poor, oblivious princess.”

“I’m not oblivious.” The corner of Marinette’s mouth twitched. “Magical glamour!”

“I think you’re just making excuses because you can’t figure it out.” Chat nodded knowingly.

Marinette let out a low growl of frustration, his teasing finally getting to her. Couldn’t he see how badly she wanted to find him? Hadn’t she told him dozens of times? She would tear down Paris to find him…only the magic was too strong. She was this close to trying to rip his mask off herself. She knew it wouldn’t do any good, but…

“You suck,” she spat in frustration.

“Yes,” he purred, delighting in the fact that he had finally gotten her to lose her composure. “On occasion, for the right guy, but I’m not as good as you at it because I haven’t had as much practice, so I’ll go ahead and leave the sucking to you, Princess.”

She twitched. She knew he was doing this because he was still upset. He always turned into a bit of a vulgar jerk when he was dealing with something, and she knew she wasn’t the only one frustrated by her inability to recognize him without his mask, but…somehow, this time he really annoyed her.

“Oh, screw you,” she hissed with an ounce of venom…that he didn’t seem to pick up on.

His reply was airy and flirty: “I mean, I wouldn’t say no. Do you want to? If so, go right ahead.”

At first, she was tempted to throw something and kick him out. He was insufferable when he got like this, and chances were he was only going to push more of her buttons as the night went on. Then, however, an idea occurred to her.

He looked up at her silence, wondering, “Did I go too far, Prin—”

He trailed off when he saw her approaching, stalking like a hungry panther, a calculating look in her eyes, a seductive smirk on her lips.

“Mari…nette?” His eyes widened as she lowered herself onto the chaise with him, her knees straddling his hips. He gulped. “Marinette, I was kidding. I—”

She placed a finger on his lips, pushing gently, coaxing him back down flat on his back. “Shh.” She leaned forward, her hands going to either side of his head to box him in.

His heart fluttered in his chest, and his breath caught.

“Oh my God,” he thought, slightly panicked. “I’m going to do it. I’m finally going to do it. I’m going to sleep with the second most amazing woman on this planet. She’s going to have sex with me. Crap, I am not ready. I’ve never done this before. Has she done this before? Maybe I shouldn’t have talked such a big game. What if I’m bad at this? What if I’m bad in bed and she doesn’t want me around anymore? What if it ruins our relationship? What if Ladybug finds out? What if my father finds out? What if we get pregnant? What if it’s awesome but she decides friends don’t do this kind of thing with each other and refuses to sleep with me ever again? What if—”

He was snatched out of his whirlpool of thoughts by Marinette’s throw pillow covering his face.

She cackled as she playfully smothered him.

At first, he gave a jolt in surprise, but as he realized that she was messing with him for his crude behavior, his body went limp in resignation.

No, they were not finally doing this. If he wanted to sleep with Marinette, he would have to put his imagine to work later…again.

She removed the pillow quickly enough, still laughing at his expense. “You should have seen your face! I’m sorry, Chat. I know you’re still upset about what your father said, but you’ve got to stop being so vulgar when—Ah!”

She gasped as he grabbed the undersides of her thighs and rolled up to standing with her, giving her no choice but to circle her arms around his neck or fall. Her legs squeezed his hips as he walked her over to the wall, putting her back up against it to help keep her upright.

“You should have seen your face,” he chuckled, not unkindly.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Put me down, Chat.”

“Let me think…. No.” His nose scrunched up in amusement.

She stared him straight in the eye, unblinking, even though their faces were less than a handspan away. She could see how big his pupils were; she assumed that hers were just as bad. “We’re going to do something stupid, aren’t we?”

Last time they got like this, they ended up making out. It was only by virtue of them being up on her balcony and semi in public that clothes had not come off. It was a miracle that neither of them had thought to open up the skylight and tumble into her bed.

“Well, if you hadn’t been a tease,” Chat offered with a hint of sullenness.

“You’re the one teasing,” Marinette scoffed. “You don’t even like me.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t like me,” he snorted, not realizing until later that that was as good as an admission that he liked her. “And this is teasing.” He leaned in and sank his teeth into her neck, giving his bite just the right amount of pressure—hard enough to leave a mark but light enough to be more pleasure than pain.

Marinette gasped, her legs tightening around him.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He licked her neck sloppily from her throat to her ear before clamping his mouth down on the spot he had bitten, sucking greedily.

Her hips rocked forward reflexively, and he returned the pressure. He had her pressed up against the wall, pinned with his body so that she no longer had to hold herself up and her hands were free. One quickly found its way into his hair, tussling and gripping intermittently. The other wrapped around his bell in that innocent yet suggestive way that always drove him over the edge.

“Stop,” she gasped as one snapping out of a dream.

Reluctantly, he disengaged, eyes half-lidded and hungry as he pulled back to look up at her curiously. “Stop?” he wondered.

“Stop,” she repeated, eyes slipping closed as she attempted to take deep breaths. “We need to stop before we cross a line.”

Line? He wondered what line there really was left between them. It seemed like their entire relationship had been a series of crossing lines and renegotiating rules. He was the exception to “no boys in the bedroom after nine”, and then he became the exception to “no boys in the bed”. Their platonic sleepovers had led to him stripping down to his boxers when she’d said that the suit was uncomfortable to snuggle against. 

Snuggling while watching movies had not-so-gradually gone from sitting side by side to her with her head on his shoulder to the jumble of limbs that they usually twisted themselves into on the couch nowadays.

He didn’t remember how the licking and the biting had started. He suspected its origin lay in the innocent pecks on the cheek they had shyly begun exchanging. Somehow lips had migrated other places—ears and necks—maybe by accident the first time, and tongues and teeth had come out, and suddenly it wasn’t weird to be licking Marinette’s neck. It was all perfectly friendly…despite the fact that he knew that he would never get away with that kind of behavior with any of his other friends.

And now they were kissing. Actually kissing. The first one had been an accident; a missing of the cheek two weeks prior had landed his lips squarely on hers…and kisses two through nineteen had not been accidental.

Deep down, Adrien knew that carrying on like this, making out with a friend, pinning her up against a wall with her legs around his waist and attacking her neck, and taking naps with her in her bed, was not healthy. This was an indication that they had some serious issues. He knew it wasn’t normal.

At the same time, his relationship with Marinette was the sanest, healthiest, most loving relationship in his life. He knew that only served as a testament to how messed up his life was, but…if not for Ladybug…Marinette would be the one.

But there was Ladybug, and he just couldn’t get over her. There was also Marinette’s own crush of four years, so Adrien held no delusions of a happily ever after with Marinette. What he had with her was only a blissful interlude while she worked up the courage to confess to Luka, and he knew it. Then he would be forcibly extracted from her life, left out in the cold with his hopelessly unrequited love for Ladybug while Luka licked Marinette’s neck and pinned her up against walls and snuggled with her while watching movies.

In all honesty, Adrien knew that he was a placeholder, keeping Luka’s spot warm. He knew the things he did with Marinette were in boyfriend territory, and he knew things wouldn’t be allowed to continue once she started dating Luka.

He closed his eyes, leaning in to rest his head on her shoulder. He took deep breaths of her cinnamony perfume as they both rode out the bout of arousal, slowly coming down.

“We’re going to have to stop this when you get a boyfriend, aren’t we?” he groaned softly.

“Definitely,” she sighed ruefully, stretching the word out. It sounded like she was dreading the day almost as much as he was.

“Don’t get a boyfriend,” he whispered, giving her neck a tender nuzzle and a penitent kiss before slowly lowering her to stand shakily on her own feet. “Please?” He lightly nosed her ear.

“Oh, Chat,” Marinette sighed, frustrated that she always had to be the one to keep her head on her shoulders. “We can’t keep doing this. This is getting… They have a word for people like us, and I never wanted…” Her voice caught in her throat as he leaned back in to touch his forehead to hers.

“I’ll be your boyfriend,” he suggested in a way that indicated that his brain was still foggy and that he wasn’t thinking things through.

She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back. “You know better than to say that unless you’re serious. Are you serious, Chat? Are you asking me out?”

She held her breath as she waited for his answer. He was the only one she’d give up Adrien for. If he would pick Marinette over Ladybug, she would pick him, but as long as he kept pursuing Ladybug’s illusionary perfection…she couldn’t. The Ladybug he was in love with wasn’t her…not the real her.

His eyes widened as he finally realized the hot water his mouth had landed him in. He stared at her intently for nearly a minute, considering the trade he was contemplating…the trade he had been contemplating for two years now. Could he give up on the elusive Ladybug for the surety of Marinette’s love? He knew it would be for the best to let go and give in, but, at the same time, it felt wrong to consign Marinette to being the second choice, only picked because she was attainable. Chat knew that Marinette was Luka’s first choice, and it seemed unforgivably selfish to “settle” for her.

Chat sighed, looking down at his feet.

“Ladybug?” Marinette guessed.

He made a little grunt of admission. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I understand.”

Tentatively, he looked up at her. “Still…don’t get a boyfriend. I’m not…ready for you to get a boyfriend.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled mischievously, teasing him to try to lighten the atmosphere, “You just want the free pastries and cuddles and flirting and naps in my bed.”

He forced himself to grin, copying her jocose manner. “Can your future boyfriend really complain if you’re not in the bed with me at the time?”

Marinette gave him an eye roll accompanied by a playful smack on the arm as she walked past him back to her desk to resume her work on Adrien’s tie. “We both know that I’m usually in the bed too. Besides, I know I would flip if I were dating someone who let Ladybug take naps in his bed.”

A moment too late, she realized her error in summoning Ladybug back into the conversation.

Chat’s shoulders slumped as he made his way back to the chaise longue and flopped over onto his back. He picked up the throw pillow and hugged it to his chest.

Marinette pursed her lips.

The conversation was dead, but it still felt unfinished, like a zombie softly moaning in the corner, waiting for them to acknowledge it.

She slowly applied pressure to the pedal of her sewing machine, guiding the material through. She reached the end and held up her work for inspection.

“…Are you confessing to Ladybug again this year?” she asked without looking at him.

“I was thinking about it.” He threw the throw pillow up into the air, catching it with a soft thump on its descent. “Seventh time’s the charm and all that, you know.”

Marinette set down the tie and hesitantly turned. “I wish you wouldn’t. Didn’t she tell you she was still in love with that other guy?”

He shrugged, a careful poker face of neutrality in place. “That was a couple months ago. Maybe she’s over him or he started dating someone else or he turned her down by now. It won’t hurt anything just to ask her if things have changed. I’m not going to be pushy about it.”

Marinette sighed deeply, getting up and going over to kneel beside the chaise and look down at him. “It’s going to hurt you,” she whispered mournfully. “Chat, you’re incredibly precious to Ladybug. She loves you as a dear friend, but Ladybug can’t return your feelings. You need to let her go.”

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the harshness of reality. “I can’t.”

“Because you’re not trying.” She attempted to keep her voice soft, not accusing. “Minou, I can’t bear to see you hurt because of her anymore. It hurts me.”

Slowly his eyes slid open to study her. He reached out a hand and gently stroked her face. “My sweet princess…my poor, tenderhearted princess…don’t get yourself so worked up over it. It doesn’t matter.”

Her face quickly contorted into a frown. “It does matter.”

He shook his head, a grateful smile slowly inching across his lips. “I love you.”

She bit her lip hard to keep a sob from escaping. She wasn’t able to hold back the tears that slowly began to parade down her cheeks.

“Oh, Marinette.” His voice was full of warmth as he tipped forward to place a butterfly kiss to the side of her mouth, his lips half on and half off of her own.

“My pain doesn’t have to be your problem,” he advised with a wink. “Besides, I like it when she hurts me. I’m used to the people I love letting me down and stomping on my heart. If anything, she could stand to be more cold about it. She’s much too nice for the number of times she’s had to turn me down. She doesn’t even look annoyed. In fact, it looks like it hurts her when she has to tell me no. I’d feel better if she publicly embarrassed me or something…yelled at me a little. That’s how I’m used to people showing that they love me—willfully ignoring me until it’s time to knock my self-esteem down another a peg.”

Marinette winced, resting her head on his chest and letting her tears fall.

It was times like these that she wanted to scream “to hell with the rules!” and tell him everything, explain to him why exactly Ladybug had been turning him down these past four years…but she was scared.

Tikki had always been very explicit about the repercussions of breaking the rules. She had told Marinette horror stories of past Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous holders. The akuma battles had never gotten any easier or safer over the years, and the last thing Marinette wanted was to get Chat killed. She knew she wouldn’t survive that.

Then there were the relational repercussions to revealing her identity to consider.

Chat obviously cared for Marinette, but not enough to out and out pick her, and Marinette didn’t want to be just a stand in for Ladybug. The way their relationship was now, she already felt like just someone to pass the time with. She often wondered if—while snuggling, cuddling, kissing, or horsing around with Marinette—Chat ever imagined she was Ladybug. It was stupid because she knew that they were technically the same person (doubly stupid because Marinette, hypocrite that she was, sometimes imagined it was Adrien touching her, Adrien kissing her). Marinette knew she was being unreasonable, but she still somehow couldn’t stand the thought of Chat picking Ladybug over her. She wanted him to love Marinette enough to pick her unequivocally.

She also knew that this wasn’t going to happen, and that knowledge stung.

“Precious Princess,” he cooed, beginning to stroke her hair. “I’m sorry. Don’t get upset for my sake.”

“How can I help it?” she pouted, rubbing at her eyes, trying to get the tears to stop.

“Let’s do something more fun than lie around moping,” he suggested, sitting up and guiding her up and onto the chaise next to him. “Let’s talk about your crush. Are you going to confess to him this Thursday? What do you have planned?”

He did a good job of faking a smile and feigning excitement; she would give him that.

Reluctantly, Marinette let herself be dragged away from the topic of his impossible situation with Ladybug, just as Chat desired.

“I don’t have a plan yet,” she confessed, picking at the hem of her skirt. “but I’m making that tie for him, so I guess…I’ll give it to him on Thursday and tell him then.” She nodded, as if psyching herself up.

“For real this time?” Chat teased, sticking out his tongue. “This has seriously got to be the fiftieth time you’ve told me you were going to confess, and, so far, your crush never gets confessed to and never gets his presents. How many do you have stuffed in that trunk of yours?”

“Oh hush,” she grumbled, whapping him halfhearted in the face. “Yes. For real this time. I’m going to do it. I’m going to tell him how I feel because if I don’t do it this time, I’m never going to do it, and I’ll have wasted four years of my life for nothing. If I’m going to get rejected, I might as well get it over with.”

Chat rolled his eyes, taking her hand away from her skirt and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re not going to get rejected. I see the way he looks at you. He may seem cool and collected on the outside, but when he’s with you, his insides go to mush. The instant you confess, he’s going to sweep you off your feet into a passionate kiss, and you’re going to live happily ever after.”

Marinette’s entire face went red as she laughed giddily, imagining Adrien sweeping her off her feet and kissing her. “Oh my gosh. No. He…he doesn’t. He wouldn’t.”

She shook her head, still on cloud nine, safe in her daydream. “…Do you think? I mean, does he really…” She trailed off as the look on his face registered: lost and longing.

The heady feeling dissipated, the joy immediately sucked from her voice. “What’s wrong, Minou?”

He shook his head and smiled, but it was that slightly off grin that signaled some kind of internal distress. Something was definitely not right.

“Chat, talk to me. What is it?” she pressed, reaching up to tug on one of his cat ears.

“It’s stupid,” he argued. “It’ll only make things sad again. I was trying to make you happy, talking about your crush and how great things are gonna be once you finally get up the courage to confess.”

“I don’t want to be happy if you’re sad,” she stated bluntly. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and smiled once more—an ironic smile, an “isn’t it funny? …Please laugh at me. I can’t bear you looking at me like that” smile.

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. (Isn’t that funny? Please laugh.)

“Jealous,” she repeated, unsure. “Of…me?”

“Of him,” Chat clarified, seeming to shrink in his mortification. “…I don’t want to lose you.”

She grabbed his hands, affectionately rubbing his palms with the pads of her thumbs. “Chat, you’re not going to lose me. We’ll always be friends.”

Chat almost laughed. “Here it is,” he thought. “This is cosmic retribution for all the times I insisted Marinette was just a friend…poor, innocent fool that I was.”

“Yes,” he agreed sadly. “We’ll always be friends…but it won’t be like this anymore.”

He darted forward, capturing her lips in a kiss of desperation—hard, frantic, and yet over before she could even return it. He pulled back and gulped, wearing his apology on his face.

She stared at him, confusion and conflict evident in her expression. “…No,” she finally admitted. It had been a struggle to find the word. “It won’t…but…maybe he really will reject me and I’ll end up throwing myself into your arms in my grief. Then there will be no reason to be jealous because I’ll be even more yours than I was before.”

Chat’s first thought was that he hoped Luka really did say no. He caught himself and gave himself a mental slap for that, but it didn’t make the image of a distraught Marinette writhing beneath him go away.

“Would you really want her like that?” his better judgment prodded his conscience.

“What would Ladybug think?” it goaded him.

“How would Ladybug know unless I told her? Could I just not tell her? Is there any way I could have them both?” he wondered as myriad thoughts swirled around in his head, pulling him in dozens of directions.

Chat closed his eyes, giving his head a shake to clear away the swarm of unhelpful thoughts. “He’s…not going to reject you,” Chat insisted, leaning in and nuzzling her hair. “I’ll beat him up myself if he does. Not that he’s going to. He’d have to be an idiot to turn you down when you’re the most heroic, loving, kind, thoughtful, cool, gorgeous girl in the world.”

Marinette blushed. It felt like her insides were melting as he gushed about her, even though she knew that he was exaggerating. She knew he thought the world of her, but she also knew that there was someone else who ranked higher on his list that he was momentarily forgetting.

“What he means is that I’m the best…after Ladybug,” she internally sighed.

He placed the ghost of a kiss on her temple before pulling back to take her in. “…Luka’s really lucky,” he breathed wistfully.

Marinette gave a start. “L-Luka? What do you mean?”

Chat blinked slowly. It was like he had lost his place in the script…or they’d thrown out the script and were now adlibbing.

“Your…crush,” he answered, his brow scrunching up into a confused frown. “Luka. Luka’s really lucky to have someone like you in love with him.”

Marinette’s jaw actually dropped. “Luka? You thought… This whole time you thought we were talking about Luka?”

This was like sticking your hand in a hole and feeling around, trying to identify the object inside the box.

“Were we not talking about Luka?”

He needed a map—one of those giant bulletin boards with a “you are here” written on a large, red star—because he was so lost.

She shook her head slowly from side to side. “I mean…Luka is handsome and kind and wonderful and everything, and I guess I can kind of see me falling for him—yes, I mean, I’ve thought about it before, but—Chat, Luka’s not the one I have a crush on.”

“Oh.” Chat gulped. “Sorry. I don’t know how I got…” Now that he thought about it, she’d only ever said “my crush” this and “my crush” that, never a name, but… “…confused,” he ended lamely. “Then…who…?”

Marinette’s cheeks glowed like the dew on roses evaporating with the rise of the sun. Sheepishly, she motioned all around the room to the pictures hanging on the walls.

It didn’t immediately sink in. At first, it only confused Chat more because she seemed to be indicating her collection of fashion reference pictures. It took nearly a minute for him to consider that maybe the Adrien photos she had told him were because she was a Gabriel fan weren’t actually purely because she was a Gabriel fan.

“Adrien…Agreste,” he answered his own question, his words coming out like an engine stuttering to life and then dying once more. “You’re… You like… All this time?” he choked.

She looked away with a shrug, tucking the bang that always escaped from her ponytail holder back behind her ear. “Yep. I’ve been in love with Adrien for four years now.”

“Well.” His voice came out a little high pitched, but it sounded mostly normal…at least to his ears. The only problem with that was that he wasn’t really hearing all that well at present.

He needed to go lie down because he was an oblivious idiot who hadn’t realized that one of his best friends had been in love with him for four years. He needed time to digest this, but it wasn’t like he could go to pieces there in her room. That would give him away quicker than anything, and he didn’t feel like he could deal with that kind of complication to his already confusing relationship with Marinette right then and there.

“Adrien Agreste,” Chat repeated, the syllables sounding almost foreign, like a word said so many times that it loses its meaning. “I guess he’s pretty.”

Marinette arched an eyebrow at her friend. “Pretty? Have you seen him? He’s literally a supermodel. ‘Pretty’ is an insult.”

Chat nodded, trying to keep it together. “Is…that why you like him?”

If Marinette was another one of those women who swooned over his looks, he was going to die on the spot. Why couldn’t anyone see past the pretty exterior to the ugly mess on the inside? Marinette loved Chat despite knowing how screwed up he was, but could she still love Adrien after she discovered that he wasn’t as perfect as he seemed?

To his immense relief, Marinette scoffed. “Please. How shallow do you think I am? I mean, sure, Adrien is gorgeous, but that has nothing to do with why I love him. In fact, despite his pretty face, I couldn’t stand him when we first met due to a misunderstanding. Then I got to know him, and I fell in love with him because he’s sweet and loyal. Even though he’s rich, he doesn’t act entitled, and he doesn’t take things for granted. He appreciates the simple things in life like having a picnic with your friends or walking in the park or watching raindrops race down windowpanes. He’s a hard worker who always does his best, and even though he has a full plate, he never complains, and he doesn’t hesitate to take on more to help out a friend. There are dozens of things that I love about Adrien that have nothing to do with how good he looks in a suit…but I don’t think you really want to hear about them. I could go on for hours,” she half-joked.

She was wrong. He could have listened to her go on for hours.

“And you’re sure he’s the one you’re always talking about?” Chat needed it verified. He was having trouble remembering all the gushy things she had said over the years, and now he was wishing that he had paid more attention, but when he thought she was talking about Luka, it had hurt a little too much to listen closely.

“Chat, it’s only ever been Adrien,” she sighed, wondering what had gotten into her partner. The revelation about Adrien seemed to be blowing his mind.

“And you’re sure you love him?” Chat pressed, needing her to be certain.

She resisted the urge to bang her head against the wall and nodded laboriously. “Yes, Chat. I am positive that I love Adrien Agreste.”

He leaned in for a quick peck on her cheek. “You’re incredible, Marinette. He doesn’t deserve you.”

She rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “I guess we’ll find out on Thursday when I confess, won’t we?”

Suddenly Chat’s world came crashing down. She liked him. She was going to confess to him in four days’ time. He liked Ladybug. He was going to have to turn her down.

He sucked in a shaky breath as the horror and duplicity of his situation sank in. She would probably be upset if she found out his identity. It most likely wasn’t acceptable to ask your friend self-serving questions like that without her knowing about your dual identities. He would be in so much trouble. She’d be angry. He didn’t even want to think about Thursday and her throwing herself into Chat’s open arms after Adrien had rejected her. Through some twist of fate, he had ended up a twofaced eavesdropper listening in on and freely probing for information that he should not be privy to.

“You’re really going to confess?” He gulped.

“Yes,” she answered with conviction.

“Because you don’t have to, if you’re not ready,” he coaxed, but she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

He wasn’t. He doubted he’d ever be.

“I have to go,” he suddenly informed, getting to his feet and making for the ladder up to the loft.

“What?” She stared at him dumbly. “You don’t want to stay the night?” Usually, when his father made him cry, Chat stayed the night. She would have thought for sure what with his father bringing up his mother that Chat wouldn’t want to go home, but…

“I forgot something important. Can’t stay tonight,” he offered quickly, eager to get away so he could process the past four years of his life as well as his life goals and current five-year plan. “Tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay.” She didn’t bother resisting or questioning it because something was obviously up. “See you tomorrow, Minou.”

He paused at the ladder, looked momentarily conflicted, and then came back to plant a smooch right on her lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, eyes filled with sorrow, confusion, and longing. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but…sorry I suck at this.”

Before she could piece together a reply, he was gone, up to the loft and out the skylight.

“…Was that weird?” Marinette mumbled to herself. “That was weird, wasn’t it?”

Tikki did not comment.

She had gotten good at not commenting, especially over the last six months as things between Marinette and Chat Noir had escalated into the hormonal mess that they currently were.

Tikki sighed and went to affectionately nuzzle Marinette’s cheek and pet her hair.