Chapter Text
Marinette leaned into Chat Noir's side as she stared at their abandoned Uno cards (she had won three rounds in a row). They were on the floor in her room, surrounded pink fabric and dim twilight.
"Hey, Bug?"
"Hm?" It was strange, how easily she'd gotten used to him knowing her identity. It had been an accident, but she wouldn't change anything now.
"Can I ask you something?" His voice rumbled through her.
"Aren't you asking something now?" She'd expected a laugh or at least a resigned sigh, but he said nothing. Marinette pushed a wild card with her toe. "Sure."
"If it weren't for that other guy, do you think you would have fallen for me?"
Every point of contact her body had with his seemed suddenly electrified, her head on his shoulder, her arm against his, where her knee brushed his leg, and she shifted away to give herself some breathing space.
Her walls were bare. He'd asked permission to visit her at home, and she'd taken down almost every picture of Adrien. Evidence of her crush on someone else was not something she wanted to push on him every time he came over. He didn't deserve that.
"Um... do you want to play another round of Uno, or should we do something else?"
"Marinette, I'm serious. Would you have?"
Chat Noir wasn't often serious. If he wanted to go down this path, the best she probably could do was make his pain quick.
She shrugged in response. "Maybe, I guess. Video games? I have UMS 4."
"Really, that's it? You guess? That's not a real answer."
"Please, chaton. Don't do this to yourself."
He slid closer, closing the tiny gap between them that she'd opened up. "I just want to know."
Twilight was slipping into full dark as they sat. The streetlamp outside her window blinked on. He wasn't going to back down on this, was he? Fine. As quickly as she could, then.
"You're kind and compassionate. You're reliable. You're funny." Again, she waited for some reaction, a laugh, a self-satisfied "I knew it!" but he only waited for her to finish. "We have such a strong connection, and I trust you with my life. You're brave. You're my best friend." Softly she added, "It would have been so easy. That's the real answer."
The room was quiet enough that she heard how fast his breathing was. They were so close together that she swore she could feel his pounding heart. Or maybe that was hers. Sitting side-by-side made her feel like a coward. It was too easy to avoid his eyes.
How badly had she hurt him?
"So why haven't you talked to him yet?" Chat Noir asked.
"What?"
"If you'd pick him over all that, then you must like him a lot, but you aren't together. And I can't imagine anyone rejecting you, so you must not have asked him out yet."
Maybe she should have added perceptive to the list, but to be fair he'd never been so devastatingly accurate before.
At least this was something they could laugh at together. "I'm... very awkward around him. I'm pretty sure I make him uncomfortable sometimes."
"I doubt it," he said. "So who is he?"
Marinette got up. She suddenly needed some movement. Time to think. More space. "We shouldn't be talking about this."
"Why not?"
"Because I hate this!" Marinette turned to face him for this first time that night. "I hate hurting you every time you bring it up."
He leaned back like he was unconcerned, but he didn't return her gaze. "I'm only curious," he said. "I just want to know what type of person attracts Ladybug. That's all."
"I'll tell you under two conditions."
He stopped studying her mannequin to peek at her from the corner of his eye.
"One, you stop asking about it. Two, you don't laugh at me."
He finally turned to her completely. "Laugh? Why would I laugh?"
Part of her wished that he would. His laugh would be a welcome sound right now.
"Because you're going to think it's a celebrity crush, and it's not."
He raised an eyebrow and gestured for her to continue.
Marinette groaned. Nothing to do about it now except get it over with. "Adrien Agreste."
Chat Noir was on his feet so fast Marinette almost didn't see him move. "Plagg, claws-"
She didn't hear the rest of his sentence over her shrieking "NO!" but did she see the flash of green light behind her eyelids. "What are you doing? Put your suit back on!"
"No."
"I'm not going to look at you."
Where were the kwamis? Why weren't they telling him this was a bad idea?
"You have to retransform." Marinette backed up until she hit her desk. What on earth was he doing?
"No, not until you look."
"You'll have to," she said. "You can't walk out my front door and let people see you. You'll have to leave the way you came in."
"You're just going to keep your eyes closed for the rest of the night?"
She nodded.
Soft footsteps walked toward her. It wasn't the normal tap of boots that she was used to. It sounded wrong. Another reminder that one mistake from her would put his identity in jeopardy. He stopped right in front of her, circled his arms around her loosely and waited. It wasn't until she let herself sink against his chest that he tightened his grip.
"I'm not opening my eyes," she said.
"Then please just listen to my voice," the boy who was Chat Noir said. "I won't tell you my name, but please just listen?"
She nodded, her face buried in his neck. Even if she did open her eyes, she wouldn't be able to see him.
"When I'm not transformed, I'm much quieter."
"A quiet Chat Noir?" Marinette asked. "What must that be like?"
"I don't show off either. I try to avoid attention, actually. I get too much of it."
As he spoke, his voice started to change, matching the quieter, more gentle picture of himself that he painted for her. It sounded like... like...
"Did you know that we know each other outside the masks? We go to the same school."
With each sentence, Marinette began to realize that his voice was achingly familiar. He still sounded like her partner, on days that they were just talking or when they'd share sad stories. But he also sounded like someone else, someone whose voice she'd thought she knew by heart.
He stopped talking, letting her figure out the truth in silence.
She couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't. But her fingers could wander. They found his ungloved hand first, then moved up to his wrists. His forearms were bare, and as she expected, his sleeve had been rolled up above his elbow. Her fingers skimmed his upper arm and across his shoulder to his neck. She found the buttons of an open overshirt with a soft cotton tee underneath. If she wanted to, she could have reached up to touch his hair or trace her fingers over his nose and cheeks and eyelids, everything his mask usually hid. He would have let her.
Instead she leaned into his neck and felt his head drop on top of hers. Marinette finally opened her eyes. The overshirt was white. The tee underneath was black with colored stripes. Exactly how she remembered.
"You're kind and compassionate," he said. "You're brave and creative and amazing."
A tear slipped across her cheek. She was crying. When had that started?
"It was so easy to fall in love with you, Marinette."
Her hands left his shoulders to wrap around him and pull him closer to her. "I love you too, Adrien."
Chapter 2: Adrien's point of view
Chapter Text
Chat Noir almost always felt at home in Marinette's room. It was cozy and warm, lined with layers of fabric, like she was building a soft den. It was so different from his own old and sterile room. His windows let him see outside at the same time they reminded him he would always be disconnected from it. Marinette leaned against him, but tonight, no matter how close he physically was to her, he felt like they were on opposite sides of glass.
Their playing cards had been knocked out of their piles by Marinette's victory dance. A container of leftover noodles lay empty on its side. And Chat Noir held steady against Marinette's weight as she relaxed into his side.
There were so many things he couldn't tell her. So many things he wanted her to understand. "Hey, Bug?"
"Hm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Aren't you asking something now?" she joked. "Sure."
He hesitated. Asking was only a few steps removed from the forbidden act of telling. (Not his name. Not how many days it had been since he'd last had dinner with his father, or been given a hug.) He wanted to ask why she'd taken down all her pictures of Adrien. What had he done as his civilian self that had upset her so much? She stayed perfectly polite to him at school.
Instead he asked, "If it weren't for that other guy, do you think you would have fallen for me?"
Marinette leaned away. It wasn't the first time he'd asked a variation of this question. It was almost always on his mind. His rival.
"Um... do you want to play another round of Uno," she deflected, "or should we do something else?"
"Marinette, I'm serious. Would you have?"
She shrugged. "Maybe, I guess. Video games? I have UMS 4."
"Really, that's it? You guess? That's not a real answer."
"Please, chaton. Don't do this to yourself."
He selfishly slid closer to her. Not many people allowed him to be in their space like this, and the need to touch her was too much. If she felt like he was chasing her, she didn't complain. A reminder that at least someone wanted him around.
He didn't stop until he could feel her comfortable body heat against his side again. "I just want to know."
He'd expected a simple yes or no.
"You're kind and compassionate. You're reliable. You're funny." She stopped, taking care to find her next words. He thought she would just tell him no. "We have such a strong connection, and I trust you with my life. You're brave. You're my best friend."
Marinette's voice dropped for the devastating truth. "It would have been so easy. That's the real answer."
Chat Noir struggled to stay still, focusing on not hugging her, not crying, not moving. Even if she didn't love him back, she did in some way love him. She just… loved someone else more. Differently. Who was it? Adrien watched her at school. He knew Alya teased her constantly about her love life and Marinette's inability to talk to the mysterious boy who'd so effortlessly caught her attention. Adrien never overheard his name, though he'd tried.
"So why haven't you talked to him yet?" Chat Noir asked.
"What?"
"If you'd pick him over all that, then you must like him a lot, but you aren't together."
Marinette shifted, looking at him for the first time since gifting him a list of her favorite things about him (a gift he didn't deserve). "And I can't imagine anyone rejecting you, so you must not have asked him out yet."
"I'm... very awkward around him. I'm pretty sure I make him uncomfortable sometimes."
"I doubt it," he said. "So who is he?" Another question he hadn't been able to ask before. But he was tired of the glass in between them. If he couldn't be with her, maybe knowing more about her would help. This nameless boy was such a huge part of her life.
And one of the biggest obstacles in his.
Marinette got up and walked away, her back to him. "We shouldn't be talking about this."
"Why not?"
"Because I hate this!" Her face was pained as she turned to him. "I hate hurting you every time you bring it up."
The headless mannequin was suddenly very interesting. Father didn't have his own mannequin until he was nearly 18. Marinette was more passionate and more talented.
"I'm only curious," he lied. He felt like a bad friend for pushing, but there was only so much he could learn about her from studying the decor in her room. "I just want to know what type of person attracts Ladybug. That's all." And find out what he still lacked.
"I'll tell you under two conditions. One, you stop asking about it. Two, you don't laugh at me."
"Laugh?" he asked. "Why would I laugh?"
"Because you're going to think it's a celebrity crush, and it's not."
He waved to distract her from his face. He hoped it was neutral, but he couldn't be sure. A celebrity? She had a crush on some random celebrity? That's who his competition was?
Marinette groaned. "Adrien Agreste."
He didn't think. Didn't realize he'd stood up until he was walking toward her. The glass was shattering. "Plagg, claws in!"
"NO!" she shrieked, snapping her eyes shut. Had she seen? "What are you doing? Put your suit back on!"
"No."
"I'm not going to look at you."
Plagg bobbed back and forth between the two of them, then flew off to find Tikki. That was as close to permission as he was going to give.
"You have to retransform." Her commanding tone was at odds with the way she backed up, flinching away from him until she hit her desk, hiding her face in an effort to protect him. Or maybe herself.
"No," he repeated, "not until you look."
"You'll have to," she said. "You can't walk out my front door and let people see you. You'll have to leave the way you came in."
"You're just going to keep your eyes closed for the rest of the night?"
She nodded.
Adrien walked over to her, his socked feet stepping lightly over the remains of their time together. He wrapped her in a loose hug, and then waited. After a few seconds, Marinette dropped her hands from her face and sunk into him. He took that as permission to hug her the way he'd always wanted, like he was never going to let her go.
Maybe he didn't have to.
He was the boy. The rival. The obstacle. She could know all of him, and he wouldn't have to feel so fragmented and broken. There would be nothing left to come between them, if only she would open her eyes.
Marinette shivered in his arms. His fire dimmed, replaced with softness at her worry. It was so much better to hold her without thick armor in the way, just a few layers of fabric.
He wouldn't force her to look, but he wasn't above leading her for once. He could tell himself that it would be an advantage, tactically, for her to know who he was. It would strengthen their partnership, but really, he just needed her to know him.
"I'm not opening my eyes," she said.
"Then please just listen to my voice. I won't tell you my name, but please just listen?"
She pushed her face into his neck, skin to skin, and breathed deeply, nodding. Adrien wanted to drop his head on top of hers, but instead only leaned down, letting her hair brush his cheek. Almost nothing in between them.
"When I'm not transformed, I'm much quieter."
"A quiet Chat Noir?" Marinette teased. "What must that be like?"
"I don't show off either. I try to avoid attention, actually. I get too much of it."
Marinette didn't ask him why, though he'd expected it. He hoped it was because she was trying to figure it out despite herself.
"Did you know that we know each other outside the masks? We go to the same school."
He stopped, letting her come to the truth if she was ready. Despite what he wanted, and how desperately he needed to be seen by her, this ultimately had to be her choice. If she wanted to understand, she would.
Marinette's fingers started to roam, first to his ungloved hand, maybe testing to see if he really was detransformed. The hairs on his forearms raised as she drew a line from his wrist to the edges of his rolled up sleeves. Over and across, to his shoulders, a breathless slide along his collarbone, then down the buttons of his shirt, then back up to his shoulders as she breathed into his neck, and her eyelashes tickled him as she opened her eyes.
She wouldn't be able to see his face, but she knew. He rested his head on hers, strengthening his hold on her.
"You're kind and compassionate," he said. "You're brave and creative and amazing. It was so easy to fall in love with you, Marinette."
Her hands slid from his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, holding him just as tightly as he held her. "I love you too, Adrien."