33. Chapter 33

Marinette wasn’t an especially smart girl. (The past week could easily attest to that.)

Sure, she got good enough grades in school. Sure, she had certain talents that one could say made her intelligent. Sure, she (or more commonly Ladybug) could be exceedingly clever when the situation called for it.

…But that kind of astuteness did not equate to being smart.

Which is probably why she agreed on the date.

Technically, it was more of a double date between the semi-in-a-relationship Alya and Nino (neither of them were inclined to label whatever was going on between them), and the secretly-totally-in-a-relationship her and Adrien. But regardless, it was a date.

A bad idea disguised as a date.

And Marinette knew it was a bad idea, or at the very least an underhanded idea. She knew she needed to avoid Adrien until she’d worked up the courage to rip off her cloth— costume, she meant costume! — and declare herself as Ladybug. But she still hadn’t been able to say no.

Not when her three best friends (one of which just also happened to be her boyfriend) had cornered her in the courtyard after school on Monday.

Not when Nino had promised they could go to her favorite gelato shop — “You know, the place with the dinosaur spoons you like!”

Not when Alya had given her the “please-please-please-just-go-along-with-this” look.

And certainly not when Adrien had slammed her with those intense green kitten eyes (which looked far too innocent on the same boy who could be the very embodiment of sin when he chose to be) and offered to carry her bag as they walked.

She couldn’t say no. So she didn’t.

And that was how Marinette found herself in her current situation: dinosaur spoon in hand, frown on her face, and foot tapping absently to the upbeat pop music that carried through the restaurant.

Damn her sweet tooth… and damn her sweet boyfriend! Damn him and damn herself for not having an ounce of self-control when it came to her tall hunk of blond haired kryptonite.

Marinette simmered.

Barring this unplanned little disaster outing, her first post-makeup school day had gone about as smoothly as one could have hoped for. At least she hadn’t immediately blown her cover upon entering homeroom, hadn't called Adrien some dumb pet name or accidentally made out with him like she owned his ass.

‘Which I do,’ Marinette thought primly, taking a long pull of her ice water and admiring the view of said owned ass as Adrien walked over to the counter. That backside looked just as good in denim as it did skintight leather, and it was a miracle that the likeness alone hadn’t revealed Chat’s identity earlier.

It had been like this all day. Her class time had mostly consisted of worksheets, checking out Adrien, group projects, checking out Adrien, a quick cram session in the library that included a fair amount of — you guessed it! — checking out Adrien, and finally, some good old fashioned checking out Adrien.

It was like being fourteen again.

Though this time her checking out was less “oh my gosh he’s so kind and handsome and smart I wish he would whisk me off my feet!”, and more “holy shit my dork of a boyfriend is sitting right there and is not actively trying to hit on me.”

It was jarring, really. Having Chat’s voice politely ask her for a pencil without offering a kiss in return. Or having Chat’s face throw her an expression that wasn’t a smirk. Half the time Marinette was so thrown off by Adrien’s composed exterior and (dare she say?) mild demeanor, she’d completely forget he was Chat Noir.

That was, until he did something like let slip a lame pun, or accidentally blind himself via disposable camera flash, for example.

(Marinette had watched him and Kim play with the cheap chunk of plastic for a solid fifteen minutes, all the while stomping down the urge to confiscate the damn thing and tell him cats have no use for photography equipment.)

Something told her it was going to be a long semester.

‘Or maybe just a long afternoon…’ she thought, letting her eyes dance across the building to where Adrien stood. The boys were leaning over the glass cased freezers, examining the tubs of gelato inside and unwittingly giving Marinette quite the view of a certain derrière.

Spoiler alert: It wasn’t Nino’s.

“You good there?” Alya asked, getting a meddlesome look in her eye as she followed her friend’s somewhat vacant gaze forward. Marinette waved her off, letting loose a frantic giggle as she mentally kicked herself for staring.

‘Reminder: Ladybug may be dating Chat, but Marinette is not dating Adrien,’ she chided herself, forcing her eyes to fall upon more socially acceptable sights.

“Yep, I’m feeling fine!” Marinette chirped, with what she hoped was a casual smile.

Alya seemed unconvinced. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Bespectacled eyes narrowed.

“Hmmm… Don’t think I haven’t noticed your strange mood this past week, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alya began, shaking a finger. “You know if there’s anything going on you can tell me, right? I’ll square up with anyone who tries to hurt my besties, and I’ll beat them too.”

Marinette's mind went on an idle tangent, trying to imagine a fictitious showdown between Alya “Grand Slam” Césaire and Chat “Defender of Paris” Noir. Her partner was agile, with years of fighting experience under his belt and stealth training to boot, but her best friend was a certified berserker. Marinette had once seen Alya level an entire magazine stand (not a flimsy pharmacy display, but one of the steel beamed setups found dotting the city streets) in a fit of pure journalistic rage.

Adrien wouldn’t stand a chance.

“I do know that,” Marinette affirmed, “and while I appreciate your battle prowess, there’s still nothing going on and nobody you need to fight.”

“Who are we fighting?” Nino cut in, sliding a cup of gelato (lemon with white chocolate chips) in front of Marinette before scooting into his side of the booth.

“Mari’s mystery boy toy,” Alya answered, accepting her own serving of salted caramel goodness from Adrien as he too settled at the table.

“Except that we aren’t,” Marinette corrected, gaze fixed firmly away from her aforementioned “boy toy” as she tried to steer the conversation to a safer topic. “So what’s new, all?”

“I say we go to his house and duct tape him to the ceiling,” was Nino’s helpful suggestion, mumbled through a mouthful of what looked like orange sorbet and effectively steamrolling her attempt at a distraction.

“Too tame,” Alya dismissed. “No, the ‘Official Marinette Dupain-Cheng Protection Squad’ can do better.”

“Egg his windows,” Nino tried.

“Nope.”

“Tar and feather.”

“Too expensive.”

“Is castration an option?” Adrien wondered aloud. Marinette choked.

“I’ll add that to the list,” Alya said with a malicious smile.

“I’d like to make the casual reminder,” Marinette sputtered, eyes still avoiding Adrien’s vicinity as she gestured broadly in the air, “that this guy is nothing more than a casual acquaintance.”

‘Lies.’

“In fact, we hardly even speak any more.”

‘Double lies...’

“Please,” her redheaded friend interjected, “I never see you put down that phone.” Marinette’s mouth opened. “And before you say anything about my own addiction, need I remind you I have an important blog to run?”

A lifeline.

Oh dear sweet God, a lifeline.

“How is the Ladyblog going?” Marinette asked, spotting an exit route from this dangerous line of questioning. “Any new gossip?”

“I know you’re trying to distract me,” Alya accused. She stared her friend down and took a long sip of her soda, the two of them engaging in a particularly fierce eye battle before blue came out victorious. “But I do happen to have more gossip, so I’ll let it slide.”

Marinette let out a relieved breath, turning to her untouched treat and zoning out like she always did when her bestie put on her reporter voice. It wasn't that she didn’t support Alya — hell, she always made sure the Ladyblog got her best angles and most exclusive interviews — but one could only hear so many wild theories about their superhero alter ego before they got boring.

Meanwhile Adrien didn’t seem to find any displeasure in Alya’s rant, nodding intently along with the girl and hanging on to each word as he went in on his own giant cup of gelato.

Ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the sight of his lips working against the rich, chocolatey concoction, Marinette instead focused in on the fervor with which he ate. One could argue that Chat Noir had always been on the skinny side, but since his growth spurt, she worried if he was getting enough calories to keep up with his growing body. Adrien’s diet was probably all well and good for a model, but being a superhero required a lot more fuel, and the way he utterly attacked his bowl only confirmed her suspicions that the boy was not getting his fill at home.

And that certainly wouldn’t do.

She made a mental note to start sneaking her partner sack lunches in between akuma attacks.

(Never let it be said that a Cheng woman ever let her man go hungry.)

Marinette jolted from her thoughts as a tiny dribble of gelato slid off the edge of her spoon, cold biting into her skin where it landed on her chest. With a frown, she set her frozen treat down, only half listening to Alya as she glared down at the offending drop of yellow slush that slowly slid towards the cleft of her cleavage.

A smart, rational person with basic table manners would have grabbed for a napkin in this situation, but apparently Marinette was raised in a zoo. A zoo where they didn’t teach table manners. So of course she just had to scoop the mess up with a dainty swipe of her pointer finger. Of course she had to pop said finger between her lips with a hard suck to catch the lemony goodness found there.

And of course she just had to make eye contact with a certain someone as she did so.

Marinette froze, watching as Adrien balked at her, ahem, "display". The reaction in his face wasn’t overtly obvious (after years of runways and photoshoots, he'd developed a knack for schooling his features into neutrality), but it was there if you knew all the right places to look.

A subtle dilation of his pupils.

That small crease near his jaw as the muscle tensed.

The way his Adam’s apple bobbed as if he were the one swallowing the gelato now sliding down the back of her tongue.

Marinette had spent enough time with him to know when he was getting bothered — riling him up had practically become something of a pastime for her! — but she'd never expected to see that tell-tale reaction now of all times.  Not while he was Adrien, and she was Marinette.

Not while she was unmasked and sucking on her finger like a hooker whose rent was due.

Honestly, Marinette didn’t know whether she should feel flattered or furious at the way he continued to stare (true, she was technically his girlfriend, but he currently didn’t know that), so she settled on panicked.  She panicked, and did the first thing that came to mind, which involved letting her finger slide out with a pop and—

‘Why the fuck does my first reaction always have to include a wink?’ she thought piteously, snapping her jaw shut as Adrien startled at the flirty gesture.

It was a small mercy that their interaction seemed to have gone unnoticed by the table’s other occupants — Alya and Nino were too fully absorbed in whatever conversation was going on between them to notice their friends’ intense eye fucking — but that was the only clemency Marinette found amidst her sins.

Adrien backed down first, breaking their gaze to focus on just about anything but her. Marinette was quick to follow.

‘What! Was! That!’

Her mind slammed metaphorical pots and pans together between each frenzied thought, and the racket was so loud that Marinette almost missed Alya’s next question entirely. Thankfully, it wasn’t aimed at her.

“So, Adrien…” the reporter grilled, “how’s your girlfriend?”

Cookware clattered in her skull as her brain paused its hissy fit to listen. Marinette stilled externally as well, attention zeroing in on the wide-eyed boy across the table.

‘Yeah, Adrien. How is your girlfriend?’

Adrien took a moment to compose himself as all eyes turned on him.

“I… wasn’t aware I had one,” he responded coolly.

“Sure you don’t,” Alya said with a laugh. She straightened, staring intently. “You’ve been on your phone more than Mari and I put together, and I know for a fact the three of us are your only friends. So are you going to talk about her or am I going to have to beg?”

“She’ll do it,” Nino interjected with a wide-eyed jerk of his thumb. “She’s insane and she’ll do it.”

Adrien put down his spoon, rubbing one knuckle across the ridge of his brow. “I don’t—“

“It’d be easier if you just told her.”

‘Shit, that was definitely my voice that just said that,’ Marinette thought with a wince. Adrien’s eyes drifted back to her, and for some reason she elected to keep talking.

Because that had always worked out so well for her in the past.

“I mean, she’ll probably get it out of you one way or another,” Marinette babbled. “She wouldn’t leave me alone about my 'friend' until I threw her a bone, so…”

“She’s right,” Alya crowed, swooping in for the kill. “I’m a relentlessly bad person so it might be more merciful if you spoke up now.”

Adrien looked utterly caught, eyes sliding over to Nino’s in a silent plea that went ignored by his best bro.

Marinette should have felt sorry for him, but she instead let her curiosity get the better of her. It was a golden opportunity for any girl — see how her boyfriend spoke of her when she (presumably) wasn’t in the room? Marinette wasn’t about to let it pass unexploited.

“Fine, “Adrien conceded, throwing his hands up in defeat, “I’ll tell you about the girl I’ve been texting.”

Three bodies leaned in.

“I… met her back when I was homeschooled, around the time I was eight or nine,” he began, voice surprisingly sure given that he was lying through his teeth. “Her parents worked for my dad so I would see her around the headquarters sometimes.”

Marinette couldn’t help but be impressed with Adrien’s flawless delivery. Maybe she should have been a little wary of his skill at fibbing, but the surety with which he spoke had even her second guessing whether or not they had met when they were kids.

‘Damn, he's good.’

“We kind of fell out of touch when I started attending public school,” Adrien continued, sipping at his drink as if he wasn't in the middle of providing an incredibly well-thought lie, “but just recently we started talking again.”

Alya raised a hand, and he gave her the green light to speak. “Name, age, height, weight, eye color, neighborhood, cup size.”

Adrien coughed , choking on his soda. Marinette only continued to eyeball him expectantly, eager to see what he would give up.

“I-I don’t think I should answer any of those questions!” he responded once he’d caught his breath.

Two girls sighed in tandem.

‘Damn,’ Marinette thought, poking at her gelato as Alya continued to pester the poor boy. ‘He could have at least exaggerated me up to a D cup.’

The inquisition continued.

“So why haven’t we met her?” Nino asked, stabbing his pterodactyl spoon at his friend. “We promise not to chase her off.”

“If we decide we like her,” Alya muttered.

“When we decide we like her,” Nino corrected with a narrow look at his not-girlfriend. Marinette hid her smile.

“It’s just... she has to stay out of the public eye,” Adrien explained, brows bunching in concentration. “Her parents are about as strict as my dad when it comes to things like dating—“

“Aha!” Alya chimed.

“Not that I’m saying we are dating!” Adrien rushed to tack on. “I’m just saying things wouldn’t go well if we showed up in public together. So we stick to texting, mostly.”

“What's she like?” Marinette asked, surprising herself with another interjection. ‘Oh, now you’re just asking for trouble,’ her subconscious lectured. She ignored it, watching as Adrien’s face melted into something undeniably soft at the question.

“Incredible,” he breathed, the single word setting Marinette’s insides aflutter.

“Yeah?” she prompted, hardly above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Adrien repeated, shaking his head with a wide grin, his gaze distant and unbelievably fond. “She’s just… just the best, really. I mean she has all the usual charms. She’s funny and smart and beautiful and kind…“

Alya rolled her eyes with a snort, only to receive a swift elbow from the entranced raven-haired girl beside her.

“But she’d also more than that,” Adrien continued. “She’s brave— so, so brave. Even when I can tell she’s feeling scared or lost. She’s… I guess you could say… poised?” He tilted his head, pondering the description before deciding it fit. “Yeah, poised. And selfless too! She always knows the right thing to say, somehow. Like when we’re texting and she can’t see my face, La—she can always tell what I’m feeling, even when I don’t know myself.”

“She sounds too good to be true,” Nino said, not unkindly. “I don’t think I’ve never met a girl that flawless.” The table jolted from what was most likely Alya’s foot slamming into his kneecap. “Hey!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Adrien laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder to keep him from retaliating against the reporter. “She’s got her flaws, too.”

“Like?” Marinette pressed, eager to get down into the nitty gritty. ‘Here it comes,’ she thought, waiting for the hammer to fall. ‘Let’s hear what you really think, cat boy.’

“She’s reckless,” Adrien deadpanned. “Like, stupidly so.” He shook his head with a reflective smile. “I’ve seen her take way too many risks, usually for the sake of others and usually without any concern for herself.”

Marinette bit down on her instinctive “You’re one to talk!” when the sight of her T-rex spoon conjured a very specific memory of her risk taking.

Okay, so maybe she could be reckless.

“She's also stubborn. And argumentative.”

Again, Marinette was about to defend herself when she realized any interjection on her part would only stand to prove his point.

She stubbornly refused to argue.

“But honestly, the worst part about her…” Adrien began, prompting Marinette to lean forward in anticipation.

‘C’mon, lay it on me,’ she thought, itching for him to drag her through the mud with a fervor that should have worried her. ‘Is it the yelling? My inability to reciprocate feelings? Is my body too—‘

“…is that I don’t get to see her every day like I want to.”

Marinette blinked, falling back into her seat.

Of all the faults Adrien could have picked (she had plenty to choose from), he chose their inability to see each other on a daily basis as her ultimate downfall?

She was caught between the urge to tear up and jump him.

‘Maybe I could cry softly while we made out?’ she distantly pondered, mouth working in wordless wonder as Adrien continued to dodge the invasive questions Alya launched his way. ‘I bet I could still get my tongue to work even if I was blubbering a bit...’

Unfortunately (or rather fortunately), Marinette didn’t get a chance to test her tandem crying/kissing skills. By the time she’d picked her jaw off the ground her friends had already scooted out of the booth and were tossing their empty cups in the waste bin by the door. In fact, she didn’t manage to get another word out for the remainder of the date, too busy gaping at Adrien to contribute to any further conversation as the group split ways on the sidewalk outside.

Alya talked her ear off on the way home, but Marinette only caught snippets. She managed to force a goodbye once they reached the bakery, and a hello as she passed her parents, but when she ascended to her room a few minutes later she was utterly silent.

This time, ‘kill’ was the furthest thought from her mind.

Because this flood of emotion was far different from the one she’d felt on that day by the billboard. It made her palms sweat and her heart race, but it wasn’t overwhelming or frightening.

It was exhilarating.

Effortless.

It was love.

Marinette threw herself back on her bedspread, grinning at the ceiling with a pillow clutched to her chest — the very pictured of an enamored teenage girl.

“I love him,” she admitted out loud, shaking her head as it swam. “I love Chat Noir. Adrien Agreste. My boyfriend. I love him.”

A spot of red darted into her field of vision, floating above her with an expression that could only be described as "done".

“It’s about damn time.”

“Tikki!” Marinette gasped, appalled at her kwami’s uncharacteristic use of language.

“Well it is!” Tikki said, crossing her arms. A tiny smile snuck its way onto her features. “When are you going to tell him?”

“He probably already knows,” Marinette said with a shrug, her stomach still churning with a pleasant heat.

“Not likely. Chat Noir is possibly the only person on earth with a thicker skull than yours.”

“Thanks?”

“And if you’re only realizing you love him now, it will probably take him another year or so to figure it out unless you spell it out for him.”

“Gah,” the teen groaned, ramming the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “I hate it when you’re right!”

“So when are you going to tell him?” Tikki repeated.

“I—”

Marinette was interrupted by the sound of a text alert. Grabbing her phone, her heart soared at the 'C.N' ID at the top and only drooped at bit at the following “akuma.” She sighed, flashing the screen for her kwami to see. “Possibly tonight.”

“A box of cookies says you won't,” Tikki sing-songed, floating backwards as Marinette stood up from the bed.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” the girl deadpanned, her face overtaken with a wicked smile in the next instant. “And you are so on!”

With a solid handshake (well, paw-fingertip shake), a triumphant “Transform me!” and a flash of pink light, Marinette and Tikki were replaced by Ladybug and the heroine leapt through the skylight and out into the night.

The akuma went down quick.

Like, crazy quick.

Adrien wished he’d started keeping a ledger of how long their battles usually lasted, because he was sure they’d just broken some kind of record.

The way the heroes moved had been flawless, a far cry from their prior week’s performance. All it had taken was just a short skirmish around city hall (akumatized council member), a quick acrobatics combination, and finally a snap of Ladybug’s compact before Paris was once again back to its earlier tranquility — leaving no doubt in Adrien’s mind as to whether or not he and his partner were truly back in synch.

The whole thing had lasted about 20 minutes; maybe a half-hour, tops. In fact they’d taken down the akuma so quickly that the media just barely managed to arrive before all was said and done.

It didn't seem to lessen their numbers. A near frenzy of reporters crowded in the lobby while their heroes stood atop the grand staircase. “I’ve got them,” Chat said, gesturing to the gathered cameras with a significant glance at Ladybug’s triple spotted studs. “No more close calls for you.”

“My hero,” she replied with a smile. A flurry of flashes went off as Paris’ most talked about couple shared a speedy kiss, but that was all the journalists were going to get out of Ladybug today.

She gave a final wave, both in goodbye and as a means of ignoring the questions being called up to her, before making her exit with a flick of her yo-yo. Adrien watched Ladybug hook the chandelier and swing out of the building via a window, admiring her graceful demount as he steeled himself for yet another boring interview.

Unsurprisingly, there was no lack of questions about his partner’s supposed “breakdown.”

“Is Ladybug injured?”

“Are you two fighting?”

“Is there something you’re trying to hide?”

With a smile plastered across his face, Adrien expertly served up a heaping helping of bullshit with an extra side order of “no comment.” He’d expected the public to be curious about what had brought the indomitable Ladybug to tears, and had luckily taken some time to craft a believable cover-up.

What Adrien hadn’t anticipated, however, was the flash of red he caught in the corner of his vision a scant five minutes in to his interview. He hadn't expected the sight of his partner, compact pressed against her face and waving cheerfully through the nearby window, and he certainly hadn't expected his communicator to bing out in notification.

His mask peaked in a mixture of confusion and excitement.

“Give me…” Adrien announced, dragging his eyes from a mischievous Ladybug to address the reporters, “…give me one moment, please.”

He turned away, back to the crowd and girlfriend in his periphery as he slid the top of his staff up.

“What are you playing at?”

Ladybug’s laughter echoed out of the speaker.

“I’m not playing at anything,” came her lilting reply. “At least, not yet.”

“Let me rephrase,” Adrien murmured at the tiny screen, keeping his voice casual despite his mounting excitement. “Why haven’t you run home yet? You’ve got a deadline, Princess.”

“Not any more,” Ladybug practically sang. “I let Tikki recharge. Which means I’ve got a fresh transformation and no one—“

She grinned. He gulped.

“—I mean, nothing to do with it.”

Adrien slid his staff shut so fast he feared he might have broken the damn thing.

“Well that’s all the questions I can take today, folks,” he piped out, returning his attention to the press and pointedly ignoring the cheeky vagrant that continued to peer at him through the window.

The next moment, he was gone.

Adrien didn’t really remember how he managed to get to the roof. There must have been some movement on his part, perhaps running or climbing or vaulting, but really all that mattered was that he made it there.

And fast.

To his utter surprise, Ladybug was still stationed where he’d last saw her; Adrien almost had to do a double take at the sight of her patiently waiting for him. Usually she’d be on the next building over by now, sending him a saucy little salute as she dashed across the skyline. Yet there she stood.

It almost made him suspicious.

“I expected you to be gone,” Adrien said once he reached his Lady’s perch. “Isn’t that your whole thing? The teasing and the chase.”

“Used to be,” Ladybug replied. She traipsed over, hooking her thumbs in his belt and giving an honest smile. “But I promised no more running away and no more playing games, so here I am.”

‘Oh,’ Adrien thought, feeling a wave of happiness bubble up in the pit of his stomach.

He’d told her he didn’t like when she ran off, and she’d actually listened.

He was so in love with this girl.

“That’s… thank you,” Adrien said, peering down at his partner and resisting the urge to scoop her up in a bear hug. “But I hope you didn’t take my words to mean no games, period.” He flashed a trademark smirk. “Because I’ve grown rather fond of some the playing we do together.”

“Ah,” Ladybug mused, tilting her head in a way that made her pigtails bounce. “See, that’s what makes it different.”

“Elaborate, please?”

“It would be easier without your mouth on my jaw,” she laughed.

“Elaborate, please?” Adrien repeated, drawing back from where he’d absently been nuzzling her. Hey, they’d gone a whole week without contact, she couldn't blame him for being touch starved.

“Games aren’t fun when only one person is playing,” Ladybug explained, “but if we both decide to play with each other…”

“Dirty phrasing,” he cut in.

“Intentional phrasing,” she shot back.

“If we both decide to play with each other…?” Adrien prompted, shivering at the way Ladybug seemed to get lost in his gaze. He felt equally as misplaced in hers.

“Then it’s not a game any more,” she whispered, voice low and inviting. “It’s an adventure. One that we get to take together.”

“Is that why you called me out here?” he asked, anticipation tripling. “For an adventure?”

“Would you be down if it was?” Ladybug asked back, getting a mischievous glint in her eye that did all kinds of dangerous things to his pulse.

“You know I’d follow you anywhere,” Adrien reminded her.

“So, say if I took off running right now. Would you chase me?”

“Gladly.”

“And you don’t have anything on your busy schedule, Mr. Supermodel?” Ladybug grilled, a single eyebrow peaking up in a way that left no room for fibbing.

“You’re the only thing on my to-do list tonight,” Chat rumbled cheekily. His partner grinned.

“Then in that case...” she said, edging dangerously close to his lips to speak softly against their velvety surface.

“...I guess you’d better catch me first.”

There was only a split second’s difference between her exit and his, one in which Adrien couldn’t help but let loose an excited whoop.

The game of cat and bug was back on, in the best of ways.