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Worth the Wait

Summary:

When Ladybug is caught detransforming after an akuma battle, she fears that her knee jerk reaction to her witness might spell the end of not only her superheroing career, but also any chance she had with Adrien. Now, reeling after accidently knocking her crush out into the next week, she finds herself grieving on the rooftops of Paris and battered by a terrible storm. It would take a lot to pull her from such a dire state. Thankfully, Chat Noir is there to hold her together. And he has every intention of holding her.

Marinette drew her knees up to her chin and let out a soft shudder as tears fell freely from her eyes. She sat on the rooftop of a building overlooking her school, the sky almost black with clouds as the rain hit her in hard sheets that lashed at her skin.

But she didn’t care. She wished that the rain would just swallow her whole and take her away with the wind. Marinette was sure that she had just single-handedly ruined her own life.

Her problems started as they often did: with a poorly timed akuma attack. But that went well, all things considered. A janitor working at her school found herself the primary victim of some particularly sticky, toilet-paper-based vandalism, and it had been enough to send her over the edge.

‘TP-Queen’ might have been up there with the most ridiculous of her akuma encounters, but hanging kids from the rafters with nothing but flimsy toilet paper was still terrifying enough to warrant the rest of the school day being cancelled.

Teachers had been ushering students home before Ladybug and Chat Noir had even left the scene — it was almost perfect for covering her unexplained absence — but she got too reckless with her detransformation.

She had chosen one of her usual spots, a block away from school. No one was ever there — a dark, sketchy looking alley — but she always made sure to thoroughly check her surroundings, regardless. Yet this time, she clearly didn’t check thoroughly enough, for when she reverted back to her civilian form, her heart jumped into her mouth at the sound of a shocked gasp from behind her.

And for a split second, she had hoped that maybe it was a homeless person in the shadows or, if nothing else, a complete stranger.

“Marinette?” he asked, as he took a step closer. As if on cue, thunder cracked in the distance. Her hopes were dashed away.

Whoever they were, they knew her name. They knew who she was. Which meant that they knew who her parents were; where they worked; where they lived; where she probably went to school, if they didn’t know that outright, too. The Dupain-Chengs were often touted as the best bakers in all of Paris. That made them well known; her family name almost as synonymous with cuisine as the Agreste name is with fashion in her arrondissement.

‘My name. He knows my name.’ Panic-stricken, her brain didn’t allow for much in the way of calm, collected thought. ‘He knows who I am. He knows I’m Ladybug.’

“Mari, it’s okay…”

‘His hand’s on my shoulder.’

“It’s just me—”

Marinette had never attacked someone so spontaneously in her life. Never before had she spun so swiftly, nor had she ever made her fist meet someone’s face with so much aggression, as if she was fully prepared to put them in the ground to protect her identity.

“Oh God…” she whispered, as she curled further into herself. “What was I thinking?”

She had punched him so hard that his figure was left sprawled out on the ground.

“How didn’t I recognise his voice? I would have never…”

Her phone buzzed next to her and the screen lit up with a light ping that she couldn’t hear above the storm. She tried to ignore it as it pinged another two times, before eventually going dark.

The image of the beautiful blond boy looking up at her from the dirty ground, one hand covering his eye, was ingrained into her mind.

‘But it wasn’t enough that I punched Adrien in the face, was it?’ She didn’t know whether she wanted to scream or to curl up into a ball and sob for eternity. ‘No, then I had to go and run. Run away and just leave him there in the middle of a grubby alley.’

She swore; something that she rarely did. Then, she gritted her teeth and lifted her head to feel the wind and rain whip at her face. And she yelled out against the elements, as if daring them to hit her harder. The raindrops could turn to ice and it still wouldn’t hurt like the sight of Adrien slumped on the ground did.

Her Adrien.

Her victim.

‘He probably hates me now,’ she thought, as she released what she was sure was the most ugly, guttural sob possible. ‘Worse, he hates Ladybug. What if… what if he told someone? That Ladybug’s real name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and that she assaulted him in the alley he’d been hiding in?! That she just turned around and punched him in the face and—’

Her spiralling train of thought was interrupted when the rain suddenly ceased lashing at her body, though she could still feel the water spray chilling her skin and the noise remained near deafening. She opened her eyes.

A black-clad figure was standing over her in an attempt to shield her from the onslaught; wide, worried cat eyes glowing down at her from behind a mop of raggedy blond hair as it was tossed about by the wind. In that brief moment they both said nothing — they wouldn’t have been able to understand each other over the storm — but she watched as his expression got a little sadder upon studying her.

Chat Noir was her best friend, not just as Ladybug, but sometimes as Marinette, too. It seemed like whenever she needed him — needed anyone — he was there for her, sometimes literally tapping at her window. But she doubted that even he could offer her much help this time.

His optimism was infectious and — hidden behind his bravado and cat puns as it often was — he was one of the kindest people she’d ever known, and always honest and open in his love for the people in his life. Or, at least, the people she knew to be in his life, such as her and… well, the other her. So he was always honest and open in his love for her, whatever form that took, but she doubted that even that would be enough to heal the wound she’d dealt herself today.

He slowly knelt down to her and picked up her phone — left defenceless against the elements, for all she cared — and placed it in her purse. Then, he put it on and proceeded to place an arm underneath her knees and another against her back, lifting her up gently and pressing her face against his chest, so as to shield her from the rain as much as possible. While, on the one hand, she had been sitting on that rooftop specifically to be alone and to suffer in peace, she also didn’t have the energy or the will to try and fight against him, so instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sealed her eyes shut as he carried her home.

Chat Noir jumped from rooftop to rooftop with a grace that shouldn’t have surprised her. Though, considering that he was jumping or dropping up to two stories at a time, in the middle of a storm, the ride was oddly, impossibly smooth. She supposed that those are the skills he had to develop to keep up with his Lady, who made a habit of swinging whole city blocks at a time.

It was only moments before Chat set foot on Marinette’s balcony and awkwardly opened the trapdoor with his boot. She tensed as tight as possible as Chat made his way down the ladder with one arm and swung to the side to avoid her bed. Then he set her down.

“Lemme just get you a towel, Princess,” he said as he entered her bathroom. He soon returned with her favourite one, which just so happened to be a cool black and just so happened to feature a bright green paw print pattern. In truth, it had only become her favourite after seeing the look on Chat’s face when she declared it as such. She was also partial to the little pink one.

He draped it on her shoulders and she pulled it tight against herself, shivering.

“Now, before anything else, I’m just going to step out and explain to your parents what we’re doing up here. Do you have anything I can tell them, or…?” He trailed off. Marinette looked down, trying to think of anything to say. “I’ll improvise. It’ll be fine, just try and warm up, okay?”

With that, he crawled back up to the trap door above her bed and leapt out into the storm once more. Marinette listened intently for the small ‘ding’ of the bakery door being opened and sure enough, it was followed by the overjoyed greetings of her father. Her mum was away on a trip to see family in Shanghai, which meant that it was just her and her dad at home for a while. Though from the sound of it, Tom was attempting to adopt Chat Noir into the family.

Suddenly, both their voices were reduced to whispers and she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, anymore. She supposed that he was making up some story of a minor trauma inflicted upon her by TP-Queen, or that he swatted away an approaching akuma or some such. Perhaps he'd say that Chloe pushed her too far after some humiliation at the hands of the day’s villain. She complained about Chloe to him a lot, to which he would nod and agree and sometimes even smile, almost knowingly.

‘She’s probably having a field day studying with Adrien, right now. That is, if I didn’t break his cheekbone and send him to the hospital.’ Now that Chat wasn’t there to distract her, she quickly found herself thinking back on what she’d done. ‘I’ve really lost him this time… there’s no way I can come back from this. And I was almost able to say a full sentence to him without stuttering… God, I’m so cold.’

She walked into her bathroom and dropped her towel. All she really wanted right now was to collapse under a hot shower and mope her afternoon away - preferably until she ran out of hot water - but Chat was here now and she didn’t want to kick him back out into the storm after he had just carried her home in it. She looked down at her clothes and started taking off her shoes, deciding to meet the predicament half way.

She removed her overshirt and hair ties, briefly running her hands through her sodden hair before stepping into the shower and crawling back down into a similar fetal position that she had been in before on that rooftop. Her clothes were already soaked; a quick, hot shower to warm up wouldn’t do them any harm.

She then focussed on trying to control her breathing. Marinette wanted to have pulled herself back together by the time Chat returned. She reached up numbly and turned the cold water on, inhaling sharply at the small shock to her system as she hurriedly tried to adjust it to a warmer temperature, only to find herself holding back a yell as boiling water assaulted her. Eventually, after working it for a minute, she would settle for a lukewarm shower.

She had intended to be in and out before he got back, but she quickly receded into herself, any hope of gathering her senses already down the drain as her breath hitched into a broken sob.

Chat Noir pushed open the trapdoor to Marinette’s room with his head, deftly crawling up with a tray in one hand, piled high with all manner of cookies, pastries and other delicacies, savoury and sweet. He had a red and white chequered tea towel on his head in a desperate attempt to dry his tousled hair, and a half-eaten passionfruit macaron in his mouth.

He peered into the bathroom — the door wide open — and briefly studied Marinette, who was sitting under the shower (fully clothed, he registered, but only after giving himself whiplash from how quickly he looked away) with her face between her knees, hands clasped around the back of her head as she disassociated from the world.

He put the tray on her desk and, making sure to be as silent as he could, he tiptoed up to the bed, where he had left Marinette’s soaked purse. He held in his hand a cookie for Tikki. He opened the small bag and the kwami peered up at him.

“Don’t mess this up,” she whispered to him, sweetly. “Reintroductions only happen once.” Chat smiled down at the little kwami. If he didn’t have his own Ladybug to take care of right now, he might have taken the time to fawn over this tiny little bundle of cuteness.

“I, uh, I’m paying you in food to stay in the purse for a while.” He held up the cookie for Tikki to see.

“I’m not Plagg. You didn’t even need to ask…” She floated up and took the cookie in her little arms. “But thanks.” She dropped the cookie into the purse, either unaware or uncaring of how long it would take to dislodge the crumbs from the bag. “Now, see to our girl.” And with that, the kwami closed the bag behind her, leaving him to take care of his Lady.

Chat approached Marinette slowly, making a point of clicking the metal toes of his boots against the floor as he walked in an attempt to avoid spooking her. It was a mistake that didn’t bear repeating. He placed his hand in the water and — realising the stupidity in trying to judge the temperature through an impenetrable, magic glove — took a deep breath.

“Hey, Princess,” he purred to her. She tilted her head to him slightly in recognition, but said nothing. Her breathing was rapid; she was sobbing. ‘You’ve really done it this time, haven’t you, Chat?’

“Can you do me a little favour and not look up?” She didn’t respond. ‘Not like it matters, anyway,’ he thought to himself. He had to tell her now. She needed to know that her secret was safe.

“Claws in.”

She flinched, but said nothing as the bathroom was suddenly bathed in light by the boy’s detransformation. Adrien removed his shoes and socks and dropped his jacket to the floor — waiting for her to object all the while — before he slowly stepped into the shower with her. Plagg floated out of the bathroom in uncharacteristic silence, seemingly more interested in seeing Tikki than in interrupting whatever was unfolding before him.

Adrien held his hand under the water and slowly adjusted it to what he hoped was a comfortable temperature; nice and warm. Then he sat down next to her, keeping a little space between them as the water started to soak into his clothes.

He desperately wanted to try and console her or hug her or… something, but he was afraid of overwhelming her more than he probably already was. So he stayed there with her, saying nothing. He’d just be with her, however long it would take until she was willing to talk. Adrien closed his eyes and leaned back against the tiled wall, sighing as he ran a finger slowly over the swollen bruise under his left eye.

‘Nathalie thinks I’m studying at the school library with my friends, but… how am I going to explain this?’ He looked over at Marinette, who’s posture was slowly relaxing over time. ‘And how am I going to ease her into this? Who…’ He paused. ‘Who even is she to me now? My Lady? My Princess?’ It was starting to sink in that he had four different relationships with this girl, each with their own different dynamic. What would they become when their superhero and civilian identities crashed together?

“Chat?” Marinette spoke up, in barely a whisper. She leaned back next to him, but kept her eyes sealed shut. “Can you…?” She tried, her voice strangled.

“Yeah?”

She flicked her head away from him slightly, beckoning him to close the distance. Adrien complied, shifting nearer to her, and she leaned into him. Feeling a little braver, he slowly wrapped his arm around her, making sure that she had plenty of opportunity to shove him off before he squeezed her closer, ever so gently, and she rested her head in the crook of his neck in response. He could feel her shaking; her breath unsteady.

Yet, despite this, his own concerns melted away.

‘We’ll be just fine,’ he thought to himself as he turned into her, hugging her close. ‘As long as we have each other.’

But as much as he could have stayed in this position for all of eternity, he couldn’t see himself finding a better time to get her talking than this. And he couldn’t bear to see her so distraught. He had to put an end to this; to her misery.

“I hate ruining the silence, Princess, but…” he squeezed her a little tighter, “... you have me worried sick. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Sorry…” she mumbled, turning into him and burying her face into his collarbone.

“N-no, it’s okay,” he stuttered. “I just…” He had to choose his words carefully; he didn’t want to just drop a bombshell on her and have this whole situation blow up in their faces. “If you’re willing to talk about it, I might be able to… I don’t know, impart on you some of my renowned cat-wisdom.”

“Cat-wisdom?” She asked with what was almost an amused huff. “I-I’ve never heard of this ‘cat-wisdom’ of yours,” she sniffed.

“Really, Princess?” He reached around and pulled her even deeper into their hug. “I’m often told that I’m wise beyond my years.” She shook her head ruefully.

“And who’s telling you this?”

“Uhh… my ninja… master… err, sensei, of course. And I’m sure that Ladybug would agree with him.”

“H-heh, I’m sure she would.” He could feel something from her in that last sentence; almost a chuckle.

“Look, Princess…” he sighed. He had to choose his words carefully. “I know I don’t always come across as emotionally… mature. But I’ve dealt with my fair share of…” He stopped himself. “What I mean is… ugh…” She said nothing. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. I just might have more to say than you’d probably expect of me. Either way, I’m here for you.”

“I…” She paused. “Cover your face.” Adrien blinked.

“O… kay.” He reluctantly pulled a hand away to cover his visage. “You’re safe now, mademoiselle,” he quipped. “My charms can’t affect…” She pulled away from him before he finished, and he quirked an eyebrow when he felt her grip under his knees. “... you?”

She pulled him forwards a few inches, and before he could ask her what she was doing, he got his answer as she crawled into his lap, her legs crossing behind him as her cheek made itself comfortable on his sodden shoulder and her arms looped loosely around his neck.

“Oh…” he breathed out.

“I’ll think about it, Kitty.”

Adrien suddenly felt very warm and couldn’t help but snuggle in closer as he drew his knees up behind her and pulled her into the deepest hug he’d ever given. Her arms went taut around him, and she mumbled something absently into the crook of his neck.

“Okay, Mari,” he whispered into her ear.

They both went quiet after that. He could feel her heart beating steadily in her chest, and he was satisfied that she was calming down. His heart, however, was getting completely out of hand, and he made a point of taking deep, deliberate breaths in an attempt to slow its pace. No doubt she could feel it, too.

He took to absentmindedly rubbing circles against her spine, enjoying having her so close. His Princess. His Lady. His absolutely astounding paradox of a girl, who could barely hold a conversation with him without losing her nerve, yet was armed with boundless confidence and conviction when the situation called for it.

She was the strongest person he knew, by a long shot, and yet here she was, feeling so fragile in his arms, as if he was the only thing holding her together. He almost couldn’t reconcile it; the idea that she needed him to be strong for her, instead of the other way around.

But then, that was their thing, wasn’t it? Ladybug playing the powerhouse superhero while Chat Noir offered her all the support he could give, physically and not. Maybe that was his part to play in all this. While Ladybug fights to hold the world together, he fights to hold her together.

He shifted under her to place a subtle kiss on the top of her head, before nuzzling his cheek into that same spot.

‘It’s a pretty cushy position, all in all,’ he smiled. ‘I should have been more thankful for it.’

“I did something bad, Chat…” she whispered, so lightly that he couldn’t quite hear her without his ‘chat ears’.

“Hmm? Sorry, Princess?”

“I-I punched someone!” Marinette blurted out, obliterating the peaceful atmosphere shared between them. “Someone very dear to me.” Adrien smiled fondly.

“So, a friend of yours?”

“I guess.” She released a short, forced laugh. “He’d say we were ‘very good friends’... but he was more than that to me.” Adrien’s heart threatened to soar out of his chest. He didn’t even want to think about how red his face was getting.

“So… what happened? Why did you punch him? And… you know, do I need to go find him and punch him also?” He added a joking lilt to the last part.

“He just…” She paused with what was either a huff or a short chuckle, though he couldn’t be sure which. “He just startled me. It, uh… was during the akuma attack. I thought I was alone and he came up behind me, and I was so high-strung that I-I didn’t recognise his voice…” She said, her own voice wavering.

“Mari, if he knows you, then I’m sure he knows it was an accident.”

“I ran away, Chat…” She reached up to rub at her eyes. “I just felt so… I don’t know. I thought I was alone, and then I wasn’t alone, and I just felt so e-exposed. And he touched me and-and before he knew it he was— and I just— I—”

“Okay, Mari…” He shushed her gently as he moved an arm from her back and gently touched her cheek.

“I-it’s not okay! He was calling out to me and I just l-left him in the dirt!”

Adrien carefully moved her head to rest against his chest as he leaned back against the shower wall — bringing her along with him — where he could comfortably spread out his legs and prop his chin up on her head. She quietened and adjusted accordingly, untangling her legs from around him and opting to instead curl into his lap completely.

“If this guy knows you,” he began, “then he knows that there isn’t a malicious bone in your body. It isn’t as bad as you think. Trust me.”

“It might be worse. There was… something else. Something that he found out about me that I really wanted to keep to myself. And if he tells people it could land me in a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe you need to give him a little more faith?”

“You don’t even know who I’m talking about!” She snapped, before burying her face into his chest. Adrien went silent as he tried to decide how to proceed while Marinette mumbled an apology into his shirt, prompting him to give her a little head kiss.

“Now, I might be wrong, but I’m assuming that you’re talking about Adrien Agreste. The boy pinned all over your wall?” She said nothing. “Look, if I know Adrien—”

“You know Adrien?” She sprang up suddenly, her hands planted firmly on his chest, and he tipped his head to the side so that his wet hair fell down to hide his face from her. “Sorry,” she said as she closed her eyes. “I forgot. My eyes are shut now.”

“It’s fine. To be honest, I don’t mind if you know who I am, it just might be more of a shock than you are ready for.”

“A shock?” He could hear the hesitation in her voice.

‘C’mon, ask me a question. ANY question. Anything I can build off of.’

“Why would it shock me?” He said nothing. “What? Do I know you? When you aren’t Chat Noir, I mean.”

“Maybe.” ‘‘Maybe’? What kind of answer is that? Stupid cat.’ “Or, uh, maybe not. Maybe I’m actually a woman under the suit.”

“Oh really?” She quirked an eyebrow as she squeezed his chest where she’d propped herself up with her hands.

“Wha— what are you doing?!” She poked his breast sharply.

“You seem pretty male to me.” He pushed her hand away, feeling a tinge of heat rise to his cheeks.

“Yes, I— am male!” He said, his voice cracking. “The, uh,” he cleared his throat, “the manliest of males, in fact.” An involuntary smile rose to her lips.

“For a cat, you squeak like a mouse.”

“Shut up…” He nudged her gently and she giggled, collapsing back into their cuddle. He was glad to see that she had stopped crying. “You won’t be laughing when I end up with some super badass voice.”

“I will be if you revert back to Mickey Mouse again.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He shook his head. ‘Smooth, Chat. Real smooth.’ He looked down at her. ‘At least she’s looking a little cheerier, even if it did cost me my dignity.’ She sighed deeply as she crawled up to rest her head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me… I mean, it’s probably too dangerous for me to know, anyway. But… Chat, if I know you — the real you — then it’s only a matter of time before I figure it out. I mean, I only know so many blon…" she trailed off. He looked down at her. Her lips were slightly parted, half way through an ‘n’ sound, and her eyes were wide open, staring straight ahead.

‘... so many blonds,’ he finished in his mind.

She knew.

She must know.

Surely it was all fitting together, at least a little bit. How they were both always late to class at the same time. How Adrien and Chat Noir were never seen together. How Chat ‘knew’ Adrien. And of course, how he just happened to find her in the middle of a torrential storm, right when she needed him most… as if he was looking for her.

He reached up and turned off the taps, leaving them in silence.

“Marinette, you know the real me better than anyone.”

“No,” she finally spoke up. “You— you can’t be. I would have realised by now.” They sat in silence again as she studied him. His clothes, his hair, his jaw. His cheek was hidden by a mess of hair that fell down the side of his face, and his head was still turned away from her. He felt her hands on his chest as she spread out his shirt, looking at the simple design on it.

“What’s my name, Mari?”

“I…” She seemed to be choking on her words. One of her hands trembled its way up his neck and touched his cheek, while the other stayed at his chest. He winced as she traced her thumb across the swollen bruise that ran along his cheekbone and she inhaled sharply. He gently placed his hand over hers, keeping it pressed against his cheek.

“Your secret is safe,” he whispered. He took her other hand in his and started moving his thumb in small circles in her palm, in an attempt to help calm her. Her mind was a hurricane of memories fitting together. Of everything that Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste had ever said. The similarities and differences in their personalities.

“Chat…” Marinette started, pulling her arms away and climbing off of him. Adrien shifted himself into a cross legged position to give her a little room, where she rested on her knees before him. She shakily reached out to push away his hair, but he caught her hand, intertwining his fingers with her own.

“Say my name, Bugaboo. My other name.” He finally turned his head back towards her and looked up at her through clumps of wet, blond hair, and she stared back down at him, looking deep into his eyes. It amazed her that even when detransformed his eyes remained such a bright green, like emeralds shining out of the shadows cast by the thick hair that kept his features hidden. She only knew one boy who had eyes that green, other than Chat Noir.

Well, two boys, but Felix certainly didn’t fit the bill. He was a lot of things — he could mimic being a lot of things — but he couldn’t be Chat Noir. Felix didn’t have the strength of character. And that left only one person.

“A… Adri—” She stuttered. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and shot her a small, mischievous smile.

“Only one syllable to go, my Lady.”

“D-don’t tease me!” She smacked his shoulder and he chuckled lightly, a playful grin spreading on his face. In that moment, it was like the air of the whole room had shifted; a reminder that this was still her Chat.

Yes, he was Adrien Agreste; the boy of her dreams; the kind, caring and charming — if also reserved — fashion model. But he was also her best friend; her partner. Her Black Cat. How many times had they saved each other’s lives over the years? How many times have they helped one another through injuries and traumas and even just bad days? How many times did he come to Marinette’s aid? And how many years did he stick by ‘his Lady’, no matter the challenges they faced? No matter the danger they were in?

She would know better than anyone; he trusted her with his life. And he has left it in her hands more times than she could count. Whatever form it took, they had a connection. A trust; a bond. The revelation of his identity couldn't jeopardise that, even if he was Adrien Agreste.

The Adrien Agreste.

Her Adrien Agreste.

He touched her cheek. His fingers were electric against her skin and she looked up at him, hoping against hope that she wasn’t cherry red already.

“You okay, Purr-incess? I know that this is a little… overwhelming.”

“Really, Chat?” She scoffed. “‘Purrincess’? Right now?”

“Just trying to lighten the mood, Buginette. Is it working?” She hung her head.

“Maybe a little.”

“Should I keep going? You know I have an expansive repertoire of—”

“Adrien?” The word hung in the air. He raised his head to be level with hers and she reached out and pushed his hair to the side, but some of it fell back over his eyes. He smiled as he ran his hands through his hair, messing it and then pushing it back up, where it stayed. He clearly had some sort of method to how he manipulated it.

“Yes, my Lady?”

“I-I’m sorry about…” She gestured to his face. There was a large, purple-red mark under his eye that ran over his entire cheekbone, from just under one corner of his eye to another.

“It’s okay, Mari.” He grinned. “I’ve been living with this face for so long that I don’t even pay attention to it anymore.”

“Oh shut up.” A smile touched her lips. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

“Oh, that was you? I thought that a feather had dropped onto my face. Gave me a little tickle.”

“Careful; I might hit harder next time.”

“... Or, you know, that a brick came free from the wall.” There was silence between them. “Okay, I admit it: you may have winded me. Just a little.”

“Or I may have concussed you. Or broken your face.” She gently took his jaw in her hand and tilted his head to get a better look at the bruise. He covered her hand with his.

“That would probably explain the headache,” he said with a small laugh. She narrowed her eyes.

“Really?”

“I’m fine, Mari.” She let go of his hand and went to lightly touch the bruise, but he reached up and captured it again. “I’ll be less fine if you touch it.”

“Right. Sorry.” She removed her other hand from his jaw and he took that one too.

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “I mean, I think that all in all, things have turned out pretty well.”

“I punched you in the face.”

“Yeah, but on the bright side, my two favourite people turned out to be one. And apart from you punching me in the face…” He rested his hands upturned on his knees and proceeded to gently massage her palms “... I’d say that it went rather smoothly.”

She stared down at their hands, marvelling at how well hers fit into his.

“You have very soft hands…” She mumbled. He looked back up at her face, having seemingly been distracted with what he was doing.

“What was that, Mari?”

“Uh… So, I’m your two favourite people, huh?” She made an attempt at a flirtatious smile but was almost certain that it didn’t come out looking right.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Princess. Besides, you’ve been demoted down to my top favourite person, now that I know you’ve been cheating the system.”

“Okay, but who held first before? Ladybug or Marinette?” He leaned back against the wall, thinking. She wasn’t sure why it mattered — she didn’t exactly make an effort to change her personality when becoming Ladybug — but for some reason, it just did.

“Marinette… but… especially when with Chat Noir.” She blinked. “It was nice getting to know you so casually, you know?”

“You mean when I’m not incoherent?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so… so…” She gestured to all of him. “... so... damn—”

“Sexy?” He asked as he tilted his head back and slightly to the side, hiding the bruise from view and parting his lips in a slight pout. He ran a hand through his hair to add in some over-dramatic flair. She looked down and shaded her eyes.

“D-don’t do that. You’re a model. Every teenager in Paris knows you’re h-hot; you have nothing to prove.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her flustered response to his little pose. When Chat Noir had asked her about the collage of Adrien pictures in her room, she had simply said that she ‘admires Gabriel’s designs’. He now, finally, understood why she was always so awkward with him at school, and it only served to boost his confidence. He knew exactly what she admired and it certainly wasn’t his father’s designs. Or at least, not his fashion designs.

It was a funny feeling; to be considered attractive. Of course, he knew that he was considered handsome, or pretty — after all, it was the very basis for his internment at Gabriel Penitentiary — but for her to see him — really see him, for all that he was — and still be so… allured… it made it feel real in a way that it never did with anyone else.

No ulterior motives. No starry-eyed fangirl-ism. Just… attraction. Maybe a tad bit too much attraction — if he walked into anyone else’s room and found a wall-length shrine to his visage, he had no doubt that he’d be significantly more creeped out than is right now — but attraction, nonetheless. And it no-doubt helped that the attraction was mutual.

“I’m sorry, m’lady.” He quit his little pose. “I’ll try to downplay my natural suave from now on.” He started to get up. “You should probably dry up before you catch a chill.”

After all, the moment would be ruined if they both caught a cold.

“And what about you? You don’t have any other clothes...” She trailed off as Adrien held up his right hand, drawing attention to the silver ring that adorned his finger.

“I brought a spare pair,” he said with a smile. “And if your father comes up to check on us, I’d much rather he find Chat Noir up here than Adrien Agreste.”

“Right.” She berated herself internally for forgetting that small detail.

“Besides, I need to pick up my bag from that alley.” He stepped out of the shower and helped her to her feet, steadying her on the slippery tiles. “I forgot to grab it after… well…” He mock-punched the air with his off-hand. “Maybe you did give me brain damage.”

“That’s not funny, Adrien,” she whined.

‘God, she’s just too cute…’

He pulled her in close, the two of them finding their footing on the off-brand Chat Noir towel that was discarded on the ground.

“You know I’m just kidding, Bugaboo. I was like this before that little… incident occurred.”

“Oh, ha ha,” she groaned, as she leaned in and rested her forehead on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her in response. “Still...” She gulped as she looked up at him, his face inches from hers. “... I’m sorry I ruined that pretty face of yours.” He smiled a small, sweet smile, a light blush tinging his cheeks, and to Marinette, he looked like heaven.

“It’s okay, Princess,” he said as he rested his brow against hers and her eyes fluttered shut, as if in anticipation of… something. “You were always the prettiest person at school, anyway.” There was a small silence. “All you’ve really done is hinder your closest competitor.” Her eyes were closed but she was sure that he was smiling; grinning like an idiot, in fact. “Okay, I’m up there in the top five.”

“Just stop talking,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“You love it.”

“No I don’t.” Yes she did — she loved him — and he was so, so close that in the heat of the moment, she found herself fighting the temptation to kiss him.

“Yes you do…” He lifted her chin. “And you love this, too.” Her heart was beating a million times a minute.

“Tha— that’s a little pre— presumpt-t-tuous, isn’t it?”

“I can stop if you want.” He leaned into her, his nose next to hers, their lips so close; they were almost touching.

‘Please don’t stop’, she thought to herself, mainly because she was now incapable of words. He touched her face, gently running his thumb along her cheekbone. And they looked into each other’s eyes; reading each other.

He had been wanting her for so long. He’d been fantasizing about Ladybug and Chat Noir, ‘the ultimate power couple’, since the day he’d met her. Ladybug was strong and brave and pretty, and she was patient with him when he annoyed her, which was quite often.

But Marinette? That one took a while, mostly because he was always so focussed on trying to woo his Lady as Chat Noir. But all it took was one look. One long, long look, when he wasn’t thinking about Ladybug. When he noticed how cute her laugh was. And then, how pretty she was. How amazing she looked with her hair down. Qualities he had somehow missed or not paid any mind to for all this time.

Then he started seeing sides of her he never saw at school, when he decided that it might not hurt for a cool cat to pop his head in the ol’ trap door every once in a while. And the person he discovered — this sweet, funny, creative girl, who was more headstrong than anyone he’d ever met and who had confidence in such droves that she seemed to dwarf her masked counterpart — would no doubt capture his heart forever. It didn’t take long for his focus to shift off of Ladybug after that, which was fine with him. It was time for him to stop chasing masks.

And now, she needed him; really needed him. He could see it on her face and in the slivers of the pretty blues that were otherwise hidden by half-lidded eyes. He ran his hands down her back — her shirt clinging to her skin — and her breath faltered. It had been taking every ounce of gentlemanly-conduct that had been instilled in him to keep his eyes up from the shirt that had taken on more… translucent properties once soaked through, but as soon as Marinette felt his hands on her back, she had no qualms about exploring him, her hands roaming his collar, his chest, his stomach, and thankfully stopping short to wrap around his waist and make their way back up.

He wasn’t quite there yet, though at the pace they were moving, he was almost ready to consider slowing down…

Adrien leaned into her and lightly kissed just under her ear, and she froze up with a shaky breath, her hands stopping at his shoulder blades.

The operative word was ‘almost’.

He kissed her again, this time on her cheek, below her eye. Then again, at the corner of her mouth. And he lingered there for a moment as their breaths intermingled, waiting for any sign of resistance. He was too afraid to open his mouth and ruin the moment by asking first, but he had to be sure that this was okay.

What tiny, hair’s breadth of distance left between them was closed suddenly when Marinette tightened her hold on him, her arms reaching up behind him to grasp his shoulders and pulling him in so close that he no longer needed eyes to picture the shape of her.

And he no longer needed his imagination to picture the taste of her, either. He’d expected her to taste… sweet, perhaps? Like how she always seemed to smell; like baked goods. Like breads and tarts and all manner of niceties. That wasn’t quite the case.

Adrien closed his eyes as he moved his hands to her hips as tenderly as he could, breaking the kiss only to take a short breath before diving back into her.

There was… maybe a hint of chocolate there; something she’d had for breakfast, perhaps. A touch of mint; most likely her toothpaste. A slight hint of what he was pretty sure to be jasmine; probably her toothpaste again. He had noticed that the tube sitting by her sink had a floral design.

In their feverish embrace, he found that they were parting ways more often than he’d expected. In everything he’d ever read about romance and… related activities, he’d been led to believe that kisses — real kisses — were long, drawn out, intoxicating things.

The tips of their tongues slipped by and he found that the third part of that belief was quite true.

They were moving too fast. He could feel it; something building within him — or, perhaps, between the both of them — that had been such a long time coming, and yet, was much too early. Were they old enough for this? To go this far? Did they truly know each other well enough? Sure, they’d known each other for years, but now that they truly—

Marinette let out a satisfied little moan that reverberated through him, from his lips to the core of his very being, and that alone was enough to galvanise Adrien onward, and he stepped into her, bracing her head with his hand as he pressed her against the bathroom wall, and their tongues clashed, this time intentionally.

She was so soft; softer than he’d expected. Weren’t first kisses supposed to be bad breath and the clattering of teeth? Wasn’t there supposed to be a layer of awkwardness to this whole thing? It only felt… right. Like nature was taking over. Like they’d both been waiting for this. Like thousands of tiny little choices had pushed them to this moment.

Every post-akuma flirt.

Every sweet interaction at school.

Every stolen glance that would give them pause, whenever Marinette saw fit to host her Kitty for the evening.

Every moment of rejection. Every second that they delayed this in an attempt to protect their identities from Hawkmoth.

There was no doubt in either of their minds…

They broke away the kiss, desperate for air, but they didn’t dare part by more than a few inches. In this moment, their closeness was the most important thing in the world.

… it was worth the wait.

#ml adrienette

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