35. Amends(2)

“Wha—” Nino paused, inspecting the thin thread of tension laced through Marinette’s expression. Slowly, an idea began to form—a theory of sorts. It was a ridiculous theory, because Marinette was too grown for such behavior…but… “…Are you hoping Adrien will see you over here…and come to you?”

Marinette said nothing…but going scarlet in the face was telling enough.

Nino gaped at her.

“Marinette,” he said, scandalized. Marinette huffed and stomped her foot, though Nino noticed that she distinctly refused to meet her eyes.

“What? What’s wrong with wanting him to approach me?”

Oh god, she did not just ask him that…

“If you want to talk to him so badly, why don’t you go over there?”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“You so obviously do.”

“No I don’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Marinette insisted, as if that settled the matter. Nino promptly employed one of Alya’s tactics when dealing with a stubborn Marinette, and just stared at her until she seemed to grow self-conscious enough to finally spit out the truth: “I don’t want to make the first move, okay?”

She didn’t want to make the first move? Really?

Nino sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He knew Alya was the Mom Friend of the group, but he didn’t really like how his position of Chill Uncle Friend had evolved into Dad Friend overnight…but nevertheless…

“Marinette,” Nino began, folding his arms as he gave her a serious look, “do you want to work things out with Adrien?”

“Maybe…?” More staring until Marinette gave in. “Okay, fine: yes, all right? I know we…things didn’t end well. But I still…”

“Then go over there,” Nino insisted with a sigh. Good lord, these two…he sympathized with Alya more and more each day.

“But—”

“What?” Nino challenged, throwing his eyebrows up. “You don’t want to make the first move? Why the hell not?”

“I…” Marinette shifted uncomfortably under Nino’s gaze, biting her lip. Nino waited, wanting to know what was so damn bad about Marinette daring to approach Adrien first.

After Nino had counted about ninety-three seconds in his head, Marinette finally gave him an answer that actually made sense.

“…I don’t like being so vulnerable…” she admitted, mumbling and flushing red as soon as the words were out, as if she had to sacrifice a huge chunk of her pride just to admit it out loud.

…Oh.

Ohhh.

The picture was starting to clear at last…

Marinette must have taken Nino’s speculative silence negatively, for she sighed and dropped her gaze again, glancing up at him as she chewed on her lip.

“…That makes me sound like a brat, doesn’t it?” She asked with a cringe.

“A little,” Nino admitted, smiling in apology when Marinette’s face fell; he patted her shoulder again. “But if you account for all the times you were vulnerable with Adri—Chat, and it came back to bite you…I can see where you’re coming from.”

The relief on Marinette’s face was so profound that Nino felt a little bad about chasing it away with his next words:

“But I still think you should go talk to him.”

“Nino—”

“I’m not gonna make you or anything,” Nino assured her, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. “I’m just saying, it’s a good idea. Especially since I don’t think he’ll be the one to approach you this time. Dude probably thinks you want nothing more to do with him, after the way you rushed out of the wedding.”

This apparently hadn’t occurred to Marinette; the surprise that flashed across her face at this conclusion was so genuine that Nino found himself pitying her…though he didn’t dare admit it out loud.

“Nothing’s going to change if neither of you do anything to change it,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he inspected the way Marinette’s teeth worried her bottom lip, the fear and doubt in her eyes… “And if neither of you are willing to make the first move…then what will you do, Marinette?”

Marinette looked up at him, her blue eyes wide. It was almost as if he had asked her to move the world, with the way she was looking at him…but Nino supposed he understood. After all, both she and Adrien were impossibly stubborn in their own right, so maybe they both were tired of always trying to bear their heart to the other, only to get torn to shreds with a thoughtless word or action.

But they couldn’t let that fear rule them forever, could they…?

There was a tap to Nino’s shoulder, and he turned, finding his fiancée there.

“‘Scuse me,” she said playfully, sliding an arm around Nino’s waist, her free hand occupied with a champagne glass as she winked at Marinette. “Hun, would you mind terribly if I stole my husband for the rest of the night?”

“Oh…no, not at all,” Marinette replied with a slight smile. “You two enjoy the reception. And, um, give Ivan and Myléne my congratulations, if you can.”

“Will do,” Alya promised, steering Nino away, onto the dance floor. It appeared to take her a moment to realize that he was staring at her; she raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“…You called me your husband,” Nino said, not quite sure what to do with this information. Alya smirked at this, sipping at her champagne.

“I guess I did,” she answered, completely at ease, which Nino felt was unfair, because he could feel himself growing warm under the collar just from the new label. “Might as well start getting used to calling you that, right?”

Nino slipped an arm around Alya as they reached a spot on the dance floor to sway to the music, plucking the flute glass from his fiancée’s grasp.

“And just how much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” Alya replied with a roll of her eyes. “Our dumb friends, I swear to god…”

Nino hummed, taking a hearty gulp of champagne, promptly making a face afterwards. Blegh.

Alya laughed at his expression.

“Don’t worry—I smuggled in a bottle of whiskey in my overnight bag,” she informed him with a wink.

“Babe, I love you,” Nino enthused, placing the half-empty champagne glass on a nearby table as they spun near it. Alya laughed again, the sound a little strained, for some odd reason…

“I hope you can still say that when I tell you this…”

Instantly, Nino was on-guard.

“Tell me what…?” He asked, eyeing her carefully. Alya’s hands were resting on Nino’s shoulders as they danced, and she gave them a squeeze now, as if to pre-emptively calm him.

“It’s not a big deal or anything…” She paused just long enough to make Nino’s blood pressure spike. “…Just that Adrien might have figured out that I’m Vixen.”

“What?!”

“Shh,” Alya urged him, smiling brightly at the swivel of heads that glanced over at them curiously.

“How did Adrien figure out you’re Vixen?” Nino demanded to know, though he demanded this information in a low tone to minimize eavesdropping. Alya frowned, plucking at the chain of her Fox Miraculous.

“I might have said something that sounded too fox-ish for him to ignore it. Still, I might’ve had plausible deniability…if it weren’t for my pendant, which somehow wormed its way out of the top of my dress,” she said, patting the neckline of her dress. Nino sucked his teeth.

“I told you to take it off.”

“And I told you that if you get to keep yours on, then so do I,” Alya shot back, and Nino sighed. She peered up at him, concern entering her gaze. “…Sorry. I didn’t mean for him to get suspicious.”

“It’s fine,” Nino decided, though he shook his head slightly. “Just means that we’ll have to bring ‘Nette into the loop as well…”

“Well, we can wait on that,” Alya insisted, smirking as she nodded at something to the side. Nino followed her line of vision, and it was with no small amount of relief that he registered Marinette making her way across the ballroom to Adrien’s corner, anxiousness and determination warring in her expression. As they watched her progress, Alya said to Nino with a giggle,

“I think they have enough on their plates right now, don’t you?”

Nino couldn’t agree more if he tried.

She didn’t want to do this. Every ounce of pride she still retained was screaming at her that she should not stoop to this, that it wasn’t her fault, that she should not have to be the one to fix what he broke.

She really, really, really did not want to do this…

But if she didn’t…would that make her happy?

Even if Adrien did approach her first, would it mean that Marinette won? That she was somehow the victor in this mess?

Were there even any winners to be had in the first place…?

Marinette bit her lip, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. The question from before still whirled around and around in her head, yet to be answered: which was more important? Her pride, or her happiness…?

She swallowed, her eyes focused on Adrien’s hunched form in the corner of the ballroom. Whether she was ready or not…it was time to answer that question.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette squared her shoulders and made herself walk over there, every step much harder than the last, because her mind fought her with every step that brought her nearer to him, a gravitational pull that refused to release her, despite her half-hearted attempts to flee from it.

‘This is a mistake,’ a sinister voice in her mind that didn’t sound anything like Alya whispered, threading dread through her heart at its presence. ‘You shouldn’t have to be the one to step up and try to fix things. You’ve been hurt by him so many times…why should you always have to be the bigger person? Doesn’t he care about you enough to step up himself?’

‘It’s more complicated than that,’ Marinette argued with herself, though her teeth sunk further into her lip. ‘It shouldn’t matter who approaches who first, as long as we’re both willing to work through this, right?’

‘What if he doesn’t want to work through it?’ Asked the voice, and a chill went through Marinette as she realized that it was Shade’s voice she was hearing. She glanced around, horrified, but didn’t see the villain anywhere, nor could she fathom a reason for her presence…was Marinette’s own mind messing with her…? ‘What if he laughs at you when you go over there? What if he ignores you, like you no longer exist? What if—’

‘STOP IT!’ Marinette screamed at herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she concentrated on forcing all the negativity out of her head. ‘Worrying about every little thing that could go wrong here won’t get me anywhere! Even if I’m scared, the only way I lose is if I stop trying! So shut up and let me do this!’

Silence.

Thank god—Marinette was already under enough stress without arguing with the shadow of her former friend/nemesis trying to feed her doubts and fears. (Marinette made a note to herself to maybe consider booking a session with Ivan herself, when she could afford it.)

She was only a few steps from Adrien now. He seemed not to notice her—from what she saw of his profile, he looked like he was concentrating on something so hard, his life might depend on it. Marinette made herself breathe deep, counting the seconds as she exhaled. One…two…three…okay.

As she took another step forward, she watched with curiosity as Adrien suddenly stood, his hands braced against the table. He appeared to be scowling, and Marinette faltered in her approach, wondering if this was a bad time. As she watched, Adrien closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and spun on his heel, looking like he intended to go somewhere—

He stopped short when he noticed Marinette, his eyes widening and his mouth coming open, as if he hadn’t expected to see her here at all. This did not help Marinette to be less self-conscious, and she fidgeted, unable to tear her gaze away from him as he stood awkwardly in front of her, his hands flexing. With a jolt, Marinette spotted the charm bracelet—her charm bracelet—hooked around his right wrist, just above his ring, like it had never left. Maybe it hadn’t.

And maybe it was just Marinette, but as she stood there, apart from Adrien, she could almost feel the tension in the air between them, every word they’d hurled at each other, and everything still left unsaid between them, creating air so thick that Marinette felt she could almost reach out and touch it, and her fingers would meet against the barrier dividing her and Adrien.

As she stared at him now, she felt her mouth go dry, and she cursed herself inwardly. It was so typical for her to march herself over here, only to choke the moment it counted. At times like these, she tried relying on the inner strength that came from being Ladybug, but when it was Adrien she was facing—when it was Chat Noir she was facing—Marinette suddenly didn’t know what to do. Where did she go from here…?

Marinette was set to panic in this downward spiral…but then something broke through that panic…a familiar melody…

Marinette’s head swiveled, staring at the colorful DJ who had suddenly started playing this slow, jazzy number for the couples in the room to dance to. She could see Ivan and Myléne revolving slowly in the center of the dance floor, as well as Alya and Nino, Kim and Max, Juleka and Rose, Chloé and Nathanael…

It was clear this melody was a slow song for the lovers, but Marinette didn’t need all the couples spinning on the dance floor to know that, for this song was the very first song she and Adrien had danced to, just a couple months ago, on a night chillier than tonight, a night for lovers...the night that everything had changed between them, in more ways than one…

Slowly, Marinette brought her gaze back to Adrien, knowing that he was remembering too, just from the look on his face. With a slow, hesitant smile…she held out her hand.

“Dance with me?”

She just barely heard Adrien’s breath catch, and his lips slowly curved to match her smile, awkward and unsure, but desperate, so desperate to make contact…

Marinette held her breath, waiting as Adrien lifted his hand, his fingers twitching in the air between them, but moving closer, despite the uncertainty, despite the pain still present in his eyes, despite everything…

His fingers slid over hers, the warmth of his palm pressed against hers, and Marinette felt like she could properly breathe again.

She looked up, smiling whole-heartedly now, and Adrien’s face flushed, his lips stretching to match her smile once again.

“You won’t let me fall, right?” He asked her, and Marinette almost laughed, because all he seemed to do was quote her own words back at her today, though they always seemed to hold more weight coming from him.

Marinette’s fingers tightened around his hand, and she let her expression grow serious as she gazed up at him.

“Never,” she replied, letting the weight of her emotions soak into her tone. Adrien flushed anew, and Marinette briefly worried if she was making him uncomfortable, if it was too soon…but then he nodded, squeezing her hand back, keeping her gaze the whole time as they made their way onto the dance floor.

Even though there was a lot they still had left to say to each other, neither of them said a word as they revolved slowly on the spot, arms wrapped around each other, lost in the others’ eyes. And, mysteriously, it worked. They didn’t need to speak in this moment—it was as if they understood each other perfectly, even without the words, like they had somehow gained the power to read minds, but only each other’s. In his eyes, Marinette saw a multitude of emotions, all blending together so much that it was hard to pinpoint a single emotion, but she didn’t need to, because everything he was feeling, she felt, too. She shared in his pain, wallowed in his misery, sighed in his relief, and in the strongest emotion she saw there, the emotion she dared not to name, for it would undo her and rob her of all her courage before they could commit to fully fixing what broke between them—

Marinette hid her face in Adrien’s vest, feeling her face catch fire. His arms wound around her, holding her closer; she could feel his cheek press against her temple, his breath brushing past her ear as he sighed. Knowing that he was so at peace with her right here, right now, sent warmth all through Marinette, her heart throbbing, fit to burst. When the song ended in favor of a catchier ditty, Marinette pulled back, locking her gaze with Adrien’s once again.

“…Can we talk?” She asked softly, realizing a second too late that Adrien probably couldn’t hear her over the music. But just as she was about to ask again, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed fervently. Feeling herself flush again, Marinette was glad of an excuse to turn her back to him for a moment, taking his hand again as she led them off the dance floor, opening the purse still slung across her body to grab the key for her room.

They happened to pass by Alya and Nino before they made it off the dance floor; Alya stepped forward just as Marinette pulled her hand out of her purse. Before Marinette could tell her that now was not the time, Alya withdrew something from her pocket and slipped it into Marinette’s purse, snapping the clasp shut for her. Marinette froze, blinking at her best friend.

“What did you—”

“You’ll thank me later,” Alya assured her with a wink before she slunk away again. Marinette watched as Alya went back to the shelter of Nino’s arms, wondering if she should be concerned about the sly look on her best friend’s face…but then she remembered that she had more important things to worry about, and she pushed the matter from her mind.

It didn’t take long to get back to her room—she had been fortunate enough to snag a room on the first floor of the hotel. As she keyed into the room and flicked on the lights, Marinette almost poked her head in to tell Tikki to hide before she remembered who she had with her. She shook her head at herself. Despite all her suffering for the past week, it was somehow so easy to forget that Adrien knew everything now…

“Marinette, are you—oh!” Tikki squeaked from where she had been sitting on the coffee table in the room, catching sight of Adrien. “Adrien! How nice to see you!”

“Uh, thanks,” Adrien replied, sounding a little awkward as he rubbed the back of his head. “You too, Tikki.”

Tikki beamed at him, and Marinette found herself smiling, wondering just when Tikki had become so fond of Adrien. Maybe it was something the kwami picked up from her.

As she turned and shut the door behind them, there was a shifting of fabric behind her, and she heard a drawling voice speak:

“So, should we expect another shouting match from you two? Or will you actually have productive character development this time around?”

“Plagg,” Tikki said in a reproving voice, and Marinette turned to find her kwami zooming into the air to scowl at the black cat kwami suddenly in their midst. “Be nice.”

“Being nice is your thing,” Plagg corrected her, closing one eye lazily. “Being belligerent is mine.”

Adrien sighed and rubbed at his temple. Idly, Marinette wondered if this was routine for them.

“Actually, I think some privacy would be appreciated this time around,” Marinette said, giving the kwami in the room a significant look. “Could you two—?”

“Of course, Marinette,” Tikki answered immediately, grabbing Plagg’s tail and tugging him after her when he showed every sign of remaining.

“Thanks, Tikki,” Marinette called after her as she and Plagg disappeared into the bathroom. She felt a little bad; they probably wouldn’t be very entertained in there while she and Adrien spent the night talking…but there was no help for it. If anything, Marinette trusted Tikki to keep Plagg out of trouble while she and Adrien worked to un-complicate this thing between them…hopefully…

Carefully, Marinette took off her heels, tossing them to the side as she made her way further into the room, heading for the bed. As she sat down, she slid off the chain attached to her purse. Momentary curiosity over what Alya had slipped in there earlier had her peeking inside…

‘Oh for—’

The exasperated thought couldn’t even be finished—Marinette hurriedly shut her purse again and shoved it onto her nightstand, feeling her face burn and hating it. But really, what was Alya thinking, slipping condoms into Marinette’s purse?! What about their faces as they were leaving suggested the need for them?! Marinette so did not need this right now, and she was going to ring Alya’s neck for this later…

Clearing her throat, Marinette glanced up, noticing with some surprise that Adrien was still standing near the door, looking awkward.

Right…this was the hard part, wasn’t it?

Marinette took a deep breath, and then gestured to the space on the bed next to her.

“Would you…like to sit down?”

Adrien jolted, as if Marinette had surprised him; she frowned at the flush that painted his face. Just what was he embarrassed about…?

“Oh…okay…” he agreed, clearing his throat as he walked to the bed, his posture perfect—a sign that he was stressed. As he sank down on the edge of the bed, his back was ramrod straight, his hands balled into fists as they rested on his knees. He looked so wound up…

Recognizing this, Marinette decided to start first…now, where to begin…

“…I’m sorry about Monday,” she said softly, deciding it was best to start small. “I shouldn’t have pushed you and Nino like that. I should’ve waited until you were ready to know.”

There was silence, save for Marinette’s uncomfortable shifting on the bed, the fabric of her dress sliding against the comforter in a noisy way. She cringed, wishing Adrien would say something, anything…

“…Why did you decide to let go of that little secret that night?” Adrien asked.

Marinette sighed. Anything but that, she wanted to whine. But no, she had gotten herself into this situation…she had to take responsibility, to own up to everything…

In a voice much smaller than the last, she owned up to the shameful reason:

“I…I wanted to hurt you.”

“…”

Marinette chanced a glance over at Adrien, biting her lip as he stared straight ahead, his face impassive. The ambiguity of his expression did not concern nor comfort her, and she could only sit there, waiting until he finished processing…

Adrien sighed, and his perfect posture was exhaled as well; he slumped over, his elbows resting on his knees now as he stared at the floor.

“…Well, you’ll be happy to know that it worked,” he replied, a note of sarcasm in his voice. And he was right—rather than making Marinette happy, it devastated her.

“Adrien,” she began, reaching for him—oh, but she had no right to touch him. She dropped her hands, clenching them into fists in her lap. “Adrien, I’m sorry. I—at the time, I thought it would be better for you and Nino to know, but I…” she swallowed. “Tikki made me realize that what I did was wrong. That I had no right, after making you wait and wait to t-talk about me…about us…but then f-forcing you and Shell to…and I didn’t even ask—”

“Marinette,” Adrien interrupted, and Marinette noticed that he was looking at her now, his brow furrowed as he stared at her…why was he looking at her like that?

Adrien’s frown grew more pronounced and he raised a hand, hesitating for the briefest moment…before he let his fingertips brush against her cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly, his thumb dragging across her cheekbone.

Marinette blinked. She wasn’t crying. She had spent a good half-hour crying up here already. Surely she was all cried out by now…

Adrien drew his hand back, and Marinette’s breath hitched when she saw the wetness there, proof of her tears for all to see. With a groan, she promptly buried her face in her hands.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, utterly miserable. Adrien let out a soft chuckle, which only humiliated her further. Adrien seemed to realize that; she felt him shift closer to her, gently tugging her hands from her face.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, the strength of such an apology burning in his eyes. “I’m not laughing because you’re crying. I’m laughing because…well, I’m relieved.”

Marinette sniffled, giving him a questioning look.

“R-relieved…?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said, digging his new handkerchief out of his pocket and offering it to her. Marinette pursed her lips; she would hate to ruin his new handkerchief with runny make-up, but once she remembered that he could probably afford a million handkerchiefs, she accepted it with a small thanks and began to dab at her wet eyes. “The way you left earlier…after the stunt I pulled—well, I thought…I thought you stormed off because you were mad at me.”

“I am mad,” Marinette mumbled, though it could not be clearer that her heart was not in the words. “What were you trying to do there? And why did you drag Ivan and his vows into this?”

“I didn’t,” Adrien denied, his eyes widening as he raised his hands, as if Marinette was about to charge. “Ivan finished his vows a month ago.”

“Then explain how he used my words from the tower the first patrol after—” Marinette’s tongue curled in on itself; speaking of her superhero relationship with Adrien, out in the open, was still a bit difficult for her. Adrien caught her hesitance, and his jaw tightened, as if he was actively trying to prevent himself from starting a fight. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Marinette let out a breath. This was hopeless—if she still wasn’t comfortable talking to Adrien about all this, then why had she brought him up here in the first place?

A selfish part of her brain blamed it on him once again: he looked too much like Adrien right now for her to see him as Chat properly…

…Wait a minute…

Marinette got to her feet. As she moved forward, across the room, she felt a ghost of a touch on her hand.

“Marinette…?”

“Hold on,” she urged him, striding purposefully towards the door. Once there, she took a deep breath to fortify her spirit…and then she flicked the light switch off.

The bright light in the room died, and Marinette breathed again, turning around.

Only moonlight was present in the darkness of the room, and while that sent an unpleasant chill down her spine, because she couldn’t help but be reminded of Shade, Marinette didn’t let the fear consume her. Because there Chat Noir was, sitting on her bed. He didn’t have his costume on, of course, but the way his eyes glowed in the light of the moon still put her at ease, the familiarity giving her courage to move back over to him, sitting a little closer than she had been.

Chat—Adrien—oh, what was the difference?—he watched her the whole time, seeming to register the change that overcame her, though from the look on his face, Marinette could tell that he had no idea what it was supposed to mean. She didn’t bother letting him dwell on it—focusing on his eyes, she began again.

“…Why did Ivan use my words from that night of patrol, after you finally came back to me?” She asked him directly. Here Adrien blushed, glancing away from her as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well…I had been helping him with his vows for some time,” he admitted. “He was trying to put to words exactly how he felt about Myléne, about how he’d always be there for her, even when things got rough, since no marriage is perfect…and I just…the words just came out.”

Marinette stared at him, quietly amused at the blush climbed all the way up to his forehead. He…was really cute. Damn it.

“…Does Ivan know you didn’t come up with those words on your own?” She couldn’t help but tease him. Adrien cleared his throat.

“Of course,” he answered, surprising Marinette. “He complimented me, so I had to tell him that the words actually weren’t mine. But he said he liked them, because it was the exact same way he felt about Myléne, even when they have their arguments…” Adrien’s gaze finally returned to her, and he smiled slightly. “Who was I to tell him he couldn’t use them?”

“But it’s not like he actually wrote the vows himself then, is it?”

“Honestly? If the feelings behind them are real, who cares where he got the words?”

Marinette didn’t have a counter-argument for that—and it wasn’t all that important anyway—so she let it drop and moved on.

“…I rushed out of the wedding to cry,” she admitted to Adrien, dropping her gaze to her lap as she felt her face burn with shame. “I couldn’t figure out why…I mean, for all I knew, you could’ve been playing with me, to hurt me like I hurt you. I didn’t understand…”

Warmth cupped her cheeks, and Marinette’s head was lifted, once again meeting those beautiful green eyes she loved so much, eyes that were currently wracked with guilt.

“No, Marinette, I…I didn’t mean to hurt you today.” He looked away, shame crossing his features. “That night…when I shouted at you for murdering my father…I wanted to hurt you then. I know now you were just trying to explain how you felt about the whole thing with AVA, but I just assumed that you didn’t care about me, and I didn’t let you explain at all…and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Marinette hiccupped, feeling another wave of tears pushing at her eyes. At this rate, she was going to shrivel up and die, with how much she had been crying today…but these tears felt more refreshing than the previous ones.

“You…don’t actually believe I’m…I’m a murderer?”

“Of course not,” Adrien huffed, closing his eyes as he bumped his forehead against hers. “I was there, My Lady. I saw how what happened ate at you…and yet, your first thought was me.” He opened his eyes, marveling at her, as if he couldn’t believe such a creature like her existed. “…Why?”

That’s right: he had been there that night. He had seen, with his own eyes, the decision that altered the course of their lives forever…

And yet, he still came back to her. He had sought her out to tell her he loved her…

Marinette swallowed.

He knew the answer to this question already, didn’t he? Surely he didn’t need her to spell it out…

Adrien stared at her, his eyes beseeching, desperate…much in the same way they were when he had thrashed her first design, and she had pushed back at him, calling him cruel and unlike himself…

“Really, Marinette…can you really say that you ever knew me at all...?”

Yes. Yes she could. She just hadn’t known how well back then…

It was almost amazing, how easy the words were to say now, despite that maybe now wasn’t the best time, despite the fact that this was the first time they had properly spoken to each other in weeks, despite the mess they were slowly working to unravel, bit by bit:

“…Because I loved you, Chat.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. He sat there, dumbstruck, but Marinette could see the emotions rapidly spinning through his expression, though they flashed by too quickly to leave a lasting impression until…

Adrien closed his eyes and let out a breath, sitting back and dropping his hands from her face. The warmth was missed immediately.

“…You didn’t know who I was back then, Marinette.”

“Yes I did,” Marinette insisted, apparently sounding so confident that Adrien’s eyes opened immediately, his eyebrows shooting up. “It’s true, I didn’t know it was you at the time…but I still knew you, Adrien.” Feeling bold, she poked his nose. “It was just that neither of us knew at the time.”

He seemed to need a moment to process that; Marinette waited, watching as his brow furrowed, his eyes shifting, as if he was looking for a way around her logic. When he finally glanced up at her again, his expression was…confused.

“…But you didn’t love Chat…” he said softly. Though he tried to bury it, Marinette could still see it: that longsuffering sadness in his eyes, his affections for his Lady always rejected. Though Marinette had had no idea that he had ever been serious, now she knew better, and it pained her to see that deep ache he had carried with him all this time. Wishing to rectify it, she scooted closer to him again, and now it was her hands that slid over his cheeks, locking eyes with him.

“I didn’t know how you felt back then, chaton,” she admitted, though it was shameful to. Some partner she had been, not even realizing his feelings for her… “If I had known…I don’t know. I don’t know what would have happened...maybe things would have been different.”

But there was no point dwelling on the ‘maybes’ or ‘what ifs’, and so Marinette banished them from her mind, choosing to focus on the here and now.

“The point is that I did know you, that I’ve always known you, Chat…and…”

Oh god, she so wanted to break gazes, her face was on fire, the whole room was much too warm, but if she didn’t say it now, if she dared to say the word ‘later’ to him again—

Marinette bit down, snapping the bullet in her mouth in half.

“…and I’ve always…always loved you.”

The air stilled.

Adrien’s lips parted, but it appeared he didn’t actually have anything to say—he just stared at her, as if she had lost her mind. And frankly, Marinette was beginning to feel that way; the way he looked at her left her nervous, after baring her heart to him…why wasn’t he saying anything?!

Her mind panicked and overloaded; she dropped her hands from his face and words began to spill from her, as uncontrollable as her desire to fill this horrible silence—

“A-and I know I probably don’t have any right to say this to you now—I know I ruined things between us with my hesitance, and I’m so sorry I hurt you by making you think I don’t trust you, but that’s not true at all, Chat, I really do trust you, and I would do anything to prove it, to get us back to how we were, and I’m so, so sorry, Chat, I’m sorry, I’m—”

Adrien’s thumb bumped into Marinette’s lips. She stilled at the contact, staring at him as he seemed to get himself together…or it looked like he was trying to. He seemed to be having trouble; he opened and closed his mouth several times, swallowing heavily as his face burned in the moonlight. Finally, after a minute or two, he took a deep, shuddering breath, glowing green eyes focused on her as he said, in a voice that was strangled:

“…Say that again.”

Marinette blinked, unable to keep up with the shift of his emotions. Why was he looking at her like that…?

“…I’m sorry?” She tried. Adrien shook his head, displacing his hair with the motion. Marinette nearly choked; he had Chat hair now.

“Before that,” he insisted, still regarding her in that strange, intense way that somehow brought a blush to her face. Marinette swallowed and tried again.

“I trust you…?”

“Good to know, but before that, Marinette.”

The way he stared at her, with a look so anxious it almost seemed painful, finally tipped Marinette off.

“I…I love you,” she repeated herself, hating the flush that burned her face, but she refused to look away, refused to be embarrassed. It was the truth, after all.

Adrien stared at her some more, but this silence didn’t last nearly as long as the previous one.

“You love me?” He asked softly, as if he wanted to make sure, as if his ears were not to be trusted. Marinette laughed a little and nodded.

“Yes, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, Adrien. I’m sorry it took so long to tell you, but I do. I l—”

The words were lost, swallowed up by Adrien’s lips as he suddenly lunged at her, crushing his mouth to hers. Marinette gasped at the sudden contact, falling back from the momentum, but even though it was sudden and unexpected, Marinette didn’t care. She kissed him back just as fiercely, so finally relieved to be rid of this tension that she couldn’t find it in herself to care about anything that didn’t involve her kissing Adrien, his lips so soft that she was melting, her head spinning from lack of air, but she didn’t care, she could happily die in this moment, drowning in Adrien—

“I love you.”

The words were ragged, rasped against her neck as Adrien broke for air; she could feel him shivering.

“I love you, Marinette. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Each whispered word of devotion thrilled down Marinette’s spine, and she buried her hands in Adrien’s hair to kiss him long, hard, and senseless.

“I love you, too,” she mumbled in between breaths and desperate kisses, interrupting his continued stream of love confessions. “Adrien—Chat—I love you so much.”

“My Lady, I am so in love with you,” Adrien breathed, because he just had to top her. “I always have been. I always will be. I love you. I love you.”

Scratch her previous statement—now Marinette could die happy.

Maybe it was because he was touch-starved, not having much physical affection growing up and only having a serious girlfriend very recently.

Maybe it was because he knew what he wanted was finally within his grasp, and that just made him impatient.

Maybe it was just that he was every bit of the greedy, spoiled rich boy the worst of the tabloids painted him as.

Whatever it was, it was clear: Adrien could not get close enough to Marinette fast enough.

Even when the clothes went flying, and he was able to explore her—fully explore her—for the first time, his hands trailing down the freckled skin of her bare body, it wasn’t enough.

Even when she touched him, stroking him and kissing him everywhere, drawing noises from him that he didn’t even know where possible, it wasn’t enough.

And even when she produced a condom from her purse, her face burning at his intrigued look, muttering something about Alya and her meddling—even when she said she was ready for him and Adrien carefully, so carefully, slid inside her, fascinated by the way her face changed as he did, her eyes squeezing shut, her mouth opening, as she breathed, the way she shivered and tightened around him—it was not enough.

‘More,’ his body seemed to croon, seeming to ache from his core as he rocked his hips forward, his head dropping to suck at Marinette’s neck, tingling with the breathy moans that escaped her, burning with the whispered encouragements she gave him as her hands pressed into his back, that he was doing good, so good—

“Ah! Adri—Chat!” Marinette cried after Adrien gave a particularly rough thrust. He hadn’t meant to—it just felt so good that he couldn’t help himself. He froze, wondering if he’d hurt her, but then she was whining, kissing him greedily, her legs locked around his waist.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned, and a chill shot down Adrien’s spine as she clawed at his back— “Please, chaton, don’t stop!”

Oh, it was agony—hearing her cry his name like that, beg him for more, to allow herself to be so utterly vulnerable with him in this moment…

‘MORE!’ His body cried in unison, and Adrien groaned low in his throat, resuming his pace, unable to help his jerky movements, because this was his first time, and it felt too good, and he didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep this up—

Marinette’s voice kept getting louder, climbing higher, each octave creating a beautiful melody that embedded itself into Adrien’s soul. He was desperate for those sounds, hungry for them—when each thrust brought him a new, more beautiful sound, he relished in it, a beautiful song, sung by his Lady, the love of his life, sung just for him—

Ohhh, he was getting close. He could feel it—he wouldn’t last much longer.

“M-Marinette…” he groaned, but it was all he could get out, the rest of the words drowned in a hiss as Marinette suddenly seized up, her back arching, her mouth opening—

And then she sung the highest note yet, absolutely shattering in his arms. Adrien was not able to withstand the blast—what mortal man could? She dragged him right over the edge with her, and he clutched at her hand as he came, gripping it tight, as if he would lose himself without being anchored to her. She clung to him as if her life depended on it, hugging him as he collapsed against her, gasping for air. That ache inside him, finally sated, transformed into something warmer, tingling through his skin as Marinette trailed her fingers through his hair. His chest rumbled as he purred, approving of the gesture. Marinette giggled.

“Good kitty,” she teased him, sounding almost as happy as he felt, because there was no way she was as blissful as Adrien was in this moment. Nope, he was the happiest right now. Everyone else could go home.

“Mmm,” Adrien hummed, nosing under Marinette’s jaw, giving the hand he still held a slight squeeze. She returned his squeeze, and Adrien felt his heart soar. It was almost as if the last week had never happened…

Adrien blinked his blurry eyes open, his happiness balloon suddenly gaining a puncture, slowly deflating.

…As much as he might want to pretend otherwise, last week had happened. It would be wrong to just ignore it, to pretend that it would go away if he just averted his eyes…

With an annoyed grunt that was directed at himself, Adrien sat up, propping himself up on his elbows as he gazed down at Marinette. She was beautiful in the moonlight—her skin was nearly bleached white, save for those tiny dots of color embedded there, her own personal constellations. Her hair shone nearly blue, and her eyes were even bluer, almost glowing. She stared back up at him, sweat beading her forehead, her chest slowly rising and falling, regaining her breath. Beautiful.

Something about his expression must have been off, however; her brow furrowed as she gazed up at him, her free hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

“Chaton?”

God, how he loved that nickname. Adrien clutched her hand to his cheek, pressing a kiss to her palm. As much as he wanted to continue to revel in their lovemaking…this had to be said. He needed to say it, just so that everything was clear…

After a deep breath, Adrien met his lover’s—partner’s—eyes.

“…I’m sorry I hurt you, Marinette.”

After a moment, a corner of Marinette’s mouth turned up.

“I know…I’m sorry for hurting you too, Adrien. It won’t happen again.”

“So from now on, we’ll make it a point to talk to each other about the big stuff?”

“The little stuff, too,” Marinette added, taking her hand from his cheek to trace his lips. “Like how I really want you to kiss me again…”

Adrien smirked.

“Don’t distract me,” he playfully chided her, reclaiming her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “There’s one more thing I have to say.”

Marinette pouted, but when Adrien gave her a look, she sighed and stuck out her tongue before settling her expression into one of polite interest.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Marinette.”

“Adrien?”

Adrien smiled, leaning down to press his lips to Marinette’s forehead.

“My Lady…”

“Chaton,” Marinette returned easily, and Adrien’s smile widened.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Ah, bliss. If there would be a moment in Adrien’s life that would top this one, he was hard-pressed to believe it. Unless it involved Marinette—wherever Adrien chased his bliss, she would always be there.

Always.