Love At First Bite

by hazellvesque

Summary:

"The Dupain-Cheng family bakery had plenty of daily customers...but none of them quite stood out to Marinette like the boy and his pan au chocolat."

Marinette crushes on the cute stranger who stops by the bakery every day, Ladybug grows ever more frustrated by her mostly absent crime fighting partner, and Tikki and Plagg know more than they let on and decide to play matchmaker.

Notes:

A massive thank you to thewolvesrunwild and BKLily who dealt with my madness and created art for this fic!

It was the third day in a row Marinette had seen the boy enter the Patisserie. 

 

He’d place his order of two chocolate croissants, sit and eat one at his table, and take the second to go. But he’d never ask for his order like that right away. No, instead he chose to slowly savor his snack and later come back to the counter to ask for a takeaway box, as if he were mentally debating whether or not he’d be able to devour the second one in one sitting and had only decided later that it would be a bad idea. 

 

Marinette didn’t mind. As odd as his routine may seem, it gave her a good excuse to spend a few extra seconds staring into his striking green eyes. She loved the way they crinkled slightly at the edges when he smiled. 

 

The Dupain-Cheng family bakery had plenty of daily customers: the older gentlemen who would stop in each morning for a fresh baked loaf of bread for their families, the college students who would stop by during lunch hour for scones, the small children guiding their exasperated parents through the doors late in the afternoon because the sweet smell of petit fours enticed them to the counter. But none of them quite stood out like the boy and his pan au chocolat.

 

He always strolled in just before closing, his shoulders back and head tilted up confidently. His gait alone was enough to draw attention. Each step effortlessly exuded confidence as if he’d had years of practice. He was always dressed stylishly, never a hair or thread out of place. When he’d place his order, the smooth timbre of his voice was enough to make Marinette’s heart drop down to her knees. And the moment he’d sit down and take his first bite, his posture would droop and his brows would furrow, his entire expression blissful as the taste of chocolate melted away whatever had been keeping him so poised and proper. It was truly a sight to behold.

 

Was it odd to be so infatuated with someone when even so much as their name was a complete mystery? 

 

“You should try talking to him,” Tikki whispered, peeking her head out of Marinette’s apron pocket. 

 

Marinette narrowed her eyebrows and glanced down at her kwami. “I do talk to him, Tikki.”

 

“I mean outside of taking his order,” Tikki giggled. “Ask him about his day. Start with small talk.” 

 

And so she did. 

 

“Does work keep you out this late every day?” Marinette tried to pry nonchalantly as she sealed his pale gold box of treats and slid it into his waiting hands across the counter.

 

“Not usually,” the boy shrugged a shoulder towards the wide glass windows at the front of the shop. “I don’t mind it though. I get to see the sunset and the stars on my commute home. And I still get out early enough to stop here before closing time.” 

 

Marinette hummed quietly, hoping to cover the ever-present thumping of her heartbeat. “Lucky you.” 

 

“Lucky me,” he echoed, the corner of his mouth quirking up only slightly as he slid the box into the bag slung across his shoulders. 

 

She watched as he made his way out of the front doors, sparing one last glance and a small wave at her before rounding the corner and vanishing from her life for another twenty-four hours or more. 

 

With the Patisserie empty, Tikki zipped from Marinette’s pocket and hovered inches from her face, her tiny arms folded across her front. Her bulbous eyes stared intently into Marinette’s. 

 

“You didn’t even ask his name,” Tikki tilted her head sideways. 

 

“Don’t worry,” she promised. “I will.” 

 

“Watch your back!” 

 

Ladybug skidded out of the way just in time, catching her breath as she watched another one of the akuma’s boomerangs fly through the air, barely missing her head before circling back in the direction it came from. 

 

“Nice of you to show up,” Ladybug called out to the other hero, not quite knowing where his warning had come from. 

 

Chat Noir had always been like this. Showing up out of nowhere, inexplicably helping as much as he could, then vanishing before the two of them could even exchange pleasantries. Back when Master Fu had first trusted her with the Ladybug miraculous, he had told her that other heroes would often join her in battle, but the black cat hero was the only one she’d ever seen. Years had passed with no more than an occasional inexplicable appearance from a blonde-haired, leather-clad boy about her age whose name she barely knew. He’d show up, offer a few well-aimed attacks with his claws and a cataclysm, then exchange a few pleasantries before taking his staff and bounding off into the night. 

 

It was kind of annoying, honestly. 

 

The least Chat Noir could do was show himself and get this fight over with sooner so she could go back to sleep. This particular akuma had decided that two in the morning was an excellent time to get his emotions morphed into a payback-themed nightmare creature hellbent on revenge and reminding the few unlucky citizens still awake at this time that ‘what goes around comes back around’. Hence the boomerangs. 

 

She might appreciate the pun more if it weren’t keeping her awake.

 

Chat Noir - her...partner? Sidekick? Awkward co-worker who only has a part-time schedule? Regardless of what he was exactly, he always came in handy when she needed him, but was it so wrong to wish he’d at least stick around for a conversation or two? 

 

It wasn’t that she was in need of more friends. She had Alya, her best friend since collége, and plenty of classmates she’d met in her design program. But she wanted to get to know one of her fellow heroes, even if just so she could have someone else in her life who could relate to her circumstances. 

 

But whoever Chat Noir was on a day-to-day basis, he seemed to want to keep it entirely separate from his duty to Ladybug and Paris. 

 

Well, if he was going to be stubborn, she wasn’t going to fight him. 

 

She was, however, fighting the urge to kick his butt for not showing up sooner to this battle. 

 

--

 

“Plagg, claws in!” 

 

Adrien slumped against the wall as his transformation melted away, opening his palm for his kwami to land gently. 

 

“How are you holding up, bud?” 

 

Plagg opened a single eye, and even with only half an expression, Adrien could tell he was annoyed. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Adrien sighed. “I couldn’t let her fight alone, you know that. I’ll try and give you a little more warning next time.” 

 

Plagg yawned and rolled over, pointedly ignoring his holder.

 

Clearly, apologies wouldn’t cut it this time. 

 

Adrien supposed he wouldn’t like it much if any of his friends dramatically altered his sleeping schedule, either. But as of late, he’d been desperate for an escape from the constant meetings and shoots and phone calls. The way he was always expected to live life on someone else’s timetable. Even small acts of rebellion like being out late at night felt thrilling - after all, most nineteen year olds didn’t have bedtimes, so why should he? 

 

Adrien sighed, reaching into his bag and retrieving the box he’d gotten from the bakery earlier that evening - another example of his small rebellion: chocolate and late-night strolls alone were highly frowned upon, which is why he’d relished in doing both at least a few times a week. It was the small things. 

 

“Will you forgive me now?” Adrien asked Plagg, breaking off the corner of the chocolate croissant and offering it to his kwami. 

 

Wordlessly, Plagg rolled over, took the pastry in his small hands and inhaled the entire thing. Then promptly rolled back over, eyes closed again. 

 

“Try something more savory next time,” Plagg muttered sleepily. 

 

“So what’s this one here?” 

 

The boy made his visit to the patisserie earlier in the day than usual. Marinette hadn’t been expecting to see him again so soon, but it was a welcome surprise. In fact, she’d been so distracted that she almost didn’t hear his question.

 

“The one in the back corner?” He continued, pointing at the glass display case. 

 

“A cheese danish,” she answered, “would you like a sample? We have them in plain, raspberry, lemon, and my mom and I have been working on- ow! ” 

 

Marinette glanced down into her apron pocket, where Tikki’s tiny hands had just violently pinched her hip. Evidently, that was subtle kwami talk for ‘ you’re overdoing it ’. 

 

Tikki had said to talk to him more. Unfortunately, Marinette didn’t speak cute boy, she only spoke pastry and sewing. So it was either this, or flirt in the language of thread and bobbins, which she wasn’t sure he’d appreciate. 

 

He barely glanced up at her outburst. He offered her a shy smile and shook his head politely. “I’ll go with my usual,” he said, pointing again, “and one of those plain ones.” 

 

“Coming right up!” 

 

As she packed up the boy’s new order, she could feel Tikki’s judgemental eyes staring up at her, which she pointedly ignored as she wrapped the pan au chocolat and one plain cheese danish into a little golden box. 

 

While she slid the package across the counter, she took a deep breath in anticipation, cursing her hands for trembling. “So-” she began. 

 

“The menu and boxes here all say ‘ Tom and Sabine’s ’,” the boy observed, taking his box and placing it in his bag. “I’m guessing you’re not Tom.” 

 

“I’m not Sabine, either,” Marinette flushed. “They’re my parents. Someone pointed out that we should maybe wear name tags, but since it’s really only the three of us working, and the two of them have their names all over...well, everything, I guess there wouldn’t be much of a point.” 

 

The boy raised his eyebrow at her, not caring to hide his amusement. Marinette felt her face grow even hotter. 

 

“Marinette,” she offered. 

 

The boy took one last glance down at the names on the menu. “Marinette” he sounded out quietly. He offered her a hand. “Adrien. And if it means anything, I’d argue that your name should be on more than just a tag.” 

 

Marinette’s words promptly failed her as she took his hand and shook it lightly. Adrien offered her one final smile and nod before making his way out of the front doors. Somewhere down in her apron pocket Tikki pinched her side again, but she barely felt it. 

 

Once the bakery had closed that evening, Tikki floated from her hiding spot and helped herself to the sweet crumbs in the display case as Marinette swept. 

 

“See, Tikki, I asked his name. That’s... progress,” Marinette muttered.

 

“He offered his name,” Tikki pointed out. “He’s started all of your conversations, actually. You still haven’t tried talking to him first. Maybe that’s the push he needs to really become your friend. I know it’s scary, but you need to put yourself out there.” 

 

Marinette stopped sweeping. “I don’t know the first thing about putting myself out there, Tikki. You haven’t exactly seen me talk to a lot of boys, especially not ones that look like him.” 

 

Tikki held back an amused little hum. Miraculous holders were brave and loyal. There was nothing that said they had to be perceptive. 

 

Perhaps if they were, Tikki and Plagg wouldn’t still be playing this game. 

 

 

Plagg zipped out of Adrien’s bag - cheese danish in hand, two bites already taken out of it - the moment Adrien closed his bedroom door behind him. 

 

“You know,” Plagg sighed dreamily, “I take it back. I don’t get why you dawdle at that bakery all the time, but this is definitely an improvement. Keep bringing me these and you can do whatever you want.” 

 

Adrien laughed. Sure, Plagg was more like a demanding, untrained pet sometimes, but he was also a dear friend, and Adrien wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

Speaking of friends, Adrien had a plethora of texts from Nino he still needed to respond to. The sound of his phone ringing typically sent him into a state of pure dread, but once he saw it was anything other than an email or phone call that needed a prompt response, his fears vanished. 

 

But evidently the universe wasn’t ready to give him a break just yet. Another notification - a news alert about a raging akuma - broke up his only opportunity at peace. 

 

“Glad you like them, I’ll be sure to get you another one tomorrow,” Adrien promised. “Plagg, claws out!”

 

 

“Twice in one week, what a surprise,” Ladybug quipped as Chat Noir landed on the scene. Late, as usual. 

 

Her leather-clad acquaintance surveyed the street below lazily. “Where’s the akuma?” he asked without preamble. 

 

“In the villain’s shoe,” Ladybug answered. “Evidently Hawkmoth is running out of ideas.”

 

“I guess we’re pulling a backwards Cinderella story, then, huh Ladybug?” he turned her her, an eyebrow raised. 

 

“I’m assuming I’m the fairy godmother and you’re the prince charming?” The mental image made her laugh. Chat, charming? He barely spoke the most basic formalities, and even then, she couldn’t ever quite gauge his emotions. Even this small comment threw her off guard for how happy he seemed to have come up with it. Perhaps he was having a good day. Not that he’d ever talk to her about it. “And how does this end, with a happily ever after?” 

 

“I’ll be happy if I’m in bed at a decent hour,” he said, already bounding after the monster. 

 

And just like that, the first fun conversation she’d ever managed to have with him fizzled out into nothing. Typical. 

 

Wasting no time, Ladybug flung out her yoyo and raced to catch up with Chat Noir.

 

 

“Dude, what happened?” Were the first words out of Nino’s mouth when he opened the door to let Adrien in.

 

“I got caught up with a coworker,” Adrien replied. It wasn’t a lie, per se. Did being a superhero count as a part time job? In his mind, it did, despite the fact that there was no paycheck to be seen for saving the city on a regular basis. If only it came with extra benefits. Maybe some kind of Chat Noir discount would be nice. 

 

“That cut looks rough,” Nino gestured at Adrien’s chin. “Hope your coworker didn’t do that.” 

 

Adrien defensively touched his face, swearing under his breath at the stinging sensation that he’d somehow missed before now. Recalling the fight, he must have gotten sideswiped on the chin by the akumatized man’s sharp shoe heel right before he managed to break it with a cataclysm. The whole thing had happened in a blur, as his fights with villains usually did, and Ladybug always insisted that she’d take care of the cleanup, so it wasn’t as if he ever bothered to stick around and take inventory of the aftermath. As long as he hadn’t lost any limbs, he usually considered a battle well-fought. 

 

“I’m sorry for whoever caught you with her perfectly manicured nails,” Nino continued sarcastically. “It must be hard, spending all day in such close proximity to pretty people all day.” 

 

Naturally, Nino assumed any coworker of Adrien’s would be another hired model. If only Nino knew, there were no cameras or poses involved with this work event - just magical evil butterflies and an angry shoe store employee. 

 

Then again, Ladybug herself was somewhat of a model, for how often she was photographed and interviewed for newspapers and blogs. Now that he thought about it, Adrien hadn’t ever paid much attention to what Ladybug may have looked like outside of her suit. Sure, she was a nice looking girl somewhere around his age, and he had always felt happy to see her smile on the few rare occasions that it happened, but beyond that, he’d never dwelled much on what Ladybug actually looked like under the spots. 

 

As ignorant as he was, she was probably a knockout and he’d never even realize it. Months after he’d broken up with Kagami, Chloe of all people had been the one to point out that he wasn’t the best at doling out compliments. 

 

“For god’s sake, Adrien, a woman needs to feel appreciated,” Chloe had said once when he’d asked for advice. “Don’t just stand there and gape like an idiot, tell her she looks nice. Use your words.” 

 

Maybe that’s why he was still single: he hadn’t found the right words yet. Not to speak to his superhero partner, not to tell his best friend what he really did when he snuck out, not even to have more than a brief conversation with the girl working at the bakery who he saw nearly every day now. 

 

But it wasn’t the time to dwell on past relationship failures or fleeting crushes or even the pressure of being a superhero. It was game night, and he and Nino had a date with the new update to Ultimate Mecha Strike 3. 

 

—

So hypothetically speaking, if a cute boy was coming into your workplace every day and you wanted to make casual conversation that simultaneously made you seem cool and aloof but also interesting, what would you ask him? 

 

“Do you think that’s an okay way to phrase it?” Marinette asked Tikki. Her finger hovered over the send button as she contemplated the message over and over, hoping that Alya would be awake and willing to give advice at this early hour. 

 

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Tikki said, hiding her tiny yawn behind a tinier hand. “I think Alya would agree.” 

 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Tikki. Alya would say I’m not thinking about it hard enough,” Marinette steadied herself, then pressed the send button. “And that’s why it’s always good to get more than one opinion. You can play good cop, this time.” 

 

“I always play good cop,” Tikki muttered sleepily. “Plagg’s job is bad cop.” 

 

Marinette, still anxiously staring at her phone, barely bothered to glance up. “Who?” 

 

“Plagg. Chat Noir’s kwami.” Tikki had begun dropping the most obvious of hints months ago, but her dear, scatterbrained holder never picked up on them. 

 

As usual, Marinette shrugged off the statement with a simple, “Oh, right,” and continued along with her morning preparations.

Just once, if she would ask a detail about Chat Noir’s powers or identity, Tikki may be able to give a hint that was too obvious to ignore. Point out the similarities that were too close to be a coincidence. Marinette had spent enough time staring at the boy that she should have noticed a resemblance by now. 

 

Marinette’s phone buzzed in her apron pocket, and she scrambled to look at the incoming message. 

 

“ Ugh,” she groaned, starting to type back furiously. “ ‘Why don’t you just talk to him the way you talked to Luka?’ Not helping, Alya! Doesn’t she see that this is different? We don’t have any mutual friends as far as I know. And it’s not like I can ever really get to know the guy if I only ever see him for a couple of minutes every day.”

 

Tikki resisted the urge to slam her tiny head on the counter in frustration. The only saving grace from this insufferable situation was that Plagg was likely equally suffering to get his holder to look at the puzzle pieces falling into place right in front of him.

 

Both kwamis had been warned that they couldn’t ever interfere with the personal identities of their holders. And Tikki and Plagg had stuck to that warning for centuries, for as long as they could remember. But throughout history, their holders had so very rarely been a pair of oblivious teenagers. Even stranger, it had never happened before in history that a Ladybug and a Chat Noir simply had zero interest in getting to know each other on or off the battlefield. The circumstances were baffling, to say the least. Add all of that to the fact that, after years , they had finally met one another in their civilian forms, only to be too infatuated by a mutual juvenile crush that they failed to successfully make the connection necessary to strengthen their team. 

 

So Plagg and Tikki made a small exception to their rule. They’d follow the Guardian’s wishes of course, and they would never interfere with the personal identities of their holders. But a bit of meddling to push them together wouldn’t hurt anyone. If only they’d catch on. 

 

“Alya says to be casual, but make sure he knows I’m interested, but in a way that doesn’t make me seem too eager, but also leaves him room to back down so I don’t get my feelings hurt,” Marinette groaned. “Why are boys so complicated, what does this even mean ?” 

 

“Maybe you should just try to get to know him, as a friend,” Tikki encouraged her. “Approach the situation with optimism. You could make a wonderful friend, or you two could become something else that’s equally wonderful.” 

 

Marinette lowered her phone, a contemplative look on her face. 

 

“You’d be happy being his friend, right?” Tikki asked.

 

After all, at least in Tikki’s experience, the best partnerships were based in a strong, trustworthy friendship. Each Ladybug and Chat Noir were each other's' closest confidants, if not life partners or, in some situations, what some would call soulmates. Whether that relationship be platonic, romantic, or something else entirely, the two holders were meant to be together.

 

And at this point, Tikki would do nearly anything to make it happen sooner rather than later. Even if that meant meddling just a little bit.

 

“You’re right Tikki,” Marinette resolved, her shoulders held high. “How do you always know what to say?”

 

“Centuries of experience,” Tikki winked, nuzzling to her holder’s cheek. “You’ve got this, Marinette.” 

 

 

“Mind if I join you?”

 

Marinette jumped at the voice behind her. One headphone in and a coffee cup raised to her lips, she was ready to berate whoever had the nerve to bother her on her morning break. That is, until she turned and saw a familiar face. 

 

“Oh! Of course,” she told Adrien, her brain not entirely processing that he was asking her if he could have breakfast at her table . “I mean, no, I don’t mind at all.” 

 

“Great,” he smiled at her, slinging his bag across the back of the empty chair at the two-top table before heading up to the counter. “I’ll be right back.” 

 

Adrien’s effortless charm radiated off him as he approached Sabine at the front counter. For the briefest of moments, Marinette thought her mother could treat the situation as a casual encounter, but Sabine had seen the way Adrien approached Marinette as he walked in, and she also most definitely saw the reddening of Marinette’s cheeks and the look of mortification spreading across her face as her crush casually conversed with her mother. 

 

“A pleasure to finally put a face to the name,” she could hear Adrien say. She tried to ignore Sabine’s bashful giggle in response. 

 

Marinette watched Adrien order his usual - two pan au chocolat - along with an espresso. The drink and one croissant for here, one to go. 

 

As Sabine boxed up the second pastry, Adrien tore a corner off the one on the plate in front of him, popping it into his mouth and grinning, as if he was tasting it for the first time.  

 

Marintte resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What a schmoozer. 

 

“I’ve got to know what makes these taste so amazing,” Adrien smiled at Sabine, practically begging her to fall for his false innocence.

 

“Well that’s a close family secret,” Sabine replied, “and I hope Marinette hasn’t been letting anything slip while you two are chatting-”

 

Marinette coughed loudly behind her coffee cup.

 

“I haven’t been able to get a word out of her, I thought I’d try my luck with you but I guess excellent secrecy runs in the family.” 

 

“You’d be right about that, young man,” Sabine said, sliding him the box. “Put your wallet away, this one is on Tom and me.” 

 

That caught him off guard. For a moment, the way Adrien looked genuinely cornered and shocked at the kindness was off-putting. But a moment later, the look on his face was gone, replaced with his usual easy smile. 

 

“I can’t take this without paying,” he said easily. 

 

“Don’t worry about it dear, we love to treat our loyal customers every now and then.”

 

“And I insist on giving the best bakery in town their worthwhile payment,” he politely tapped his card to the payment terminal before she could debate any further. “Merci, madame.”

 

Adrien tucked the box under his arm, then carefully balanced his plate and coffee cup back to Marinette’s table. As he sat down, he tucked the box into his bag. 

 

“I’m sorry about my mom,” Marinette said. 

 

“Why?” Adrien asked, taking a sip. “She’s just as sweet as I expected her to be.” He stole a conspiratory glance at Sabine behind the counter before turning back to Marinette. “So really, what’s the secret? Is there some special ingredient in the dough or what?”

 

That’s what he really wanted to know? It hadn’t just been polite small talk? “Well if I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a secret, would it?” Marinette shrugged.

 

“Come on, just a hint?” he insisted.

 

Marinette took another long sip as she thought out her answer. Finally, after a pause, she said, “Maman always says the secret to a great tasting meal is putting your heart into it.”

 

“And how exactly does that work?” Adrien raised a playful eyebrow. “Hopefully not literally.”

 

For the second time in as many minutes, Marinette resisted rolling her eyes at him. The sarcasm was new, and it may have come from the fact that he was becoming more comfortable around her, which was just slightly terrifying. 

 

“I think it’s all about patience,” she said, trying to rid herself of that thought. “Working together with all the parts that come together to make one great thing, even if you might hit some tough spots or can’t quite figure out how the pieces fit. Taking time to really get to know what you’re working with and how it can come together to make something even better.”

 

“Are we still talking about desserts?”

 

Their eyes locked, blue to green. 

 

“It sounds silly, I know,” Marinette’s gaze held steadfast, to her own surprise. “It’s easier to just do it than to explain it out loud, really.”

 

“I wish you could show me.”

 

“Actually, I can. If you want.”

 

Those striking green eyes widened, which prompted Marinette to finally focus back down at her coffee cup, suddenly wishing she hadn’t said anything. 

 

No. Tikki was right. She needed to take initiative. Friendship or otherwise, she needed to be unafraid. This was not the time to back down. 

 

“I mean, I usually wake up super early to start prepping so I don’t know if it’d work with your schedule but since you come by almost every day anyway-”

 

Adrien interrupted her. “I’d love to.” 

 

Too afraid to look up at him again, Marinette’s eyes wandered, desperate to find something - anything - else to concentrate on. Instead, she caught the eye of her mother behind the counter, who winked at her, having eavesdropped on their entire conversation.

 

If it weren’t for Hawkmoth, Marinette might think her mother was the cruelest villain in Paris for how much joy she was getting from this embarrassing interaction. 

 

She allowed herself a moment to take a deep breath before looking back at Adrien, who was still smiling at her, just as calm and sincere as ever. 

 

“I usually wake up before the sun to start prepping dough, if you’re okay with that. And I leave the front door cracked for fresh air. So if you happen to be wandering by one morning and want to help out, I wouldn’t say no.” 

 

Her cheeks pinked as she fell silent. Was that as suave and casual as Alya had suggested? A clear invitation, with room for him to back out, but an obvious hint that she very much wanted him to say yes? She’d never blatantly flirted so hard before, it was hard to tell if this was the right way to do it. 

 

“I look forward to it,” Adrien replied. “And I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your break. See you soon.” 

 

With that, Adrien rose from his seat, collected his things, and headed towards the front door, turning back to smile at her one last time before leaving. 

 

That worked. That worked? 

 

Marinette felt a pinch at her waist. Tikki had hovered out of her pocket and was giving her an encouraging grin. 

 

Feeling just slightly proud of herself, Marinette suppressed the smile that threatened to break her cool and casual demeanor. She replaced her headphones in her ear, taking a long sip from her coffee cup, relishing in the warmth that pooled in her stomach and simultaneously spread across her cheeks. 

 

“Marinette, dear,” Sabine called from behind the counter, “Your twenty is over.” 

 

And just like that, the moment was over. Back to business as usual. 

 

Marinette stood and rounded the corner of the glass display case, grabbing her apron from the hook and pulling it close to her front, waiting for her mother to help her tie it. Back when she first started helping around the kitchen as a little girl, she always had trouble reaching the ties behind her neck, and it had become a habit to let her mother or father tie it for her out of muscle memory. Of course she was flexible enough to reach it herself now, but the little tradition was one of the many quirks that she had grown accustomed to working alongside her loved ones. 

 

“So…” Sabine began, taking the ties in her hands. “It was very kind of you to invite that boy over-”

 

“You were listening?” Marinette hissed. “Maman!” 

 

“Are the two of you dating? Because that’s such a sweet idea for the two of you to bond, your father and I fell in love over our shared passion for baking you know.” 

 

“We’re not dating,” Marinette tried to keep her voice low. It’d be just her luck that the other regulars at the patisserie would overhear and turn her disastrous awkwardness into the latest gossip. “I actually don’t know him that well.” 

 

The realization sunk in as she spoke it aloud - she really didn’t know Adrien at all. She didn’t even recall getting his last name. She knew that he worked odd hours and always helped himself to two desserts when he stopped by, but that’s really all the detail she’d managed to work out about him from their few short conversations.

Well, that, and the fact that he was apparently equally interested in getting to know her. Which was still hard to believe. 

 

“It’s nice that you met someone new,” Sabine mused. “You haven’t been out much since Luka-”

 

“Mom, please don’t.” 

 

With that, Sabine finished tying the bow on Marinette’s ribbon and gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, returning to her work.

 

Luka had been…an experience, to say the least. Crushing hard on her classmate’s twin brother wasn’t the best decision Marinette had ever made. Him returning that crush felt like a miracle at the time. And with all of the pressure of her double life and being unable to tell him the truth about why she bailed on plans and was exhausted so often, their companionship sparked and fizzled out very quickly. They hadn’t even had a proper first kiss before things fell apart. It was a whirlwind of heavy emotions and regretful decisions that all culminated into her first and only pseudo-relationship. 

 

As she got older, her parents looked back on Luka as a missed opportunity, but they would never understand why. Marinette didn’t date much - at all, honestly - and since she graduated lycée the pressure to start seriously looking into relationships became heavier and heavier. All that nonsense parents spout about their kids growing into adults and needing to start thinking about the future and settling down was nothing out of the ordinary, but for Marinette, it was different. 

 

If only they knew the intense amount of pressure that Marinette was under every day, boys or no boys. Ladybug didn’t have time to worry about dating, settling down, and finding the one. She had a city to protect. 

 

And customers to serve.

 

Willing away the thoughts of kind boys and Paris’s vulnerable citizens, Marinette dove back into her work. The tough job of a bakery cashier waits for no man. 

 

Three anxiety-inducing mornings passed before Adrien took her up on her offer.

 

Each of those mornings consisted of Marinette alternating between staring out the front window at the sunrise and viciously kneading dough like her life depended on it. Anything she could do to distract from the pit in her stomach would help reduce the dread she was drowning in.

 

And each morning, Tikki was the best pocket companion anyone could ask for, constantly providing reassurance. 

 

“If he comes, great. If he doesn’t, that means you can get more work done,” Tikki would repeat calmly, like a mantra. Always the voice of reason. “Don’t rush it, because once it happens you’ll want to spend as much time as possible enjoying the moment.” 

 

It was three days before Marinette finally calmed down and stopped eyeing the front door. And on that third morning, when the bell rang at the sound of someone entering the patisserie at sunrise, she almost had a heart attack. 

 

“I’m sorry-” Adrien - as if anyone else would have welcomed themself in at this hour - said, bashfully peeking around the glass door as if he was somehow able to hide at all. “Is this the right time? I know you said to stop by in the morning, but I didn’t know how early you meant.”

 

Marinette stood frozen in awe. He looked so different . His usually perfectly coiffed hair was slightly mussed, his outfit was far more casual than anything else she’d seen him in thus far, and his cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed from the morning cold. He looked normal by anyone’s standards, but to see him so imperfectly out of his element brought an odd rush to her stomach.

 

He had always strolled up to the patisserie oozing confidence, always dressed nicely, always seeming like he was in control. Now, that relaxed side of him that she usually only saw once the stony perfect exterior melted away with a bite of chocolate was now fully on display for her to admire. 

 

“You’re right on time, actually,” she said smoothly. “Come in. I was just about to get started.” 

 

With a smile, Adrien stepped through the doorway. He placed his messenger bag on the table nearest to the front counter, then walked back to join Marinette. 

 

“Let’s start with some basic ground rules. We do everything by hand in the shop,” Marinette explained to him as she grabbed an apron. “I hope you’re prepared to get your hands dirty.” 

 

“For delicious desserts?” Adrien said. “I would do anything.”

 

Marinette smiled. “My mother pretends that using mixers is a crime, but we have one upstairs in the house for when we’re not baking for customers.” 

 

“So that balcony above the shop is yours?” Adrien asked. “You’ve got quite the view from your family room.”

 

“My bedroom actually,” Marinette blushed, mentally questioning why her brain thought that was a necessary detail to share. “It’s, uh… it’s a bit of an oasis. A nice quiet place to escape to.”

 

“Of course. I imagine you need somewhere to escape the tantalizing smell of fresh bread. I totally understand,” Adrien said cheekily. “Now that I think about it, this place has become my escape. After a long day at work, the quiet homey feel is a nice change of pace.” 

 

“I never asked where you work,” Marinette pried. “You already know where I work and live so I think it’s only fair.” 

 

What? She could practically see Alya in her head, pressing a frustrated palm to her forehead, ready to chastise Marinette about being casual . And here she was talking about her bedroom and asking him personal details mere minutes after he arrived. 

 

Any chance of this being casual disappeared as soon as Adrien waltzed into the shop this morning like he was ready to throw on a nametag and announce that he was joining the family business. 

 

Adrien Dupain-Cheng had a decent ring to it. 

 

“May I?” 

 

“Sorry, what?” Marinette squeaked. She had no idea how long she had been absently staring out the front window, but evidently, it was long enough to start fantasizing. 

 

Adrien gestured at the top string of Marinette’s apron, which was awkwardly dangling across her shoulder. 

 

“Oh. Right. Of course.” 

 

He crossed to her side in one smooth stride and took the apron strings in his hands. Marinette silently prayed that he couldn’t feel the way she trembled slightly at the thought of him being so close. For all the flirting they’d been doing over the counter, they hadn’t had any physical contact aside from a short handshake what seemed like forever ago. 

 

And now here he was, behind said counter, about to spend the entire morning with her. Alone. No pressure. 

 

“I’m a model, by the way,” he said, as simply as anyone else would talk about the weather. 

 

Marinette choked on air, and tried to hide the sound behind a cough. “What?”

 

All the while, his long fingers casually brushed against the back of her shoulder and upper back as he took his sweet time tying the knot. 

 

“You asked where I work. I don’t work at any one place, my job takes me all over the city.” 

 

“Must be…fun,” Marinette said lamely. What coherent response could she possibly have to that ?

 

“Well, we have the whole ‘working with our parents’ thing in common, so I suppose you’d know better than some of my friends do. My dad’s a designer, so that’s mostly why I do it.” 

 

He finished tying the knot and took a step back, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Enough about me. So where do we start?”

 

“Well you start by getting your own apron on too, unless you want to get flour all over yourself. Meanwhile, I’ll do the fun part.”

 

As Adrien tied his own apron on, Marinette removed the dry ingredients from the pantry, watching Adrien’s eyes widen as he realized what they were making. 

 

“You always order these, so I figured we’d take a shot at them. Croissants are really hard for beginners, so don’t worry about getting it perfect, just try your best.” 

 

First, they needed to mix the dry ingredients - the flour, sugar, salt, and yeast - for a basic bread dough. 

 

“And then we’ll mix in the milk to turn it into a dough mixture,” Marinette explained, “and afterwards we’ll fold in the butter, which will give the croissants their layers. The chocolate - which is the best part, I know - comes much later.” 

 

Adrien worked in relative silence, happy to quietly listen as Marinette measured and separated the ingredients into her own bowls, then watched to make sure he replicated the steps exactly. 

As Adrien ground the heels of his palms into the dough, an odd look crossed his face. “I’ve seen enough baking shows to know that this is usually pretty tough, but I had no idea how hard it really was. It takes some muscle to get this right,” Glancing over at Marinette’s rounded dough ball, he smiled. “You’re a lot stronger than you look.” 

 

“I’ve had years of practice,” Marinette shrugged, starting on her next circle. 

 

It was true. Even without the enhanced strength of her suit as Ladybug, her years of working in the shop left her with fairly toned arms and much more muscle strength than the average girl her age possessed. Who needed workouts when you had bread dough to knead? 

 

Paris’ primary superhero, that’s who. 

 

But that wasn’t important right now. 

 

What was important right now was watching Adrien, dedicated as ever, leaning his entire body weight onto his forearms in a desperate attempt to knead the dough correctly. 

 

Which he wasn’t succeeding at. And as much as she hated to interrupt, she could nearly feel the judgemental eyes her parents would have if they knew she intentionally let him ruin a batch of dough just so she could watch him arms flex.  

 

“Here, like this,” Marinette said. 

 

Without thinking it through, she stepped behind him and placed her hands over his, guiding his palms into the dough so that he could push and pull in the right pattern to incorporate everything.

 

“You have to be pretty firm with it,” she explained. “And you can’t be afraid to be a little tough with it. It’s flour and milk, it can take a couple heavy hits. But it’s also easy to overdo it, so you have to reach a happy medium where the dough is solid but not too tough or else it’ll make a bread that isn’t as flaky and soft.” 

 

Because of the angle they stood at, Marinette found it easier to interlock her fingers with his to guide his hands better. His hands were warm, but surprisingly soft for being covered in sticky half-incorporated dough. 

 

“Baking is like a science,” she continued, focused. “All of the parts have to come together perfectly to make it just right, and you can always tell in the final product if a misstep happened somewhere along the way, so you have to make sure each component is right. 

 

“Is this how your parents taught you?” Adrien asked. His voice hummed low and warm in her ear, and it suddenly hit her just how close they were standing. 

 

“Yeah,” Marinette stepped back, clearing her throat. “It’s kind of hard to get the technique right at first unless you have someone to show you.” 

 

He turned and smiled at her over his shoulder. “You’re a good teacher.” 

 

Was he trying to make her melt into the floor? Because if so, it was working. 

 

Marinette took a shy step back to her own workstation, returning to kneading her own dough ball. “Watch what I do. I find it easier to learn by showing rather than telling. But I’ll let you try on your own for a bit and see how it goes” 

 

She sank her hands into her work, hoping her embarrassment wasn’t evident on her face. She could feel Adrien’s eyes watching her - which she had fully brought upon herself, but she still couldn’t help but feel self-conscious of her every move. 

 

They worked together in silence for a few minutes, Marinette’s hands falling into place by sheer muscle memory, and once she felt done she glanced over to see how Adrien was doing, only to see him comparing his dough to hers. Her perfectly shaped and stretched dough was still airy and bounced back, while his held every indent and fell flat. 

 

“I feel sorry for the customer who’ll have to eat the ones I made,” Adrien frowned sadly at his dough ball, which was dense and over-kneaded.

 

Marinette bit back a laugh. “I may have misled you a bit. Pan au chocolat is a two-day process. First, we make the dough like this, and afterwards, we chill it for at least a day. I wanted to show you how to do it all from start to finish, so I already have some chilled for the next step.” 

 

“Didn’t want me to bother your peaceful work two days in a row, huh?” Adrien said cheekily. 

 

Actually, she wouldn’t have minded having him there for quite a while. His presence alone was excellent motivation. And seeing his blissful smile as he took a bite into a perfectly made pastry was the cherry on top. 

 

“Well, um…” Marinette began awkwardly.

 

But he saved her the trouble. “I’m only joking,” he said. “I know sometimes these things have a lot of extra steps and waiting time. Thank you for giving me the full experience.” 

 

A few minutes later, they’d begun the tedious laminating process with the chilled dough and butter - which had, admittedly, always been Marinette’s favorite step, watching the pastry finally start taking shape. Knowing that the repeated folding and rolling would eventually come together to create hundreds of perfect flaky, buttery layers was the best part. 

 

“And then we chill one last time before brushing them with an egg wash and baking,” Marinette finished her last push of the rolling pin with a flourish. 

 

Adrien watched with rapt attention as she finished prepping the last of the croissant dough. His interest in the way she cracked an egg with one hand was admittedly too adorable for words. And once they finally popped the completed dough squares in the oven, Marinette prepared a congratulatory latte for each of them. They sank into the closest table’s chairs in comfortable silence, waiting for their creations to be completed. 

 

“Can I let you in on a secret?” Adrien asked after taking a long sip, a contemplative look on his face. “It’s, um… I hope it’s okay if I share something I’ve never really told anyone else.” 

 

Instantly, Marinette’s thoughts flashed to Tikki hiding in her pocket. Whatever secret Adrien might have, it’d be nothing compared to the things she could tell him. 

 

“I have a friend who loves your desserts, and I always bring him one. He’s… an interesting individual. Doesn’t have a lot of people to talk to other than me. But a couple months back, I shared one of my croissants with him once, and he couldn’t get enough. So I started coming by more often and making sure to order one for him too. I always saw the look on your face when I ordered, and I figured I should explain. You probably thought I was crazy.”

 

“Trust me, I’ve seen much stranger things from our customers. So… your friend is the reason you came by every day?” 

 

“At first, yes. But then the strangest thing happened. This girl that worked behind the counter always asked how my day was going, and I started to really look forward to talking to her. I thought I’d like to get to know her better, but it always felt weird trying to talk to her while she was working, but I figured I’d do my best. And then she invited me over to come and knead dough with her at six in the morning.”

 

“Oh.” Marinette’s hands stalled around her mug handle. 

 

“Yeah,” Adrien hummed. “So really things worked out a lot better than I thought they would.” 

 

“Well I’d love to meet this friend of yours,” Marinette fumbled for a change in topic, hoping to hide the fact that her heart felt like it had stopped beating in her chest. 

 

At that, Adrien smiled sadly. “Like I said, he’s not really a people person. But maybe someday I’ll get to tell you more about him.” 

 

“I’d like that.” 

 

Taking the finished pastries out from the oven meant that their morning was almost over, but the most important step still remained: piping each croissant full of chocolate. 

 

“I assume eating it straight from the piping bag is highly frowned upon,” Adrien joked, pointing the tip of the pastry bag towards his mouth. 

 

Marinette snorted. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

 

They compared their creations side-by-side: Marinette’s perfectly portioned and flawlessly filled, while Adrien’s had more personality and far too much chocolate for a single serving. In an odd way, they’d reflected their own personalities. An attempt at perfection, but if you looked closely, you could see the flaws and cracks that made them more enjoyable. 

 

“Thank you for today,” Adrien said, hanging up his apron glancing over his shoulder to give her a bashful grin. “I had fun.”

 

Marinette felt her face heat up. “Me too,” she said lamely. He turned back to face her. Instinctively, she leaned back ever so slightly, not knowing what else to do. Was he about to hug her? Kiss her ? Her face reddened even more. She stuck out her right hand, cringing as she did so. Was she really about to end this flirtatious one-on-one with a handshake ? 

 

As if he could feel the nerves radiating off her body, Adrien chuckled quietly, taking her outstretched hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. 

 

“Perhaps next time I can take you out on a proper date?” He asked, peering up at her through thick lashes, her hand still firmly clasped in his. 

 

Marinette felt like she was about to faint. The air felt thin. Was she still breathing at all? Or had she ascended to another plane of existence entirely? Where oxygen was unnecessary and all she needed was a beautiful, kind boy’s gentle hand to hold her down and ground her to reality? 

 

“I’d like that,” she breathed out slowly.

 

 

Later that evening, Marinette lay in bed staring at her phone in disbelief. Her heart thudded in her chest each time her eyes flickered to the most recent message in her inbox: Adrien’s number, with a confirmation of their picnic date they had agreed on two weeks from now, the first day their schedules aligned. 

 

She opened her recent calls and dialed Alya, if nothing else but to stop herself from staring at that message until it was burned into her memory. 

 

Naturally, Alya picked up right away. 

 

“Should I start shopping for my Maid of Honor dress now, or?” Marinette could practically hear Alya’s eyebrows wiggling suggestively over the phone. 

 

Marinette groaned. “We just hung out for a few hours, slow down.”

 

“Slow down? Baking together is like the most intimate thing I’ve ever heard of. It’s practically a marriage proposal. I can’t believe you came up with this idea all on your own, girl. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

 

“We kind of came up with the idea together,” Marinette insisted.

 

“Which just proves even more how good you two are together.” 

 

“We aren’t together-” 

 

“So what are his parents’ names?” Alya asked slyly. “Any siblings? Occupation? Yearly income? Blood type?” 

 

“Alya!” 

 

“This is important information!” she insisted. 

 

“You’re serious?”

 

“Deathly.”

 

“I don’t know his parents’ names,” Marinette said, realizing she hadn’t learned much about him at all. Despite spending hours together, they hadn’t exactly had time to get to know each other on that level. “Or if he has any siblings. His dad’s a designer, I guess? And judging by the way he dresses I guess he makes decent money. Or it could be because he’s a model and they let him keep the clothes-” 

 

“I’m sorry, you’re dating a model and you waited until now to share that information?” 

 

“ I didn’t know !” Marinette whisper-hissed. It was already late, and she’d hate to wake her parents over her and Alya’s squealing. “And we’re not dating, exactly. I don’t know what we are. Well, we have a date soon. So I guess we are?”

 

Alya squealed again, and Marinette pulled her phone away from her ear to stop the ringing. 

 

“And I’ll let you know any reasonable information when he tells me. I’m going to take this slow, get to know him naturally. I don’t want to mess this up, Alya. I really like him.” 

 

She heard Alya take a deep breath. “I’m really proud of you, you know that?” 

 

“I know,” Marinette smiled. She was proud of herself, too. 

 

 

Marinette woke to the sound of the world falling apart outside her window. 

 

The crash had been loud enough to wake even the heaviest of sleepers. She hadn’t even checked out her window to assess the situation. She sprang into action immediately - her joints would hate her later for not stretching beforehand - and transformed as she vaulted out of her skylight. 

 

The damage was evident immediately. The akuma was taller than any of the surrounding buildings. They had picked up two cars from the street and started play-crashing them into each other, screaming in delight as the front windshields shattered. 

 

Ladybug groaned. Could Hawkmoth please go just a few weeks without akumatizing another child? The bitter adults she could sometimes reason with (or at the very least, fool and confuse), but without the development of the prefrontal cortex, the uncontrollable rage and magical evil powers were that much harder to deal with. 

 

She pulled out her yo-yo and flipped it open to the communicator screen, pressing the call button and crossing her fingers. As she was expecting, the call went unanswered. She groaned. Typical.

 

“Chat Noir, it’s Ladybug,” she said, as if that weren’t obvious information. “This one can’t wait, I’m going to need a hand. Looks like the akuma is heading towards the Axe historique. I need you to be ready.” 

 

With that, she hung up and began her pursuit. 

 

The hardest part would be getting the kid’s attention while causing as little property damage as possible. Which, seeing as they were heading towards an avenue of historic, ancient buildings, seemed practically impossible. Thankfully, it was late enough at night that few civilians were out on the street and in the line of danger. 

 

Flinging herself across the rooftops, she tried her best to get ahead of the akumatized child, who was taking massive steps towards the Seine. With each damaging stomp, the child picked up another bicycle or car or park bench, flinging them away carelessly as if they were searching for one toy in particular and the architecture of Paris just wasn’t satisfying enough. 

 

She could use her lucky charm now and probably conjure whatever it was the kid was looking for, but if that didn’t work, she didn’t have a backup plan to hold them down yet. She tried calling out to them to no avail - it was as if the kid couldn’t hear her at all, so a noise-based distraction wouldn’t work. Tying them down with her yo-yo would only be plausible if she already knew where the akuma was and had Chat’s help to locate and destroy it. 

 

As she chased, she finally got a better look at the kid - he seemed to be a toddler, barely old enough to walk, and surely his newly massive stature didn’t help much for balance. He had a curious look on his face, as if he knew exactly what he was searching for and just hadn’t quite found it yet. A temper tantrum could be coming any second, and Ladybug hated to think what might happen if the careless tossing of cars and buses turned into intentional violence. 

 

The akumatized boy traveled nearly half a kilometer in a single step, leaving Ladybug breathless as she pursued. Finally, she saw an opportunity to try and slow him down. Skidding to a stop on the street below, she flung out her yo-yo and wrapped the other end around a lamppost, creating a tripwire. 

 

The akumatized child stepped forward, his feet placed perfectly, and Ladybug pulled tight. 

 

The string on her yo-yo snapped the instant his foot connected, flying back and nearly hitting her in the face. 

 

She groaned loudly, which - unfortunately - finally caught the boy’s attention. 

 

And he began to scream. 

 

The sound was catastrophically explosive, instantly giving Ladybug a headache and making her ears ring. She squeezed her eyes shut desperately, the sheer overstimulation overwhelming her. Attempting to take a single step in any direction was feeble at best. She was so disoriented that she lost all sense of awareness. It wasn’t until she realized the scream was getting louder that she noticed the feeling of weightlessness in her body. 

 

She opened her eyes and came face-to-face with gigantic, tear-brimmed eyes. The boy was holding her up, as if she was the next new toy he’d discovered. And unfortunately, he wasn’t happy with her either. 

 

Ladybug was tossed aside carelessly, flying through the air with zero way to orient herself. She braced for impact - and felt strong arms catch around her waist, just barely stopping her from slamming into the building next to her.

 

“I’ve got you,” Chat Noir said, lowering her to the rooftop gently. 

 

She looked her partner in the eye and held back a frustrated scream. “I called you half an hour ago, where have you been?”

 

Chat Noir stepped back and held his hands up defensively. 

 

“A thank you would suffice,” Chat said stiffly, looking to survey the damage. “So where’s the akuma?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Ladybug snapped. “I was too busy chasing the kid to stop and ask him where the big bad butterfly man affected him. Because it isn’t my job to do all the hard work and just wait for you to show up and deal the finishing blow. I needed your help.” 

 

Chat Noir sighed, hanging his head in shame. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

 

“This isn’t working,” Ladybug murmured.

 

Chat took a tentative step towards her. “That sounds like a breakup line. We can’t exactly do that.” 

 

“I know,” she replied. “So that means we’re going to have to make some changes. We’re an equal team, we need to start acting like it. Planning. Strategizing. Not only meeting up when the city is in imminent danger.” 

 

“But how can we plan that around our civilian lives?” Chat questioned. “I don’t know about you - and believe me, I don’t mean to pry - but I’m not a full-time superhero. I have… responsibilities.” 

 

“I don’t doubt that,” Ladybug said. “You and I are about the same age, you probably have a job and a family and a girlfriend-”

 

Chat tilted his head. “Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves-” 

 

“So we just need to make a schedule as best as we can. Make this side of our lives more of a priority. For the sake of Paris. And our partnership. Because believe it or not, I actually do like having a partner.” 

 

“And I want to be a better partner,” Chat agreed. “So let’s start with the situation at hand-”

 

With excellent timing, another crash sounded in the distance. Over the rooftops, Ladybug could just see the top of the giant boy’s head as he began to scream again, evidently still having not found what he was looking for. 

 

Ladybug locked eyes with Chat Noir and nodded. “First the akuma. Then we start acting like a real team.”

 

From that day on, Adrien’s schedule was busier than ever. If it was even possible to be more exhausted than usual, he’d found a way. 

 

Nowadays he woke with the sun, doing whatever daily regimen his skin, hair, and body required for work. More often than not, he’d be gently scolded by directors and photographers for the bags under his eyes and the sagging of his posture. Hours would drag by on set until he was freed, making a quick stop at the Dupain-Cheng bakery for his and Plagg’s now daily ritual and chatting excitedly to Marinette about their upcoming picnic date. 

 

It had become a highlight of his day - walking inside and seeing her face light up. The knowing eyes of her mother or father respectfully looking away, yet still twinkling with that sense of pride. He’d stopped asking for his orders now, instead taking the pre-packaged box that was already sitting prepared for him on the end of the counter each afternoon. Tom and Sabine, as kind as they were, always insisted that he didn’t have to pay, and he always slipped double the bills into one of the pockets of the aprons hanging on the wall, knowing they’d be found eventually. 

 

After that, he’d allow his kwami a moment of peace to enjoy his cheese danish before transforming and vaulting off into the night to join Ladybug. Akuma or no, they met up every evening. Some days to talk strategy, others to practice things the two of them had never had the time to sit down and formally work out, like alternative forms of travel.

 

He realized that swinging across town on Ladybug’s yo-yo was quite possibly his new favorite thing in the world. She didn’t seem to enjoy being launched into the air by his baton quite as much. 

 

On the day they practiced partnered defense strategy, he noticed something entirely new. Ladybug had conjured up a Lucky Charm - an insistent drone with heat-sensors and very precise lasers - to help simulate a chase situation, and Chat was practicing batting off the wings without damaging the drone’s body. Meanwhile, the lasers were programmed to aim at Ladybug as she attempted to bring down the wingless drone and capture it ‘peacefully’. 

 

It was going about as smoothly as it sounded on paper, which was not smoothly at all.

 

“Watch your left!” Chat yelled out, missing yet another swing. He couldn’t be sure that Ladybug had programmed it very fairly, since she had been insisting on a challenge. At this point, it was a miracle she hadn’t been hit by her own training device. 

 

Ladybug yelped as a laser nearly caught her shoulder, missing by mere inches. She shot a glare at Chat, who shrugged sheepishly. “I said watch your left.” 

 

“You’re supposed to be protecting me!” she called back.

 

“Trying my best!” he responded as the drone picked up speed once more, heading towards his partner. 

 

The look on Ladybug’s face flashed from frustration to genuine fear as she realized her precarious position. She didn’t have time to react before Chat sprang into action, tackling her to the ground before really realizing what he was doing. 

 

He landed on top of her clumsily as the drone crashed into the wall behind them, breaking into pieces and evaporating into a kaleidoscope of ladybugs as the Lucky Charm wore off, repairing the damage around them. 

 

That was the moment he noticed, for the first time ever, just how blue his partner’s eyes were. He stared down at her, almost in a trance, as the shock wore off. 

 

“Thanks,” she muttered awkwardly, her chest heaving under him. He cleared his throat, standing up and offering her a hand. 

 

They chose to let the moment pass without mention, but an odd feeling lingered in his brain that he couldn’t shake after that.

 

Despite the fumbles, he couldn’t deny that the training sessions were helping. Even viewing the city from above and scouting out possible hiding places to transform seemed silly at first, but the two of them both acknowledged that they’d only managed to keep their identities a secret this long out of sheer luck, and a little planning couldn’t hurt. 

 

His ‘nights’ usually ended around two or three in the morning, when he’d quietly climb back into his window, feeling exhausted yet incredibly proud of himself. Of course, waking up the next morning was difficult at best and torture at worst, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

 

Marinette was on her last leg. With the weather warming up and schools being out for the Spring holiday, work at the shop was busier than ever. And once her mornings and afternoons at the patisserie were done, that’s when the real work began.

 

The work in question was convincing her partner that she could handle the responsibility of being a part-time superhero. After her slip-up with the drone the night before, he’d taken to playfully teasing her during their hand-to-hand combat session. 

 

“I might be little,” Ladybug started, remembering Adrien’s encouraging words, “but I’ll have you know I’m a lot stronger than I look.” 

 

“Sure you are, bug,” Chat said. 

 

She puffed her cheeks out. Fine. Let him underestimate her. Ladybug, determined as ever, lifted her right hand, palm facing out towards Chat Noir. “Hit me.”

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

“You heard me,” she said, splaying out her fingers. “I want to see what it’s like when you stop throwing your punches. Hit the palm of my hand as hard as you can. And you can’t pull the ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ excuse because it’s just my hand. Though you probably wouldn’t hurt me anyway considering how much you underestimate my strength-” 

 

Chat Noir swung quick, landing fist to palm with a solid smack sound. He pulled back, horrified of the damage he’d done, but Ladybug only quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him.

 

“I know that’s not all you’ve got. Harder.” 

 

“Are you sure?” Chat took a moment to subtly rub his own knuckles. He thought he had hit pretty hard. 

 

“I’m positive,” Ladybug braced herself again. “You depend too much on your cataclysm, but if you still need to land a hit after you’ve used it up, you’re going to want to have a decent backup plan. So hit me again, harder. I can handle it.” 

 

He swung harder, this time making her recoil and shake her hand to ease the pain. “Better. Keep going.”

 

If anyone glanced up on this rooftop, she thought, they’d have zero context as to why he was repeatedly punching his partner at full strength, and she hated to think what the tabloids might have to say about it. But they kept up the exercise, alternating hands and switching between who was taking the hits. 

 

“That’s more like it,” Ladybug said, cracking her knuckles after her final throw. “Now admit it.”

 

“Admit what,” Chat said, massaging his own sore hands. 

 

“That I’m stronger than I look,” Ladybug said, smug. 

 

“Fine. I supposed I underestimated you,” he said. “Then again, so does everyone. So maybe we use that to our advantage.” 

 

Ladybug looked him up and down appreciatively. It was a welcome surprise to see just how seriously he was taking this. Half of their new strategies were his ideas, and she’d never thought of Chat being proactive. 

 

Perhaps she’d underestimated him, too. 

 

 

Marinette didn’t have Adrien’s order ready when he dropped in first thing the next morning. She’d gotten so accustomed to his afternoon visits that she startled at him walking through the door at opening. 

 

“Sorry,” he said, his smile betraying the fact that he was probably not feeling apologetic at all. “I had a long night and needed my fix a little early. Mind if I throw in an espresso with the usual?”

 

“Work kept you up?” she asked, working on the order almost robotically. 

 

“Yeah,” Adrien waved vaguely. 

 

“I completely understand,” Marinette said. “I had a long night too.” 

 

Adrien raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, are you still a student?”

 

“No,” she said, cursing herself internally. “Just a personal project I’ve been working on.”

 

It wasn’t a lie, exactly. 

 

She slid his coffee cup and plated pastry across the counter. Adrien immediately lifted the hot coffee to his lips, and Marinette flushed at the realization that she was staring at his mouth. 

 

Their date wasn’t for a few more days. She nearly vibrated with excitement at the thought of it. Then cringed at the fact that she was excited over the prospect of potentially kissing a boy who she gave a handshake to at their last formal encounter. Hopefully he found her awkwardness quirky and charming rather than just plain embarrassing. 

 

“You could probably go for one of these too,” he ventured. “With that personal project keeping you up and all.” 

 

Marinette glanced conspiratorially around the otherwise empty patisserie. 

 

“Well, if you say so,” Marinette said, grabbing her own cup.

 

Moments later, they were sitting at their usual table, relishing in each others’ company and gradually letting their coffee wake them. Each time Marinette stole a glance at Adrien, he was looking down at his cup and vice versa. But he kept a knowing smile on his face, as if he could feel her eyes on him and was incredibly pleased with himself for not breaking and looking back at her. 

 

All the while, Tikki and Plagg floated out of their respective hiding spots - Tikki from Marinette’s apron pocket, and Plagg from Adrien’s messenger bag -  making very intentional eye contact from underneath the table while their holders were none-the-wiser. They were so close it was painful not to interfere. But Tikki shook her head slowly at Plagg’s mischievous grin. Knowing the kwami of destruction, he was likely seconds from acting on the impulse to upend the table and cause any chaos that would lead to their blissfully oblivious owners realizing their presence. 

 

Patience was a virtue, one that both kwamis were quickly running out of. But while Plagg insisted that Ladybug and Chat Noir’s inevitable reunion was torture to wait for, Tikki knew it was only a matter of time. 

 

Seeing the way the two of them looked at each other even now, without their identities out in the open, made her positive that once the masks melted away, their bond could only grow stronger. 

 

 

When the next opportunity came to finally put all of their training to use, Chat Noir was nowhere to be found. Adrien knew this because the next akuma attack happened in the middle of his photoshoot. 

 

He was blinking the artificial sun from his eyes, wishing the minutes would pass by sooner, when the ceiling of the studio came crashing in. Thankfully, the center of the collapse was in an emptier corner of the building, but dirt and chunks of drywall and brick still flew in every direction, knocking people and furniture off balance. 

 

Adrien cursed, pulling the photographer behind him out of pure instinct. Surveying the room, he didn’t see any convenient places to sneak off and transform. The wide open space was littered with backdrops and lighting equipment, nothing big enough to shield him and allow Chat Noir to jump into battle without being completely obvious. 

 

A flash of red streaked through the dust and debris, and Ladybug appeared before the crew, prattling off her usual safety measures. 

 

“Everyone to the nearest exit!” She called out. “Remain calm, the heroes have this under control.” 

 

She surveyed the room, watching as everyone scrambled to their feet and rushed towards the doors. But Adrien wasn’t going to let her handle this alone, mask or no mask. He stayed in place, helping usher everyone from the room, until only a handful of people remained. 

 

“Take shelter if you can,” Ladybug was saying, flinging her yo-yo out and ascending back up to the rooftop, “but move away from the akuma’s line of sight! We’ll have this taken care of in just a few-”

 

Her eyes locked on his. And she fumbled - losing her grip entirely and dropping a few feet towards the ground before ungracefully catching herself in her own strings, hanging awkwardly. 

 

Adrien surged forward, ready to catch her until he realized he should probably let her handle this part on her own. Still, the instinct to save his partner didn’t vanish when the suit did. 

 

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

 

“Yes,” she said, almost like a question. Was the red of her cheeks just from hanging at her odd upside-down angle or was she… actually blushing? “Go ahead and clear out, Chat Noir and I have things under control.” 

 

His mind flashed back to that night on the rooftop, saving her from the drone. The way her body heaved as she took a deep breath, her bluebell eyes locked on his. And yet, despite the danger of the situation, she’d stayed calm.

 

Right now, though, as she hung suspended in front of him, he could see the nervousness behind her eyes. As if her fight-or-flight instincts had shut down entirely and she had no other option but to freeze in place. The immediate danger was over, so why was she so out of it? 

 

Likely because, as usual, she was playing off the fact that her partner wasn’t there to help her. Guilt bubbled up in Adrien’s chest. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. 

 

“I’ll be safe,” he said, backing up towards the doors. “Thank you for always saving the day, Ladybug. The people of Paris appreciate you.” 

 

Her face turned even redder, if that was even possible, as she pulled herself upright and nodded firmly, flying up to the rooftop with one final tug on her yo-yo string. 

 

Finally alone, Adrien sprang into action, running to grab Plagg from his bag and transforming as quickly as possible. 

 

 

Thirty minutes later, with the akuma taken down and the city once again safe, Paris’ heroes took refuge together in an alleyway - one of the safe spots they’d scouted from the rooftops a little over week ago, out of any immediate sight lines and dark enough to conceal them.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Chat hung his head, ashamed. “I should have gotten here sooner.” 

 

“It’s okay,” Ladybug said quietly. “Really, Chat. I know you’re trying harder.” 

 

“I um… I heard you had some trouble?” If she caught on to what had really happened, he was completely screwed. But he couldn’t help but venture and ask. “I heard someone talk about a roof cave-in somewhere?” 

 

“Oh,” Ladybug bit her lip, staring at the ground. He wasn’t imagining it, and it wasn’t a trick of the darkness, she was embarrassed . “I ran into a friend I wasn’t expecting to see and I was worried they had gotten hurt, but it’s all fine. Really, Chat, I know I gave you a lot of trouble before about not showing up, but I understand that things happen.” 

 

Chat tilted his head, confused. Obviously, he was the friend in question. But he - as Adrien - wasn’t friends with Ladybug.

 

Or was he? 

 

A flash of bright blue came and went in his memory, quick as a lightning strike.

 

“I’m glad it turned out okay,” Chat said slowly. Then, a thought occurred to him. “I’m sure he was grateful you came to his rescue.” 

 

Ladybug smiled wistfully. “I think he was,” she confirmed. 

 

She probably hadn’t even realized that the subtle switch from they to he held so much weight. But it confirmed so much. Still, she could have been talking about anyone. Or maybe Chat was just kidding himself. 

 

Their Miraculous beeped in unison, signaling a temporary end to this conversation. But if his suspicions were true, perhaps there was a way he could get some answers.

 

 

Plagg was practically brimming with excitement at the idea. For the first time in his millennia-long life, he was happy that his owner had woken him up before sunrise. Any plans that involved a little chaos and mischief, he was all for.

 

“I just want to see if she’ll react,” Adrien said, looking wistfully out of his window in the direction of the Dupain-Cheng family bakery. “I’m not crazy to think that they look similar, right? It would be a one in a million coincidence, but maybe there’s a chance?”

 

“Or maybe Ladybug finally realized that you’re not terrible to look at right around the same time the girl with the best desserts in Paris did,” Plagg said coyly. “I guess you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

 

Adrien frowned at his kwami. “You know something I don’t.”

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

“I know lots of things you don’t,” Plagg shrugged. 

 

The Guardian had many rules in place about not revealing the Miraculous holders’ identities. There were no rules that said a Kwami could not tease their holder mercilessly during their so-far fruitless attempt at revealing said identities. Plagg had to make this fun for himself somehow. 

 

Evidently, Adrien didn’t appreciate his sarcasm, as in the next moment he was unceremoniously sucked into the Miraculous of the black cat, and Chat Noir took off into the sunrise, his destination clear.

 

He dropped unceremoniously onto the sidewalk in front of the Dupain-Cheng bakery, his figure still partially obscured in the shadows. There, he saw Marinette in her usual spot being the counter, filling pastries with a cherry compote. 

 

If anyone were around, they’d see a mildly lovestruck cat staring wistfully at the object of his affections. Or at least that's what Chat hoped it looked like. More realistically, it probably looked like the poor girl working at the bakery had a super-powered stalker. He hesitated with his hand at the door, knowing that it was unlocked if he wanted to make his presence known. But just because Adrien was welcome didn’t mean Chat was.

 

Chat shook his head, frustrated. If he had any future with Marinette - and for the first time in a very long time, the thought of a future didn’t terrify or bore, but instead, delight him - she would have to know eventually that Chat and Adrien were one and the same.

 

Still, he felt unwelcome just walking in. So he settled for knocking two clawed knuckles against the glass door.

 

Marinette jumped, and Chat immediately took a defensive step back, holding his hands up apologetically. She stared out into the dark for a little too long, as if trying to figure out if what she was seeing were true. At last, she waved him inside.

 

Chat sheepishly pushed the door open, suddenly aware of just how odd this plan was. Marinette had never even met Chat Noir, as far as his memory served. He’d remember someone as remarkable as her. The only way she’d make the connection would be if he made it undeniably obvious. And then, he wasn’t sure if her making that connection would help or hurt his theory. 

 

“Sorry to barge in,” he began, internally cringing at the way he sauntered through the door. The suave, charming side of Chat Noir that the public saw was an impulsive choice he’d made years ago and was currently stuck with. He’d somehow managed to make ‘massive flirt without a care in the world’ his alter ego’s personality, and he only hated himself a little bit for it.  

 

“Don’t be,” Marinette said. “We aren’t open yet, but uh- I’m sure it would be weird if you came in during regular hours so you dropping in now is…fine.” The speech died in her throat as he approached. 

 

Chat slinked closer to the glass display case, taking his time surveying the options while Marinette watched him carefully. Her gaze was steady, focused. It gave nothing away. 

 

Was he fooling himself? 

 

There was only one way to find out. 

 

“Could I have one of these?” he finally asked, pointing at the pan au chocolat and meeting her gaze evenly. 

 

There it was. The tiniest flicker of her calm facade breaking. If he hadn’t been waiting for it, he would have missed it. But it was there in her blue eyes, clear as day. He couldn’t help the way his mouth quirked into a smirk as Marinette nodded. 

 

“Of course,” she said. “Anything for one of Paris’ heroes.” 

 

Chat watched in silence as she boxed up the pastry and slid it across the counter with an air of finality. 

 

“Thanks,” he said, his voice coming out scratchy. “I, um… I’ll be honest, I didn’t think this through, I don’t have any money on hand.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” she smiled softly. “Think of it as a thank you. For saving the city. Which you should probably get back to doing, don’t you think?”

 

Chat coughed awkwardly into his fist. “Right. Thank you Ma- mademoiselle.” 

 

With that, he unceremoniously tucked the box under his arm and quickly backed out of the front doors of the patisserie, giving a small salute as a goodbye. He raced across the city back to his home, chastising himself the entire way. What had he been thinking? 

 

Dropping in through his window, he let his transformation drop and slid down to the floor of his bedroom dejectedly. Plagg wasted no time in using his tiny hands to pry open the box and help himself to Chat Noir’s delicious loot. 

 

“Am I crazy?” he asked Plagg, though it felt more like he was talking to his walls.

 

Plagg, munching through bites of pan au chocolat, muttered sarcastically, “You’ll have to be more specific.” 

 

“I don’t know, she might have seemed like she picked up on it but now I’m not sure. What if she’s not Ladybug and now I’ve just made her uncomfortable?” 

 

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Plagg swallowed loudly, evidently not understanding the gravity of the situation whatsoever. Or simply not caring. Then again, Plagg never seemed to care about doing anything potentially destructive, so Adrien would have to take his advice with a grain of salt. Or many, many grains. 

 

“Just out of the blue?” Adrien raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think that’s a terrible idea?” 

 

“Sure, what’s the worst that can happen, she says no and you move on with your flirting?”

 

Or she says yes, and it turns both of their worlds upside down forever. Or perhaps, right side up. The thought thrilled and terrified him all at once. 

 

 

Adrien arrived for their date precisely when he said he would. The last time they’d talked had been deciding on last-minute details over the phone, and he’d promised to come by and pick her up for a casual yet fun time, as long as she promised to bring her appetite. 

 

Marinette, never one to take things very casually, had agonized over her hair and outfit for nearly an hour that morning before deciding on piling her hair into a bun and pulling on a blouse and skirt in soft pastel shades, hoping she wasn’t overdressed for whatever he had planned. 

 

When he walked through the doors, Marinette saw that Adrien had traded his messenger bag for a wicker basket and had a folded blanket tucked underneath his arm. Tom and Sabine spared Marinette the extra embarrassment by kindly watching the greeting from afar, but she still could see the proud smiles on their faces as she greeted Adrien with a hug. 

 

“Ready to go?” he asked. “I packed a few things for a picnic, and I was thinking we’d have lunch in the park then swing back here for dessert?” 

 

Marinette couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face. How had she gotten so lucky? “That sounds…perfect.” 

 

Minutes later, they’d found a quiet corner at the Place des Vosges. Adrien spread out a selection of breads, cheeses, and fruits for them to snack on while they people watched. The blanket beneath them was comfortable, the weather was perfect. Marinette wished she could freeze this moment and save it in her memory. 

 

“I’m glad your parents let you have the day off,” Adrien mused. “I wonder how they’re handling the shop without the extra hands.” 

 

“Oh please,” Marinette rolled her eyes. “This is probably the first time in history that they’re happy to get rid of me. I bet they’re gossiping with the other patrons right now about what we’re doing.”

 

“They’re really that invested?” Adrien asked, popping a grape into his mouth. “I mean- don’t get me wrong, I think it’s wonderful how close you are with your family, I just can’t imagine…”

 

“Well it’s not like we’ve been subtle,” Marinette blushed. “A lot of the regulars have asked me about you.”

 

“And you’ve told them all about how I make terrible croissants and would happily eat my bodyweight in chocolate without a second thought, right?” 

 

Marinette turned to look at him, suddenly noticing how close they were sitting. She shyly reached out and placed her hand over his. “Actually, I’ve told them how kind you are. And how I was really excited to get to know you.” 

 

Adrien looked down at their hands and smiled softly. 

 

“I can’t wait to tell people about you,” he said quietly. 

 

Marinette felt the warmth flush through her body, all the way down to her toes. Adrien rearranged his hand in hers so that they interlocked properly and held her gaze. Blue to green. And something in his expression shifted.

 

“Actually, I had a question for you. It’s totally okay if you’re not ready to answer it yet, but I just had a feeling that the answer might be yes,” Adrien rambled on, “and if it is, that would be really great because I think it would work out well for the both of us.” 

 

“Okay, what’s the question?” Marinette asked innocently, her eyes flickering downward at his lips. Two weeks ago, the idea had seemed far too bold, but now, she was hoping that he was thinking the same thing she was. 

 

Adrien leaned forward. Her eyes fluttered closed.

 

And that’s when a scream sounded out across the park. 

 

Marinette’s eyes flew open, just in time to see a purple butterfly settle into a nearby woman’s glasses, Hawkmoth’s malicious transformation overtaking her immediately. Her husband yelled for help desperately as she began morphing into a nightmare. 

 

“I need to go!” Marinette shouted, at the same time Adrien said, “You need to get somewhere safe!”

 

They both pulled back, curious looks crossing both of their faces. 

 

“ I need to get somewhere safe? What about-” Marinette asked. 

 

Adrien cut her off. “Where do you need to go so suddenly?” 

 

Marinette opened her mouth to answer, then promptly snapped her jaw shut again. Adrien’s eyes widened. 

 

“How about this,” she blurted out. “Get this taken care of first, ask questions later?” 

 

“Works for me,” Adrien stood, helping Marinette to her feet with their hands still intertwined. With a tug, he pulled her in close and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before dropping her hand and darting off in the opposite direction of the akuma. “Stay safe!” He yelled over his shoulder before vanishing behind a building. 

 

Marinette allowed herself three whole seconds of flustered confusion - and triumphant frustration - before rushing away from the crowds into a nearby alleyway. 

 

As she paused to catch her breath, Tikki floated out from her pocket, a curious look on her face. 

 

“Not a word, Tikki,” Marinette snapped. “Let’s get this over with. Spots on!” 

 

 

Ladybug landed hand on the rooftop next to Chat Noir. He stood, casually leaning against his baton, whistling to himself as if he’d been waiting for her arrival forever.

 

“What’s the damage?” She asked. The fact that she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye was frustrating enough without his smug grin. How could he be so calm?

 

Chat looked her up and down, his smile widening. “You look annoyed,” he ventured sarcastically. Almost like you were in the middle of something.” 

 

“I could say the same about you,” Ladybug bit back. Two could play at this game, if he were so insistent. 

 

“I’ll have you know I was on a date,” Chat sighed wistfully. 

 

“Oh, really?” She stood up to meet his gaze. “So was I.” 

 

“What a strange coincidence.” 

 

The akumatized woman, evidently a woman scorned, was still down in the park, wildly chasing after the man who had screamed as she became possessed. In her transformation, she had gained six extra spindly limbs and was currently attempting to trap her husband in her spider-like webs. Civilians had vacated the open area quickly, and no one seemed in immediate danger. If they were lucky, she might catch herself in her own net and save them the trouble. 

 

“She’s a baker,” Chat Noir continued, completely unphased by the scene unfolding before them. 

 

“He’s a model.”

 

“How’d you manage to score someone like that?” 

 

“I guess I’m always pretty lucky,” Ladybug said, winding up her yo-yo, still not breaking eye contact with her partner. “The akuma is in her glasses.” 

 

“I know,” he said, moving closer.

 

“Hmm, that’s interesting. How would you possibly know, unless you saw her get akumatized?”

 

“I could ask you the same question, bug.” 

 

“Maybe I’m just really intuitive.” 

 

“Or maybe we need to talk.” They were practically nose-to-nose now, a practical mirror image to how closely Marinette had been sitting to Adrien on their picnic blanket. 

 

And then, Chat Noir - ever the frustrating partner, despite all of their work to try and be better teammates - simply winked and vaulted off in pursuit of the akuma, leaving Ladybug alone on the rooftop.

 

 

Capturing an akuma was difficult enough without the overwhelming thought of how badly she wanted to both kiss and kill her partner fighting in her mind. But twenty minutes later, with a flurry of ladybugs clearing all of the webbing from the trees, the battle was over.

 

Chat Noir bid the newly reconciled couple adieu, then returned to the spot where Ladybug was waiting for him. Right next to the picnic that Adrien had set up, still sitting perfectly untouched thanks to the magic of the Miraculous. The park was otherwise empty, leaving the two of them completely alone.

 

“So you said we needed to talk?” Ladybug started. Her earrings beeped in warning, but she wasn’t letting him get away this time. 

 

Evidently, he wasn’t looking to leave anytime soon. He nodded, slowly but surely. “I think we’re both wondering the same thing about one another, aren’t we?” 

 

So this was the moment. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he could hear it. Her fingertips trembled. Her voice came out hoarse, barely audible, “I don’t have to wonder anymore, I think I already know.” 

 

Ladybug took a tentative step forward, tilting her head up so she wouldn’t break eye contact. Those striking shades of green. How did she not see it before? 

 

Chat surged forward as well, leaving very little space between their bodies. “In that case, how about we pick up where we left off?”

 

Ladybug swallowed hard, hoping to hide the tremble in her voice. “Ready when you are.”

 

With her permission, he closed the gap between them, kissing her softly. A leather-gloved hand reached up to cup her face, and she melted into his touch. Behind her closed eyes, she saw a bright flash of green, and Chat’s rough claws vanished, leaving a soft hand in its place. Soundlessly - or perhaps behind her joyous sigh - she willed her transformation to drop. 

 

Feeling breathless, she let the kiss linger for a moment longer before pulling away, keeping her eyes squeezed shut, still leaving her arms wrapped around her partner’s shoulders in a shy embrace.

 

“I knew it was you,” Adrien’s voice whispered low in her ear.

 

Marinette felt happy tears threatening to form in her eyes. She couldn’t help but laugh in relief. 

 

A small voice piped up from somewhere next to them “You two are lucky no one was watching, or you’d have a lot of explaining to do to the rest of the city, too.” 

 

They broke apart, a mess of flushed faces and nervous smiles. Tikki floated into view, giving Marinette a stern look. Next to her floated another kwami, who could only be-

 

“Oh. This is that friend I told you about,” Adrien waved his hand. “Marinette, this is Plagg.” 

 

“And this is Tikki,” Marinette said, realization dawning on her face. She glared at her kwami, accusatory. “That’s why you wanted me to talk to him, wasn’t it? You knew all along that he was Chat Noir.” 

 

“And I knew you were Ladybug,” Plagg said in a sing-song voice. “Guilty as charged. You’re welcome, by the way. It would have taken you two years to figure it out if we hadn’t humbly sacrificed our time towards pushing you two together.” 

 

From the corner of her eye, Marinette could see groups of people gradually making their way back to the park, ready to resume whatever they’d been doing before the akuma broke out. Marinette was - obviously - very eager to finish what she had started today too. 

 

Adrien, noticing the look on her face, nodded. “We should find somewhere quiet to catch up. Have any ideas?” 

 

“Well,” Marinette hummed, “there’s this bakery across the street that usually isn’t too busy this time of day. I know the owners and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us taking one of the tables for a while.” 

 

As the afternoon melted into evening and then night, Marinette and Adrien - Ladybug and Chat Noir - sat with their heads bent low and close to one another. Hours passed like seconds as years-long partners and newly acquainted friends shared fresh warm pastries and hot cups of coffee. And finally, once the Dupain-Cheng patisserie had closed its doors to visitors for the night, Tikki and Plagg floated up from their hiding places under the table and joined their Miraculous holders, nibbling sweet crumbs from their plates, satisfied that they had meddled just enough for things to work out. 

 

In the morning, Adrien would stop by the patisserie to wish Marinette a good morning. During her breaks, she’d bring pastries to the studio where he was scheduled. At night, Ladybug and Chat Noir would patrol the city together, sneaking kisses in the moonlight whenever the mood struck. 

 

It was a perfectly balanced partnership. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.