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“Hey,” Marinette said, breaking away from her conversation with Alya and Nino to greet Adrien as he ascended the front steps of Collège Françoise Dupont. “Happy birthday, sunshine.”
Adrien smiled, wrapping his arms around Marinette’s waist. “Thanks, princess.”
She cupped his cheek with one hand and pulled him down for a long, languid kiss, both letting out contented hums as their lips met. When the burning in Marinette’s lungs eventually became too much to ignore, she broke the kiss and turned her head to one side, nuzzling Adrien’s cheek for several seconds before resting her head on his shoulder.
“Think you can get away tonight?” Marinette murmured so only he could hear.
“Probably around seven,” Adrien whispered. “Meet you at our sanctuary?”
Marinette smiled. “See you there.”
Alya and Nino came over to join them.
“Happy birthday, dude!” Nino said. “So, any word on the party yet?”
Adrien sighed. “Looks like it’s not gonna happen.”
Nino threw his hands up. “C’mon, seriously? Is your dad for real, dude?”
Adrien shrugged. “He likes his privacy, and it’s kind of short notice to arrange a party somewhere other than the house.”
Nino harrumphed. “I think your dad and I are gonna have to have a little chat.”
“Nino, it’s fine,” Adrien assured him.
“No, it’s not, dude,” Nino replied. “It’s your birthday. You deserve to have a little fun.”
“Nino, nothing you say is going to change his mind,” Adrien pointed out. “I’ve already accepted it. Please just let this drop.”
“You shouldn’t have to accept it, dude,” Nino responded. “Marinette, back me up on this.”
Marinette bit her lip. “Nino…there’s a reason we haven’t told his father about our relationship. I mean, we’re not actively hiding it from him, but we haven’t explicitly told him we’re dating, either, and it’s primarily for this exact reason. Is it unfair? Yes, but it’s not worth getting into a spitting contest with Gabriel Agreste over.”
“Maybe not for you,” Nino replied, “but I don’t have to worry about him being a bigwig in the industry I’m trying to break into.”
“Nino—”
But the other boy turned and marched off determinedly before Adrien could say anything more.
“Honey, I’m home!” Adrien called, pulling the sanctuary door shut behind him.
“I’m right here,” Marinette grumbled from the sofa. “You don’t have to yell.”
Taking in her sullen demeanor, Adrien put a hand to the back of his neck and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh no, this is about me dancing with Chloé at the party, isn’t it? Marinette, I’m sorry—”
“You promised, Adrien,” she told him plaintively. “You promised me you wouldn’t let her keep being so handsy with you.”
“I know, Marinette,” Adrien replied, coming over to sit next to her on the sofa. He leaned forward morosely, elbows on his knees and chin resting in his palms. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t think I could get away to transform without being noticed, and I thought if playing along in civilian form almost worked for you with Evillustrator, maybe it could work for me with the Bubbler.”
“Operative word there being almost,” Marinette pointed out. “And even so, did it have to be Chloé? Couldn’t you have danced with Alya, or Alix, or hell, even Sabrina—”
“Can you really picture Alix slow dancing with anyone, let alone me?” Adrien asked.
“No, I suppose not,” Marinette admitted, chuckling despite herself, “but the point is, you know seeing you two together ticks all my insecurities. You’re Adrien Agreste, teen heartthrob and supermodel extraordinaire; she’s Chloé Bourgeois, the girl who has everything…blonde, beautiful, rich, powerful, not afraid to flaunt her figure; and I’m just the baker’s daughter.”
“No, you’re not,” Adrien told her, reaching over to take her left hand in his right. “You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng, up-and-coming young fashion designer skilled enough to impress the infamously unpleasable Gabriel Agreste. And you did legitimately impress him with that hat of yours. Believe me, he wouldn’t have hesitated to shut down that contest without declaring a winner if he didn’t think any of the entries were worthy of being associated with the Gabriel brand. And truth be told, all those things you listed about Chloé…to me, they’re not really anything special. Bottle blondes pumped full of silicone are a dime a dozen in the modeling industry. Anyone can look just as superficially attractive as her with enough time under the knife and in the makeup chair. Girls like you who are just so effortlessly beautiful without needing all that don’t come along every day, and for me to be so lucky to find one with such a beautiful personality to match her looks…Chloé may be my first friend, but you’re my girlfriend. You will always be more important to me.”
Marinette looked up at him with wide eyes. “You think I’m prettier than Chloé?”
“Yes,” Adrien whispered, turning his body so he could look directly at her. “Marinette…you’re the only girl I can truly be myself with, the only girl who gets to see my Chat Noir side knowing that it’s me, and you’ve accepted that part of me, made me feel comfortable not having to be the perfect demure little model when I’m with you, and that means so much more to me than some dance.”
“Well, the dance means something to me,” Marinette responded. “I know you get dragged to these high-society events often enough that dancing with random girls is probably normal to you, but it isn’t to me. I’ve never danced with a boy before, and to see you with her, see the boy who should be dancing with me instead dancing with the girl who’s bullied me for years…that hurt, Adrien.”
“And I truly am sorry,” Adrien said. “I…let me make it up to you, Marinette. Let’s dance, right now.”
Marinette smiled and stood up from the sofa. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Adrien pulled up a slow instrumental piece on his phone, then set it on the coffee table, stood, and wrapped his arms around Marinette’s shoulders. Her arms wrapped around him in return, hands resting on the small of his back, and she nestled her head into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh as they gently swayed in time with the music.
“Is it as good as you imagined?” Adrien asked softly.
“Better,” Marinette murmured. “Having our first dance here, with no one else around…I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll happily dance with you in front of anyone who wants to watch, but this just feels so much more intimate, you know?”
Adrien tilted his head down and kissed the junction of Marinette’s neck and shoulder. “Yeah. No one watching, no distractions. I can just focus on you. My beautiful Bugaboo.”
Marinette blushed. “Thanks, chaton.”
They danced for another few minutes until the song ended, then Marinette lifted her head and gently pressed her lips to Adrien’s.
“That was wonderful,” she whispered.
“Yeah, it was,” Adrien agreed. “For what it’s worth, Marinette…you’re a thousand times better dance partner than Chloé.”
Marinette smiled. “Adrien…I forgive you for dancing with her. I know you didn’t do it to hurt me on purpose. Just please try to be more considerate in the future. I don’t mean that you have to only ever dance with me, it’s just that with the history between me and Chloé in particular…I know she’s your friend, and maybe we can come to some kind of understanding in the future, but at least right now, it’s a sore spot for me.”
Adrien nodded. “I understand, and I’ll keep that in mind going forward.”
“Good,” Marinette said. “Now come on upstairs. I’ve got a couple presents for you.”
Adrien followed her up to their bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Marinette sat down on the opposite side of the bed and opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Taking two boxes out of the drawer, she set the smaller one on top of the nightstand, then turned around and handed Adrien the larger box.
“Ooh, I wonder what this could be?” he asked, giving the box an experimental shake.
Marinette giggled. “You know you can just open it, right?”
“I know, I just…don’t get to do this very often,” Adrien replied. “Hmm, I didn’t hear anything, so it’s either something that fits snugly in the box or it’s soft enough not to make noise when it moves around.”
He looked up at Marinette, struggling to keep a straight face, and asked in the most emotionless voice he could manage, “Is it socks?”
Marinette bit her lip to keep from completely dissolving into laughter. “Silly kitty. Just open it!”
“Alright, alright,” Adrien muttered good-naturedly, rolling his eyes as he undid the ribbon tied around the box. “Be that way.”
Taking off the lid, he lifted out a length of sky-blue fabric about as wide as the box.
“Wow,” he breathed. “Did you make this yourself?”
Marinette nodded. “It’s a scarf. Do you like it?”
Adrien lifted the scarf to his face and pressed it against his cheeks. “It’s so soft.”
He then wound the scarf around his neck and placed one hand on his hip, fixing Marinette with a distinctly Chattish grin. “How do I look?”
“Incredible,” Marinette responded. With a smirk, she added, “How could you not when you’re wearing a Marinette original?”
“How indeed,” Adrien said with a laugh. “Thank you, Marinette. It’s meowvelous.”
Marinette chuckled, then retrieved the smaller box from the nightstand and handed it to him. “This is for you, too.”
Seeing the logo of the Dupain-Cheng bakery on the top of the box, Adrien remarked, “Probably shouldn’t shake this one, should I?”
He took off the lid to reveal a half-dozen macarons lined up down one side of the box. He then picked up the macaron closest to him and popped it in his mouth, closing his eyes and letting out an appreciative hum as he chewed. “Passionfruit. My favorite.”
When Adrien opened his eyes again, he saw Marinette frowning at the box in confusion. “Something wrong?”
“There were supposed to be a dozen,” she told him.
Adrien shrugged. “Not that big a deal. It’d have been kind of awkward to carry this box halfway across the city as Chat Noir to get it home anyway.”
Adrien watched as Marinette’s look of confusion changed to dawning realization and then righteous fury, her fists clenching at her sides as her face reddened dangerously.
“Marinette?” Adrien asked worriedly.
He could practically see the steam coming out of her ears as she screamed, “Tikki!”