Chapter Text
~ ~ ~
With Tikki clearly dozing on her shoulder, Marinette closes her sketchbook and stands up from her desk. She carefully scoops the little kwami into her hand and climbs the ladder to her bed, depositing the red spirit onto her favorite spot in the middle of Mari's pink pillow. Tikki smiles in her sleep and balls up, antennae curling around her feet. Marinette herself isn't sleepy, and she glances back down at her desk. It's late July, première having ended only a couple weeks ago. She's been bunched up between shifts at the bakery downstairs, a few outings and lunch dates with Alya when she can manage it on the weekends, and the rest of her time has been spent here in her room. It's cluttered with a lot of half-finished clothing designs, the earliest iteration of a summer skirt on a dress form in the corner. Her sewing machine needs a new needle again, it's gotten so much use recently. It's time consuming, but she does enjoy it, and wants to have a wide portfolio of work to display to employers next year when she's done with lycée.
The days have been plenty warm but at night and with the river right outside her window, the breeze can be pretty chilly. Marinette heads downstairs to the kitchen for a few minutes, knowing both her parents are already fast asleep. Bakers rise early after all. Heh. Soon she's back upstairs with a teapot steeping jasmine, and a few cookies and pastries on a plate as a late-night snack. Back in her room, she sets the tray on her desk for a minute to pull on a loose red sweater over the thin camisole she wears to bed in the summer with her pink pyjama pants. Ladybug slippers are the last acquisition other than adding her sketchbook to the tray, and carefully she climbs up to and on top of her bed, unlocking the trapdoor to the roof balcony. The tray is set on her little table, and scooted over to the sling chair so she can munch and draw comfortably.
For some ten or fifteen minutes it's very quiet. It's late at night, past midnight at least, and there's very little traffic on her street. Not many people are visiting the bakery or her former collège, or the cathedral on the other side of the river. Marinette can hear the water flowing, and the breeze over the rooftops, and stands up to lean against the rail. The few lights that stay lit on the buildings at night reflect and dimple in the waves, and as she watches she sees a familiar silhouette break the pattern in the reflection. She looks up in time to catch the form of Chat Noir tensing up on the roof of the cathedral, about to vault off and away to the next. Before he extends his baton, she calls to him without thinking.
"Chaton! Hé, Chat Noir!"
He startles at his name, the magical cat ears atop his head flicking this way and that until they train in on her voice over the echoes between the buildings. She gives him a soft wave. He doesn't usually seem to hesitate; it's as though he's just now realizing where he is. After a few seconds though, he takes a step or two back and makes the jump over the river, alighting as softly as ever on the railing next to her. Involuntarily she had taken a step back as well, to accommodate presence of another person on her little balcony. They'd both grown up since the first time Chat Noir the superhero had paid her a visit, a few weeks after the events of the akuma victim Le Dessinateur.
"Bonsoir, Princesse."
Marinette smiles at the nickname he's used for her over the years since that first time, but the smile fades as she realizes he isn't reciprocating it. She watches his eyes flit around the rooftop - sees her sketchpad on the ground beside the chair, pen forgotten and uncapped; notes the tea (jasmine, he can smell it even over the roses in bloom in the planter that hangs behind him on the railing) and the various baked goods on their tray - and then linger on her a few seconds longer than everything else, taking in her hair - undone but each pigtail's worth settled over the front of each shoulder - and crimson sweater and okay, there, apparently the ladybug socks peeking out from the pyjamas got a little smile out of him.
"Bonsoir, Minou."
With a single finger and a petite smile she asks him to wait, and ducks back inside and downstairs for a second teacup. When she comes back up he's crouched by her striped chair, her sketchpad unopened but resting in one hand, the now re-capped pen in the other. She pours him tea and offers him a chocolate scone, and they trade their respective items. It takes several minutes for him to unwind whatever problem he'd been coiling himself around, and Marinette doesn't rush him, choosing instead to lounge on the chair beside him, nibbling at an almond macaron, the only one she'd dared to swipe.
"Marinette, how do you tell someone you like them?"
"Eh? Wh- you're asking me? I've never- I couldn't- I can't, I- I mean I've tried ahaha .. ha.. I don't know, I've tried, but I get all- all nervous and forget how words work, and how my mouth works because I'm looking at his mouth, oh my god I mean um, and I generally just- just make myself look like an idiot, haha!"
(("I've only ever been asked by Nath-- the akumatized Nathanaël. Which, although weird and kind of flattering, was - I mean - that doesn't count right, there's a certain- he was, you know, coerced. He wouldn't even have come up to me otherwise, if Le Papillon hadn't brought out that side of him, right? I don't think anyone else has asked me... and the entire world knows I can't talk to Adrien. Except for Adrien. Oh my god."))
Marinette stumbles over her thoughts and words, speaking at the same time as thinking but thankfully not confusing too many of her thoughts into what she was saying aloud. She had been gesticulating with her half-eaten macaron during her babbled reply, and busies herself by munching on it, daring to meet the gaze from Chat she could feel upon her. Her cheeks are warm, and she bets he can see it with his night vision. He's looking at her in a combination of incredulity and complete seriousness, oh god he probably thinks she's overreacting to what should be a simple question for most people - people that can form complete sentences around the person they've been crushing on since the first year of collège. After a minute he wipes the confusion off his face with a very un-Chat-like, gentle smile and turns away to gaze over the roofs of Paris, then down at his mostly-ignored teacup.
"I doubt very much of that's true. You're very smart, Marinette."
There's a prolonged silence. It isn't exactly awkward, but rather .. pregnant with the questions Marinette wants to ask, that she's not sure she should ask. They've met like this several times over the years since the first - does that make them friends? How much prying is it okay to do if you just want to help? Most of their prior conversations on her balcony had consisted of asking if he was alright after whatever most recent akuma attack had occurred, or him lightly teasing her about homework or asking what she was going to do on her next holiday. Like . . . friends, but the type of friends you could never really find the opportunity to actually spend much time with. She glances down at him, half-turned away but definitely leaning against her chair. Marinette studies what she can see of him from this angle for a moment; the way her eyes can easily trace his musculature beneath the skintight suit, the tiny bit of his real ear she can see from this side, the messy, windblown mop of blonde hair.
"Haven't you .. already told her, minou?" Very gently, the fingers of her left hand comb through his hair. He stiffens briefly when her nails scrape at his scalp, but after a few heartbeats he leans into it, and in no time at all her other hand comes up to join the first, alternating between combing his hair and massaging his scalp.
"It isn't her."
"But, you do like Ladybug? Or ah, well .. you say you do." She hesitates, afraid she's crossing too personal a line.
"Of course I do. I love Ladybug, Mari."
She pauses at the shortening of her name. It feels intimate, familiar, although it's the first time Chat Noir has called her that. Warmth blooms in her chest at his straightforward admission, and she's glad he's turned away from her. It gives her the bravery to lean over and drape her arms around his shoulders, hands resting lightly on the top of his arms, positioned as they are on top of his knees.
"So, it's someone you know when you aren't Chat Noir?" A small nod.
"Someone who knows you?" Another tiny nod. "Who doesn't know you care for them?" A third.
"If it's so easy to tell Ladybug, why is it different for this other person then?"
~ ~ ~
Chat Noir leans thankfully against the simple affectionate embrace Marinette is giving him.
"Ladybug is everything I ever dreamed of - so strong, so capable, a quick learner, a quicker thinker, incredibly brave, incredibly compassionate... a figure standing against the most minute injustices, and the largest. It's so easy to spill praise at her - to her face, at her feet, while kissing her knuckles, but she turns me away.. so easily. Every day."
He pauses for breath; that had come spilling out in a rush, but such an easy, ready rush, just as he described. He's loved Ladybug for something like four years now? Five?
"... It's been long enough that.. I suppose I am finally willing to consider that it may just .. always be one-sided. Perhaps it's time to try loving someone more down-to-earth than a superheroine." He coughs a bit awkwardly, and on the next word his voice cracks once. "It would just be nice to have someone else love me back, and say as much. Instead of pushing me away."
Chat realizes he's been rambling for a few minutes and that Marinette's presence is no longer pressed against his back. He looks sidelong to see her shrinking into her chair and sweater, trying to hide her face behind her kittycat-faced mug and largely failing.
"You never - I didn't think- I don't th- think that.. you ever told Ladybug." She watches him begin to protest, and emphasizes softly, "Not like that. ... You didn't even pun once, just now."
Chat tries to figure out if Marinette might have been on the sidelines during the many akuma attacks over the past several years. Had she overheard some of his flirty confessions to Ladybug? Or, well no, Alya openly runs the Ladyblog - she has from the day she conceived it, and Marinette is her best friend. Alya is sure to have gotten many instances of his attempts to woo Ladybug with his charm and punny wit on video to share with the net.
"No matter what I say, or how I've tried to say it, she's always just pushed me away. Sometimes with a smile, but it's still a push, no?" Chat smiles as he says it, full of fondness and clearly visible heartache.
After a moment he carefully sets down his forgotten, cold drink onto the ground and leans forward to rest his arms on the cable spool she uses as a balcony table, head upon them, facing away from Marinette. His voice is quiet, a little bit hopeful, a whole lot wistful.
"I just figured, maybe I should try to love someone willing to love me back."
~ ~ ~
Marinette's heart is breaking, falling to pieces inside her chest. She knew Chat Noir was serious in his flirting, but not THIS serious. It's been a few YEARS and she never caught on that he meant every single silly flirt and awful pun and ... heartfelt confession. Of course it all makes sense looking back, doesn't it always? A large, aching part of her wants to find Tikki (probably still sound asleep on her bed) so that Ladybug could suddenly appear and reciprocate his feelings. They didn't have to reveal themselves to do that. She could have a change of heart, and maybe, start to flirt back. She could start to fix the heartache she'd unintentionally been causing him all this time. But, no.. no. Too convenient a timing. Even if she lik- Marinette mentally clears her throat here- LOVES him, because of course she does, overwhelmingly, and that's why she always rebuked his advances- it's too dangerous - for them, for their families, their friends, their schoolmates. Of course Ladybug loves Chat Noir, but that can't come to light unless she wants him to start putting two and two together.
Marinette's voice is tiny at first, a squeak but she coughs and strengthens her resolve. He waited years for her. She can do the same and help him try to be happy with someone else.
"I think .. think that's entirely fair, Chat Noir. Love is- it should be, a two-way street. It's not fair to you, to pine for someone who can't love you too."
Chat's cat ears quirk a little, his tail shifting back and forth between his ankles where he's sitting on his knees beside the table.
"Isn't it selfish, though? To want more than one person?"
Marinette scoots her chair closer to him, so that she can reach his shoulder to lay a hand on it, a warm touch they can both feel through his suit.
"Love isn't a harmful, selfish thing that takes anything from anyone else, Chat, if you're respectful about it. It's something you give freely, and it's okay to want it in return."
He doesn't answer for a moment, but his ears lay back a little as he shifts his arms in order to reach over and gently twine his gloved fingers with hers.
~ ~ ~
He's been staring forlornly at the grain of the wooden table since he turned away from Marinette. A large, aching part of him wants to call on Plagg's awareness (currently 'sleeping' as best he's able while Adrien is suited up but not doing anything superheroic) in order to drop the transformation and confess on the spot to Marinette as himself. He can't, for the same exact reasons Ladybug has been pushing him away all this time. Identities revealed is dangerous knowledge. And even on top of that, he knows Marinette better than she's aware. If Adrien Agreste the stupidly handsome model, fencer, pianist, several-year classmate were to suddenly appear on her balcony, Marinette would revert to a bundle of stuttering nerves and incomprehensible, if adorable, half-formed thoughts..
It's the Marinette sitting behind and beside him that makes him happy. The Marinette that just talks to him, as an equal. As soon as he has this thought, he realizes he should be voicing it if he's going to get anywhere, and abruptly sits up and spins in place, one knee up near his chin, the other sideways under the table. Their interlocked right hands rest between them atop Chat's knee, and with his left hand Chat draws up the shoulder of Mari's sweater where it had fallen when she leaned down to comfort him.
Marinette's cheeks color at his renewed energy, and her ears burn a little when his claws gently graze her shoulder, but she smiles warmly at him even as her heart squeezes painfully in her chest. He can feel his heartbeat speed up at the encouraging look.
"Seems you've reached a decision, kitty. I'm glad."
His hand adjusts hers so he can rub the pad of his thumb over the back of her knuckles, and his free hand toys with the bell beneath his chin, making it chime a time or two. For the first time tonight his throat catches on what he wants to say, so he clears it and focuses his eyes on hers as he starts to speak.
"There's an amazing girl I know. A civilian, lives here in Paris. Gorgeous soft black hair, eyes blue as the sky, not afraid to look someone in the eye and give them a piece of her mind."
Here Marinette starts to blush in realization, to which Chat only grins, unwilling to break the gaze just yet.
"She's an artist, a designer, one of the best I've ever seen in fact. She kicks butt at video games, makes her own clothing, and stands up for others whenever they won't stand up for themselves. She's done it for her classmates tons of times, and did it for me. Tonight."
There are a dozen more things he wants to say but can't without risking heavy hints that he is Adrien. He leans into her personal space, just barely, eyes flicking over her flushed cheeks, the slightly open mouth and lips, a quick glance at her collarbones peeking from the neck of the sweater. He inhales slowly and exhales in a sigh.
"And she always smells deliciously sweet."
Marinette can't speak. She can barely think. This is not what she had expected. She had imagined him giving her hand a squeeze, maybe giving her a thank-you hug for the affection and kind advice before pole-vaulting off her balcony, his mind set on asking out whatever person in his personal life he'd been thinking of all night. It wasn't supposed to be her! If it had been someone else she could have started to work on having Ladybug actually acknowledge his flirting as more than passing silliness, a part of the Chat Noir façade. This makes everything so much more complicated than it already is! He loved her, and now he - he loves HER?
Sensing the mental lock-up that was all-too-familiar from the Marinette Adrien encountered on a regular basis, Chat drops her hand, and gently drags her chair a few inches closer, his knees to either side of it. His movements slow and deliberate so as to give her plenty of time to react or decline, one hand reaches over her drawn-up knees to cup her cheek. The sudden heat even through his glove is intoxicating in the moment; without thinking Mari leans into his palm, eyes drifting closed for a few seconds, then snapping back open when he speaks again, pierced to the core by his bright green stare.
"You said love isn't selfish. That it's something you give, and hope to get in return."
Marinette licks her lips unconsciously with the slightest of nods and a whispered, "y-yeah. I think so."
"Then, can I give you my love, Mari?"