Work Text:
It happens – if it happens – on your fifth birthday.
Marinette vaguely remembered sitting on the couch between her parents, wriggling against them in anticipation as her papa sorted through that morning's mail. No one was sure where they come from; they simply appear, popping up in mailboxes or mailbags already en route to homes. Scholars thought the phenomenon could be traced to the middle ages, back to the practice of royals receiving portrait paintings of their fiancés. Whatever the cause, it grew on its own, evolving from sketches to daguerreotypes to actual glossy color photographs once cameras became more widespread. Still, nothing guaranteed a person getting a picture, not status or family or personality.
She still had what remained of the envelope, still remembered her father pausing with it in hand, plain white paper with a simple black "MARINETTE" in block letters. Her parents shared a look that didn't faze young Marinette but that she wished years later that she could have deciphered.
Then it was hers, Marinette's father placing it gently in her tiny, outstretched palms. She traced the outline of its contents, a thick square larger than her hand but smaller than her father's.
Just about the size of her mother's hand though, Marinette thought, as Sabine laid a hand over her daughter's. Tom slid his hand underneath Marinette's, sandwiching her and her envelope between her parents' embrace.
"We know you're a big girl now," Sabine had said, her voice more teasing than Marinette realized at the time.
"And a very independent young lady," Tom joked along, his eyes twinkling.
"But if you want to wait to open this, you can," her mother continued. "We won't make you look if you aren't ready."
They squeezed her hands between theirs, and Marinette loved them for that. She was ready, though, more than ready as she brushed aside her parents' hands and tore into the envelope, shredding the edges a bit more than she intended. It didn't matter as much as the prize inside though.
There wasn't a name - there never were names - but there was a boy. He seemed so old then, but he was cute enough, Marinette supposed. The picture was in black and white, but she guessed he was a blond, his hair appearing light. He was looking up at the sky wistfully, a sad smile on his face. Marinette wasn't sure how a smile could seem so small, but at least he seemed happy. That was enough for her.
Marinette stared at the photo, quiet for a moment as her parents looked over her shoulders, before clutching the picture to her chest. There was a boy, and he was hers. Other people might get to take his picture in real life, and other people might get to see his pictures in real life, but he was hers, Marinette thought, and nobody could take him away from her.
*****
"They call her Ladybug," Adrien's mother had told him when he first saw his photograph, black on red on black. He had been sitting on her lap, he remembered, the two of them wrapped up in a cozy quilt listening to the thunder rumbling outside. It was the middle of day, but it felt like night based on the atmosphere, based on his mother's hushed tone. "She protects people; she shows up when they need saving the most because she's a hero."
Adrien wanted to ask her how she knew (always meant to ask her how she knew before she disappeared), but instead he said, "Is that why Père is so mad?"
His mother had stiffened, but she hadn't lied. "A little bit," she admitted. Adrien loved her for that. "He worries about you, about us being put in danger." His mother chuckled a bit to herself, tracing the girl in the photograph's face. "She isn't putting his fears at ease, to say the least."
Adrien didn't care. He knew somehow, put it together years later, that his parents didn't mind that much either, not if they had still given him his photograph after opening it first themselves. They could have torn it up, kept it hidden until he was older, kept it hidden forever, but they didn't. They gave her to him.
It was something Adrien held onto, literally and physically, throughout the years of turmoil. No matter how much his family, his life changed, Ladybug remained constant, a promise that somebody - anybody - was out there to love him the way he needed to be loved.
She was his, Adrien thought, and nobody could take that away from him.
*****
As with all collections, Marinette's collage of Adrien Agreste began with one picture. It started as a joke - "oh, ha ha, another snapshot of my future husband for the wall" - something to pass the time until they finally met in person, until they could share the future that first photograph had promised almost ten years ago now.
As it grew, though, so did the anticipation. What if it was a fluke? What if Marinette had mistaken a stranger for a familiar yet readily-available face? What if their meeting was so short, a mere brushing of shoulders, that he didn't even notice? The thoughts ate away at her, made over-analyze the situation until Marinette's anxiety threatened to choke out the gentle buds of potential.
Alya called her obsessed, and Marinette tried to temper her nervousness, throwing her heart into homework, into fashion, into her friends' lives, but it never seemed to be enough. There was too much of thinking and never enough action.
It was lucky, then, that Tikki found her first. There was only so much baking and sewing and schoolwork the girl could do without circling back to her soulmate situation. Marinette was forever grateful the kwami chose her, gave her purpose when she was feeling the most lost.
She was grateful for everything that came with being Ladybug - the ability to help people besides herself, for instance, the ability to keep her racing mind busy in planning how to use whatever Lucky Charm came her way. She was grateful for the wonderful citizens of Paris, for their support and understanding. She was thankful for Chat, too, though she would hardly admit it. He gave her someone to play off of and keep her thoughts otherwise occupied. He was a friend, company when she worried she might never ever enter Adrien's orbit, even as a satellite.
*****
People didn't have to adhere to soulmates, Adrien knew. Some people never got photographs, and some people who knew they wouldn't meet their mates until well into their lives dated whoever they pleased until that time. Adrien was, however, in Nino's words, a gross romantic. Until he made friends at his new school, it had never crossed Adrien's mind to look at another girl the way he looked at his picture of Ladybug.
He thought it was fate that brought Plagg to him, that enabled him to transform into Ladybug's partner. It was a simple leap from partners in one area to partners in another, Adrien thought. Chat Noir would bond with Ladybug and open the door for Adrien.
From their first conversation, however, it became apparent Adrien would have some slack to pick up. Ladybug spurned Chat Noir so fast his head spun, though he would never let it show. It stung, but not enough to deter him completely, and not enough that he ever doubted her enjoying his company. She wanted to keep things platonic; Chat could understand that, could understand her fear of getting hurt. He never stopped wanting to know who she was behind the mask, though, never stopped the niggling voice in his head suggesting he peek as her transformation wore off, suggesting he simply tell her his truth and see if she responded in kind. It was enough, though, to be the Chat Noir to her Ladybug, enough to be superheroes instead of soulmates.
Adrien could have been unluckier, he supposed. There were a lot of variables, numerous things a photograph couldn't tell you. Did your soulmate speak the same language as you? Did they live in the same country, on the same continent? Worst of all, the pictures themselves could be strange, some blurry, some dark, some at odd angles. At least Adrien had a straightforward shot, a recognizable face and codename to go off.
Still, he couldn't help feeling a bit jealous of some of his classmates. He'd seen the redheaded guy - Nathanael, Adrien thought his name was - fidgeting with his picture a couple times when no one else was looking. It was grainy, but there were black spots that could be pigtails and a jacket, and Adrien didn't know what or why but he wanted. He wanted it to be that easy, wanted his soulmate to be someone he sat behind in class, someone he could eat lunch with and talk to every single day, not just when the city was under attack.
*****
The thing about having your image plastered across cities (across countries, though Marinette didn’t know it yet) was that anyone could claim you. Anyone would claim to be your soulmate if you were a celebrity and they could find a clean image to use.
It didn’t matter to Ladybug. Ladybug was above their traditions, a way for Marinette to escape the thoughts of Adrien that plagued her, a way to pretend she was anything other than an awkward teenager desperate for love. Ladybug’s fans were adoring and relatively easy to set straight. Theo had been the worst admirer, and he wasn’t truly malicious, just misguided.
Some people were simply mean, though. In civilian and superhero form, Marinette watched girl after girl (or occasionally boy after boy) present Adrien Agreste with a photo from one of his recent shoots, wrinkling the edges and browning the paper to make them look aged, more worn in. “It’s been with me for almost ten years now,” Marinette heard them gush, and it took all of her strength to walk in the opposite direction.
She wondered if it would make a difference at this point. Why would Adrien believe her?
(She wondered why Adrien turned away every hopeful suitor with a nervous laugh and apology vaguely explaining that he knew they weren’t The One, yet he never looked at her any differently.)
*****
The thing about having your image plastered across the city, Adrien knew, was that anyone would claim you. He wondered if his father knew, then wondered if his father cared, about what he was putting his son through.
It was worse when people he knew personally asked him to pretend.
("Adrikins, please," Chloé had pled years ago, eyes filling with tears. “You don’t even go to my school; nobody will know you or that it isn’t the truth.”
(If it wasn’t that important, why had Adrien heard her arguing the cause so many times, he had wondered, but he kept silent.)
Adrien cared about Chloé, he honestly did, and he cared about her lack of a soulmate before even she did. She thought his photo of Ladybug was the coolest when they were kids, when they both cared less about what everyone else thought, and she said she wasn't jealous. Adrien believed her, of course; it wasn't his place to question people who didn't have photographs, he thought.
As they grew older, though, peer pressure eroded his and Chloé's views on the matter. Adrien would never outright question her, would let her lead him around in almost every other respect, but he stood firm on this subject. Ladybug was his soulmate, and Adrien was hers. It was constant, unyielding, no room for argument or pretending. He wouldn't want to pretend otherwise anyway, no matter how much he liked Chloé. It wouldn't be fair to Chloé if it didn't mean anything to him, if it wasn't equally romantic for the both of them.
He would get used to it, Adrien told himself as he felt the rift grow between him and Chloé, as he watched her join the ranks of his fangirls waving false photographs and autographs and pieces of him that were superficial but not his soul. He would remain faithful, to her, for her.
Still, if it was bad for Adrien, he worried about Ladybug. She always seemed to handle her admirers with dignity, but she turned them all down just the same. Why would Ladybug believe him of people if he showed her his folded photograph like all the others?
*****
Soulmates didn't necessarily have to be romantic, Marinette told herself. Alya had told her to consider it when they were only kids, back when the idea of One True Love had seemed gross and foreign to them. Alya had told her to consider it again when Adrien joined their class in the fall and showed not a sliver of interest in her. They could be close friends, platonic partners even, maybe.
Ladybug already had a platonic partner in Chat, though. She trusted him; Marinette trusted him too, liked him even, though she reserved the right to roll her eyes at his antics in both superhero and civilian form. They had grown close over the past year, had the potential to be... something. Marinette didn't know what or why, but she wanted. It was easy to want Chat Noir to be her mate after all the bonding they had done, after all the work they had done side by side for the city, after every celebratory fistbump.
It was easier knowing he was out on the line just like Ladybug, too. Even before they met, Marinette worried about putting Adrien in harm's way. She couldn’t risk letting him in on her secret life, letting him see it was her behind the mask. (If her own nerves played a role in that decision-making, then so it went.)
*****
“Let’s agree to never discuss our soulmates,” Ladybug said, disgust evident in her voice. Chat Noir felt his heart swell then implode as quickly as he had dared to hope she would let him argue his case.
“Do you even have one?” Chat Noir asked, feeling bitter, feeling the sting even without the outright rejected.
She must, though. She had said "our soulmates," as in "our things we have in common." She must have thousands, he thought. Maybe Ladybug had one for every lifetime she lived through, soulmates spanning across time and space. Maybe she was beyond time and space. He wondered if it had ever been another Chat Noir. He wouldn’t know; maybe ‘he’ had always been unlucky in that respect.
Ladybug scoffed, snapping him back to this time and space. “Who says I need one?”
“Not I, says the cat.” Chat Noir grinned back at her. Curiosity could never kill him worse than his lady’s rebukes. “But do you want one?”
She smiled at that, already preparing the rope from her Lucky Charm for a clean getaway. “I have you, silly cat.” And then she was gone.
(What was the rest of that saying? Chat Noir recalled. Ah yes. Satisfaction brought it back.)
*****
Adrien had been in their class for months now, and he still didn’t know her. He knew her by name, obviously, knew she existed despite how easily she turned to wallpaper when given his undivided attention. He looked at her like he cared, but there was no recognition, Marinette noted, nothing for her to pin the last ten years of pining upon.
Maybe it had been foolish to hope for a grand, swelling, romantic moment when Adrien first laid eyes on her. Maybe he didn’t get a picture, Marinette told herself. Maybe he never had one, or his parents kept it hidden.
It wasn’t the end of the world if he didn’t, her parents reassured her, but the two framed photos sitting side by side on the nightstand in their bedroom told Marinette otherwise.
*****
Adrien was a little bit in love with half his classmates. It was platonic, he thought, for the most part at least. He admired how compassionate Rose and Juleka were, how confident Alix and Max were, how courageous Mylene and Alya were, how Nino always has his back, metaphorically and physically. It was all-consuming, headfirst love. He loved and he loved and he loved, until he thought he might burst.
Marinette was no different. He appreciated her kindness, her levelheadedness, how hard she worked to keep their classmates from fighting even if it made her unpopular. She had so many wonderful qualities, scattered across her personality like the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Adrien would have to have been blind to miss them.
(He was blind, apparently, as it took him months to realize the truth. It was platonic, he thought, for the most part at least. It always had been, he thought.
(But one minute he was watching her arrange pastries in the display case of her parents’ bakery before the dying light signaled the end of the work day. He was being stealthy, Chat Noir was being stealthy, a veritable shadow among darkness. Yet with the dinging of a bell, be it from the door or his own damn collar, Marinette’s head whipped up, staring him down before dismissing him with a quick roll of her eyes, and there it was, plain was the freckles across the bridge of her nose.
(It was romantic, he thought, a little bit at least.)
*****
The moment Ladybug and Adrien made eye contact as she protected his car was the moment Marinette had been waiting for. There was the spark she had been hunting. There was the moment of recognition, of awe. She felt all-powerful and all-exposed all at once.
He knew her. Adrien Agreste knew her.
(It’s because your face is everywhere in Paris, she tried telling herself late at night. It’s because there’s a statue of you in the park by your house.
(“It’s because it’s you,” Tikki said quietly in return, reading Marinette’s mind.
(But which me do you mean? Marinette thought more quietly than before.)
*****
It was enough, Adrien thought. One fraction of a second of eye contact with his lady was enough to sustain him for a week, maybe more. The pause when Ladybug had stopped to stare at him when she was shielding his car from the mime was supercharged. The air between them had crackled with electricity (and then invisible bullets), and Adrien finally felt like he could belong with her.
She knew him. She recognized him, not just from his posters or adverts, but on a deeper level. Adrien could tell by the way she looked at him.
It was enough to persuade Adrien to keep the course. He could learn to love someone else (could learn to love Marinette, Plagg supplied unhelpfully in the dead of night when neither one of them could sleep), but it wouldn’t feel like that.
*****
Some days were harder than others to have a model for a soulmate.
Marinette saw Adrien's face everywhere. Sometimes she only wanted to go for a walk, to clear her mind after another day of staring at the back of his head, of being within arm's reach yet still finding the boy untouchable. Sometimes she just wanted to get some space.
She could never do it though, Marinette realized on one such walk, as she stared straight up an advert for Gabriel. Adrien's profile smiled down on her despite the rain, his golden hair breaking up the grey skies. Marinette felt a little sick.
It happened every time she thought she was okay; his face found her from the covers of magazines, from billboards and television spots now. She was never alone, but not in the way she wanted.
Marinette sighed. How much easier everything seemed behind her mask. She wondered if Chat Noir felt the same way about his soulmate, if he even had one. It consoled her a little, to think of the cat stumbling over his words, feeling the same onset of nerves she felt whenever his soulmate smiled at him in real life. She hoped her partner had it easier. Marinette wouldn't wish this on him, rain stinging her eyes and streaking her face as she continued looking up at the poster that seemed unfathomably far away of the boy who sat in front of her at school every day.
(Maybe it was all up to her to bridge the gap between them.)
*****
Adrien Agreste had a theory as to why his father hated him.
Or - hated was a strong word – neglected him, Adrien thought worked better. A theory as to why Gabriel Agreste pulled away despite his son’s best efforts to be there for him. A thought that had been festering for ages, even before his mother’s disappearance, but hadn’t reached the surface until recently.
His father fell in love with someone who wasn’t his soulmate, Adrien decided. He knows his parents had matching photographs, knew they didn’t meet until université. But there must have been someone before his mother, Adrien decided, someone else his father wanted to build a life with instead.
It made him bitter, Adrien decided, not daring to ask for confirmation.
(When Marinette managed to tap his shoulder at school the next day, managed to eke out a question about Adrien’s health and if he was feeling alright, it made his heart sink to think his family’s history might repeat.)
*****
(She thought about it. Dear Lord, Marinette had actually thought about it.
(That darn cat kept coming back, kept wooing her from two fronts without realizing his dumb luck. But he liked her, both of her.
(Even worse, she liked him. So she thought about what would happen if – if – she kissed him, if she courted him back. She couldn’t wait around for Adrien to wise up forever. Sometimes she doubted he would ever get the picture, that maybe it was best to throw her idealizations out the window as well.
(Besides, it was easier loving someone behind a mask. It would be easier to move from partners in one area to partners in other.
(She liked him, Marinette thought. Maybe it could be as simple as that.)
*****
It was considered tacky to carry your soulmate's photo around in public. It wasn't polite to those who didn't have photographs, and it could easily turn into a less-than-polite conversational topic between people still waiting to meet their mates, an easy way to pick at something that made most people vulnerable.
Adrien never bothered and never let it bother him much. He forgot the weight it could hold, having a superhero for a soulmate until one petty argument with Chloé before class while they were waiting for their professor to arrive.
"Ivan and Mylene," his former friend had scoffed in his general direction as Adrien entered the classroom. "Can you imagine a sorrier-looking couple? Of all the people in our class to have paired photos -"
"What does it matter, Chloé?" Adrien argued from his seat, half-distracted by Plagg rustling the contents of his bag and hoping no one else would notice. And why are you telling me? he wanted to add. Instead, he said, "You know the whole soulmate business doesn't really interest me."
"Easy for you to say," Chloé spat back, "when you have the heroine of Paris's picture at home on your mantel!"
Adrien felt the words like a slap across the face. Chloé, for her part, looked instantly rueful, like she might cry in front of him again, but she said nothing else, let her words hang there in the aisle between them.
"You've got a charmed life through and through, huh 'Adrikins?'" Kim hollered from the back of the room, and almost everyone else burst into laughter or giggles or simply nervous tittering with their seatmates. Adrien inhaled sharply, feeling a jumble of emotions before a hand clamped down on his shoulder, Nino anchoring him back in reality. He could see his friends from the corners of his eyes - Nino glowering back at Kim, Alya shooting both Adrien and Marinette concerned looks. Marinette's expression was unreadable, but she looked supportive. She always looked supportive of him, Adrien left wondering what he had done to deserve it.
Adrien smiled and swallowed down bile; he couldn’t be worse off if he tried. Hopefully if he kept up appearances and kept quiet, the whole debacle would blow over by the end of the day. He couldn't risk anyone putting two and two together, couldn't risk putting his double life on the line.
*****
“...They’re both blond,” Marinette said to Tikki, not daring to look up from the skirt she had been working on in silence since arriving home from school.
Tikki looked up from the cookie she had been nibbling on. "Who?"
"Adrien and Chat," Marinette replied softly. "I thought for a while I got it wrong, that maybe I was supposed to have Chat Noir's picture, that there was a mistake, or maybe I was supposed to have two soulmates. But Adrien and Chat, they're both..." Marinette fumbled with the hem, pricking her finger in the process and dropping the needle to the floor with a light ping. "Argh, what am I saying?"
Chat Noir had gotten under her skin, that was all. She bet he did it to everyone, given enough time. But ever since Alya had shown her those photos she mocked up, the ones of Adrien sketchily clothed in black and adorned with cat ears, Marinette had wondered. Knowing Adrien had Ladybug's photograph - Ladybug's, not Marinette's, she had told herself all the walk home - only added fuel to the fire.
"You think so?" asked Tikki, oh so hopeful and earnest. Marinette smiled at the kwami, watching her flit around in excitement and feeling fortunate that she wasn't the only one who hoped everything would work out for the best. "It would solve a number of your problems all at once."
“Maybe,” said Marinette, finding the thread she had lost and piercing the eye of her needle with it.
Maybe, maybe, maybe…
*****
“Do you know who she is?” Marinette asked Chat Noir the next night, “your soulmate?” and he fell off the railing of her balcony with a squawk. Marinette lunged for him, pulling him back up on the roof as he scratched up her arms in return. She didn’t let go, even after ensuring his feet were on firmer ground.
“I,” Chat began. He wanted to tell her the truth, to tell somebody of his own accord and not have any more secrets spilled without his consent. It’s Ladybug, he wanted to say, simple as that, one friend confiding in another, but something twisted in his gut. The affection he felt for Marinette, perhaps, or the idea of laying this burden (that’s all he ever was) on his fellow classmate…
His classmate. If he said It’s Ladybug, simple as that, Marinette would connect the dots. He couldn’t risk letting her in, letting her see it was him behind the mask.
“I know.” The words Chat spoke hung in the air between them, reverberating like a cymbal crash or the screech of an accident. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with those two simple syllables, but evidently somewhere he erred. Chat watched Marinette’s face fall, ever so slightly, and close off.
“Then I think you should leave,” she said, removing her hands from where they had been gripping his forearms. He felt heavier, somewhere, for the realization of the weight she had lifted.
"Why does it matter so much?" Chat Noir asked, fishing for a reaction, any reaction besides Marinette's stony expression. "Why does it matter to you if I'm here and not with whoever it is you seem to think I should be seeing?"
"Because it hurts," Marinette said simply, a flash of anger in her eyes betraying her ire. "Because it's... It's cheating in a way, maybe. Maybe I'm just a silly romantic," she continued, hands waving emphatically, "and we haven't even done anything wrong really. It's just... I have a soulmate. And so do you." Each word was finite, a brick in a wall Marinette meant to build between them here and now. "And maybe they won't let me get as close as I want to be right now, but they know I exist, and I'm not giving up. And neither should you," she added hesitantly. She moved as if to place a hand on his shoulder before deciding better, withdrawing it to fold her arms across her chest. "No matter how much we like each other."
“I,” Chat began again, waiting for the words to come, waiting for his racing mind to catch up with his tongue, waiting to catch Marinette before she left through the trapdoor.
Marinette turned to stare at him over her shoulder. “If it was me you would have said, right?” she asked quietly, the trace of a tremor lacing her voice.
Chat Noir met her gaze, then left without a sound.
*****
If Adrien has Ladybug’s picture, Marinette thought, sprinting to school one Friday morning, and I have Adrien’s picture, then who's to say Ladybug can't meet with Adrien herself?
The thought was enough to literally trip her up, enough to send her flying across the sidewalk, and if that wasn't an omen, Marinette wasn't sure what would be. It was crazy, it sounded crazy. What then? What would happen even if they did meet? Would Adrien even want to meet with her? How would she even...
Marinette inhaled and exhaled slowly. Lucky Charm. This didn't have to be so hard. She could think of a plan for almost any scenario; she could think of a plan for approaching Adrien Agreste, for letting him know he wasn't alone. Ladybug would be there, and nothing could stop her.
("Tikki, stop me," Marinette whispered mere minutes later as she stood frozen in front of Adrien's locker, purposefully unsigned note in hand. She was already late for class, already risking being caught. At the right word, all she had to do was turn around and forget this ever happened.
(Tikki did nothing of the sort, instead leaning against Marinette's hand to force it closer to the slits in the metal door. Marinette steeled herself, then forced the letter through the door. She could do this.)
*****
Adrien paced back and forth across the square. The note had said to meet at the first place their eyes had met. The note hadn't been signed, but he knew what it meant, knew what she meant.
He understood that this was how it had to happen. Part of him was still excited, still expectant of the future that first photograph had promised almost ten years ago. She was his, he was hers, et cetera et cetera. Still...
Adrien sighed, staring up at the sky where it faded from pinks and oranges into blues and purples. There was still so much to feel, though.
He understood that Ladybug would never want Chat Noir. It killed him worst of all, cut his self-esteem to the bone, but he would survive. Adrien would survive, the sunny mask keeping his hurt feelings from reaching the surface. Adrien would have to open the door for Chat Noir, for who he had really become. He was lucky he had left Plagg at home, the kwami still asleep in his bookbag while Adrien stole away.
There was Marinette, too, but those feelings could never reach the surface either, had to be snuffed out before they bloomed any further. Who cared what emotions had developed in ten years' time? Ladybug had always been his destiny.
Unless...
Someone cleared their throat, a lady, Adrien could tell even before he whipped around. She was above him. Ladybug was standing on the building's steps, grinning down at him, the dying light of the day illuminating her from the side. The sight stole the breath from Adrien's lungs, made his head spin even worse than before.
“Adrien,” Ladybug said, a smile playing at her lips. He could do this, Adrien thought, they would do this.
Slowly, however, his lady stopped smiling, her face settling into a frown. "I," she began. Then she shook her head, and Adrien felt his heart swell then implode.
“I thank you for coming," Ladybug said steadily, her voice lacking emotion as she walked out into the open with him, "and I’m so sorry to have wasted your time, but there’s something else I need to take care of before we meet again."
And then she was gone; his mind was a mess of no please don't please stop I'm right here, but his mouth wasn't fast enough, he wasn't fast enough.
Adrien watched Ladybug dart off into the darkening skies, and he didn’t blame her. Maybe he was wrong to think she would ever love him.
*****
It was happening. It was finally happening, Ladybug thought. So why wasn’t she happier?
It felt artificial, somehow. Adrien smiled back at her, but it looked uncertain if not altogether fake, no matter how golden the setting sun made him seem. Marinette knew him well enough to see that now. He was tense, just as nervous as she was...
As Marinette was, she thought. Ladybug was confident, but it was borrowed confidence, more of an act than maybe anyone realized. This wasn't the real her, not anymore, and it wouldn't be fair to have the upper hand when she hadn't earned it.
“Adrien, I,” Ladybug began, before shaking her head.
If she didn't tell him now, then when would she? Wouldn't it be better for her to let the chips fall as they may, let the revelation lead to fewer secrets between them (even if Marinette was already so sure he was the one behind the other mask)? Then again, it could make things more difficult.
It was easier knowing Chat Noir was out on the line like Ladybug; it was easier knowing Adrien was hiding from his feelings like Marinette. It seemed unfair to put Adrien in Chat's place here and now without knowing what it was he wanted, knowing who he wanted. Marinette was already so sure, but maybe...
("If you want to wait to open this you can," Marinette's mother's voice echoed in her head. "We won’t make you look if you aren’t ready.")
“I thank you for coming," Ladybug said, "and I’m so sorry to have wasted your time, but there’s something else I need to take care of before we meet again."
Ladybug turned on her heel, not daring to look at the expression on his face for even one second, and then she was gone, darting across the darkening skies.
(Chat Noir didn’t appear for patrol that night, and Marinette didn’t blame him. Maybe she was wrong to think he would ever love her.)
*****
“It couldn’t be,” Adrien asked Plagg after several moments spent staring at his computer monitor in silence, floundering for the right words, the right reaction to this potential bombshell. “Could it?”
“How should I know?” scoffed the cat kwami, gulping down a cube of cheese in a manner Adrien found no less disgusting one year out from their first meeting.
Adrien turned his back on the pest, looking again at the pictures he had mocked up online. Valentine's Day was a ways in the past, even hazier thanks to the akuma that had latched onto his mind. Adrien still remembered the poem he had written, though, still had his lady's response tucked away for rainy days.
Hair of black and eyes of blue, such a striking combination. How many girls really looked like that? It hadn't struck Adrien until Chat's chat with Marinette that the answer could be two, that the answer might even be one if he paid more attention.
So he found himself in his room after school hastily photoshopping a black-on-red-on-black mask onto his classmate's photos.
“Ladybug’s hair is bluer,” Adrien noted after another moment of reflection.
“Chat Noir’s hair is longer,” Plagg replied, his voice mocking. “Maybe you should get your head checked for your next birthday.”
Adrien let his head drop the desk, careful of his keyboard. "Maybe I should," he grumbled. He was overthinking this. He was overanalyzing the situation, but it was bigger than a picture now, bigger than just him and his emotions.
"She said she," Adrien said.
Plagg made a noise, mouth muffled by camembert, that Adrien chose to interpret as a prompt to continue.
"Marinette," Adrien clarified. "When I visited her as Chat, when we fought about soulmates, she asked me if I knew who she was. I just... it seemed like she already knew my soulmate was a girl. Like she knew who it was."
"Like it was her, do you think?" Plagg asked, floating closer to Adrien's face, actually looking at the computer screen for the first time.
“There’s no way I could be that lucky,” Adrien said under his breath. There was no way the girl he was destined to love and the girl fell for all on his own could be the same person.
“Not unless your lady’s luck is finally getting through to you,” Plagg crowed back. Adrien rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer, frowning.
Unless, unless, unless…
*****
"Marinette, I… hmmm, no."
Marinette froze in the entrance to the room of lockers. Had Adrien seen her? That was definitely his voice echoing around the hall. Peeking around the corner, Marinette confirmed her suspicions before retreating into the shadows once more. She stayed still, barely daring to breathe, waiting for Adrien to finish his thoughts. Tikki flitted out, alarmed at her lady’s lack of motion but stayed hidden when Marinette motioned for her to keep back.
"Marinette, hi! Ugh. Why?" She heard the thunk of head against metal, the sound of a frustrated crush that she knew all too well. She could only be so lucky, if this was what it looked and sounded like. She turned to grin at Tikki and was met with a matching smile from her kwami.
The sound of a throat clearing caught her attention, prompting Marinette to jump. Adrien was nowhere to be seen, hadn't moved at all yet it seemed, but Marinette wouldn't risk it, sliding further back from the center of the room. The gentle buds of potential unfurled slightly as she listened. She could almost hear Adrien recomposing himself, adjusting his posture and voice.
"Marinette," Adrien said again to the empty room. His voice was soundly determined this time, though soft enough to allow for argument, as if she might say no to whatever he was about to propose. "Would you maybe like to do something this weekend, just the two of us? I don't know-"
"YES!" Marinette squealed before she could stop herself, hand clapping over her mouth moments too late. There was an awful pause, her bag rustling as Tikki dove for cover in case Adrien came to investigate. He never arrived, leaving Marinette to flatten her back against the lockers. Maybe he hadn't heard, maybe...
"...Marinette?"
She winced. Adrien sounded no closer than he had earlier, still across the room from her, still hidden from sight. He also sounded puzzled, and more than slightly embarrassed. Marinette reminded herself she wasn't the only one who had just been caught saying something meant to remain private.
"Is that you?" Adrien called again.
Maybe it was all up to Marinette to bridge the gap between them.
She stepped out into the open, finally facing her friend.
"Yes, hi," Marinette said, giving him a shy wave and a shy smile. "And, um, yes to your other question, too. You know, if it still stands." She could do this. She had done this, made the first step of hopefully many.
There was a pause, time enough for Marinette's heart to swoop low in her ribcage. Then Adrien laughed, beaming back at her with a nod, and a weight lifted off of Marinette's shoulders.
Adrien laughed, and the world grew a little brighter.
*****
She got there first; Ladybug always got there first, it seemed, Chat thought with a laugh. It really didn't matter, as long as they arrived in time to save the day.
Chat Noir could keep up now, could always catch up with his lady. It wasn't until the akuma had been purified, white butterfly gliding off into the cloudless Parisian sky, that Chat felt like he had fallen behind, like he had missed something urgent when Ladybug bypassed his proffered fist to instead give him a hug.
Chat Noir stiffened, but he tried not to miss a beat, wrapping his arms around her in return. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he purred, trying to sound more at ease than he felt.
His partner pulled back, smiling up at him. "I don't know that there is one yet," Ladybug replied, "but you never know what the future holds."
He laughed in earnest that time, staring down at blue eyes Adrien recognized (and seriously, how could he have been so blind?). "Well I’m sure we'll find something new to celebrate, my lady, something to make this a regular occurrence, I hope."
Ladybug finally stepped away from his embrace, smiling all the same. "Soon too, I hope," she replied, reaching out to hold his hand as they walked together into the bright afternoon.