The Miraculous Spiderman Series

Adrien wasn’t sure what he was waiting for as he hesitated on the street outside the massage shop, bundled up against the late November chill. Peter had given him a simple mission: return the peacock miraculous while got some much-needed sleep. Both him and Peter had pulled an all nighter but Adrien had actually slept when he returned home. Peter had stayed up working on fixing the miraculous.

Speaking of, Adrien had no idea how he’d done it. It was flawless, perfect once more, like it had never even been broken in the first place. It was like everything Peter touched he made whole again, and the miraculous was no exception.  

He couldn’t help wondering specifically how Helios had obtained the peacock miraculous. Mayura didn’t seem to be the type of person who would go down without a fight, yet Helios had picked her up and swooped off like it was nothing. The guy seemed to be a seasoned fighter, almost like he’d been in similar situations before, but it was impossible to tell. Adrien had to assume that Ladybug at least knew Helios’s identity but the hero seemed to choose to remain an enigma. He only ever showed up when they were in dire need and seemed to work closely with Spiderman, although Peter denied knowing anything about the dude.

And so, hoping for answers, Adrien raised a fist and rapped once against the door.

Master Fu opened it, confirming once and for all that the events of the night prior hadn’t been a chaotic dream. This was Master Fu’s residence, and everyone had known it except Adrien. Why was he always the last one to know?

Except you know Spidey’s identity, his brain rationalized. Ladybug doesn’t know that. He couldn’t bring himself to be mad, not at Master Fu, not at Ladybug, and definitely not at Spiderman.

“Adrien?” Master Fu asked, bringing him back to the present. “Can I help you?”

“We’d better do this inside,” Adrien replied, casting a paranoid glance down the street. Ever since the night before he’d felt off, the brainwashed people still in the back of his mind. Paris was no longer his playground – the evil that had prevailed so quickly had shown him that.

As soon as Master Fu let him in, Adrien wasted no time in handing him the miraculous. Truth be told he was glad to be rid of it. Mayura’s dark energy still seemed to linger around it, causing the tiny brooch to feel heavy. It was the one thing Peter hadn’t seemed to be able to dispel, or perhaps it was simply Adrien’s mind playing tricks on him.

“Is this…?” Master Fu turned it over in his hands, rapping a finger against its surface like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Helios fought Mayura. None of us saw it but he managed to get her miraculous back.”

“But it’s fixed.”

“You can thank Spiderman for that one.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Master Fu was fixing him with the most curious of expressions but he got the feeling the look wasn’t about him, just at him. It was a look of disbelief and curiosity.

“Does Peter Parker have magic powers? Or any knowledge of ancient magic?” Oh, so Master Fu knew Spiderman’s identity too. It was fine, Adrien wasn’t bitter about being left out in the slightest. Not at all.

“Not that I know of.” Adrien tried not to let his emotions show on his face – a skill he’d mastered in all his years of dealing with his father – as Master Fu continued to inspect the miraculous. “He just fixed it with some robotic arms or some other sort of Stark tech. Kinda like a welder or something.”

“How did he learn to fix a miraculous without magic? Even I’m not sure how that would work. This handiwork is akin to the way the original miraculous were made. In order to recreate a miraculous, one must know what materials it is made up of, something even I don’t know, along with how they are woven together to support magic.” Master Fu walked over to a gramophone, pressing buttons on its front, the flat top spinning to reveal the miraculous box.

“I, uh,” Adrien said, losing his train of thought slightly as Master Fu opened it up, carefully placing the miraculous in a slot on the top before closing the whole thing back up. “I don’t think Peter simply doesn’t not know how to do things. He always seems to figure it out.”

“He has a miraculous knack of landing on his feet, now doesn’t he?”

“He’s a miraculous Spiderman, yeah,” Adrien mumbled into his collarbone.

“What was that?” Master Fu glanced at him, pausing his pursuit of a whistling kettle.

“Nothing, I was just agreeing,” Adrien said. “Actually I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“And I to you. Tea?”

“Um…sure?” Adrien took a seat on the floor as the tiny man poured him a steaming cup of tea, handing it to him with an odd smile.

“I believe I should begin, and if your queries still stand by the end of my spiel, feel free to pursue them with me. Firstly, I haven’t been very open with you, Chat Noir, by no fault of your own.”

This was news to Adrien. He knew Ladybug seemed to be the favourite but he’d always presumed that was a side effect of her being about a million times more responsible than him. But to hear that Master Fu had somehow closed him off because of something Adrien obviously had no control over? Adrien didn’t know what to think.

“You see, Adrien, you are an essential part to this whole puzzle,” he continued. “There will be a choice you will have to make that will decide the outcome of this whole situation. I thought that withdrawing from you was the best option, but I have been forced to see error in my ways. I made a promise to Spiderman to start being more open with you and I admit that his logic is considerably more sound and thought out than my own. He reminded me that one cannot simply guess what another might choose in the future and that by keeping you in the dark I was designing my own downfall.”

So both Peter and Master Fu had gotten together to talk about Adrien behind his back about a decision Adrien would have to make. Grand. Even if Peter had been advocating for Master Fu to tell Adrien more, he found it a touch ironic that Peter had kept all that from him too.

“What choice do I have to make? Is there something I can do to prepare for it?”

Master Fu sat across from him and fixed him with a sad look. “I know the choice yet I cannot give it to you just yet. There will be a time when you must figure out where your priorities lie in a very final sense. The only way to prepare is to figure them out beforehand, then it might lessen the impact when you must finally choose.”

“Obviously I’m going to choose the good guys anytime.” Adrien shook his head. “I’m not just going to turn evil.”

“But what is good and what is evil? How can one tell the difference when faced with the two? If I am doing the wrong things for the right reasons, does that make me evil? Or what if I’m doing a good thing for a bad reason, does that make me good? There is no right answer in choices like these. All that matters is what you, Adrien Agreste, believe.”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Adrien said softly, the admission tumbling from weak lips. “I think I should talk to Peter and-”

“Peter Parker does not know this answer. He cannot make this choice for you. Already he wrestles with his own choices, already he struggles to lift the weight of the knowledge he bears. Like Atlas under the weight of the world, he doesn’t have the space to shoulder your problems too, Adrien. You have found the extent of his ability to fix things. I know he is trying to help but some things cannot be helped in the way that we wish. Peter knows this.”

“Why do I have a feeling that Peter knows everything that’s going to happen?” Adrien let out a shaky laugh, rubbing his knees.

“People like Peter know a lot. This is both their gift and their curse. He sent you here today to learn that.”

“I’m pretty sure he sent me to return the miraculous…?”

“There is no reason Peter couldn’t deliver it himself at some point today. Its safest place was with him. No, he sent you here to remind me of my promise.”

“Your promise to be more open with me?”

“My promise not to judge people for choices they have not yet made. A wise man, wiser than myself at times, once told me I was a fool. And he was right. I was a fool to underestimate you. Forever I shall beg forgiveness. But for now, I shall caution you against trying to worm information out of Peter. I trust his ability to know when the timing is right.”

Adrien got the message. Being Chat Noir was no longer a game that he could skip around in, simply fighting akumas and hanging out with Ladybug. Things were stirring and they had to play their cards right. Peter would deal the cards in his own time, then it was up to Ladybug and Chat Noir to decide how to play them. A choice.

Only a few minutes later Adrien was back out on the street, making his way back home when his phone rang. Master Fu’s ominous way of speaking had made Adrien afraid to ask any follow up questions but agreed to return if he thought of any. As it stood, Adrien had no desire to have one-on-one time with the Guardian ever again.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Remember that fucking ahhhhh…,” Peter said on the other end of the line, his voice gravelly like he’d just woken up from a deep sleep.

“Can’t say I do.”

“For your birthday! Those Jagged Stone concert tickets? Yeah. Alya just called to remind me that it’s tonight.”

“Tonight?” Adrien was thrust into a state of abject panic. “We didn’t ask my dad! We’ve got patrol tonight!”

“I already cancelled patrols, your dad literally never checks on you and Nathalie isn’t here. I see no issues. Plus, I already rented a car.”

“…Peter you don’t have your license.”

“I have an American driver’s license, actually.”

“You’re the worst driver I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, I was actually rather preoccupied the one time you’ve seen me drive, so that’s not fair. Spiderman doesn’t know how to drive, Peter Parker does.”

Adrien sighed. “That doesn’t make any sense. And your American driver’s license isn’t valid here after ninety days.”

“I don’t think it’s even been ninety days but I’ll go out and get a French driver’s license, if that makes you feel better.”

Peter hung up on the coattails of his sentence, leaving Adrien with the resonance. Now, Adrien wasn’t an expert on French driving laws by any means, but he knew that you had to be over eighteen.

And Peter was definitely not over eighteen.

The house was eerily quiet when Adrien returned, the open window in Peter’s room telling him everything he needed to know. Peter had obviously already made up his mind to go get that driver’s license. Boy oh boy would he be in for a shock.

It wasn’t until Adrien was halfway through dinner that Peter returned, happily strolling through the front door.

“Feast your eyes!” Peter exclaimed, slapping the pink and blue card down in front of Adrien.

“I thought you had to be eighteen in order to get this.” Adrien held it up, checking for any signs of forgery but it looked real as could be.

“Turns out when you get Tony Stark on the phone, laws are just a suggestion! How cool is that?” Peter took a seat at the table as the chef brought out his share. “Plus, I swung by to pick up the rental car.”

Adrien got up to peer out the window. A sleek black Ferrari was parked below, plush red seats visible even from his vantage point.

“How did you afford that?”

“School charge card, remember?” Peter said. “I don’t think they intended me to use it to rent sports cars but whatever.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Adrien asked. “There’s five of us going, only four seats.”

“Nino is meeting us there,” Peter fiddled with his rice. “We’re picking Alya and Marinette up at Mari’s place and Nino and Alya are going somewhere after the concert. It works out great.”

“Sure,” Adrien said, distracted as he wondered who in their right mind would let a sixteen year old kid rent a luxury sports car. Probably the same sort of people who would waive the law for Tony Stark.

“Hurry up and eat, we’ve got places to be!”

Approximately an hour later, Adrien was ready to go. Peter had told him to bring the glow-in-the-dark paint and the light up wristbands with him and put them on in the venue bathroom, as it seemed all his energy at the given moment was devoted to looking as cool as humanly possible.

Peter was dressed in mirrored sunglasses, a black leather jacket, and ripped jeans. He seemed to have put on the outfit he thought the owner of a Ferrari would drive and it looked hilarious. But Adrien couldn’t really judge. He’d gone with a casual black bomber jacket and white t-shirt with skinny jeans. It was a bit less adventurous than his usual outfits but he didn’t want to be overdressed. And when your entire wardrobe was designer, it became very easy to accidentally show up to a casual affair in an outfit worth thousands of dollars.

“Do I look badass or do I look badass?” Peter attempted to casually slide his sunglasses down his face but instead wound up smacking them right off the end of his nose, leaving them to dangle under his chin, hanging on by his ears alone.

“Why wear sunglasses in November?” Adrien asked as they headed out the door, Peter hastily fixing the glasses.

“Because it’s cool. Now shut up and get in the car.”

Admittedly, Peter did look pretty cool as he started up his car, backing out the driveway and onto the street. The car was every teenage boy’s wet dream and here Adrien was, sitting in it. Why did his dad have to stick with such a lame grey car when they could’ve easily afforded such flashy luxury?

It didn’t take long for them to reach the bakery. True to his word, Peter’s driving wasn’t terrible, besides the fact that he had a tendency to speed a little bit, especially when passing, but definitely better than the only other time Adrien had been in a vehicle with him.

“You go get the girls,” Peter said. “I’ll sit out here with this bad boy.”

Adrien sighed, climbing out of the car and stepping into the bakery. Marinette’s mom was still there, tidying up after a long day of manning the cash register.

“Hello Mme. Cheng,” Adrien said, scuffing his feet awkwardly. She gave him a warm smile.

“Hi Adrien, you want to head on up and get them? I’d do it myself but we’re still technically open.”

“Yeah of course.” Adrien gave her a quick head nod as he opened the back door and quickly scaled the spiralling flights of stairs to reach Marinette’s house. The door was unlocked so he let himself in, rationalizing that Marinette most likely wouldn’t be able to hear him knocking if she was in her bedroom.

He’d been in her house a handful of times, a few as Chat Noir and a few times as himself but he always loved the cozy atmosphere it projected. You could tell a real family lived there by the photos on the walls and the slightly chaotic organization. It had heart, something his house was severely lacking.

“Marinette?” Adrien reached her bedroom and knocked on the trapdoor that lead to her room. On the other side, he heard screams.

Then Alya opened it, grinning down at him. “Hey Adrien. Come on in.”

Alya was a glitter extravaganza. Glittery eyeshadow coated her lids, chunky glitter highlight was dusted across her cheeks and nose, and she seemed to have applied some sort of glitter body oil. Either way, the overall effect was much like Edward Cullen from Twilight in direct sunlight, except more glittery if that was even possible. She’d dressed casually, if one could call it that, in a Jagged Stone crop top and booty shorts, despite the time of year.

“You dressed so boring,” Alya commented, nose wrinkling as Adrien stepped into the room.

“So…rry…?” Adrien’s voice trailed off in the middle of the word as his eyes landed on a framed picture of himself sitting on Marinette’s vanity. He was well acquainted with the photos as Chat Noir but apparently Adrien Agreste wasn’t supposed to know about them. Marinette’s eyes followed his gaze and she smacked it to the floor, successfully ridding it from his line of sight.

“Adrien, you’re early,” Marinette said in her usual bright manner, her toe nudging the fallen frame further under the vanity. Marinette’s look was a bit more subdued than Alya’s but she’d still included some vibrant eyeshadow and dark lipstick. She wore an oversized Jagged Stone t-shirt (Adrien was beginning to wish his father let him own merchandise just so that he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb) overtop a simple black turtleneck, tucking it all into a black miniskirt. Andddd he was staring.

You have a girlfriend, his brain chided him. No, he hadn’t been ‘checking Marinette out’ he’d simply been appreciating her outfit. As good friends do.

“Well Peter wanted to drive his car so…,” he shrugged.

“Peter can drive?” Alya asked. “He has a car?”

“He rented a car. Now that I think about it, we really shouldn’t keep him waiting, he’s going to want to show off as soon as possible. Let’s go.”

Both Marinette and Alya’s jaws dropped when they saw the car. Peter was leaning on the side of it, so perfectly poised that Adrien was certain he’d picked out the pose while they were inside talking. What a nerd.

“You’ve got a license?” Alya looked at him incredulously.

“Yep,” Peter held it up. “Fresh off the press. I’m just so good at driving that they gave it to me early.”

“That’s a lie, he called his daddy, Tony Stark,” Adrien said, making move to sit in the passenger’s seat.

“Dibs on front seat!” Alya yelled, shoving him out of the way.

“Yes, I may use my connection with Tony Stark to my benefit on occasion but I can guarantee this was all done legally. Or somewhat legally. Now let’s go, mesdames et messieurs, our concert awaits!”

They piled into the car and Adrien found himself rather close to Marinette in the backseat. In fact, in such a sports car, the backseats seemed to be an afterthought. The front row got extra leg room and relaxed chairs and all Adrien got was an awkward headrest and up close and personal with Miss Dupain-Cheng.

“Hi,” Adrien said awkwardly as Peter pulled away from the curb, waving to Marinette’s mother as they drove past.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to die?” Marinette asked, eyes wide as Peter accelerated slightly.

“He got us here without a single scratch, I’m sure he can get us to the venue alive. Right Peter?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of my kick-ass ride,” Peter called, throwing the statement over his shoulder slightly.

Adrien was pretty sure it was rather counterproductive to use both the seat warmers and heater while having the top down but he made no comment to Peter. His car, his rules, but Adrien did shrug off his coat and hand it to Marinette when she started shivering.

“What about you? You’re wearing a t-shirt,” she protested, doing her best to refuse his jacket despite her chattering teeth.

“I’ll be fine,” Adrien shrugged. “I’ve got all this muscle to keep me warm.”

Marinette frowned slightly at him for a moment before she seemed to brush it off and laugh, accepting the jacket and pulling it on.

You can’t be like Chat Noir with her right now. You’re Adrien. Stop doing that, he chastised himself, flashing her a smile and resolving not to say anything that could constitute as humorous or flirtatious for the rest of the night.

“So what even is a Jagged Stone? Are they like a band of geologists or a singer or…?” Peter asked, following the gps to the concert.

“You mean you bought tickets without knowing who he was?” Alya asked.

“Um, duh. Do I seem like the type of person to think things through?” Peter winked in the rear view mirror although Adrien couldn’t tell if it was intended for him or Marinette.

Miraculously and by some divine intervention, Peter delivered them to the concert site unscathed. In fact, his driving had been entirely satisfactory.

“Four living persons, as requested,” he gave a stiff bow as they climbed out of the car.

“Impressive,” Marinette said, shrugging Adrien’s jacket off. “It’ll be hot in there.”

Adrien pulled his jacket back on, indifferent. His body seemed to retain a constant neutral temperature, probably due to all his years of modelling spring fashions in the dead of winter. Or maybe he’d damaged his nerves after all his wipe-outs as Chat Noir. Either way, the cold or heat was of no concern to him.

His first thought upon entering the concert was that it was like Paris Fashion Week. Like Fashion Week, the crowd seemed charged with an excited energy, not one you usually felt at runway shows. Paris Fashion Week was the fashion event of the year, and people who didn’t even work in the industry flocked to the runways, making for an actually interesting event. The same energy pulsed through the crowd here. Everyone seemed to be chatting amongst themselves, filling up the stadium with a pleasant buzz.

“Now’s the time for glow-in-the-dark face paint,” Peter said. “I’ll do you, you do me.”

Needless to say, Adrien was far more careful with Peter’s face paint than Peter was with his. By the time Peter was done rubbing his fingers over Adrien’s face, he had a massive pink handprint that stretched over the majority of his face, a orange nose, and a green flower drawn on his cheek in a sloppy fashion. Adrien had just drawn lines on Peter.

“Great. That’s so great,” Adrien grumbled as Peter and the girls laughed at him.

“Hey!” Nino joined them, sliding into his spot. “Sick face paint!”

“Want some?” Peter said, turning eagerly, finger at the ready.

“Say no,” Adrien advised. His advice was not heeded.

“Sure!”

By the time Jagged Stone walked out on stage, all of them had at least some of the glowing paint on them. Peter and paint seemed to be a dangerous combination, one that Adrien greatly regretted allowing to exist.

The concert itself was great. Despite not knowing any of the songs, Peter was screaming along to the music, blowing out Adrien’s eardrums but adding to the experience. They all left grinning, Peter’s arms laden with merchandise.

“So let me get this straight. You not only designed that man’s sunglasses but you also made his album cover? As in the very album cover on this t-shirt?” Peter shook a t-shirt in Marinette’s face.

“You’re not the only one with famous friends, Lightning.” Adrien shoved his shoulder against Peter’s as they stepped out into the crisp night.

“Lightning?” Peter cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Lightning McQueen.”

“I am currently high on serotonin so I won’t contest that,” Peter hummed, leading Adrien and Marinette back to the car. Alya and Nino had already gone off on whatever side adventure they’d had planned, leaving just the three of them.

“Do we want to do anything else?” Peter asked as they pulled out of the lot. “I feel like this night isn’t over yet.”

“Let’s get super gross takeout food and eat it along the Seine,” Marinette suggested from the backseat, Adrien’s jacket back on. Adrien had tried to get her to sit in the front with the better heaters but she’d refused politely.

“That would be great,” Adrien said.

“We’ll make a quick stop by Mari’s so she can grab a proper coat instead of leeching Adrien’s,” Peter said. “But that sounds like it’ll be a rock and roll time.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Peter spoke again. “Do you guys ever get that feeling when you’re driving and you’re just like damn…I could drive us right off the road right now and no one could even stop me?”

“NO!” Adrien and Marinette yelled in unison.

It was about eleven p.m. by the time they’d got their food and were seated on the concrete ledge above the river. Something about the three of them sitting there felt familiar, like a hazy dream. The way Marinette’s hair shone in the light of the full moon tugged at a memory at the back of Adrien’s mind but he didn’t seem to be able to pull it to the forefront. Instead, he settled for simply bathing in the moment.

“Nice night,” Peter commented, picking at his hamburger.

“What, not a fan of tomatoes?” Adrien asked, accepting the tomato his friend held out to him with a look of disgust.

“If you’re a fan of gross, watery slabs with the texture of slimy rubber than yeah. Tomatoes are great.”

“I’m with Peter,” Marinette agreed. “Tomatoes are nasty.”

“Good thing I’m here then,” Adrien grinned, taking her tomato slice as well. “I’ll eat them all.”

“My knight in shining armour,” Peter fake swooned. “Here to rescue me from those horrible tomatoes. How ever shall I repay you?”

“Tell everyone what you saw here today,” Adrien said solemnly, bobbing his head.

Marinette laughed and Adrien felt his heart soar. He loved spending time with his friends and he knew with abject certainty that he would look back on these memories one day fondly. These were the good old days and Adrien never wanted to leave them.

By the time Monday rolled around, Peter was completely unprepared to even think about facing Chloé. Facing Chloé would involve the inevitable coming to terms with the fact that she still existed and hadn’t evaporated into thin air overnight.

And so naturally he put on the best outfit he (or rather, Adrien) had. Better to come dressed to kill than dressed for defeat.

“Why are you dressed like Keanu Reeves from the Matrix?” Adrien’s eyes flicked Peter up and down as he sat down for breakfast.

“I am a badass bitch. Try your best to keep up.”

“Talking to Chloé today?” Adrien took a sip of his orange juice, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Absolutely none of your business. Is Nathalie still not back yet?” Peter hadn’t seen Nathalie since he’d left her on the beach. He was starting to worry she’d somehow died.

“No,” Adrien’s brow creased, worry flitting across his face. “I tried asking Father but, as usual, he had nothing to say to me.”

“Bitch,” Peter muttered.

“What was that, Neo?” Adrien raised one eyebrow slowly.

“I called your dad a bitch,” Peter gave him the sweetest smile possible. “And I’d do it again. Also, I’m not quite sure I like your sudden affluence of pop culture references. That’s my gimmick, you can’t take it.”

“You’re in a…unique mood today.”

“Variety is the spice of life.”

Peter didn’t have to return the car until that evening and he was prepared to make the most of it as possible. This was quite possibly the only shred of cool he’d ever get (superhero side gigs excluded) and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

“Really?” Adrien folded his arms, fixing Peter with a disapproving stare as Peter ran down to his precious car, running a hand along its smooth paint job.

“It’s my baby.”

“It’s not even yours.” However, Adrien still climbed in without Peter even asking.

“One day when I’m actually paid for this Spiderman thing I’ll get one,” Peter said as he started the car.

“You’re not paid? But you’re part of the superhero union!”

“Dude, do you mean the Avengers?” Peter glanced away from the road to give Adrien an incredulous look. “I mean yeah, but I’m not paid for that until I’m an adult and it becomes a full time thing.”

“You mean once you graduate you’re going to be Spiderman full time?”

Peter honestly hadn’t given much thought to what was waiting for him post-graduation but then again, it wasn’t something he really had to worry about. He could do anything, honestly.

“Might get a few PhD’s in my downtime, you know the vibes. We’re here.” Peter pulled to a smooth stop, carefully parking.

“Yo, Parker! Sick ride!” Kim called on his way up the front steps. Peter gave him a casual salute as he put the car in park and switched the engine off. A small crowd of kids had gathered to admire as he climbed on out.

“How validation starved are you?” Adrien asked him as they walked away, headed to class.

“Famished,” Peter flashed him a toothy grin, rather similar to the one Chat Noir always sported. If Adrien was going to steal his gig, by god he was going to steal Adrien’s.

“Good morning boys,” Alya greeted them at the steps. “Someone’s waiting for you, Peter.”

“Guess it’s better to get it over with now,” Peter sighed, shifting the shoulder his bag hung off. “Catch you guys in class if it runs overtime.”

“Are you wearing platform boots?” Alya squinted at his feet.

“Like them? They’re Chanel.” Peter kicked his foot out slightly, giving Alya a quick glance before he headed into the courtyard. Just as Alya had said, Chloé was standing there, leaning against a pillar and inspecting her nails. They made eye contact but she made no move to wave him down or walk over. She was giving him the choice, allowing him to choose whether to approach her or not.

Peter rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck as he did so, taking that last second to compose himself before he walked towards her.

“Are you wearing those boots just so you can be taller than me?” Chloé asked the second he reached her.

“What, a man’s not allowed to have any fashion sense?”

“I have seen you wear graphic t-shirts.” She pursed her lips, well aware that she’d won that round. Was it healthy for Peter to think of their conversations as a competition? Probably not. But good lord, if it wasn’t something he not only wanted to win but also thought was possible to achieve.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“I wanted to apologize, actually.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

“You misunderstood me, I wanted to clear that up.” Chloé looked up at him, eyes sparkling with sincerity, like ice in the sun. It was a new look for her. “When I said that people like me weren’t friends with people like you, I meant that you’re literally amazing, smart, funny, well-dressed – although I suspect that’s Adrien’s doing – and I guess you’re everything I think I am. But in reality I’m mean and I was awful to you and everyone else here. There’s a kind of light in you that I don’t think I can match. That’s why I said what I did, but I can understand how you took it the way you did. I tend to come off a lot more abrasive than I intend.”

Peter just stood there, completely uncertain of what to say. Of everything he’d prepared for in all his mental scenarios, he hadn’t been expecting that. She’d probably prepared to say that, there was no way he could’ve come up with something like that on the spot. Should he have written something to say down? He felt wildly underprepared.

“Well that was… quite succinct and candid, thank you,” he managed, coughing slightly. “I don’t really know what I can…you know.”

“If you can’t accept my apology, I understand. I just wanted to let you know that you inspire me to be a better person and I really would have liked to be friends with you.” Chloé gave him a curt nod, moving to step around him, but Peter held out a hand.

“Chloé, wait.” She stopped, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

“If you really mean that, I’d like to be friends with you too.”

“Really?” She grabbed him in a hug and released him before Peter could even make sense of what was happening, stepping back and clasping her hands under her chin. “I mean, of course.”

“It would be rude to snub the first girl I ever kissed,” Peter winked at her.

“That was your first kiss? Loser.” She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Let me know if you’re ever looking for a second one.” And with that she strolled away, leaving Peter to deal with the aftermath of the verbal equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You are not taking her up on that offer, his brain declared. No way in hell. Friends. Friends. You don’t even like her.

“Okay, but I do like kissing pretty girls,” Peter said aloud on accident as he rejoined his friends.

“What’s that?” Nino asked.

“Do not tell me you kissed her again,” Alya said, facepalming.

“It was discussed,” Peter said, scuffing his feet. “But not put to practice.”

“I’m sending you to horny jail,” she declared, grabbing Peter’s wrists and proceeding to pretend to cuff them behind his back.

“Hey guys!” Marinette joined them at that moment and Peter gave her a dazzling grin. “What’s going on?”

“I’m being incarcerated for my libido,” Peter said bluntly.

“You’re what?”

“Trust me, you don’t want any part in this,” Adrien muttered to her, covering the side of his mouth that was turned towards Peter with one hand. As if that prevented Peter from hearing him.

“I heard that Agreste. You’re next!” Peter threatened, pretending to squirm against Alya’s hands as she held his behind his back.

“Me? How am I deserving of horny jail?” Adrien pressed a hand to his chest, acting as though he was offended by Peter’s statement.

“Don’t play innocent with me! I’ve seen you kiss your girlfriend! There is nothing innocent about that!”

The bell chose that moment to ring, saving Peter from what would’ve been a very awkward conversation. Granted that Nino and Alya had not been aware that Adrien had a girlfriend and were now rounding on their friend, eyes hungry for information.

“Peter Parker I am going to KILL you!” Adrien yelled after him as Peter tore up the steps, three at a time, whooping to himself like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.

Adrien spent most of the class death-glaring him, meaning Peter spent most of the class cackling silently, only interrupted by him providing the occasional answer to the teacher as she went through the concept of literary analysis.

“You little rat!” Adrien burst out the second they left the classroom once the lunch bell rang.

“You had all that time and that’s the best thing you could come up with?” Peter laughed as Nino, Marinette, and Alya caught up to them in the courtyard.

“Nuh-uh,” Alya said, grabbing Adrien by the straps of his bag. “You’ve been holding out on us, Agreste. Spill.”

Adrien shuffled awkwardly, swatting Alya’s hands away. “She is a female girl who I like and who happens to like me back.”

“That’s false,” Peter cut in. The mischievous grin he’d been wearing all morning was starting to become a permanent facial feature. “He annoyed her into going out with him. I watched it happen.”

“Is she hot?” Alya pressed.

Adrien frowned. “There’s more to a girl than just her looks, Alya-”

“I don’t care,” Alya interrupted. “Is she hot?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Dude!” Nino said. “Why does Peter get to know everything before us?”

“Because he’s a know-it-all to begin with,” Adrien grumbled, shooting Peter a look that was meant to kill. Peter just gave him a little wave. “And he has a habit of sticking his nose into other’s business.”

“Kinda hard to ignore when I’m right there,” Peter huffed, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “Like seriously, get a room or something.”

“Peter?” Adrien said. “Stop talking.”

“Avec plaisir, Casanova.” Peter gave a little mock bow, carefully avoiding the kick Adrien aimed at his behind.

Adrien had a photoshoot after school that day, so Peter went home alone after returning the rental car. It had been a good day thus far; he’d gotten his Romeo and Juliet literary essay back and he’d gotten one hundred percent. All his time studying French grammar was finally starting to pay off. It was one thing to speak it, but writing it was a whole other can of worms. A can of worms that Peter had successfully opened, baited his hook with, and caught a gigantic fish for dinner with.

He reached his room but paused, his spidey senses piquing. There was someone in there. Whether they were a threat or not, that remained to be seen. Carefully engaging his web shooters under his jacket, Peter turned the handle and kicked the door open.

‘Adrien’ was lounging on Peter’s couch, reading a science magazine Peter had left lying around a few days before. He looked exactly like Adrien, which was exactly how Peter knew it was not Adrien.

“Hey Felix,” Peter said, shedding his jacket and draping it over the coffee table.

“How’d you guess so fast?” Felix sat up, tossing the magazine aside and running a hand through his hair. “It usually takes even Nathalie at least ten minutes before she realizes.”

“One, Adrien has a photoshoot today and I doubt it would be cancelled, two, Adrien doesn’t read my English science magazines because he says reading English gives him a headache. Three, Adrien would never wear a crushed velvet suit jacket overtop a hoodie. He’s specifically told me that the textures clash. Four, I can see the remnants of your hair gel in your hair. It’s been mussed from its original position to imitate Adrien. Would you like me to continue?”

“How good is your eyesight, exactly?” Felix squinted at him suspiciously.

“Good enough to know your were an imposter. What are you doing here.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement of annoyance.

“My mum had some Christmas shopping to do. I decided to come here since I thought we could call Spiderman together. Me, his manager, you, his assistant.”

“For starters,” Peter sat down in his desk chair and turned away from Felix, facing the computer, “I’m not Spiderman’s assistant. I’m his tech guy. And I’m not going to call him with you, I’ve got work to do.”

Felix harrumphed behind him. “Well then I’m going to call him myself.”

Think of an excuse, think of an excuse.

“He won’t pick up,” Peter said, pretending to be unperturbed as he sorted through his files. “He’s got a mandatory Avengers global check-in meeting. If you don’t show up the meetings, you’re presumed dead and they send out a team to look for you. It’s serious stuff and they take it seriously.”

Seriously, how many times are you going to say seriously?

“I guess I’ll just watch you work.” Felix got up and walked over to hover over Peter’s shoulder.

“Can I ask why?”

“I need to get a better sense of what goes on behind the scenes in Spiderman’s life. I’ve never even seen him in action.”

“Well I’m doing suit design right now, nothing interesting.” It wasn’t a lie. Peter was trying to figure out whether he would be able to combine his suit with Helios’s and whether or not his webs would melt if he were to try to shoot them in such a state. He was currently trying to make heat-resistant web shooters to prevent any sort of melting or catching fire of the web fluid, something complex enough Felix wouldn’t fully understand if Peter did it right in front of him.

“That sounds interesting.” Felix folded his arms, breath hot on the back of Peter’s neck. If Felix didn’t give him his space, Peter was going to lose his mind.

“Yeah, sure.” Peter opened up a file labelled ‘wsptv104’

“What does that mean?”

“Web shooter prototype version one hundred and four, obviously.” Usually Peter would work closely with Karen to figure this out but he didn’t quite have the option with Felix right there. What a headache.

“Why are there multiple prototypes? Aren’t the ones he has right now good?”

“We’re always trying to improve certain aspects of the suit. I’m looking at adding tantalum carbide and hafnium carbide fibres to improve structural integrity irregardless of heat.”

“Aren’t hafnium alloys usually used in aerospace engineering?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Peter mumbled as he zoomed in on a 3D structure, carefully altering the most minuscule of fibres on the model.

“Don’t those two metals have the highest melting points?”

“Around four thousand degrees Celsius, yeah.” Peter typed out a quick note to himself, reminding him to alter the web fluid composition and sending it away before Felix could get a proper read on it.

“Where is Spiderman going that’s four thousand degrees? Wouldn’t he die?”

“If we look at the precedent of human limits, yes. One thing you’ll learn rather quickly about working with Spiderman is that he is anything but ordinary. His DNA isn’t even fully human.”

Felix leaned against the desk, watching as Peter continued to examine his model. It was mostly completed as that day’s work was supposed to be about testing web fluid but everyone knew Spiderman made his own web fluid. He couldn’t risk either revealing his identity or tarnishing his reputation in front of Felix just for the sake of work. Besides, he could cancel on patrols and make up any lost productivity later.  

“So if I got bitten by a radioactive spider, I could be Spiderman too?”

“Felix.” Peter closed the program and pushed his chair away from the desk. “You’re getting close to my last nerve. Want to fight? Like Elmo in Times Square round two?”

Felix’s eyes flashed with challenge. “Of course.”

Marinette wanted to tear her hair out.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alya asked for the billionth time since Peter had casually mentioned that Adrien had a girlfriend. Sure, maybe if it had been her first time hearing about said girlfriend or if she was still into him, Marinette would be heartbroken. But as it stood, she couldn’t care less and Alya’s constant stream of questioning made her want to die.

“Yes, Alya, I am one hundred and fifty percent fine and totally over him.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she poked pins into her latest creation. December started tomorrow and she needed the perfect Christmas themed outfit. A red dress with a flared, bell-shaped skirt and white fluffy trim was the current goal. Of course, it was not a goal that would be reached if Alya kept up with this line of questioning.

“Are you like, super-duper sure? I want to talk about it but I don’t want to tread all over your feelings or anything if-”

“Alya! Just talk about it, okay? Adrien is my friend, just like you’re my friend and Nino’s my friend and Peter is my friend.”

“Fine.” Alya rocked back on her hands at her spot on Marinette’s chaise lounge. “Sounds like Adrien’s a bit less timid than we made him out to be. By Peter’s comments, it seems like Adrien makes out with his girlfriend right in front of him.”

“I mean, they do live together. Maybe Adrien was just doing his own thing and Peter walked in. We don’t know what goes down.”

“I’m just wondering if Adrien is secretly a freak!” Alya said excitedly, oblivious to the fact that Marinette didn’t seem to match her level of enthusiasm when it came to speculating over how kinky Adrien Agreste was.

“Why don’t you ask Peter?” She suggested sarcastically. “I’m sure he knows all about that.”

Alya missed her sarcasm, pulling out her phone. “Great idea!”

Before Marinette could dissuade her, Alya had called Peter and he picked up almost instantly, his face filling the screen. “Thank god.”

“What’s going on?” Marinette abandoned her project to sit beside Alya so she could see better. Peter was hanging from what looked like the loft in his room by one hand, his other hand holding onto the phone.

“Felix and I are working.” Peter turned the camera around, showing an angry Felix on the ground, jumping on the spot and swiping at Peter’s ankles. Laughing, Peter tucked his knees up closer to his body. Marinette’s own core muscles ached at the sight but Peter didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “What’s up?”

“Marinette and I were speculating over whether Adrien is a freak. Can you confirm or deny?”

“Confirm,” Peter said. “One second, this is gonna get a little dizzying for you guys.” The camera flip-flopped, the audio crackling for a moment before it rightened itself, showing Peter now hanging on a tiny ledge on the opposite wall.

“Did you just flip across the room?” Marinette asked, trying to peer at the background.

“Um, guess so.” Peter shrugged. “Anyways, yeah I’d vote freak. And while I would love to discuss Adrien’s love life with you guys, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“You’re cheating!” Felix yelled from the background.

“I’m not cheating, you’re just weak! Do some squats and chin-ups, then we can talk, City Boy.” Peter grinned at the camera. “Can’t get shit done with him here. Have fun fantasizing, ladies!” He ended the call the second Felix began to swear at him.

“That was…,” Alya said.

“Crazy?” Marinette suggested. “I don’t think Peter ever does anything besides chaos.”

“Is it just me or is he wildly unpredictable?” Alya shook her head as she thrust her phone down. “One minute I think I’ve got him figured out, the next moment he’s dangling off the wall while Felix Graham de Vanily yells at him but I guess we can’t all read each other like books.”

“Peter Parker is truly an enigma,” Marinette agreed, echoing Alya’s sentiments. “I think his randomness is what makes him interesting.”

“It’s like he’s thinking of a billion things all at once and I wouldn’t understand any of them if he explained it to me. I once asked him precisely he does for Spiderman and I didn’t understand a single word of it. Honestly, he’s like when you don’t put away your necklaces properly and they get all tangled up in ways you didn’t even know existed.”

Marinette gave her a look at that terrible analogy and stood up, slowly beginning to pace her room, trying to think how she could distract Alya so she didn’t go back to talking about Adrien. She loved her friend, she really did, but she didn’t want to discuss the former love of her life’s hypothetical kinkiness any further.

“Mari, your phone is ringing. It’s from…cat heart emoji?” Marinette had never lunged for a phone faster in her life. That’s what she deserved for leaving her superhero phone out in plain sight. She’d added the heart emoji just after Chat had asked her to be his girlfriend thinking no one would see it except her and now she was very deeply regretting it. Even so, he’d never called her before.

“I’ll be back in a sec.” Marinette quickly ran up to her loft and clambered up to her balcony, shutting the door firmly before answering. “Hi Chat.”

“Hello My Lady,” he responded in his usual upbeat tone. “Spiderman has just informed me he can’t make patrols tonight. He’s designing a new suit that needs to be done as soon as possible. It’ll just be you and me.”

“He’s designing a new suit? What’s wrong with his old one?”

“Beats me. It didn’t sound like he was having fun. His new manager isn’t the easiest to work with, so I hear.”

“Well I’ll see you at patrols then.”

“We should call more often.” His voice sent shivers down her spine. No doubt Alya was waiting to grill her as soon as she went back down. The longer the call was, the more Alya would want to hear about it. But Marinette didn’t want to hang up.

“Yeah, we should.” She smiled, sitting down on her balcony chair. “I like hearing your voice.”

“Me too. As much as I love getting your texts, this has so much more of a…personal aspect to it.”

“I shou-should be going. My friend is waiting for me, she’s going to wonder what’s taking me so long. I’m already going to have to lie to her about who you were.”

“Lie? Now why would you do that?”

“I can’t tell her I’m dating Chat Noir, that would raise some questions,” Marinette giggled.

“What are you going to tell her then?”

“I’ll probably tell her you’re my grand-mère.”

“I’m- I don’t know what to say to that, in all honesty. Isn’t that incest?”

“I don’t know!?” She laughed, quickly covering her mouth with her sleeve so Alya didn’t hear her. “I’ll catch you later, chaton.”

“Bye-bye Buginette!”

Marinette hung up and dropped back into her room, fixing Alya with an innocent smile. “What?”

Alya crossed her arms over her chest. “Care to tell me who that was and why you’re smiling so hard right now?”

“That was my grand-mère.”

“Try again.”

“Try again?” Marinette tilted her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, first Adrien, now you! You’ve obviously got a secret boyfriend or something!” She stood up, walking towards Marinette with a look of determination before she paused suddenly, face lighting up. “Wait a minute! Are you and Adrien secretly dating?”

“What? No!” Marinette felt her face heat up. “Alya, if I were dating Adrien you would be the first to know about it.”

“Then who are you dating, Mari?”

There was no sense lying. Alya’s expression told her everything she needed to know. It was either Marinette told her of her own volition or Alya forced it out of her. “I met someone. He doesn’t even go to our school, so don’t bother.”

“Do I know him?”

Yes, yes you know him extremely well. He’s on your blog every single day. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Is he hot? And don’t give a lame answer like Adrien did. Gimme the juicy details.”

“He’s extremely hot. Hot and muscular and tall. Good enough?” Marinette crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow slowly.

“Big dick?”

“ALYA!” Marinette shrieked, arms flailing as she fell backwards, landing right on her desk chair.

“It’s a valid question!”

“I don’t know! Do you think I’ve…you know what, no.” Marinette spun around to face her desk, burying her flaming face in her hands. “I’m just going to pretend you didn’t ask that.”

“Fine, tell me about his personality.” Alya took a seat directly on the floor, crossing her legs, looking up at Marinette with an expectant expression.

“He’s funny,” Marinette finally worked up the courage to spin and face Alya properly again although her blush hadn’t quite subsided. “His sense of humour is the first thing you notice about him. He’s also really sweet and caring, he’s the sort to bring you flowers on a bad day or do anything he can to make you laugh again.”

“He sounds great.” Alya gave her a sincere smile. “Do I get to meet him?”

“Maybe one day. Right now we’re just kind of working out the details, you know?”

“I feel you.” Alya checked the time on her phone. “Not to dip after you’ve just spilled your biggest secret to me, but I’ve got to get home to babysit the twins. Call you later?”

“I, uh, can’t.” Marinette gave her a guilty smile and Alya gave her a wink.

“All good, girl. You go get some!”

“Alya!”

“Just kidding!”

**** 

Marinette was a bundle of nerves as she transformed that night, although she didn’t know why. It was just Chat. Just her and Chat. Just like the old days. In fact, it usually was her and Chat. Spidey had a lot of side tasks he was constantly off doing but she couldn’t blame him. Being a part of the Avengers came before patrols. She had no idea what kind of things they would be assigning him to do and what they expected him to do while he was in Paris.

As she swung out into the night she remembered something important. She’d never gone to talk to Master Fu about Spiderman. Maybe tonight was the night to do that. If Spiderman was holding out on them, she needed to get to the bottom of it. After all, they were a team, were they not?

“I see those wheels turning,” Chat said the second she landed at their usual meeting spot.

“I forgot to talk to Master Fu about Spiderman,” she admitted.

“Don’t worry, I took initiative.” Chat gave her a crooked smile. “Master Fu says we need to trust Spiderman’s timing and that he’ll tell us when the time is right.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Marinette crossed her arms across her chest, huffing.

“Look on the bright side, My Lady. Helios defeated Mayura.”

“Defeated? He didn’t…kill her, did he?”

“No!” Chat seemed offended she would even think that. She let out a sigh of relief. For a second there she’d been worried that the miraculous was turning Peter bad. However, she needn’t have worried. He was still the good guy she knew, albeit a little distant when he took on his superhero persona. “He just took her miraculous. Gave it to Spiderman, Spiderman fixed it right up and now it’s back in the Guardian’s hands.”

“Hold up.” Marinette held a hand up. “Helios took her miraculous? And Spiderman fixed it?”

“Yeah, that’s literally what I just said.”

“How did either of them do that?”

“No idea.” Chat shrugged. “They’re both just crazy talented, I guess. Scary talented, actually.”

“To spend a day in their minds, honestly.” Marinette shook her head. “Patrol time?”

“Sure. Then we’ll talk about how your conversation with your friend went.” He gave her a wicked grin, spinning his baton over his head before running off.

“This stupid cat,” Marinette grumbled, running off in her own direction.

Patrol didn’t take long, as it never seemed to these days. If Spiderman did know the identity of the Papillon, he’d surely warn them if they were in imminent danger.

“Okay, tell me everything.” They landed on a rooftop not too far from Marinette’s house. It was a nice flat one, good for sitting on, with lots of tall chimneys to shield them from prying eyes. Chat sat down promptly, looking up at her with big eyes as he waited to hear every tiny detail of her talk with Alya.

“Well I told her you were my grand-mère, just like I said I would,” Marinette said, taking a seat right beside him, so close their shoulders were touching. “And can you believe she thought I was lying?”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not,” Chat said.

“Of course I’m kidding. Anyways, she managed to piece together the fact that I may or may not have a secret boyfriend.”

Chat gasped dramatically, bringing a clawed hand up to cover his mouth. “You have a what? Ladybug, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Shut up.” Marinette rolled her eyes, shoving her shoulder into his. He returned the gesture, bumping her back until they were both swaying back and forth amicably. “Anyways, then she asked if you were hot.”

“And you told her I was the hottest human being you’re ever laid eyes on, right?”

“Something along those lines,” Marinette said, reaching out and threading her hand through his. Chat’s eyes widened in surprise at the gesture but quickly schooled his features, running his thumb over her hand. “And then she asked me if youhadabigdick.” She mumbled the last part in a whisper, getting it out as fast as humanly possible.

“Sorry, what was that last part?” Chat, genuinely confused, leaned slightly closer. Marinette didn’t even know why she was telling him this. Maybe she was curious? How the hell did she even expect him to react to this statement? She didn’t know, but she cleared her throat nonetheless, steeling her resolve.

“She asked me if you have a big –” she looked him dead in the eyes and swallowed her pride “– dick.”

Chat burst into laughter. “She asked that?” He howled. “God, I like your friend. What did you tell her?”

“I told her I had no idea,” Marinette said, not appreciating how hot her face was becoming. Stupid hot boyfriend laughing at her. Stupid best friend for asking about his dick size and piquing her curiosity. Stupid teenage hormones for making her curious in the first place.

“Well, would you like to find out?” Chat stated plainly, then sucked in a quick breath and seemed to hold it, eyes searching her face as Marinette did her best to process what he’d just asked her.

“I’m sorry, what?” That was possibly the most awkward way Chat could’ve responded to that, but truth be told it was an awkward conversation to begin with.

“That didn’t come out right, it was supposed to sound sexy and everything but then it just…didn’t.” Chat carefully untangled his hand from hers, putting them both behind him and kicking his feet straight out in front. “I meant like…you know what, literally forget it. Just forget I spoke, in fact, forget I exist in all honesty. I don’t exist. You don’t have a partner.”

Marinette burst out laughing. “Oh Chat,” she sighed. “I could never forget you. And I’m sure it sounded very sexy in your head.” She ran a hand through his hair absent-mindedly, smiling to herself at the way he pouted.

“I can be sexy if I try harder,” he grumbled.

“Naturally.”

“You don’t believe me.” He looked at her, eyes sparkling with the hint of a challenge. “What if I just….” He let his voice trail off as he rose slightly, crawling towards her, the shadows swathing him in darkness save his glowing green eyes. Those eyes seemed to stare into her soul as he stopped in front of her then slowly, always ever so slowly, leaning forwards until he was only a few centimetres from her face. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she whispered, her heartbeat suddenly speeding up. Hovering over her in his crouched position, Chat Noir looked like a jaguar hunting his prey as she stared hopelessly up at him.

“I can’t tell if I’m coming off sexy or intimidating so I’m just going to kiss you so that you can’t make up your mind,” he declared, voice lower than usual and slightly huskier. Marinette parted her lips expectantly but instead of going for the mouth like he usually did, Chat dipped his head down into the crook of her neck, pressing soft but insistent kisses along her jawline. Her mouth popped open further in surprise as he worked his way down her neck, hands caressing her shoulders.

Suddenly he sat back, clambering off of her and returning to his seat beside her. “Was that sexier?”

“You little….” Marinette glared at him.

“What?” He said innocently. “I told you I could be sexy.”

“I hate you,” she decided. “You’re the worst.”

“What did I do wrong?” He continued to pretend. “Oh! Were you expecting more?” He gave her a smile that seemed to show off every tooth, causing them to glint in the moonlight.

“You know what, no. I’m not inflating your ego further.” Marinette slumped against the chimney they had their back to, drawing her knees up to her chest and looking determinedly away from him.

“My Lady, come here,” Chat said after a moment. That got her attention, at least.

“Hm?”

“If you really want,” he hesitated before swallowing hard. “I’ll follow through.”

“What are you…?”

“Only if you want. But if you wish to, I’ll do more than just…kiss you.” He looked at her with those big, green eyes and Marinette was like putty in his hands. Of course she wanted to do more. She’d expected him to do more when he’d practically climbed on top of her earlier.

Her body was humming as she shifted slightly, raising herself just above the ground and crawling into his lap, kneeling on either side of his outstretched legs. Chat pulled her towards him, eyes searching her face for any sign of hesitation or nerves. But there was none. Satisfied, he carefully leaned forwards, lips meeting hers.

This kiss was slow, starting off small and giving itself time to build. Marinette caught his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a quick tug before releasing it and continuing the kiss. This seemed to do something to Chat, and he whined slightly beneath her, mouth hungrily attacking hers. He pulled her even closer to him until her chest was flat against his, hands dancing along her lower back as she kissed him. Marinette’s hands never moved from their desperate grasping at the sides of his face, almost like she was scared he would disappear if she let go.

She shifted slightly on his lap to get a better angle and Chat made a noise, one that seemed to come from the back of his throat and rumble against her lips.

“My Lady,” he groaned in a strained tone and she pulled back, ever so slightly, eyes flitting across his face, searching for any discomfort.

“Chat?” She asked tentatively, shifting slightly again, uncertain if she should get off, and he groaned once more. Something hard was poking against her inner thigh. Was that…? He’d never- not to her knowledge at least. But something was in the air that night and she felt a tingling sensation run through her at the realization that she’d done that to him. She’d given Chat Noir an erection, there was no denying it. The tingling settled at the apex of her thighs and suddenly all her inhibitions went out the window. Perhaps she would be getting an answer to Alya’s question tonight.

Kissing him again, Ladybug ran her fingers down his chest, hands spreading out over his pectorals as Chat continued to let out soft moans beneath her.

“Can I…,” he panted slightly, pupils blown wide behind heavy lids as his hands slowly travelled lower down her back. The idea of Chat wanting her like that – although she’d always suspected he did – was enough to set Marinette off as she whimpered, arching her back in an attempt to send his hands lower. Chat got the message, removing his hands from her altogether before replacing them on her ass, gripping slightly. And Marinette practically mewled at his touch, her own arousal undeniable.

They met in the middle for another kiss and this time Marinette rolled her hips forwards, rocking against Chat’s obvious erection. He responded enthusiastically, gripping her ass tighter as he bucked his own hips up to meet hers.

“You feel…so good,” he managed between the canting of his hips, latching his mouth onto the space where her suit met the soft skin of her neck, nipping lightly before sucking. It would probably leave a mark come morning but Marinette couldn’t find it within herself to care, angling her hips to create more friction, more more more.

“There, Chat, right there,” she breathed, eyelashes fluttering. She could feel him, feel everything as his bulge rubbed against her clit, sending stars spiralling across her vision.

“M’Lady,” Chat openly groped her derrière as the heat between them intensified, reaching a fever pitch as Marinette buried her hands in his hair, tilting his head back to look up at her.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low and laced with desire as she picked up the pace, grinding against him with a newfound ferocity, fervently trying to reach her high at the same time as him. “You’re so good, chaton. So good for your Lady.”

Those were the words that seemed to set Chat off as he let out a long, drawn-out moan, hips shuddering beneath her, moan transitioning into a deep purr as he laid back.

Marinette wanted to scream. She’d been close, so close, and the stupid cat had managed to get off before her. In his suit, nonetheless!

“Did you cum?” Chat said once he’d caught his breath. The words sounded so filthy coming from his mouth, and a shiver raced through her, accentuating the empty ache between her legs. She wanted more and she wanted him now.

She shook her head, unable to say anything, and Chat sat up. “That won’t do!”

“No, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to…in costume….” She waved a hand through the air lamely as she trailed off but Chat ignored it, shifting her to sit atop his thigh and placing his hands on her waist.

“I’m already going to get hell for it from my kwami, I figure it’s only fair you get the same treatment.” He flashed her a wicked smile, hands guiding her waist forwards, then back, then forwards again, encouraging her to ride his thigh.

It was so lewd, somehow lewder in her mind than grinding on his erection like she had moments before, and with her senses dialled up to the max, Marinette complied. She gripped his shoulders as he helped bring her back to the edge she’d been teetering on before, vaguely aware of him leaving more hickeys along her neck.

Her moans and whimpers were out of control now, barely caring who heard them as Chat murmured praises along her jaw.

“Come on, My Lady.” He reached down with one hand, his thumb finding her clit with ease and he rubbed rough circles. And that was just what Marinette needed.

“Chat,” she chanted his name like a prayer as she fell over the edge, hands digging into his shoulder blades as she came.

For the moment after, no one moved until Marinette slumped forwards against his chest, bathing in the afterglow. Chat pressed gentle kisses to the crown of her head, but neither one spoke.

She’d officially had kind-of-sex with Chat Noir. Not real sex, of course, they couldn’t see each other out of suit, but that was about as far as they could go. And they’d went there. And now they could never go back.

Not that Marinette wanted to. That had been great, honestly. Seeing Chat unravel like that, see him come undone beneath her, that was a sight she wanted to see over and over again.

She would have been content to sit there in silence if it weren’t for Chat’s hands sliding down her back once again and gripping her ass.

“What’cha doing?” She asked casually, mumbling against his chest.

“I love your ass.” Chat kneaded it with his fingers, almost like a cat, and she could practically hear his smile in his voice.

“You’re never going to take your hands off, are you?”

“With your permission, My Lady, I’d never place my hands anywhere else.”

“You silly kitty,” she laughed. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

“I could never get enough,” he said honestly. “Not of you.”