#As for Rosie...Maybe I will have to buy her a noodle pillow of her own

[satans-knitwear]

Get u a baby that can do both (slay dragons and befriend dragons)

Big Baby Rosie trying to convince me that this is actually her side of the bed now.

[frostedpuffs]

A Simple Suggestion - Ch.12

A Simple Suggestion Summary: Breaks from patrol often allow time for Ladybug and Chat Noir to talk and be themselves. But when a silly joke starts to seem all that…well, not silly, the two find themselves considering something neither of them had ever before: moving in together. The tricky part is still keeping their identities a secret. Rated: T+ Pairing(s): Ladybug/Chat Noir, Adrien/Marinette

Chapter 12 - A Thought Word count: 7,438 Also read on: ao3 Chapter summary: Adrien thinks long and hard about a few suspicious details concerning a certain Ladybug.

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It took Adrien a moment to breathe again.

What had Ladybug said? Something about strawberry and cakes?

The back of his throat burned from the strain of coughing. That noodle had really fought its way down his windpipe. Dabbing at his eyes with a napkin—which had watered as soon as he'd began choking on his dinner—Adrien breathed in, his chest fluttering as he came back down from his state of near-death.

(Okay, so he hadn't nearly died. But where's the fun in not being dramatic?)

His head pounded. He couldn't even remember what had been going on before he'd lost the ability to take air in like a normal person.

"Are you alright?" Ladybug asked from across the table, blue eyes wide and hand outstretched in a curious motion. "Do you need some water?"

Adrien swallowed painfully. "Fine," he wheezed. "I'm fine. I just, uh"—oh, man, his mind was a mess—"I kind of breathed in wrong and then everything went bad."

Strawberry. Her favorite flavor was strawberry… Especially in cakes… Hadn't he heard that somewhere before? Isn't that what Marinette's parents had said? No, they had said vanilla—or had that been what he'd said? He didn't know.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. A really weird coincidence.

It had been such a long day.

Continue reading on ao3 or under the cut! ↓

"Let me get you a drink." Ladybug stood from the table without a word, her bare feet padding across the wooden floor as she made her way to the kitchen sink. She grabbed a cup from one of the cabinets and poured him a glass of water. Her expression was tight with concern as she returned to his side, one of her hands rubbing his shoulder in slow, soothing circles while the other offered him the beverage.

Her fingernails were painted pink.

Turning his eyes away from that minor detail, Adrien took the cup without a moment of hesitation. The drink felt cool as he downed it.

Didn't someone else he knew always have pink-painted fingernails…?

"Thanks, Buginette," he said hoarsely, throwing her a smile. "I don't know what happened back there."

He really didn't.

They finished their dinner without commotion. Ladybug was pleasantly surprised with how tasty the meal he'd prepared was; Adrien couldn't stifle his laugh when her face had visibly brightened in excitement, eyes blown wide and lips parted in a smile. The wine from their glasses had been drained, the glow of the sun faded from the windows and gave way to the yellow lights of the city, and it was with a yawn that his partner closed the curtains around the apartment as he washed the dishes.

"Do you want me to start a bath for you?" Adrien asked as he watched her slump onto the couch, exhaustion clear in the bags underneath her eyes. He stacked the clean plates in their designated cabinet. "Or do you want me to just let you sleep?"

"It's only eight-fifteen," she said. Her arms rested on the back of the couch, eyes drooping as she fought the urge to drift off into slumber. "I can't go to bed yet."

He dried his hands before turning off the kitchen light. "Why not?"

"It's too early."

"So?"

"I don't want to sleep yet," Ladybug said, though her eyelids were shut and her voice held a weary tone. "I just got home. I want to play a game or read a book or something, not go to bed."

A game, she said? Well, he could help with that. It's not like he owned hundreds of video games or anything…

(Deep within his mind a memory of his friends during lycée poked at his gut, causing him to think—for just a moment—about all those times Marinette had wiped the floor with him and the others because of her substantial skills in gaming. He'd never been able to beat her, no matter how he had tried. Hours and hours they had spent lazing on her family's couch, stuffing their faces with chips and cookies into the wee hours of the morning, playing match after match…

But that was a thought for another time. Right?)

Shaking the idea from his mind, Adrien sat next to Ladybug on the couch. The cushions bounced with his sudden weight. "Then let's play a game," he offered. "I brought all of mine from home. What do you want to play? I've got all three Mecha Strikes, racing games, shooter games, flying games, and even farming games. Your pick."

A laugh rose from his partner, confident and cocky. "You could never beat me in any of the Mecha Strike games."

Something stirred within him.

"Is that a challenge, my Lady?" he goaded. His eyebrows wiggled up and down as he nudged her side. "Because if you're challenging me, I say we make it a bet."

"Oh, yeah?" Ladybug's expression was nothing but pure self-assurance. There was a familiar gleam in her eye, one he'd seen somewhere before… At least, he thought so… "I'd like to see you try, kitty-boy. Best two out of three?"

Adrien smirked and stood, grabbing the third version of the Ultimate Mecha Strike series and popping it in his game system before handing his Lady a controller. "You're on. What do you want if you win?"

Tapping her chin, Ladybug pondered for a moment before snapping her fingers. "You have to make dinner all week. You could use the practice."

"Hey!" he laughed at her comment. "I thought I did good, tonight."

She crossed her arms with a grin. "Oh, you did. But that doesn't mean you can't do better."

"Alright, Miss Bossypants," he said. "Fine. If you win, I'll make dinner every night for the next week. But it's not my fault if I burn this place down."

With a playful roll of her eyes, Ladybug asked, "What do you want if, for some unfathomable reason, you win?"

There was no hesitation on his part. "A smooch."

"I'm not kissing you."

Ah, well. He knew that was a little far-fetched, even if he was joking, anyway. Still, it didn't stop his insides from wilting a little bit.

"Then…" he hummed, mulling it over. "How about you bake me some cookies?"

Ladybug snorted with laughter. "Do you not remember all the snacks you bought today?"

"Oh, right." He scratched at the nape of his neck. "Okay, I know what I want, and you can't say no to this one. Deal?"

"That depends on what it is," Ladybug said, lips curling upward as she stretched her legs out on the couch.

Adrien turned to face her once their game started up. "I want you to watch an hour of cat videos with me."

"Oh, my god."

"I'm serious."

"I know," Ladybug laughed. "You know what? Fine. Now get up here so we can play."

He complied without a complaint. Ladybug's legs rested atop his thighs as she got comfortable on her side, and Adrien took notice that her toenails were painted in the same shade of pastel pink that decorated the tips of her fingers. A grin graced his lips; he almost felt bad that he was going to beat her in every match of their game.

(If she wasn't the girl he was beginning to suspect she was.)

"Prepare to be destroyed," he said, selecting the cat-themed robot on the character screen. "I'll have you know that I've never been beaten by more than one person at this game, Buginette. So good luck."

Ladybug blew her fringe out of her face as she rolled her eyes, choosing the ladybug-spotted robot as her own. "Well, now that number is going to become two. Just don't cry too hard when you lose every match, okay?"

"No promises," Adrien laughed.

He quickly learned that Ladybug did not fuck around when it came to video games. In three matches that each had three rounds, he was pummeled into the ground by her stellar moves and expert handling of the controller. She mashed buttons like a pro, her tongue poking out of her perfectly rosy lips and her shoulders scrunching when she made just the right move. She had won every game. Every single game… With mannerisms that were so alike someone else he knew, he almost caught himself saying her name.

Her name.

(Almost.)

"I won!" she exclaimed as her name came up as the winner for the final match. Her hands rose into the air with her victorious shout. "So, who's making dinner all week, now?"

Giving a good-humored roll of his eyes, Adrien pointed his thumb towards himself. "This cat."

"That's right," she said. "But, hey, if you manage to win just one round, I'll watch some cat videos with you."

"An hour of cat videos?"

"No. Just a few," Ladybug laughed. She shook her head, re-adjusting her position so that she was lying on her back. She looked really cute like that, relaxing there with her head propped up on one of the throw pillows, black hair spilling over the arm of the couch, the collar of her blouse rumpled and the top two buttons undone…

(He glanced away before he could take notice of the blue lace of her brassiere that was just barely peeking up from the thin fabric of her shirt, his cheeks heating with shame that he'd even let his eyes wander.)

"Fine," he replied after a moment too long, his gaze focused on the floor, "Let's keep playing, then. I'm getting those cat videos no matter what."

A snort of disbelief rose from his partner. "Oh, we'll see."

By the end of the fourth match, her confidence was spilling over in waves, and when she'd won her fifth, sixth, and even seventh round, Adrien had given up. He thumped his head against the back of the couch with a sigh. Despite his losses, he still wore a smile on his face. "What did you say about not crying too hard when I lose?"

"Don't tell me you're about to cry, Chaton." Ladybug placed her controller on her stomach as she blinked up at him through her lashes. "I'll have to go buy tissues."

Considering he really was a little disappointed his Lady wasn't going to watch funny cat videos with him, Adrien upped the dramatic flair, throwing the back of his hand to his forehead as he let out a long whine. "I'm so hurt," he faux-cried. "Oh, I'm moving out. I can't deal with this kind of abuse. I'm wounded, truly! Do you hear that? That's the sound of my heart breaking."

"Chat Noir," Ladybug sighed, sounding fonder than she should have at that moment. "You are the most impossible—"

"Um, you mean impawssible—"

"—impossible," she corrected, mirth in her tone as she continued, "person to play video games with. If you're gonna whine because I happen to be better than you at fighting giant robots—"

"I call a rematch!"

"We've had seven rematches, kitty."

"One more," he pleaded. His head rolled to the side as he gazed at her with an exceptionally cute gleam in his eyes. "Just one more game. C'mon, Buginette, aren't you having fun?"

He saw her try (and fail) to resist the smile that spread across her face. She flipped her hair back over her shoulders, hands clasping the edges of the controller and legs crossing over his own as she settled back into the couch. Her eyes gleamed with determination. "One more. Then I'm taking a bath and going to bed."

"It's a deal."

The one round came and went within minutes. Ladybug, the reigning champion of the evening, had ceremoniously defeated him with every match they'd played, but even after Adrien lost the eighth, he still had faith in himself. They played a ninth, and tenth, and even an eleventh until the clock struck fifteen minutes shy of eleven-thirty and they were both exhausted from devoting all their remaining energy into their heated robot battles.

He'd managed to win one match. Just one. But that was enough to salvage his self-confidence for the night.

Adrien ran his hands down his face as they finally (finally) shut down the game. "You've trained with professionals."

"I am the professional," she quipped. The smirk she displayed was a challenge in itself. Sitting up (and removing her legs from his lap), Ladybug stretched her arms out in front of her with a crack of her knuckles, hands going to her back afterwards to rub it with an added wince.

"Rough day?"

"Huh?"

"You're exhausted," he said. He scooted closer to press his hand into her spine with a gentle movement. "Are you sure you don't want to go to bed?"

Ladybug's shoulders slumped as she allowed herself to relax. "I do now. But my back is killing me from sitting at a damn desk all day long. I don't know if I'll be able to sleep."

A desk? Hmm… She must work in an office or something. Or if he wanted to get a little more specific, a designer's desk at his dad's work.

But that wasn't for him to know.

Nope, nope. Her identity was a secret—her secret—and he had no place to be wracking his mind for information.

(Even if she'd mentioned something about strawberries and cakes and it being her favorite flavor.)

"I'll be right back," she said as she stood, making her way towards the hall. "I've gotta take all this makeup off."

The rest of the night was uneventful.

After he'd nearly choked on his dinner, Adrien's head was full of thoughts nagging at his mind. The video games had helped distract him for a while, but now that he sat on the couch as he waited for Ladybug to finish in the bathroom, well…

His stomach was tying itself in knots.

He couldn't have figured it out, not this early. Not like that. He'd never wanted to discover her identity without her consent. They weren't supposed to know; they were supposed to have kept it a secret! That's what the rules were, what Plagg and Tikki had drilled into their heads since day one when she had been gifted the earrings and he'd slipped the ring on his finger for the first time.

Hands running down his face, Adrien sighed as he held his head in his palms.

A passing thought of Marinette at only fourteen years old returning to her bedroom to find a little red box containing a special kind of jewelry made his heart thump in his chest and oh, god, he couldn't have figured this out, not now, not when they'd just moved in together—

The feel of his partner's arms wrapping around his shoulders caused him to jump. Ladybug chuckled at his minor scare and apologized, but he still felt too- too weird to do much of anything else besides just sit there like a moron.

"I'm getting in the bath," she said, ruffling his hair as she made her way to the bathroom. "You going to bed?"

Adrien shook his head. His voice felt barely-there as he said, "No."

"Okay."

Tonight she'd thanked him for dinner; hugged him; told him she had appreciated what he'd done for her. And here he was thinking about who she was under the mask. It almost felt like he was betraying her a little bit… So he needed to stop. Right now.

The hours of the night had flown by like the buzz of Ladybug's yo-yo. As Adrien walked to his bedroom like a zombie and lay back on his bed, he thought of how soft her hands were, and how the touch of her skin to his own was so nice as he was enveloped in her arms was a memory he'd never forget.

While she soaked in the tub, all he could do was sit on his bed and think.

His mind had been a muddled mess since he'd woken up that morning. The voices—the familiar yet not so familiar voices—that had travelled throughout the apartment in the early hours had been haunting him, racing in his head and reminding him that he'd heard those voices before, somewhere… But where?

(He knew where. He knew, but he didn't want to admit it.)

This was confusing.

Ladybug's parents, the cake, the white blouse his partner wore that he'd sworn he'd seen somewhere before, it- it was all so- so confusing!

He tripped over his own feet as he attempted to put his pajama pants on. Grunting as he hit the floor with a thud, Adrien groaned, rubbing at his chin after it had collided with the wood. His temples throbbed with a piercing headache.

"Fuck," he cursed.

Ladybug called from the bathroom, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he responded as he came to a stand. His pants slipped on easily that time. "Just tripped."

"You tripped?" there was laughter in her tone. "On what?"

"Pants," he said. Despite himself, the corners of his lips cracked up into a smile.

The sound of the tub draining signalled that she'd be coming out in a minute. Adrien felt his heartbeat begin to quicken.

(Sudden anxiety would never be considered a friend of his, no sir.)

He didn't know what to think. One minute he had been enjoying a nice dinner with his Lady, and then she'd gone and…

No. This wasn't her fault. She had just been making conversation. It was him who was standing in his bedroom trying to figure out something that she didn't want him to know—something they weren't supposed to know at all.

He swallowed back his nerves and slipped a pajama shirt over his head. His eyes stayed trained on the floor as the sound of the bathroom door opening came from the hall, and even as he heard footsteps cross into the room opposite his, he didn't look. He didn't know if he could.

No, no, no. He needed to relax. Relaxing was good. It was all just a coincidence, right? Because there's no way they would go and mess things up this early. Not after only a day of living with each other. Not so soon… They had promised they wouldn't pry about each others identities. They had made a promise, and here he was going and breaking that—breaking Ladybug's trust.

This was too much.

He should have never stepped foot in that damn bakery this morning...

Throwing himself onto his bed, Adrien breathed out a heavy sigh. He draped his forearm over his eyes to shield the light that shined into his gaze. Man, his head was throbbing. Though normally he considered himself a night-owl—or night-cat, he supposed—he kind of wanted to turn into bed early just to end the day and rid his mind of frustration.

(But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. He would be up all night with his thoughts racing about Ladybug and her parents and Marinette—)

"Are you okay?"

Adrien lifted his arm away from his eyes before they landed on his partner standing in his doorway, her brows knit together in concern. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, and the dusting of freckles on her shoulders was prominent with the white spaghetti-strap nightgown she was wearing. It was short—just above her knees—which made Adrien glance away lest his eyes wandered.

(Though he knew he'd never let them.)

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I'm fine," he said, sitting up against the headboard of his bed, "just tired. It's been a long day."

Ladybug's lips turned upward into a smile. She stepped into his room and placed herself on the edge of his bed. "You, too?"

She'd had a long day? Well, that was far more important than how his went.

His attention was immediately captivated by her as he scooted closer, his feet hitting the chill of the floor once he was directly next to her. One of his hands rested on her shoulder (which was bare and warm and full of tiny little brown dots that looked like adorable galaxies as far as he was concerned.) He gave it a squeeze. "Want to talk about it?"

The blue eyes he'd come to love shone bright as she turned her head to face him. She tilted her head to the side; her hair smelled of strawberries.

Adrien had to swallow back the scream he wanted to emit because he wasn't thinking about that right now.

"I guess I could," Ladybug decided after a moment, and Adrien caught the way her gaze flicked down to his shirt for a moment before it met his. "Nice outfit, by the way." Her grin widened as she snorted in an attempt to hold back a laugh.

He looked down. His heart skipped a beat and his cheeks flushed.

This… Was not his proudest shirt. No, definitely not one he'd intended to put on when Ladybug was home. He had planned to keep this one secret. It was only in his dresser because he'd bought it for laughs, but he had been so out of it when he'd grabbed a pajama shirt that he hadn't even noticed that the Ladybug sitting next to him was the very same Ladybug that was covering his entire torso in an array of polka-dots and hearts.

"Now, come on," she said, voice wavering as she tried (and failed) to stop herself from laughing, "I thought I was the one that was supposed to be wearing the spots in this relationship."

Adrien shook his head, flashing his Lady a sheepish smile. "Well, now it's both of us."

"That's fine," Ladybug said. "Just don't come running to me when Plagg starts crying because you gave him up so easily."

The kwami's voice rose distantly from the kitchen as he shouted, "What!?"

"Nah, I'm not giving him up. I'll just ask him to redo the Chat Noir costume in red instead of all black," Adrien chuckled.

Ladybug straitened to retort, but she winced as one of her hands connected to her upper back. "Ugh," she groaned, the pleasant atmosphere of the room dulling. "Sorry, I just- It's my back. I love my job, but I can't stand sitting for eight hours straight. It's killing me."

With a tint of red to his cheeks, Adrien offered, "Need a back rub?"

Ladybug's responding smile was all the confirmation he needed.

She laid on her stomach over his sheets. The blush on his face remained as he sat between her legs and began to massage out the kinks in her spine. Like a cat kneading a blanket, he worked at her sore spots, focusing on a particular area every now and then as she let out soft, pleased hums that were like music to his ears. With every press of his fingers into her clothed skin, he smiled, and every time a mewl rose from her lips he thrived.

It felt nice to be able to help her like this, especially in their own apartment.

(Their own space. Alone. Together.

Even if he was between her legs while she was on his bed in a thin little nightgown—

Okay! That was enough.)

"B-better?" he asked, hoarse as he swallowed. His cheeks burned from the heat of his flush while his fingers worked.

Ladybug stretched her arms out in front of her, body adjusting and back arching as she became more comfortable. "Not quite," she sighed, eyes half-lidded, "there's a spot on my middle lower back that's been bothering me for days."

Middle… Lower back. Okay. Okay! This was fine. Everything was fine. He'd be okay. She wanted him to help her; needed him to. He wouldn't disappoint her by being too shy to touch his partner in a place he'd probably touched her before.

It was different now, though. During battles they had no fear of getting into each others personal space because they had to, but now, with the two of them alone in their own apartment, on top of his bed…

"You're okay with that?" he asked, surprising himself.

Ladybug's response was a quiet laugh. "Why wouldn't I be? It's just my back, Chat Noir. No need to be so modest. It's not like you're touching my—" She cut herself off with a contented sigh as his hands began to work on the particular area that was bugging her. "Mhm. Right there."

His eyes widened as a sound that he could have sworn was a moan rose from his Lady.

Voice caught in his throat, Adrien wheezed, "H-how are you d-doing?"

Ladybug hummed. She turned her head to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes. "Much better. Thank you."

Was it fifty degrees hotter in here, or was that just him?

Squeezing his eyes shut to stop himself from thinking, Adrien massaged at her back with skilled hands, used to the motions of helping her de-stress. He'd given her plenty of massages before. This was nothing new to him. Though normally they were suited up outside on top of buildings in public, not alone in their pajamas in his bedroom. It was a little hard to contain his inner embarrassment.

He worked at her kinks for a while. An inkling of concern began to rise in his chest when she went completely silent save for the gentle rise and fall of her back that signalled she was at least alive, much to his relief, but as he called her name, there was no response.

"Ladybug?" he tried again.

Nothing.

Leaning over to get a glimpse of her face, Adrien's lips quirked upward as he noticed his partner had fallen fast asleep.

"I suppose that's a job well done, then," he whispered, unable to suppress his grin. He got off of the bed—careful not to stir the sleeping beauty—and pulled his blanket over her before switching off the light and walking out of the room. It's a shame he wasn't anywhere near tired yet. He wouldn't have minded lying next to his Lady for a while…

But she needed her rest. He'd let her stay there as long as she wanted. Even if she slept there all night, he would stay on the couch so she could have all the room she wanted.

(He only hoped his bed was comfortable enough for her.)

The apartment was a bit of a mess after his frantic cooking earlier. It was time to clean up, Adrien decided, thankful he'd already done the dishes and could now work on making the rest of the place look bright and beautiful, much like the girl who lay in his bed.

He wiped off the countertops in the kitchen, fixed the placemats on the dining table, pushed in the chairs and tidied up the living room. There were a few things he'd left on the floor while unpacking earlier, like a couple socks and books, so he set them to the side to put away tomorrow instead of placing them in his room, just to be sure he wouldn't wake Ladybug.

The television they'd left on was turned off, the remote sitting in front of it on the coffee table. In his hands Adrien held a blanket that he'd grabbed from the hall closet, and as he shut off every light in the apartment and settled onto the couch, he sighed. The moon was shining brightly behind him, even through the white curtains that hung in front of the window.

The blue light of his phone screen caused him to squint as he checked the time. It was past midnight—definitely late enough to get some sleep. But, still… His thoughts nagged at him, and his stomach felt so twisted and wrong that Adrien knew getting an ounce of shut-eye tonight would be hard to come by. It'd be a blessing just to take a nap.

...Was he avoiding the elephant in the room?

"Turn that light off," Plagg 's voice rang from the opposite end of the couch. Adrien laid his phone screen-side down on his chest, taking notice of the two kwamis snuggled up together on top of a throw pillow. "It hurts my eyes."

He felt himself smile at the sight. "Sorry, Plagg. I'm just having a lot of trouble relaxing."

Plagg wasn't the one who responded.

"Why?" Tikki asked. She lifted her head from its spot on the pillow. "Not tired?"

The chuckle he emitted was devoid of humor. "You could say that."

Nudging the kwami at her side, Tikki said to Plagg, "Why don't you take him for a run? That usually helps my Ladybug calm down when she can't sleep."

A grumble rose from the lump of black fur on the couch.

"Plagg, help the boy out," she sighed.

No response.

Tikki frowned. "Please? For me?"

"Ugh, fine," he hissed, stretching out his front legs, his tail twitching as he yawned. He paused a moment to clean his whiskers and scratch at the back of his head with his leg. "But let's make it quick, okay? You may not be tired, Chat Noir, but I am."

So, Adrien found himself slipping out the window of his bedroom clad in his transformation, careful not to disturb his sleeping partner even as he shut the glass behind him. He used his baton to leap from rooftop to rooftop, masterfully scaling the sides of buildings with his claws, his heart racing in his chest and his mind silent for once as he felt the city air fill his lungs and course through his veins. The night was cool, refreshing; like a bucket of cold water that had been tossed upon him to startle his thoughts.

Adrien felt at peace like this. With his boots clicking on the panelled roofing of the city's apartments he felt free, like a bird whose wings had never been clipped, or a cat who had never known the feel of a collar. No, he didn't belong to anyone—the city was his and his alone at this moment, and he'd never felt more at home.

(Except, of course, when he had first set his foot in his and Ladybug's apartment. That felt more like home than any place ever could.)

Oh, Ladybug… She was giving him quite a bit to think about, wasn't she?

He hadn't spoken to Marinette in person in a few days. The last he had seen her was at work, when she had rushed in to fix a torn pocket on a vest that was about to be photographed, and she had been so frazzled from the amount of deadlines she had to meet that he'd barely gotten a word out of her. Just a promise to get together for lunch again another time, and that was all.

But this morning…

This morning he had entered her parent's bakery and then everything had become a mess from there. He was so stupid, he never should have—

Frustrated with himself, Adrien gave the chimney pot he stood next to a swift punch, feeling the negativity bleed out of him in the form of dented metal. At least the old chimneys were no longer useful—then he might have had an angry citizen to deal with.

Ah, well. At least the suit granted him an extra layer of protection so the meager amount of pain that rose from his knuckles didn't bother him. Instead, relief welcomed him as he vaulted himself away from the rooftop he'd previously stood upon, internally deciding to just keep running until he couldn't anymore.

Whenever that would be.

Adrien's head pounded by the time he began to make his way back. He knew he had to come to terms with what was going on—even if he didn't want to.

So, Marinette could be Ladybug. Alright. There. He'd said it. He had.

There was a high chance Marinette was Ladybug and he was living with her and he had slept next to her last night and oh man he had practically been on top of Marinette—Marinette—while he'd massaged her back and wow, okay, that also meant Mari had been Ladybug since the beginning, which means he'd fallen for her first before he'd fallen for her in lycée and never found the courage to admit anything before the crush had faded and- and-

His feet shuffled awkwardly on the gravel of the teashop roof across their apartment complex, and his heart threatened to leap out of his ribcage. Adrien had to cup a clawed hand to his chest to calm its frantic racing.

"Okay, okay," he breathed. He squeezed his eyes shut as the light of the moon bathed his suit in white. "Okay."

Ladybug's secret identity was Marinette. Her secret identity that he wasn't supposed to know. She was Marinette. Marinette, his first friend, his old crush from lycée, and the girl he'd stopped talking to for five months after they'd both gotten a little too drunk at a Christmas party. Marinette was also the girl that he had a little bit of a soft spot for still even after graduation, and she was his ever-so talented coworker who many (like himself) depended on to make their day bright.

Oh, hell.

Marinette was Ladybug. Ladybug was Marinette. Marinette was—

...Was walking into the late-night teashop below him, hair tied up in a bun and a sweater over her shoulders, very much not in his bed right now where he thought she was.

"...Mari?" he whispered to himself as he watched her sit down at a table outside and begin fiddling with her phone, cup of steaming tea in hand.

So… If Marinette was down there, and Ladybug was up in their apartment safely snuggled away in his bed… Then that must mean he was wrong. That he'd been overreacting the whole time, overthinking the entire situation.

Because it really was just a simple coincidence, right?

Anybody can like strawberry cakes.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him.

Still, he wasn't sure if he was entirely convinced. Though Adrien knew it would be weird for his friend to see Chat Noir of all people coming down to greet her, he couldn't help but want answers. Especially since he really didn't want to have discovered his partner's identity without her consent.

(Though, admittedly a faint disappointment nagged at the pit of his stomach and made him feel sad. If Marinette had been Ladybug, man, he'd… He would have been the happiest guy on the planet.)

But he couldn't dwell on that.

He watched. Waited. His tail twitched as Marinette took a sip of her tea and jolted backwards as if her tongue had been burned.

The laugh that rose from his lips couldn't have been suppressed.

So, without waiting any longer, he leaped down to say hello.

When she had woken up, Chat Noir was gone.

It was startling, really, to rise up from his covers in the dark with her arms outstretched in search of a warm body to hug only to find that the other side of his bed was cold and empty. Marinette's heart had ached for a moment—just one—before she'd called his name.

It was eerie to receive no reply.

He had been there just a little while ago, clad in his pajamas and placed behind her on his bed with his fingers working at her sore spots. Her peace at the hands of her partner had caused her to fall asleep. She hadn't expected to drift off so easily, but she had been so tired, and he had made her feel so relaxed…

She couldn't sleep not knowing where he had gone.

Dragging her fatigued body out of his bed, she wandered out into the kitchen for a glass of water to refresh her parched lips, eyes scanning the dark room in search of her kwami. She found her curled up on the couch, Plagg absent from the apartment—which made Marinette realize that her partner must have transformed and was out god knows where at this hour.

She considered transforming herself, but decided that she would rather let Tikki save her energy and grab something hot to drink to help her rest.

If Chat Noir wanted to go out, fine. That was his business. Even if she was a little concerned that he had left without warning.

At least with a brief check of her phone she confirmed there were no akumas attacking. That allowed her nerves to calm, even if a little bit.

Marinette threw on a sweater and some leggings before she crouched down next to Tikki by the couch. "Hey," she whispered in the dark. "Want to go get some tea with me?"

The squeaky yawn Tikki let out was adorable, to say the least. "Sure, Marinette."

Her keys jingled in her hand as she locked their place up.

Once down the elevator and outside, Marinette shivered at the brisk night air, wishing for the heat of summer to return. Cars rolled down the street beside her, and across the road the faint yellow glow from the teashop's windows cast over her, enveloping her in a warmth that pulled her closer to its doors.

Thank goodness this place was open so late.

After she'd ordered herself some tea (and grabbed a straw for Tikki to sip from), Marinette sat herself outside at one of the iron wicker tables, her pink-painted fingernails lazily tracing circles into the ceramic cup as she waited for it to cool.

A breeze blew through the air. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she blinked.

Her phone buzzed beside her with a text from Alya, but Marinette avoided checking lest she notice the time. She didn't want to know how late it was—she had to work the next morning, and knowing if it was past midnight would only cause her stress to increase in magnitude.

So, without bothering to even glance at her phone, she boldly sipped at her tea—only to recoil at the temperature, her tongue burning from the fierce heat of her drink.

(She could have sworn she'd heard someone laugh, but she was too tired to care.)

It was too late for anything. Marinette sighed, resting her head in her palm as she closed her eyes. She should have just stayed in bed and waited on her partner to get home instead of worrying, but…

The familiar thud of metal-tipped boots caused her to blink open her eyes in surprise. Her drink sloshed in her cup as she startled.

"Chat Noir?" she breathed, surprised to find her partner standing in front of her at the damn teashop across the street from their apartment, of all places. Especially when she wasn't transformed. "Wh-what are you, uh…"

"Doing here?" he supplied, shrugging his armored shoulders with a sheepish grin across his face. "Couldn't sleep. Mind if I pull up a chair?"

Marinette shook her head, still a little breathless from his sudden appearance. "No, no, uh… Go ahead. I don't mind at all."

So he sat. And things were awkwardly quiet.

After a few moments too long to be comfortable, Chat Noir cleared his throat and asked, "What about you?"

Marinette paused as she cautiously sipped at her tea. "Huh?"

"Why are you up?"

"Oh." She set her cup down as she swallowed, eyes falling to the brown liquid that swirled lazily in its hold. "I couldn't sleep, either."

Chat Noir rested his head on his forearms. His eyelids drooped as he gazed at her cup. "That's a shame," he said. The moonlight shone brightly off of his halo of golden hair. "I'm at that point where I'm tired, but I just can't sleep."

Taking another drink of her tea, Marinette asked, "Why's that?"

"Too much on my mind." He didn't meet her eye as he spoke.

Oh. Well… What in the world could be bothering him? They had only just moved in together. It surely couldn't have been something she did, right?

Marinette swallowed her tea a little thicker that time.

"Like what?" she asked.

Chat Noir breathed out a sigh, his shoulders rising and falling with the gentle release of his breath. "I thought I found out something I shouldn't know, and it was making me feel pretty awful. Not because of what I found out, but because I wasn't supposed to know it. But now I realize that I was just being ridiculous and I was wrong the whole time, anyway."

"Oh," she said. Her voice was quieter than she would have liked, her mind trying to piece together what exactly he'd meant and whether or not it concerned her superhero identity. "Well, whatever it was—" she paused to finish her tea, "—I'm sure it wasn't ridiculous. We all have our reasons to worry. Even if the worries can get a little out of hand."

The grin that graced his face made her smile in turn. "I guess you're right."

The sound of music from down the street filled the air, and the scent of her tea remained.

Things were quiet. A good quiet. It was surely past midnight and most civilians were tucked away in bed, leaving the city in a sleepy sort of silence save for the faint noise of parties and bars.

She felt nice. As she watched the blinking lights of a plane fly above, Marinette finally began to feel herself relax.

"Well," she said, pushing her chair back with a smile once she'd stood, "I guess I'd better be getting back home. It is pretty late, isn't it?"

"It's nearly one-thirty in the morning," Chat Noir said, much to Marinette's chagrin. "Goodnight, Mari."

She momentarily froze at the familiar nickname before brushing it off as a simple mistake on her end. It was too late in the night; she was just hearing things. "Goodnight, Chat Noir."

He smiled at her before she left. Just to be sure he wouldn't discover her by watching her walk into their complex, she turned and headed down the sidewalk instead of crossing the street, glancing behind her shoulder after a moment to be sure he was gone. Then, she ducked behind an alleyway and transformed, quickly flinging herself up to the sixth floor and through his bedroom window, where she slipped her mask on and practically tossed her pajamas back on her body after she'd thrown her other clothes across the hall into her own bedroom.

She was back in his bed just as the digital clock on his nightstand struck one-thirty-five.

Her eyes felt like stones. It was too late—or, well early—for her to be awake. She had never considered herself a night person, not when growing up in a bakery. The latest she ever woke up was nine.

Chat Noir wasn't back for a while. Marinette did her best to stay awake as long as she could, really, but she was just so tired. It had been such a long day and she had only gotten a little bit of sleep before her partner's absence had startled her.

She didn't expect him to be gone for so long. So much for rushing to get back in bed, it seemed. Where was he?

Sleep was easily beginning to take hold of her. It would be so nice to get some rest…

Opening her heavy eyes was a chore. She just… Couldn't stay awake anymore…

She had drifted off before she felt the familiar weight of her partner settle beside her.

"You're back," she breathed, voice raspy from lack of sleep and a yawn forcing its way out of her body. "Where'd you go?"

His voice came from behind her, as her back was facing him. "Out for a stroll. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Yeah," she said. Her hair fell in her face as she turned her body to face him. "But that's okay."

He yawned in response to her own. "Sorry, 'Bug. I just needed to go for a run."

"Why?"

"A lot on my mind."

Marinette's eyes fell closed again. "Like what?"

"Don't worry about it, my Lady," he said, his voice full of nothing but love and care for herself, "you need to get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow."

"Do you want me to move to my bed?" She scooted closer to him even after she asked, hoping her would say no because god damn was his bed comfortable. He must own a memory foam mattress or something, the rich bastard…

"No," he replied. "I mean, no, you don't have to, but… You can if you'd like to."

She hummed in thought. Marinette could feel how soft his skin was as she placed her head on his shoulder, her cheek pressed against his warmth.

...Nah. Too comfortable.

"I'll stay," she whispered. "I'll stay."

As his arm wrapped around her waist, Marinette could have sworn that she'd never felt more at home.

[flightofaqrow]

the raven who doesn’t run

qrow x Libra Stirling ( @banded-muses​ )

[ spin-off from the thread honesty /w Raven  ]

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qrow crawls back down to his stomach, he buries his face into Libra’s thighs and lets his arms drape loosely over her tail and knees. yes, good. back to the blackness, the thoughtlessness, …but warmer this time.

So openly craving attention even if silent in asking for it? Something personal must’ve happened to him between his first and later messages. With a slight shift of her hips her tail is free and much more comfortably positioned now, and she’s settled in for a long sit here with him.

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[txt, 10:07AM] hey Lib. back in town for awhile. [txt, 4:25PM] you around tonight? i could use some company

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[Qrow B] sorry for the delay from this morning, I’m covering rosies cqc classes today

[Qrow B] is it a join the other staff and I for drinks and bad fan fiction reading ‘need some company’ or night in, see where it goes ‘need some company’ because I can do either

[Qrow B] I’ve missed you around so it’s your call

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[txt: Lib] maybe people

…

…

[txt: Lib] no drinks

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[Qrow B] head to my place then and we’ll go from there

[Qrow B] do you remember where the spare key is in case you get there before I do?

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[txt: Lib] yeah. thanks.

qrow lets himself in (after having to try the damn lock three times) and immediately flops face first over the armrest onto the nearest couch. because he is the best house guest ever.

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About twenty minutes later there’s a deep rumble from a motorcycle before the engine falls silent, footsteps following shortly behind. The door lock turns and opens, followed by a few steps, the sound of a bag being set down and zip of boots behind removed.

A hand squeezes the back of his calf gently before putting it as Libra passes off to the kitchen, “Good to see you again, Qrow.”

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he does not move for that entire twenty minutes, but he is very well aware of what her couch smells like. mostly regular old dust, and that’s okay. he is familiar with dust. but also hints of her shampoo, which seemed odd until he remembered how long her hair is.

he would count the stitches on the cushion if it meant not having to think about Raven right now.

‘hey,” his head turns to watch her, and he doesn’t flinch from her touch.

“good to see you too. …safe and back home.”

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Two glasses of water are brought in from the kitchen, one set down on the table beside the couch. Warm fingers reach down to carefully touch his head, waiting a silent permission before they would run through his hair a time or two.

His words spark a small, genuine smile. “It’s been so long, sometimes it doesn’t feel like coming back you know? Despite everything that’s still the same… it all feels so new and raw.”

She walks around him, lifting his legs up so she can sit in the sofa before letting his legs back down across her lap, absently she touches the center of her chest, clothes hiding the neat scar down her sternum. “Logically I know this doesn’t have anything to do with it, but sometimes I have to wonder…”

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“mmh,” qrow lets the tingle on his scalp sink in along with Libra’s words, and grumbles, “yeah, i know that feeling.” long missions kept him from ‘home’ for such extended periods that sometimes things would change in patch, and he never even noticed til later. he didn’t even want to think about once the girls came along and how much bigger they got every time he returned.

he sits, takes a drink of the water while upright, and sets it back down squarely in the middle of the table. he sees where she points. having pieces of other people, she means.

“hey, i’ve seen that kinda essence-sharing crazy, Lib. organ donation ain’t it,” it might sound too rough and insistent for reassurance, but he tries. qrow crawls back down to his stomach, turned with legs on the opposite side of the couch so his head can claim her lap. he buries his face into her thighs and lets his arms drape loosely over her tail and knees.

yes, good. back to the blackness, the thoughtlessness, …but warmer this time.

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How could they be so similar and always seem to be on different pages? She smiles as he settles himself back down on her lap and again begins to run her fingers through his hair in something not too dissimilar to how one would stroke a cat in their lap.

So openly craving attention even if silent in asking for it? Something personal must’ve happened to him between his first and later messages. With a slight shift of her hips her tail is free and much more comfortably positioned now and she’s settled in for a long sit here with him.

Gears whir quietly in her arm as the hand flexes idly before the gloved hand also works it’s way through his hair. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

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qrow tends to be on a different page than most people. his racing mind throws quick darts which landed on different conclusions, or even an entirely different board. and his mouth too often runs without a filter, but Libra’s not the type to call him out unless he truly deserves it.

he presses nothing, pushes nothing. her hand runs steady over his scalp, which means she can’t be too upset. his own emotional intelligence is spent for the day anyway; she has him pegged properly. he soaks in her affection, and even the touch of a machine helps recharge him.

a smirk spreads over her thigh at her question. his head tilts enough to gather flesh between his teeth and nip with the answer he has in mind, but then his stomach growls out a loud and convincing argument. in meeting with Raven, he hasn’t eaten since this morning, and his body got rather used to three square again after his stint in atlas.

arms fold over each other in her lap, and he lifts his head to rest his chin where they cross. “…m’not picky. yanno that. …leftovers? …takeout?”

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Cheeky as always isn’t he? She’s glad some things never change around here at least, Libra doubted that she’d be able to stay sane if Qrow of all people suddenly started treating her different for her arm or her new position. She gives him a light flick on the side of the head at his nibble and laughs warmly. “We can talk dessert after dinner.”

Her robotic hand leaves his hair while the other continues to stroke it back, resting on her chin as her head tilts in thought. Were there leftovers in the fridge? Did she even have anything prepared to make dinner tonight? No, and no. “Takeout it is. I’m craving noodles tonight, sound good to you?”

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qrow knows all people of all kinds. Libra’s the third in his life with a replacement arm. and what does that say about his semblance? not to believe something stupid like he doesn’t even see it anymore, but he’s learned better than to pity or to worry about it. now, maybe, if her thighs made for any less comfortable pillows or tasty of a snack, he’d have some complaints.

but certainly not enough to stop him.

he laughs, even after the day he’s had, finding a taste of the sense of normalcy sought after. he’ll hold her to it. his head turns, to attend better and to offer a little more surface area for her stroking, “noodles, then. i’ll buy. let’s find a menu.”