#Gently hands you autistic Nathalie

[fannish-jam]

Nathalie: Do you ever get so annoyed at everything that you start to get pissed off at even the little things, like a spoon clinking against a bowl or the sounds of people talking?

Anarka: I think it's called sensory overload. It's really common in people with anxiety.

Ms Mendeliev: It can also be a result of sleep deprivation, stress, or even dehydration!

Nathalie: Thanks, I thought I was just a bitch.

[mlwritersguild]

The world is still sleeping, while I keep on dreaming, by @queer-cosette

Based on John Rzeznik's I'm Still Here (submitted by @thedreadpirateholmes)

AO3 link; Grief/Mourning, Autistic Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir, Disabled Character, Brain Damage, Partially Blind Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Permanent Injury, descriptions of an accident that lead to permanent injury, Advice, Eye Trauma, brief mention of Christianity

Summary:

On the second anniversary of his mother's disappearance, Adrien is struggling with grief - not just for her, but for the family his father doesn't seem to want to fix. Marinette's cousin offers him some advice.

Written for the Miraculous Ladybug Writers' Guild's August Challenge; partly inspired by I'm Still Here by John Rzeznik. Carlotta is an OC who pops up frequently in my ML fics; this one features a lot of her backstory.

Rated M

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Friday, 1pm

Le Collège Françoise Dupont

4th Arrondissement

Paris, France

It’s just another normal Friday lunchtime for Carlotta Suero-Dupain, until she opens the art cupboard and finds Adrien Agreste sitting on the floor with his chin resting on his knees and his hands clamped to his ears. Although initially taken aback at finding her classmate uncharacteristically lacking most of his composure, she sets aside her surprise in favour of gently addressing him.

“Adrien? You doing okay?”

Adrien squints up at her, looking for all the world like a Crying Cat Meme. It occurs to Carlotta that he’s been sitting there in the dark and she’s just exposed his eyes to a lot of light, so she gently closes the door behind her and sinks down next to him, abandoning her quest for a decent highlighter pen for the moment.

“I’m guessing that’s a no. Bad day, huh?”

Adrien makes a little noise that sounds like half a laugh, half a sob. “You could say that,” he croaks. “Lila wouldn’t leave me alone, so I snuck in here while she was in the loo.”

“Can’t blame you,” Carlotta says, making extra effort to put a smile into her voice. The cupboard is too dark for her limited eyesight to make out his face; it seems politest to assume he can’t see hers either. “She’s like the world’s most mendacious limpet.�� Adrien lets out a little amused snort at that. “But I’m guessing today was especially bad compared to normal?”

Adrien sighs softly, and while it sounds sad, he doesn’t seem to be on the verge of tears anymore. “Most of our class know that this week is a hard one for me. Even Chloé gets it. But, I dunno, either Lila didn’t bother to ask anyone about it, or she did ask but just doesn’t care.” He falls silent, and Carlotta settles herself against what feels like the collage box, letting him keep the metaphorical stage for the time being. At last, Adrien sighs again, but now he sounds more frustrated than sad.

“Tomorrow marks the second anniversary of my mom disappearing.”

And that rings a bell; Carlotta remembers Marinette mentioning something about this - her cousin had been running around the Dupain-Cheng’s kitchen, frantically making passionfruit macarons that Carlotta had been expressly forbidden from sampling. A gift for Adrien, so he knew Marinette was thinking of him and wishing him an easy time of it. Sweet of her.

She can’t think of anything to say, but then Adrien continues, “It feels like it shouldn’t be as painful as it was last year. But everything just feels… like it’s too much. And I haven’t seen my father all week, and I just… I just wish I could talk to him. But I couldn’t even make an appointment. Nathalie insists he’s too busy.”

Carlotta sighs sadly, and reaches for where she thinks his leg might be, patting a knee-shaped thing gently. “I’m sorry, Adrien,” she says softly.

“Thanks,” Adrien replies. “Sorry I took up the end of your lunchtime.”

“‘S’alright. It’s good to talk about it, y’know?”

“Yeah, you’re right. It feels… not so bad now. Thanks.”

The actual bell rings at that moment, and they both jump up, hurrying to leave the classroom before anyone catches them leaving the cupboard together and starts making assumptions. Carlotta pokes her head out the classroom door first and glances around, before beckoning Adrien to follow her.

“Lila’s not anywhere out here. I can’t see any sign of that tacky jacket.”

“Thank God,” Adrien sighs, emerging into the corridor. He looks noticeably less stressed than he had been when she found him in the cupboard, and an idea strikes her.

“Listen, Adrien,” Carlotta says hurriedly, tapping his shoulder. He looks around at her, apparently surprised. “If you ever want to talk to someone who, I dunno, doesn’t know all of it already… I just find that sometimes a fresh perspective helps, I guess. So if you want to talk to me about anything that’s going on, any shit that’s bothering you… I’m here.”

Adrien stares at her, his big green eyes round and incredulous. “You… you’re sure?”

“‘Course. Tell you what,” Carlotta adds as they both start down the hallway towards the science labs, “I’m usually at the skatepark on Sundays after eleven o’clock, you know the one around the corner from the little cinema on Impasse Carrière-Mainguet? If you ever wanna chat, it’s pretty quiet. All the usual crowds are sleeping off Saturday night.”

Adrien is still staring at her, but now a small smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Carlotta smiles sincerely at him as they enter the science lab, before hurrying over to the desk she shares with Ivan. Adrien sits down in his own spot next to Nino, but throws a full smile over his shoulder at Carlotta before Ms Mendeleiev enters and begins explaining that day’s experiment.

As they begin organising the equipment for studying the combustion enthalpy of butanol, Carlotta ponders that, while Adrien is unlikely to take her up on her offer, she feels glad that it seems to have done something towards making him feel a little less crappy. That’s all you can hope for, after all.

------------

Sunday, 11am

Skatepark de Charonne

11th Arrondissement

Paris, France

As his Chat Noir transformation melts away and Plagg tucks himself into his favourite pocket, Adrien watches as Carlotta effortlessly slides her skateboard along the park’s flatrail and ollies off it before effortlessly mounting the half-pipe ramp. True to her word, the skatepark is almost entirely deserted, and she stands out against the tranquil scenery, a vibrantly energetic figure clad in a floral turquoise summer dress and matching cardigan. It’s an outfit that seems far too bizarrely formal for skateboarding in, and it’s a far cry from her normal wardrobe of scruffy cargo shorts and appliqué-adorned crop-tops, although she’s refused to part with her stripy knee socks and scuffed red converse. But before he can do anything more than ponder this, she spots him and waves.

“Adrien! Hola!”

Adrien waves back and approaches her as she easily turns the board around, exits the half-pipe, and tail-flips the board into the air, catching it and tucking it under her arm. “Didn’t think you’d come,” Carlotta admits, sitting down on one of the benches at the edge of the skating area. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah,” Adrien smiles, sitting next to her and leaning back. “I didn’t think I’d get the chance, but it’s the Gorilla’s day off, and Nathalie had to help Father with… well, I think he locked himself out of his own iPad, so they might be there a while. I took my chance and snuck out the back window.”

“Adults versus tech, huh?” Carlotta laughs, removing her helmet and shaking out her hair. “My dad nearly spontaneously combusted last year when my sister Geneviéve filled up his harddrive with photobooth selfies. Couldn’t figure out how to get rid of them, poor guy. Mom called the computer store when it started looking like he might tear out his moustache.”

Adrien laughs with her. Carlotta isn’t someone he’s particularly close to - he really only knows her through Marinette - but she’s funny and easy to talk to, and like every friendship he’s made since starting school, talking and laughing with someone makes his heart feel the lightest it has in a long time.

“So what’s with the dress?” he asks, the tiniest hint of teasing creeping into his voice. Carlotta groans.

“I didn’t want to miss you if you did come, so I didn’t bother changing after Mass.”

“I didn’t know you were Catholic.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not good at it,” Carlotta laughs. “I really only go to make my parents happy.”

Adrien feels a little twinge in his chest at that. “I get that,” he says softly. “You don’t wanna let them down.” Even though you feel like you can never be who they want you to be.

Carlotta sighs, but it seems to be an agreeing noise, and they fall into amiable silence, broken only when Adrien compliments her helmet: it’s purple with a light-blue cartoon whale sticker on one side. Carlotta smiles and taps it lightly with her fingers.

“Can’t be too careful.” She pauses, tilting her head at him, then - “So, you wanted to chat?”

Adrien sucks in a breath, letting it out slowly. “Yeah. I, uh, I’m not really sure where to start -”

“You can just talk,” Carlotta suggests, surveying him through her thick eyelashes. “Just whatever’s on your mind. And I’ll listen. If you want.”

He nods, because that does sound good. Over the next half-hour, Adrien tells her everything - how his mom vanished two years ago, how he doesn’t know if she walked out or was kidnapped or what happened, if she ever intends on coming back, if she’s even alive, how much he misses her; and then he explains how not once through his grieving process - because he’s almost crushed with grief for losing her - has he been able to turn to his father for support. Adrien just wants to keep the last parental relationship he has, but his father forces him to make an appointment before even giving him the time of day, and while his existence up until this point has been lonely in general, that was nothing compared to what it’s been like these last few years, with no mother, and a father who seems intent on locking his son out of his life. How last year, he’d felt like they might be ready to move on and accept that this was the Agreste family’s new normal, but his father had brought all that crashing down with only a few words, and now they’re two years in and Adrien feels more confused about it than ever.

“I just thought,” he tells Carlotta, his voice hoarse with how much he’s been talking, and he’s definitely going to be in deep shit later if he can’t disguise it, “maybe this week… he’d want to be closer. Want to talk or spend time together, anything. Acknowledge that we can still find a way to be a family. But I couldn’t even make an appointment. He’s… too busy. And I know he misses her too, probably even more than I do, and that this is just his way of dealing with that, but… I just hoped that… this time… it would be… different.”

Carlotta, true to her word, has listened intently the whole time, occasionally nodding slightly, a trace of a frown adorning her face. She’s silent as he slumps back, her dark brown eyes scanning him slowly, as if to gauge whether or not he has anything else he needs to get out. But he’s told her everything he’s never been able to really tell anyone (short of the fact that his only escape from this painful homelife is donning the Chat Noir costume and fighting supervillains), and when he doesn’t speak for two whole minutes, she shifts sitting positions so one leg is now tucked up onto the bench, the other still dangling with her converse toe scuffing the ground slightly.

“Is it…” she says slowly. “Would it be okay, Adrien, if I told you a story?”

“Uh. Sure. I guess.”

“Just… I have some advice for you - you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to. It’s just one person’s opinion. But it doesn’t make sense without the story - or, well, it makes more sense. With the context added.”

Adrien mulls this over. What little time he has spent with her has given him the impression that Carlotta Suero-Dupain is not the type to give someone advice in bad faith, so he nods. “Go for it.”

Carlotta gnaws her bottom lip. “Alright. So… You know how I trip over my own feet a lot, and some days I can’t walk in a straight line, and sometimes I use a sight cane at school?”

Adrien nods; Carlotta doesn’t trip quite as often as Marinette does, but she’s got a reputation for being clumsy, and in the past he’s wondered if her occasional stumbling and wobbling while she walks might have been a sign of too much teenage freedom. As for the sight cane, it had taken him by surprise the first time he saw her with it, carefully sensing her way up the stairs to class, but he’s vaguely aware that she seems to have trouble seeing where she’s going all the time.

“It’s because, about two years ago, I had an accident while I was skateboarding. It was a really stupid one. I went backwards down a hill, which I shouldn’t have done in the first place, and I hadn’t planned how to break… then I hit a high curb. I flew twenty feet, then skidded another ten, and I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in hospital. I’d been…” Her voice wobbles a little, but she soldiers on. “I’d been put in an induced coma. And when I woke up, I couldn’t see anything because I had to wear eyepatches while my eyes were recovering. Because… when I landed, it caused permanent brain damage.”

“Oh,” Adrien says quietly, because he’s not sure what else he can say to that.

“My occipital lobe was… It took a really bad hit. It’s like I can only see the right of everything, because the left side of my visual field is just… gone. It was my right side that I landed on, and brains flip everything around, so…” Carlotta laughs bitterly. “I have to use the cane on low atmospheric pressure days, because I get migraines that make it too hard to see at all, really. My arm and ribs got it pretty bad too. It’s pretty much all scar tissue from my shoulder to my waist on that side. Sometimes I can’t move my fingers properly.” She kicks at the ground, gnawing her lip again. “My brother and sister saw it happen.”

“God,” Adrien breathes, horrified at the thought. Carlotta's lips press together; there’s a sadness in her expression that he isn’t used to seeing from her.

“Yeah. They… they didn’t realise anything was wrong, at first. When I didn’t get up, they just thought I was joking, that I was doing a bit. And…” she laughs, and it sounds sad, but also very genuine, “Juanito drew a chalk outline around me. He thought it was funny. But when I still didn’t get up… I think Juanito still blames himself for it.”

She sighs heavily.

“He told me once that sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he just lies there thinking about it and wondering, what if he hadn’t goofed around? What if, instead of drawing a chalk outline, he’d checked to see if I was okay? He would have seen that… my helmet was completely cracked open at the back. He would have got to our parents quicker, and I’d have gone to the hospital quicker, and maybe the damage wouldn’t have been as severe. And I think that way myself too, sometimes. What if I’d planned better? What if I’d never tried to do the stupid stunt in the first place?”

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien whispers. Carlotta gently pats his arm.

“But that’s the thing, Adrien. You can’t go through life thinking like that. Because the past is the past, but time keeps marching on. You have to find a way to keep living. Because your mom might not be around, but you’re still here. You’re still living and growing and thinking and hurting. You have to find a way to live with it, even if your father can’t. Sorry if it seems harsh…”

Adrien shakes his head. Her words make a lot of sense. “It’s not. Is that how you can still skate even after…?”

Carlotta smiles and nods. “Yup. Found a way. I don’t want to let worry or fear run my life. Not everyone can manage it, because sometimes that’s life. But some fools are luckier than others, and I’m one of the ones who got lucky. If I hadn’t been wearing a helmet…”

She shivers.

“It could have been way worse. Some people think it’s reckless of me to keep skating after what happened, but I’m not stupid. I learned to skate with my off-foot forward. I come to this skatepark when it’s quiet, I know every inch of it like the back of my hand, I don’t skate when it’s crowded or if I don’t know what the topography is like. Next year I’ll be able to get prism contacts, so I won’t have such a massive blind-spot. And it sucks sometimes, that I can’t do exactly what I want. But it means I can keep living my life. We can’t let our grief for the past take away our future. And you can’t let your father’s ongoing pain stop you from allowing yours to heal.”

She gets up at that, dropping her skateboard onto the ground and rolling it experimentally under her right foot. It occurs to Adrien that most people skate with their left foot at the front, leaving their right free to manoeuvre with. But that’s not an option for Carlotta. He wonders how hard it was to learn how to completely reverse her entire stance. It must have taken so much time and effort and patience. But she managed it, and it’s become so natural to her that if she hadn’t told him, he wouldn’t have noticed.

Find a way to keep living.

“How do I do that?” he finds himself asking. “Keep on living?”

Carlotta shrugs. “It’s up to you. Find a new hobby. Start back with an old one. Make the most of the relationships that aren’t in flux right now. You have a lot of friends, Adrien,” she smiles. “Everyone in our class thinks you’re great. I get wanting to avoid Lila, and I know your schedule is tight, but everyone else is willing to be there for you, if you show them a way that they can do that.”

She grins. There’s a long white scar on her cheek; it stretches when her mouth moves, but not in an ugly way. It looks like someone’s drawn a line on her face to connect up her dark freckles like they’re constellations.

“Hey, if you’ve got the rest of the day off, I know Marinette usually bakes on Sundays. Y’know, in their actual kitchen, rather than in the bakery. She’d probably dig your company.”

“Are you sure?” It seems too good to be true - Marinette is so sweet, and her baking is always amazing, but he can’t help but feel she’s unusually reserved with him, in a way she isn’t with everyone else.

“Trust me. Very sure. She just gets overwhelmed easily, like, in her head and stuff. Overthinks everything. But…” Carlotta’s grin widens. The scar becomes a perfect semicircle. “She keeps living in spite of it. And she’d love to hang out with you.” She clips on her helmet, and Adrien knows the conversation is over.

“Carlotta?”

Carlotta looks back at him; for the first time, he consciously notices how she turns further around to face him than most people would. Of course. Missing vision field.

“Thanks. I mean it.”

Carlotta smiles gently at him. “You’re still here, Adrien. Don’t let the world change who you are for people who can’t understand that.”

She pushes off, rolling away from the bench towards the half-pipe. Adrien watches her leave, feeling unusually peaceful. Marinette doesn’t live far from here. It’s shaping up into a pretty okayish day after all.

He’s still here.

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

No, I did not use YOI because it's the only anime I've ever seen

Chapter 17 | Chapter 19 | AO3 link

There’s a soft tapping on Marinette’s hatch door as she’s just finishing off the last of the homework that Alya had dropped off after school. She frowns and looks up from her desk. Is that Chat Noir? Or just a stray stick dropping on her balcony? When the tapping sounds again, Marinette has her answer, and she sets her homework aside with a sigh, then climbs up the ladder to her bed and slowly reaches up to push the hatch open.

“Chat Noir?” she says when a familiar face appears in the hatch entrance, the illumination of Marinette’s room reflecting off the person’s skin and golden hair, contrasting starkly with the night sky outside. Chat Noir grins, but it’s nowhere near as cocky as usual.

“Hey, princess,” he says. “Just thought I’d drop by while I was out on the town. It’s been a wild night, y’know. Parties, dancing, making out…”

“Only in your dreams,” Marinette teases, rolling her eyes. Chat Noir rolls his eyes back.

“Okay, yeah, it sucks. So did my day, to be honest. Got any room in there for a stray?”

How can Marinette resist those green eyes? With a smile, she shuffles aside on her bed and says, “Well, I suppose I do need a good deed for the week.”

“How kind of you,” Chat Noir deadpans. He slips through the opening with all the grace of a real cat, landing lightly on her bed and leaping off as she pulls the hatch shut. “Pretend I just took my boots off.”

Marinette rolls her eyes at the shoes comment. “You said you talk to Adrien, right?” she says as Chat Noir makes himself comfortable on the chaise lounge. “Did you get to talk to him today? The only time he messaged me was to tell me that he’s alright, but…I’m worried about him. His father’s been getting stricter and stricter lately.”

For a split second, Chat Noir looks at Marinette as though she’s some kind of angel, although the look is so fleeting that she’d probably just imagined it. Then he shrugs and says, “He’s okay. As well as he can be with his father breathing down his neck. But trust me, he wouldn’t want you to worry about him.”

“I can’t help it. He’s a really good friend. And it’s finally sinking in that he’s not “just” a friend and that being friends isn’t, like, second place to being with him.”

“He must be a really good friend, if you jump in front of an akuma for him,” Chat Noir says. Marinette sits down on the chaise lounge with him, hugging her knees to her chest, so he shuffles over to give her more room and curls up in a very cat-like manner.

“I don’t even know what I was thinking,” Marinette says, undoing her pigtails. She might have started changing up her hairstyle every now and then, but pigtails are still a comforting constant for her. And her autistic brain loves comforting constants. “I saw Adrien in danger, and I just…wow. All I could think was that I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“You still shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that. You’re my favourite civilian.”

“Aww, I’m honoured that the great Chat Noir likes me,” Marinette teases. Chat Noir gives her a sly grin.

“You should be, princess. We both know I’m the prettier superhero.”

“I thought that was Ladybug.”

“That’s what she wants you to think.” Chat Noir winks. “But between you and me, I’m a real cat-ch.”

Marinette groans and gently kicks him. “You can get out of here if you start making puns. Although I would wonder if an akuma had gotten you if you didn’t make your puns. I’m already questioning the universe because Chloé’s trying to be nice?”

“She is?” Chat Noir says. “I heard about the whole fire department thing, and Adrien told me that he’s not her friend anymore.”

“Yeah, she cornered me in the bathroom and demanded that I help her learn how to be nice. But I don’t think she can be until she figures out why she wants to be nice beyond just getting Adrien back as a friend. I’ve been there when it comes to doing stuff to impress a boy.”

“You think she will find a reason?” Chat Noir says in an odd voice. Marinette shrugs.

“I sure hope so. Is it selfish for me to feel this way? Because if Chloé’s nice, she’s not making my life hell.”

“It’s not selfish if you think of everyone else who’ll also be spared,” Chat Noir says with a wink. Marinette’s lips twitch at that.

“Okay, yeah, you’ve got a point. I told her that she should try and be someone that Ladybug’s proud of, so I hope that’s a good enough starting point. Speaking of…did you end up telling Ladybug that you’re in love with her?”

Chat Noir’s smile melts into a serious look. He sits up, runs a hand through his hair, then sighs, “Yeah, after we defeated Despair Bear. She doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Aww. I’m sorry, kitty.” Marinette shuffles along the seat and sits so that her legs are tucked under her and she’s leaning against Chat in a casual kind of hug. She’s keenly aware that she’s Ladybug and she’s the one who rejected him, but Marinette’s not supposed to know that. And it would be very insensitive of Marinette to not follow up with her friend.

“Don’t be. I’m actually kind of glad that I know for sure, to be honest. I mean, she already told me she was in love with someone else but having her outright confirm that there wasn’t a chance for us…it’s helping me sort my feelings out.”

“You’re not in love with her anymore?” Marinette’s stomach twists, although she can’t possibly figure out why. This is a good thing, after all; now Chat Noir’s not stuck with unrequited feelings.

“I think I always will love her. But it’s like what you said about Adrien, isn’t it? About how being friends shouldn’t be a consolation prize?”

Marinette lets out a small laugh. “Here’s to close friendships. Want to watch something together? I can go and get snacks from downstairs.”

“Dupain-Cheng pastries?” Chat Noir practically has stars in his eyes. “Like I’d ever say no, princess.”

When Marinette comes back with a small box of chocolate croissants and macarons, Chat Noir’s already got a show lined up on her computer. She drags the chaise lounge across the room and squints at the screen, then groans and says, “Really, Chat? An anime?”

“It’s a good one!” Chat Noir says rather defensively. “So long as you don’t go too deep into the fanbase.”

“Okay, okay.” Marinette sits down next to him. “Yuri!!! On Ice? What’s it about?”

“Ice skating. Trust me, Marinette, you’ll love it.”

“I suppose I’ll have to trust your judgement.”

Marinette’s pleasantly surprised to find that Chat Noir’s right and she does end up really enjoying the show. She nearly cries at just how relatable Yuuri’s anxiety is – it’s like someone shoved her into the show, to be quite honest – and she’s so invested in his and Viktor’s relationship that when they finally share their ice kiss, she ends up squealing and clinging to Chat Noir’s arm. He just grins and leans into her touch.

Marinette tries to stay awake for the whole show, since it’s only got a few more episodes. But it’s late and she’s fairly tired after the sleepover from last night, so it’s inevitable that she ends up slipping away to the sandman soon after Viktor and Yuuri’s unofficial proposal. She’s lulled to sleep by the scent and warmth of her partner, like the world’s most comfortable blanket, and there’s a soft rumbling to soothe her as she drifts but she doesn’t have the energy to open her mouth and ask if he’s purring.

Huh. Maybe Adrien picked up the purring from him, because it’s just like having Adrien as her pillow as she drifts off.

.

This is both the best and worst situation that Chat Noir’s ever been in. Best because Marinette is asleep against him, but worst because Marinette is asleep against him. How exactly is he supposed to function when he’s got an angel asleep beside him, using him as a pillow?

Okay, so she’s not pursuing Adrien anymore, but still.

Unfortunately, he has to cut this short. He may have managed to sneak out for a few hours after “going to bed”, but he’s got no doubt that Nathalie will come and check on him at some point to make sure he’s “feeling better”. And the last thing he needs is for her to find an empty bed.

Marinette stirring and snuggling into his side, her loose hair draping over his chest and releasing the smell of strawberries, is almost enough to break his resolve. Almost. But if he selfishly grabs for a few more minutes of this, he won’t be able to come back at later dates due to heavier surveillance, so it’s really for the best that he leaves now.

Carefully, he reaches out to close the internet tab but leaves her browser up on Pinterest so that he doesn’t feel like he’s snooping; god knows how he would’ve felt if someone had found all his Ladybug pictures a few weeks ago. He scoops Marinette up bridal style and carries her to bed, although it’s a bit of a struggle to get up the ladder while not dropping her or waking her up. She’s still wearing her usual outfit rather than her pyjamas, but Chat Noir doesn’t even want to go near the implication of changing her into her pyjamas with a ten-foot pole, so he carefully tucks her into bed, jumps back down to turn off her bedroom lights, and then streaks out through the hatch and into the night before his head can explode at the thought of helping Marinette change.

“You make me sick,” is the first thing Plagg whines when Adrien’s at home and detransformed, then changing into his own pyjamas. “First Ladybug, then Marinette. You’re so disgustingly gooey.”

“I can’t help it, Plagg!” Adrien grabs their class photos off his desk and flops on his bed. His heart flutters wildly upon seeing Marinette’s smiling face in each one, and he sighs and smiles dreamily at them. “How did I never notice her like this before? She’s so – so sweet, and caring, and passionate –”

“Blech!” Plagg darts for his fridge of Camembert. “You’re horrible! You shoulda been one of Tikki’s, not mine!”

“What do I do, though?” Adrien’s face falls. “She doesn’t want to be with me anymore. And I’m happy being her friend, but…I feel like I’m going to melt every time she touches me!”

“Gross! I don’t need to hear this!”

“What – not like that!” Blood rushes to Adrien’s cheeks at Plagg’s implication. “Fine, you’re no help at all. I’ll just have to figure out for myself how to not die every time I’m around her.”

Plagg rolls his eyes and stuffs a wedge of cheese in his mouth. “You’re fifteen,” he deadpans. “You only just realised you liked her the other day. You’re literally like any other teenager.”

“I know that,” Adrien says rather sulkily. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Too bad, buttercup. Suck it up and deal with it. You wanted to be a real teenager? Now you get to be a real teenager. Not all sunshine and rainbows, huh?”

“Just eat your cheese,” Adrien scowls. Plagg cackles and returns to his feast, so Adrien turns away from him and looks back at the photos. Marinette once again brings a soft smile to his face. He’ll have to turn into Chat Noir and visit her again soon, and not for any creepy reasons like perving on her in her room or deceiving her with another identity. If Adrien can’t hang out with his friends as much as he’d like, well, there’s no reason why Chat Noir shouldn’t be able to do so.