#Marinette might as well be wearing a “Dramatically shoot me in a season finale” sign

[a-flaming-idiot]

I love Marinette's skull-dress in Revolution.

Or how I like to call it, "The Death-Flag Dress"

Just cause if any other character in any other piece of media wore this dress during an impactful, plot-important episode, it would be an unsubtle death flag. Like that character is GOING. TO. DIE! Likely in that season's finale. Like it is a sugar-skull dress. And not even an unsubtle one at that! This might as well be a murder weapon!! If she wasn't the main character in a kids' show this girl would be fucking DEAD! If I wrote it, she'd be in a fucking CASKET! I'd give her the most dramatic, impactful death ever! It doesn't even matter if she gets revived or something, this girl is going to die!

[freedom-shamrock]

A Little Secret - Chapter 5

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Amazing art created by @soundofez​  pg 1  pg 2  pg 3

When Making a Whole Cheese

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien called as his petite friend entered the classroom well before the bell.  "I've got hot jasmine tea for you."  They both had literature final period, and had partnered up early in the year.  He'd had a mid-afternoon shoot, and managed to swing by the coffee shop before returning to school.  

"Oh thank you, thank you," she murmured, wrapping her hands around the hot cardboard cup with a sigh.  "Oh god this is perfect."

She'd been a lot of fun to work with, but she'd seemed so sleepy the last couple of weeks, and it worried him.  He wasn't quite sure if his concern was independent of, or partially fuelled by his similar worry for Ladybug.  "I've got something else to warm you up, too," he said with a grin.  Last year, Alya told him that she suspected Mari had seasonal affective disorder or some form of anemia.  That had been the start of their group's warm-up-Mari efforts, and he had to admit, he liked the close contact.  Taking care of her in both his forms made him so happy and it gave him all sorts of ideas for how to best help Ladybug.

"What?" she asked, sliding into her seat beside him.

He shrugged off the coat he'd been wearing, but didn't need.  "Here you go.  Pre-warmed."

Her eyes went huge, and for a brief moment he was reminded of their early interactions, when she couldn't seem to string three words together around him.  "I love you," she blurted, snatching the jacket out of his hands and shoving her arms into the sleeves.  "Ooooh," she moaned, hugging the fabric to her.  "Sooo warm."

He couldn't hold back the chuckle, and didn't want to anyway.  "I run a little hot."

"A little?" she teased.

Shaking his head, he continued.  "It's my high metabolism or something, and I'm happy to share."  He reached out and zipped the front for her, allowing her keep her fingers tucked in the over-long sleeves as long as possible.  "Better?"

"Much.  Thank you."  Her smile made his chest feel tight, not with sorrow or hurt, but so full of happiness it was stretching.  

"Alya said you've entered something in my father's latest contest," he said, nudging her with an elbow.  To be more accurate, he'd asked Alya about it so he could claim to have talked to her about it.  Chat was fully in the know, though he'd unfortunately not been able to stop by to see the finished piece before she turned it in.  The photos she'd taken were good, but he suspected they paled compared to her vision.  

Marinette nodded.  "Yeah."  She glanced up at him and grinned.  "I kinda took the suit coat theme to an extreme."  She'd included elements of Victorian men's tailcoats, corset lacing, and angel sleeves for something incredibly striking, yet adjustable.

"Yeah, why did my father pick suit coats?" he asked, shaking his head.  "They're a freaking plague in my closet."

"We hates them, my precious," Marinette said, pulling off a pretty passable Gollum imitation before switching back to her regular voice.  "The official word is that he wants to see what we can do with something we see every day.  How do we embrace the mundane?" she said dramatically.

"I personally prefer to embrace them with a torch," Adrien suggested.  "Foom!  Bye bye poly-blend."

"Oh my god Adrien."  She reached out and rested a hand on his arm, her face concerned.  "Who is dressing you in poly-blends?  You can tell me."  Her sleeve-covered hand patted him gently.  "What they're doing is wrong, and I can help you."

He let out a strangled giggle.  "You going to protect me from my father, then, are you?"

She sat up straighter, suddenly radiating a fierceness that should not have fit in the tiny sweet package known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  "If that's what you need, then yes."  The look she gave him was suddenly far too serious and pointed for the joking they'd started with.

He looked down at her hand on his arm, her fingertips just peeking out of the oversize jacket.  "Thanks Mari."

Her hand gave him one little squeeze before withdrawing so she could pull out her tablet.  "Anytime Adrien."

"Can you tell me about your design?" he asked.  "You've got me all curious now."

"You hate suit coats," she pointed out.  Her eyes went wide.  "Oh no!  You're going to have to model the winning design... and you hate them."  She sighed.  "I hope I lose."

"Why?" he demanded, surprised.  "I'm going to have to model one anyway."

"I don't want you tortured by my design," she said.  "Do you think I can pull out of the contest?"

Adrien shook his head.  "No.  And even if you could, I wouldn't want you to."  She'd taken first place in five of the last seven contests, only being beaten by university students enrolled in design programs.  He was hoping she could bump the odds up a bit more with this one.  He liked what he'd seen of her design, practically designed with him in mind, and he really wanted the opportunity to wear it.  

"But…"

"No, Mari," he said firmly.  "I have to wear one anyway.  It may as well be yours.  After all, at least it won't be a poly-blend."  He  grinned and settled back in his chair.  "Tell me about it?"  Their teacher walked in and the bell rang.  

"If you have time after school, why don't you stop over," she suggested.  "I've got photos and fabric swatches."

"Princess?"  Chat leaned down and tapped on Marinette's skylight.  It was odd for her to not be in at this time of evening, and he couldn't help the stupid alarm bells going off in the back of his head.  He was probably over-reacting.  She was probably with Alya.  But it couldn't hurt to check, right?  The skylight lifted easily, always a sign that he was welcome, and he dropped into her darkened room.  He listened for a moment before descending the stairs.  He'd nearly been caught early on when he was still stupidly excited to be so welcome and Marinette or her parents had company.  He picked up Tom and Sabine's voices, and the obvious sounds of food preparation.

"Evening Chat," Tom said, waving from the kitchen, where he stood over a deep silver kettle.  "Did you bring Maricake back?"

Chat shook his head.  "She wasn't in, and…" he caught himself before he could confess his stupid groundless fear.  "There was something I wanted to talk to her about."  He didn't like the frown that appeared on Tom's face.  "Umm.  Where is she?"

"She went to the library directly after school," Sabine said, pulling out her cell phone.

He didn't remember her saying she needed to go study, but then, he'd noticed she tended to not tell him what her plans were when he was scheduled for fencing and Mandarin, because he'd just miss out.  "Which one did she go to?"

"François-Mitterrand," Sabine said, holding the phone to her ear.  She waited a moment, then shook her head.  "She's not picking up."

Chat felt the rush of adrenaline, as her words seemed to reinforce the strange feeling he'd gotten that something was wrong.

"She might just be unable to pick up," Tom cautioned, though his voice was tight.

"Yeah," Chat said with a nod.  "But I'm not going to bank on that."  He pulled out his baton.  He flipped up the communicator and scrolled to Tom and Sabine's contacts, sending them each a message so they could reach him easily.  "I'm going to go find her.  Message me if you hear from her."

"We will," Sabine promised, her eyes on her phone.  "I'm going to check in with her other friends in case any of them have seen her."

"Good plan.  Text me what you learn."  He didn't even wait for a response, and just darted up the steps to her room.  

François-Mitterrand was far enough that she would have taken the train.  He ducked in and out of the stop near her house, before taking to the rooftops to get there faster.  He forced himself to check the train station near the library before heading to the main desk.  As a well-known superhero, he was greeted with enthusiasm and immediate support from the library staff.  Each floor and section was quickly checked by librarians and clerks who reported their findings to the head of security while Chat watched the surveillance footage for the main entrance.  The clerk from the textile and fashion collection called in to report that three books had been checked out by Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng forty minutes earlier.  Chat forwarded the video to times closer to that record.

"Ah!"  He pointed, pausing the playback.  "There she is."

The head of security tapped the corner of the monitor.  "Twenty-two minutes ago."  He resumed the video.  "And she headed south-east."

Chat scowled at the screen.  That was the wrong direction for her to catch the train.  "Thank you so much for the help."  He lurched to his feet and dashed from the room.  When he got to the sidewalk on Avenue de France, he pulled out his communicator and tapped Sabine's contact info.

"Hello, Chat?" she answered.

"Yeah," he replied.  "She left the library about twenty-five minutes ago."

"I just got a text from her," Sabine said quickly.  "She said she was cold, so she went to L'Arobase Cafe on Rue du Chevaleret, and she'd be leaving any minute."

Chat closed his eyes and let out a sigh as his concern was abruptly abated.  It wasn't completely gone, but he could breathe now.  His focus was suddenly less narrow and frantic.  "She couldn't have gone to one of the three cafes on the library campus?" he wanted to know.

Sabine chuckled.  "Apparently they all have less than stellar reviews for a reason."

"I'm going to go meet her," he said.  "I'm already here and…"  Would he sound controlling and creepy if he mentioned he was still worried?

"I was going to ask you to," Sabine said happily.  "She's been having so much trouble with the cold this year, we can't help but worry," she admitted.  "And if it fits into your schedule, we'd love to have you stay for dinner."

His fingers slid over the screen to glance at his schedule.  "Yeah.  That would be great."  He never turned down the opportunity to feel like he was part of a family.  

Once he'd hung up, he took the quick route to the cafe.  He was getting close when his extra sensitive ears caught the sound of a mighty pissed off Princess.

"I have already declined, and I'm not sure why you're having such a hard time understanding that I've said no," Marinette snapped.  "Are you stupid?"

Chat really disliked the sound of that, but he slowed his movements to creep up on the situation from above.  Marinette stood on the sidewalk a few doors down from the cafe.  A young man with light brown hair and a red jacket stood directly in her path.

"I just can't help but feel like we have a connection," he said, his tone wheedling and reasonable, though his words and body language were anything but.  "If you give me a chance, I'm sure you'll feel it too."

Chat couldn't quite see her glare, given the angle, but he knew it was there and he grinned.  Mari wasn't someone to mess with, and could definitely handle herself in normal conditions.  It would only irritate her if he interfered.  He'd have no qualms jumping in if she needed it, and given her problems with the cold, it seemed sensible to be ready to intervene.

"The only thing I feel right now," Marinette said, "is a strong urge to bust your kneecaps and kick in your teeth."

"See, I knew you were feisty," the man said, as if this justified his earlier argument.  He reached out to touch her chin.  "You're beautiful when you play at being dominant, princess."

The growl hadn't even left Chat's throat when she reacted, and she was wicked fast.  In mere seconds, the man's hand was twisted up between his shoulder blades while his face was pressed into the nearby brick wall.  It was a move his Lady was partial to, and she was probably the only person he'd ever seen do it faster.  

"Only one person is allowed to call me Princess," she snarled.  "And you are not him."

That sounded as good as any entrance cue.  "While it looks like you have this well under control," he said, slowly twirling down his staff.  " Is there any chance I could lend a paw?"

She beamed up at him.  "Chat Noir, what a delightful surprise.  It's fabulous how you're always exactly where you're needed."

"Aww, shucks."  Her praise felt genuine so of course his cheeks went hot.  "Just doing my job."  He embraced the opportunity to look at his communicator for police dispatch, hoping the blush would fade before she noticed.  "Hello, this is Chat Noir.  I'm at Rue du Chevaleret near L'Arobase Cafe, and we have a harasser for you to pick up."

"It wasn't like that," the man objected, his voice muffled a bit by the wall.

"Hmm," Chat growled.  "It looked rather a lot like that, actually.  I was watching for a bit, you see.  I recognize that some ladies are quite prepared to handle men like you."  He allowed his disgust to feed into the last three words.  The nerve of the guy.  How dare he touch Princess without her consent, and after she'd told him to back off?  "And miss, may I congratulate you on your very fine skills?  My Lady is fond of that particular defense."  Did he imagine that her eyes went wide at that statement?  The sudden pink tinge to her cheeks had nothing to do with the weather.

"Oh!"  She turned away, seeming quite focused on checking her hand placement, which was still perfect.  "Yeah.  I've… uh seen Ladybug use it in videos, and I really liked it.  So I've practiced it with a friend of mine."

Chat nodded.  Had she tried it out on Alya or Nino, or someone else entirely?  "Smart of you and your friend."  

He stayed with Marinette until the police arrived, and added his witness report to the record, knowing it would hold enough weight that she wouldn't have to be bothered with this mess again.  As the young man was being tucked into the back of the car, he approached the door.  "A moment, please."  He leaned in, leveling the man with a glare that had been quite effective on others.  "I realize things didn't go as planned, and you're probably quite upset just now.  But I advise against making friends with any purple butterflies, because I will not feel inclined to restrain myself if I have to fight you in akuma form.  And Ladybug's miraculous cure doesn't entirely fix those injuries."

Marinette was looking at him oddly when he rejoined her at the sidewalk.  "Chat," she said quietly.  "Did you threaten that man?"

He shot her low-level kitten eyes, the ones he used to imply innocence that didn't exist.  "Why Princess, I would never."  He shook his head.  "I just recommended against getting akumatized over this incident."

Her lips twitched as she tried not to smile.  "Oh.  That would be inconvenient."

He nodded.  "I've been invited to dinner, and I'd hate to miss it."  He held out a hand.  "Might I escort you home?  Your parents were worried about you."

" Just my parents?" she asked as she slipped her much smaller hand into his.

He shrugged.  "My Princess can take care of herself," he noted.  "But I don't like it when you have to."  He pulled her close to his side, the way he preferred to carry passengers for optimal mobility and safety.  "Um… I'm pretty sure you would’ve told me by now, but watching you deal with that jerk just makes me want to be clear on something."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Is it okay that I call you Princess?"  He'd hate to give up the nickname, it had come to mean so much more than the word itself.  But if it made her uncomfortable, he wouldn't hesitate to stop.  Well, try to stop.  It would probably take a few weeks to retrain himself if necessary.

"You heard what I said, right?" she asked, leaning forward to look into his face.  "I was talking about you.  Only you get to call me that."

He spontaneously hugged her, something he didn't usually do.  "Thank you Princess."  Why did this make him so ridiculously happy?  "Let's get you home.  Mama Cheng has dinner ready.

Chapter title - "Making a whole cheese" is a French idiom equivalent to "tempest in a teacup."

Chapter artwork by @soundofez​, posted with permission, can be found here.

Huge thanks to my betas: Karnival and @chatbug-jk​