#actually! I went looking for a suitable picture to match this confession and I stumbled across an article that said

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Don’t Know What Hit Him – Chapter 4

The night of the dance and Adrien gets more than he bargained for when he tries to be there for Marinette as both her dance partner and her confidant.

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The night of the dance, Adrien fidgeted with his Miraculous as he waited for Marinette to come down the stairs. Her parents were “keeping their distance” if it could be called that—her dad was sitting on the couch facing Adrien, pretending to read a newspaper upside down, hiding a knowing smile. And her mom was in the kitchen, wiping clean counters down while keeping an eye turned to him. He didn’t mind, not really; he was used to being monitored. In fact he could barely focus on them. 

He was taking Marinette to the dance. As himself. Knowing what she wanted to tell him and… still not really knowing what he’d say back. Not to mention supporting her as Chat Noir from the wings—he was having a hard time not berating himself for agreeing to that one. He should’ve said anything else, but she just looked so lost and hopeful when she’d asked him and he couldn’t help but want to do anything to put a smile back on her face. 

His breath caught when her trap door opened and a pair of black ballet flats emerged. Followed by the rustling of her tulle skirt and a gentle waft of perfume she’d decided to wear tonight. And Marinette.

He swore his heart stopped for an entire minute looking at her. 

She had her hair swept up and off her shoulders with gentle tendrils falling around the sides of her face. He couldn’t be sure if she was blushing or wearing a subtle amount of makeup, but either way, the soft pink of her cheeks under the beautiful blue of her eyes…

She was glowing. 

Her dad had apparently come up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly, making him stumble a small step forward and breaking him out of the spell. He shook his head and stepped up to give her a hand down the stairs. 

“Marinette, you look…” he tried to say as she came down to his level. Instead he just ended up gaping at her again and forced himself to close his mouth. “Amazing. You look amazing.” 

She turned bright red and dropped her gaze to the small purse in her hands, a glittery silver thing she must’ve made for the occasion, too. Without thinking about it, his hand tightened around hers and she gave a little gasp, her lips parting in surprise. 

“Well, you kids better get going,” Tom said, bringing Adrien back down to earth with a bump. “But before you go…” Adrien turned and Tom was holding up a camera sheepishly, making a pushing motion with his hands to indicate he should stand next to Marinette. He took the cue and moved into place, offering Marinette his arm. 

He hoped his dopey grin wasn’t too obvious in the picture. But when her hand had curled around his bicep, he swore he could’ve died happy. 

***

The walk over to the school was quiet. She’d stayed close, but her grip had turned into a vice around his arm and he noticed her taking ragged breaths. He wished he knew what to say to her, but he was having his own heart attack and could barely keep one foot moving in front of the other. 

It was easier when they’d arrived and Alya and Nino were there. It felt more like hanging out at class, except Alya was wearing a glittering sequined orange gown and Nino had an orange flower tucked in his breast pocket. He panicked when he noticed Alya had a matching bunch of flowers tied around her wrist. 

Should he have thought to get Marinette something like that, too? Or was that something only couples did? Was he a couple with Marinette now? Would he be after tonight? 

Nino seemed to notice something was off with him, but was easily distracted when the music started up and he made a beeline for the deejay stand. Probably to line up some requests of what he thought was more suitable music since he had refused the gig to be here with Alya. And speaking of Alya, she had nudged Marinette in the ribs with a knowing smile and disappeared soon after they got there. Now that he knew he wondered how long Alya had known, too. How long had he been embarrassing himself by saying Marinette was ‘just a friend’ when… 

He nearly groaned thinking about it. But then a song came on that he recognized. The slow song he’d danced to with Marinette at Chloe’s party. It seemed forever ago, but when he looked over at her, she seemed to be remembering, too, as a pink flush spread across her cheeks. 

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, sounding much more brave than he felt. He was pretty sure his hand was shaking as he offered it to her again. 

She looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he could tell she was about to start panicking unless he did something to ease her mind. He let his smile twitch up into his Chat smirk and tilted his head in an effort to be endearing. 

But that seemed to make it worse because her eyes went impossibly wider. 

“Bathroom!” she cried, and he felt his eyebrows knit together as he tried to understand. “I mean… I need to…” she gestured awkwardly and tried to laugh, but she stopped and turned away to stride stiffly out the door that led to the lockers. 

He took a deep breath. She did say she’d need help, and that’s why she’d asked Chat Noir to show up, too. Maybe that was his cue. He opened his jacket to check that Plagg was still nestled in his inside breast pocket before he went out the way they’d come to find a safe place to transform. 

***

Even with his night vision, it took him a moment to find her huddled up against her locker. He dropped in from the window, making more noise than necessary, and set his face in a smirk, planning to offer her a catty line and make her smile. 

But when she looked up at him, that thought went straight out the window. She stood and advanced on him with anger flashing in her eyes and before he knew it he was backed against the wall as she prodded her finger into his chest. 

“You!” she cried. “You… you… mangy tomcat!” She poked him with each word for emphasis, and even though he didn’t feel it through the suit, he still rubbed at the spot when she whirled away from him. 

“After years of this stupid crush, I finally get up the nerve to tell him how I feel, and you come around and… ugh!” She threw herself down on the bench and hid her face in her arms. “I can’t do this…” he heard her mutter. 

“Yes, you can, Marinette,” he said gently, moving to sit next to her. But she flinched away as he tried to put his arm around her shoulders. He scratched the back of his head, letting his claws drag through his hair before he dropped his hand to his lap to fiddle with his ring instead. 

“I can’t…” she said, heaving a sigh before she turned to set her cheek on her arm and look at him. “Because…” 

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath. She blushed and hid her face again to take a deep breath. 

“Because I think I’m in love with someone else?” The words left her in a rush and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard right. 

After a pause, she peeked back up at him and the realization hit him like he’d stood in front of the Métro and let it pin him to the rails.

His ears fluttered before he could help it, picking up the sound of footsteps coming towards them. With an apologetic glance at Marinette, he ducked into an open locker and hid just as Alya walked in. 

“Marinette?” Alya’s voice asked. 

“Over here,” Marinette called back. In the crack he could see through, he could tell her eyes were still fixed on his hiding spot. 

“Are you okay? You kinda ran out and left Adrien hanging.” 

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, just had a… moment…” She gestured to herself and Alya sighed. 

“Well, take your time, I guess. Nino’s trying to find Adrien now, but it looks like he ran off, too.” 

“He… he did?” 

“Yeah, but I know how much you wanted to talk to him tonight.” 

Marinette smiled, but it was off somehow, like she was far away. “Yeah, I did,” she agreed, her voice trailing off wistfully. Alya sighed again, but didn’t say anything else and Adrien heard the door swing shut after her. 

He let the locker door swing open on its own, then stepped out to stand in front of Marinette again, tapping his claw against his wrist and his boot against the floor as a way to try to channel his energy. She wasn’t saying anything, just looking at him, waiting for him to say something apparently but he had no words. He coughed and sat next to her again, letting his head hang like she’d been scolding him. 

“Marinette… I…” He tapped his claws together, letting the clicks echo in the space around them. 

“You… love Ladybug,” she said, sighing. “I know.” 

“No!” He turned to face her, then winced as he realized what he’d objected to. “I mean, yes, but… I think…” He snuck a glance at her before he looked back down at his boots. “I think you’ve always been important to me, and I’m just now realizing… what that actually means.” He leaned back and let his head dangle as he looked at the ceiling, trying to find the words he needed written there. Marinette seemed to be holding her breath. He let his eyes fall on her fully for the first time since she’d… 

Confessed. Marinette confessed to him. As Chat Noir. Before he could help it that dopey grin split his face again. 

“You’re amazing, Marinette,” he said, letting the warmth of what he was feeling spill over into his words. He came back to himself, though, as her smile answered his. “But… I still think you should talk to Adrien.” 

Her face fell and he rushed to reassure her. “Not that—I mean, I can’t, you know? It’s been reckless enough that I’ve been spending time with you, let alone…” He swallowed thickly as he thought the words. Dating. Marinette.  

She nodded thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right.” She laid a hand on her purse and reached up to run a finger around her earring before she let out another one of those heavy sighs. 

There was a long pause between them as he hated himself for rejecting her and she was lost in her thoughts. He wanted so badly to wrap an arm around her, but instead he just sat there fiddling with his ring and wishing he could comfort her as Adrien. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, “for the dance lessons.” Her eyes flicked back up to his and she leaned over, hesitating the smallest amount, before she brushed her lips against his cheek just under his mask. “And for… everything else.” 

Before he could even think to move, she’d hopped up and hurried away, only looking back once before she slipped out the door. His fingers reached up to touch his cheek where she’d kissed him. It brought back a memory—Hero’s Day. When she’d gotten up on her toes and cradled his head between her hands and pressed her lips to the same place. Firmly, purposefully. 

He let his head fall into his hands and groaned. Why had he been such an idiot?

***

Back on the dance floor, Adrien had one mission. To find her and tell her how he really felt. No mask, nothing held back. It was too important to keep to himself.

She was leaning against the wall, her head down, contemplating the drink in her hand when he walked up. She glanced up at him and gave him a glum smile. He found a spot next to her and settled into it, tucking his hands in his pockets in what he knew was one of his model poses, but he couldn’t help trying to look casual. 

She took a breath and he waited for her to say something, but she just shook her head and set her cup down. 

“Did you still want to dance?” she asked, and he was so taken aback by the direct question that all he could do was nod. She reached down and took his hand to pull him along before she found a spot near the edge of the floor. 

He went for a ballroom frame, but she went to rest her hands on his shoulders and there was an awkward moment as they both realized their mistake and tried to switch. Adrien chuckled and rubbed the nape of his neck before he took a step closer and let his hands rest on her hips like he’d done with her before as Chat Noir. She fell into step with him easily and they started swaying along to the song that was playing. 

For the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything to say. Marinette seemed to be in a similar boat because they were both silent as they danced. 

But then Marinette stepped on his foot and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “Too bad I didn’t wear steel-toed boots,” he joked, grinning, but his words stopped her in her tracks. She blinked up at him, frozen in his arms, and he felt a blush creep up his cheeks at her scrutiny. 

“I… I mean… you know, because they’d be helpful? Not that… I’m not saying you’re a disaster zone or anything, just that...” 

With that her face scrunched into a concentrated frown and she took a step back to look at him. What’d he say? He was backtracking through his words trying to figure out what it was when she grabbed his right hand and flipped it over to look at his ring. 

There weren’t enough curse words in the world for the panic that bubbled up in his chest as he saw the realization wash over her. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered. Her eyes finally bounced back up to his, and he had to blink back into focus because she was chewing on her lip while she thought. 

When his brain caught up, he heard his mouth saying, “Marinette, I can explain—” 

But she cut him off with a hand over his lips. It took her a full ten seconds—he counted—for her to realize what she’d done and jerk her hand back, blushing furiously. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist instead and marched him back over to the door that led to the lockers. 

When they were alone, she instantly started pacing, twirling a finger around her earring as she muttered to herself. He scratched his calf with the top of his shoe as he waited for her to reach some sort of conclusion about what to say to him. 

She stopped short to look at him, opened her mouth, blushed crimson, then hid her face behind her hands as she sank to sit on the bench. Gingerly, he took the seat beside her and hung his head to look at his shoes. 

“This isn’t happening,” she said from behind her fingers. “Tell me this isn’t happening.” 

He fiddled with his ring and when she saw it out of the corner of her eye she let out a mortified squeal before she hid again. 

“Look at it this way,” he ventured, “you’ve already told me what you needed to say.” She groaned in response, which made him chuckle. “Twice, actually, so…” He shrugged. “I guess it’s my turn?” 

One blue eye peeked over at him and he took a deep breath. “I asked you to the dance tonight because I wanted to tell you… it took hearing those words from you to make me realize…” 

Here goes. 

“You’re… more than just a friend to me, Marinette. For a while now, I guess, maybe even before you asked me to give you dance lessons, and I don’t really know…” 

He felt her turn towards him and level him with a look. 

“But you’re in love with Ladybug,” she said, her tone accusing. “You even said tonight… while you were…” She pointed to the other side of the bench where their previous conversation had taken place as her voice failed her. 

He nodded. “It’s still there. But… it’s difficult to explain, I guess. She’s my partner, and I think a small part of me will always hope… but it feels… different with you?” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “But it doesn’t at the same time. I feel the same talking with you as when I’m fighting an akuma with her. It’s this pounding… fluttering…” He gestured with his hand over his chest, thumping it erratically along with what it felt like his heart was doing, and swallowed thickly. “Sorry, I’m trying, it’s just  that it’s important and…” 

When he got the nerve to look over at her, she was watching him curiously. He shook his head and laughed at himself. 

“It's precisely when something is important, that it's important to say it, no matter what, right?” she asked, finishing his unspoken thought. But he hadn’t said that to Marinette, he’d said it to—

His head snapped up. She was still blushing, but she was smiling at him, and fiddling with her earring. The exact same way he was fiddling with his ring. He caught her hand to pull it away, then brushed the strand of hair that always fell in front of her ear back behind it instead. 

As he did, it all clicked into place. 

No wonder he’d been so confused—he’d fallen for Marinette. Twice. Once, hard and fast. Irrevocable. A fact of the universe. He loved the girl behind the mask. And the second time, just as hard but in slow motion, like tripping over his tail in her room, like getting his feet trod on just to reassure her, like seeing her for the first time with that halo of light around her. 

He must’ve been staring because she pulled away from him and looked away, shy again. 

“You’re…” he breathed, but he couldn’t seem to finish the thought. No possible way he was this lucky. No way this was real. Marinette, his amazing classmate, one of his best friends, their everyday Ladybug—

At that he stopped and had to laugh at himself again. Some part of him knew. Some part of him felt that she was the one he was waiting for and had been trying to get him to realize it since those words first passed his lips. He’d already made the connection, he was just—

“I’m an idiot,” he managed to say, then swept her hand back up to press a kiss to the back of her knuckles. A small little ‘eep’ came out of her and he couldn’t help smiling against her hand. “Forgive me, Milady, for not seeing it before.” 

Out of habit, it seemed, she pushed his nose away and tapped it for good measure. 

“Silly kitty,” she muttered, which made a dopey grin spread across his face before he could help it as she looked away again, blushing. 

“Your silly kitty,” he said proudly. Her eyes snapped back to him then, and he shrugged innocently. “If you’ll have me, that is.” 

“Ha-hav-have you?” she stammered, her face boiling from a light pink to a deep crimson in a matter of seconds. 

His hand shook this time as he reached over to take hers, lacing their fingers together to try to make his intent as clear as he could. She looked down at their joined hands incredulously, staring, and it made him chuckle again. 

“Partners?” he asked, the word loaded with so many different meanings after what had transpired between them. 

“P-Partners?” she repeated, those blue eyes blinking up at him, that pink blush glowing on her cheeks. His hand tightened around hers as his grin shifted into a smirk. 

“You know, like dance partners, partners in crime-fighting, that kind of thing.” He brought her hand up to his lips again, smiling as he caught her eyes. “And hopefully partners in other things, too.” 

She stood abruptly, one of her typical Marinette-style flutterings taking over her, and her calf got locked in the bench. Her arms flailed wildly as she tried to steady herself, backwards first, then forwards, straight into him. He caught her with an arm around her waist as they both toppled into the lockers, and Adrien winced as the metal clanged against his back. 

Her hands were splayed out over his chest, her face mere inches away from his and he was so tempted to lean in and close that distance. Instead, his mouth was moving before his brain had caught up again. 

“So which one of us was the bull that time and which was the china shop?” he heard himself ask, laughing. 

She smacked his shoulder and untangled herself, accepting his help to plant her feet solidly in front of him. He held onto her hand, and she still seemed transfixed by that small gesture. Finally, she looked up at him, her blush cleared, that steely look in her eyes that he would recognize anywhere. Her hand squeezed his and she smiled. 

“I think I remember someone saying it’d be a shame if the guy I was trying to impress doesn’t get to see all my hard work. Learning that dance and everything.” 

He smirked, then wiped it away, replacing it with feigned innocence. “You learned how to dance, Marinette? Who could’ve possibly taught you all their amazing, impressive moves?” 

She rolled her eyes, but started to lead him towards the door, back to the dance floor. “Some mangy tomcat who thinks he’s got it all.” 

His hand tightened around hers. “Don’t I, though?” 

He couldn’t see her face as she led him away, but he was pretty sure she was sporting a pleased smile and a beautiful blush. And as he held her close on the dance floor, swaying along with her to the music he was sure was playing but that he couldn’t be bothered to care about, he couldn’t help but think it was the start of something very, very good.