#whoops my hand slipped. i’m probably late to the trend but oh well

[frogchampers]

based off this post

[kitty0boy]

Marichat May Day 6 prompt: Midnight

As with all my other fics, Marinette is 17, Adrien is 18.

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On the first of April a rare sight had occurred. Marinette was wrapped up in a blanket, staring at the distance from her balcony. She’d never been able to have a moment to herself in nearly 2 years. Between Alya, the Kwamis, Alya helping her with the Kwamis, and patrols with Chat Noir, she’d never have the chance. Having people around her was great and all, but she liked her alone time once in a while.

The view from her balcony was amazing too. Of course it didn’t compare to the view at the top of the Eiffel Tower, but it had a homely presence to it. She could see the Eiffel Tower, her school, and her kitty vaulting towards her,

Wait what? She did a double check and sure enough Chat Noir was making his way towards her and he came to a stop on her balcony. “Fancy seeing you up here princess.” She smirked and crossed her arms. “On my own balcony?” He laughed. “Well you haven’t been up here in a while. The only times I’ve seen you have been with akuma attacks.” Lately, she had been caught up in a lot of battles. The akumas seemed to be targeting her and she was scared to wonder why. Had Hawkmoth found her? Or was he convinced that she would get a miraculous from Ladybug? He had seemed to have found a trend in who were miraculous holders, most of them being in her school. More specifically her class.

Chat Noir must have noticed her puzzled expression because he booped her on the nose, pulling her out of her thoughts. She smiled and so did he. “If you had done anymore thinking, steam would have come out of your ears princess.” She laughed before turning back to the view. The blanket had fallen off her shoulders but before she could grab it, he picked it up and wrapped it and his arms around her, resting his head atop hers. “So, what sort of mischief did you bring to Paris this year?” Everyone knew that April fools was Chat Noir’s favourite holiday. I would go around Paris pulling pranks on any Parisian in sight. Of course they were all harmless and he ended up earning chuckles for his silly antics. Then at the end of the day, he ended up on her balcony, telling her about everything he’d done that day.

He went on and on, telling her about his practical jokes. She tried to be the best audience for his story tellings. Laughing in all the right places, gasping when he did something surprising and responding to him when he paused. Chat Noir was always the more social out of the two heroes. Not that she wasn’t social as Ladybug, but he would travel around and seek out conversation with any Parisian in sight. He was also the one to comfort the akuma victims once they were purified. She must have been thinking too hard again because he started rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. “You know Mari,” he said, a little louder than usual. Probably to keep her from zoning out again. “You hair is really soft. Could I borrow your conditioner some time?” She giggled, “Of course. I’m sure you have to wash out that alley cat smell don’t you?” Before she could brace herself though, his hands grabbed the openings of the blanket, pulled them apart, and started ticking her ribcage.

Why did she ever tell him she was ticklish. I guess it’s because she squirmed a little the first time he tried to hug her. Now she leaned back against him as her knees gave out. Her laugh clearing the silence on the Parisian night. He ended up toppling over and slipped out from under her once they landed. Kneeling over her and running his fingers along her sides making her squirm like a fish out of water. “O-okay okay.” She half panted half laughed. “Y-you’re going to wake up m-my parents.” He chuckled. “No, you’re going to wake up your parents little mouse, with all the squeaking and squirming you’re doing.” Unfurrtunately Chat Noir wasn’t ticklish, so she had no hope of retaliating. So instead she slowly sat up right and he stopped tickling her so she didn’t smack her head on the floor.

That pause was all she needed though, she quickly grabbed the discarded blanket and threw it over his head before wrapping her arms over his, successfully trapping him. “Well done Marinette,” he chuckled, “you’ve mastered the art of cat burglary.” She laughed, “Well you started it kitty.”

The sound of creaking hinges startled the pair and Marinette turned to see her mother checking to see what all the racked was about. “Oh thank goodness, you’re alright, I was starting to think there was, a..” she seemed to have notice Marinette’s feline friend. “Is that?” She pointed. Marinette laughed, “Don’t worry mom, I’ve got this cat in the bag.” He laughed from under the blanket. “Well let the cat out of the bag and go to sleep. It’s quarter till midnight.” Marinette groaned, “Mom, it’s a Friday, no school.” Chat Noir piped up, “Could she stay up another half hour Ms. Cheng? I don’t get to hang out with Marinette very often anymore.”

Sabine nodded at Marinette. “Now let the boy breathe, he’s started shaking dear.” Marinette was now acutely aware of the shivers coming from him. She lifted the blanket off and saw his pink face. Whoops. “Sorry cat.” He subconsciously rubbed his neck. “No worries.” They heard the sound of the trap door closing and stood up. “Are you cold Marinette?” He asked, she was “A little.” She replied. His face scrunched up cutely and he flung her over his shoulder. She gave a squeak of surprise. “Chat! What are you doing?” He walked over to the trapdoor and lifted it with his foot. “We are going in and you are grabbing a sweater.” Oh shit. Did she remember to put the miracle box away? The answer was thankfully, yes, as she didn’t see it on her desk.

He put her down and she quickly scurried of looking through her drawers and her closet for a warm sweater. Paris isn’t a warm city, especially at night. She found a simple black sweater and slipped it on. Chat gave a snicker behind her. She turned and crossed her arms. “What’s funny?” He crossed his arms in reply. “I didn’t know you were a fan of mine.” He smirked. This was in fact, a Chat Noir sweater she bought off a merchandise website with Alya. Well, Alya picked it out and used Marinette’s card to pay for it, so it was a surprise.

Rather than letting her face flush pink, she clasped her hands behind her back and slowly approached him, wearing a smirk of her own. “Of course kitten, I can’t pawsibly think of a purrson who wouldn’t be your fan.” She was smiling up at him, about an inch apart and their faces were closer together than Marinette had intended. But just as quickly as her confidence came, it was gone. Chat pulled her against him by the waist and used his other hand to lift her chin up. He gently tilted her head to the side and leaded down to whisper in her ear. “This is a game you won’t win purrincess.” Then he pulled back, smiled, and lightly bopped her on the head. He walked around her quickly and started making his way up the stairs, while she stood there blankly.

“Are you coming Mari, or do you need a minute to reboot?” He chuckled behind her. She turned and made her way up to the roof where he was waiting for her. He extended his hand, like he had so long ago, and she took it. Letting his scoop her up with her eyes closed and take her wherever they were going.

After a while, he stopped and told her to keep her eyes closed. She heard him pull out his baton for a second before putting it away. He took her hands and guided them towards a railing that was not her own. “Ok, open.” She looked and saw that he had took her to the exact same spot from his first visit. “You know, we never really got the chance to enjoy the view.” She smiled, “Yeah.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and he put an arm around hers. They stayed there for a while, until Chat decided it would be the perfect time to make her heart stop.

“I’m in love with you.” Her face felt hot, her stomach twisted as little akumas fluttered around. She looked at him, he looked to peaceful here. Then she remembered what day it was. She frowned and pulled out her phone to check the time

12:00 am

“Chat, you do know it’s April 2nd now, don’t you?” He smiled. He looked a little hurt and worried but smiled all the same. “I know, why do you think I waited?” She stuffed her phone back into her pocket and decided to finally listen to her heart for once. Straightening up and wrapping her arms around his neck, she closed the distance between them, and he returned the gesture.

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That’s all for day 6.

[clumsyclifford]

Rian helping Alex to dye his hair!! And complain how it'll fall out and stuff just to mask how pretty he thinks it's gonna look

alright anon here it is! my rilex debut. i hope it does not disappoint. also full disclosure i have had my hair dyed Once for me and my friends did it and i do not remember most of what happened so while i did do some light google searches please suspend disbelief if and when you must

read it here on ao3

-

Rian should know more about dyeing hair. It seems impossible for him to have been in a band with Jack and Alex for this long and not pick up on the basics, at least. Standing in a CVS, Rian feels confident that he should know this.

"Should" being the operative word.

Finally he calls Alex. 

"I forgot which brand you said," he tells Alex when he gets yeah?

"I texted it to you, you moron," Alex replies. He sounds very fond. It's always fun to hear Alex try and be bitchy when he's really just being fond.

Sighing, Rian pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his texts. "No you didn't."

"I definitely did." Pause. "Oh, it didn't go through. Whoops."

"Who's a moron now?"

"Still you. I told you the name like fifty times. Okay, it sent. If you get the wrong color, no offense but our friendship is over."

"Gotcha," says Rian. "So was it bright orange or more of a burnt umber that you wanted?"

Alex hangs up on him. A minute later he calls back.

"Love you," he says.

Rian rolls his eyes and grins. "Love you."

-

"Isn't it kind of disrespectful to do this in a hotel room bathroom?"

Alex doesn't stop setting up the hair dye supplies on the sink, but he does shoot a dry look towards Rian. "Yeah, duh. But it's just hair dye. Worst case scenario it stains the tub or something."

"Or the floor," Rian puts in. "Or your hair all burns off from the bleach and you sue and then there's a whole court case. That'd be pretty bad for them."

"But dope for me," Alex says. "So wins all around."

Not wins for the hotel, Rian doesn't say. He's not sure why he's bothering to try and convince Alex that they shouldn't do this. Not only is Alex thoroughly unable to be convinced, Rian doesn't even think he believes himself. 

It's just, Alex is dyeing his hair blue.

Rian tries not to form opinions, like, about Alex in specific, because in general his opinion is wow and good-looking and would love to kiss him and AHHHHH, and those opinions don't really change with Alex's look. Even in the most emo of Alex's hair days, Rian had been very much extremely attracted to him, and Alex has only gotten cuter since then. It will probably become a problem eventually. Rian suspects it might already be a problem that he's just ignoring very effectively.

It's not like he only likes Alex for his looks. Alex has lots of wonderful qualities, and Rian could easily wax poetic for hours. It's just that it would probably be easier not to fall in love with him if he was a little less what they in the music business called Fucking Gorgeous.

But no dice. Obviously.

All of which to say: helping Alex dye his hair blue cannot possibly end well for Rian. Alex has yet to do blue, but Rian is one hundred percent sure it's going to look as good as all the other colors have, and he's just going to find himself speechless for a couple minutes again. Which hadn't been a problem before, when Alex had gotten Jack to do it with him, but for some reason this time he's enlisted Rian, and Rian has yet to find within himself the capacity to refuse anything Alex requests, within (and sometimes without) reason.

Speaking of which: "Why isn't Jack helping you with this? Don't you think he'd be, like, a thousand times more competent? I mean, I wouldn't usually say that about Jack, but this is so not my area of expertise."

Alex huffs, opening the box of dye. "Well, for starters, Jack is busy with Zack, and they are probably banging and/or playing a board game and/or getting wasted and/or doing things that I can't even fathom because Jack and Zack are ineffable," which takes Rian a long moment to process but none of which is technically implausible or untrue, "and second, I wanted your help."

"Yeah, no, I got that when you told me you wanted my help," Rian says dryly. "What I'm wondering is why."

Alex frowns in judgement as he mixes the dye. "What's with all the questions? I just like hanging out with you, man. Do I need a better reason?"

Rian clears his throat. "Uh. I guess not."

"Damn right." Alex gives Rian a smile, and a small part of Rian melts, and he thinks about how much of a naive idiot he's been that he didn't realize how much of a problem this would be until right now. When it's too late. "Okay. Gloves on, Ri. It's gonna get messy up in here."

There's no way that innuendo is unintentional, and Rian is a sucker because he blushes anyway.

-

Apparently it's just a matter of painting. Which is much easier said than done. Not because painting dye onto hair is particularly challenging, but because Rian painting dye onto Alex's hair is, well.

"One of these days you're gonna lose all your hair," he says at one point, mostly to distract himself from the look on Alex's face as he works the dye through his hair with his crinkly-plastic-gloved fingers. That look is putting Rian's mind in places it should not be.

Fortunately, this comment alters it, and Alex opens his eyes. "I don't dye my hair that much."

Rian gives him a critical look. "Yeah, but still. This stuff can't be good for you. Even if you don't use it a lot."

"You know what else isn't good for me?" Alex says seriously. "Alcohol. Tattoos. Sex before marriage. Rebellion is hot. What kind of punk rocker are you?"

"I'm sorry it's not punk to be worried about your friends," Rian replies. "Doesn't it burn your head?"

"Nah," Alex says, closing his eyes again. "Feels nice."

"How the fuck does putting — I don't even know what's in this stuff — feel nice?"

"It's more about the experience," Alex says around a smile. "You putting the dye in my hair, it feels nice."

Awesome. Rian's fine.

"Oh," he mumbles, and then decides that not talking is in his best interest.

Rian is thorough with his task. If that means he goes twice through all of Alex's hair, it's because he's being extra careful.

(By the second time, Alex has begun humming along to the Motion City Soundtrack song playing from his phone on the sink top, and Rian is distracted for a little (long) while.)

-

With the shower cap on, Alex actually looks kind of dumb, which is a relief. The timer is nearly done ticking down from thirty minutes and Paramore is singing about how the camera's lying as Alex stares at himself in the mirror, using a washcloth to wipe off the smudges of rogue dye on his forehead.

Rian should stop watching, but there's something very captivating about the intensity of Alex's demeanor. It's not about what he's doing so much as the manner in which he's doing it, and God, Rian would give all the money in the world for Alex to look at him with that same attentiveness, even though he would probably just disintegrate if it ever did happen.

Rian was once a dignified man. He's not sure what happened but he's certain it's Alex's fault.

"Hey, Ri," Alex says. "Can you help me with this? I can't get this fucking dye off my face."

You're doing fine, Rian absolutely does not say, and instead says, "Yeah, sure. Although you might wanna think about just leaving it. I really think you could start a trend with this."

"Yeah?" Alex says, passing off the wet washcloth to Rian. "What, a trend of wearing hair dye on your face?"

"Dyed face is the new dyed hair," Rian says, grinning. He hesitates for a moment and then resigns himself to what he knows has to happen. "Don't move or talk or breathe or anything like that," he tells Alex, sliding a hand around Alex's neck to keep his head in place.

"Don't breathe?"

"What did I just say about talking and breathing?" Rian holds up the washcloth like a weapon. "Shut your mouth."

Alex presses his lips together and mimes locking them. He slips the imaginary key down the front of Rian's shirt. Rian snorts and begins his efforts to clean the dye off Alex's face. It's probably not going to go away for a little while, and they'll need to cover it with makeup, and Rian knows that, and surely Alex knows that too, so he's not sure why they're even bothering with this.

But. The position they've found themselves in is as compromising as it is tempting; Rian keeps his eyes firmly on the washcloth in his hands so they don't flit around Alex's face or land too often on his mouth. He could give himself away far too easily right now.

(He would like to. He would love to. If he kissed Alex right now, would Alex kiss him back? Would Alex have put them in this position as a joke? Is Alex a heartless monster or just a friend who thinks they're just friends? Are they just friends? Do they have to be? Could hair dye be mixed with glue to make colorful glue or does it only work on hair? All these questions and more crowd Rian's mind. It's a wonder he ever gets anything done.)

Eventually, though, Rian has to admit he's not going to get this dye off Alex's skin, and he doesn't want to hurt Alex. He sighs and drops his hand to his side, curling the washcloth in his fist. "Sorry, Al. You're gonna have to start that trend whether you like it or not."

Alex doesn't look even slightly disappointed. "That's cool," he says, smiling at Rian, smiling only for Rian, in a way that paralyzes Rian and renders him momentarily unable to respond. "It's kinda hot, in a subversive way. You know?"

Rian swallows. "Huh?"

"I mean, objectively being punk isn't hot compared to mainstream hot people, but there's something inherently hot about doing exactly what you're not supposed to. That's the whole point of punk." Rian's pretty sure punk has an additional, slightly larger point, but at the moment it's slipping his mind. "So like, this is hot in the sense that it's not what you'd expect to be hot. But I kind of make it work, don't you think?"

I think you kind of make this shower cap work, so I'm not exactly an unbiased authority on the matter, Rian keeps to himself. "Are you asking if I think you look hot with blue hair dye on your face?" he says, neutrally, trying not to give away that he does think Alex looks hot with blue hair dye on his face. 

But Alex just meets Rian's gaze and says, "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm asking."

A moment passes. Rian realizes he never reclaimed his hand and it is now just kind of cradling Alex's neck where it meets his shoulder. Another moment. Alex keeps his eyes steady on Rian's. Neither of them move. Rian starts to feel his heartbeat and wonders how he never notices when he's not feeling it. It's only startling to feel it because it's so quiet usually. People should be able to feel their own heartbeats, all the time. Then it wouldn't be such an inconvenient surprise any time it kicks to life with a thudding intensity that almost makes Rian flinch.

It's not like he can lie. Morality aside, because Rian doesn't like to lie, he also knows Alex will see through him like glass. 

Which leaves him with the truth as his only option, and unfortunately it's been too long since Alex asked for the truth to sound anything but incredibly guilty coming from Rian.

Well.

"If anyone is going to make it work," he says at last, "it's you."

Alex raises his eyebrows. "Way to not answer the question."

"I basically did."

"You completely didn't."

"Why do you care if I think it's hot? You don't need to impress me. I'm already in your shitty band."

"Maybe I'm trying to impress you for something that isn't the band," Alex says evenly, with an impressive degree of confidence, but Rian can feel his heart rate rise under his fingertips.

He has the presence of mind to think, what the fuck is going on? But instead of that, he says, "Like?"

Alex bites his lip. Rian thinks that if he's reading this right, it will flip everything upside down, but surely even he couldn't read a situation this wrong. There's nothing else Alex could possibly mean by this, right?

"I take it back," Rian says. "Dumb question."

"A little," Alex says, breathing a nervous laugh. There's a dangerously small amount of space between the two of them, the kind of small that Rian could bridge so easily, and with no reason not to, he figures there's not much more he can lose.

(He can't be misreading this. There's just no way. Alex isn't this cruel, and Rian isn't this stupid.)

Alex leans closer when Rian does, breath mingling in the air between them, so so so close, like insanely close, like Rian can practically taste it already, how impossible and incredible it's going to be to kiss Alex. The air catches in his throat, and he kind of smiles a little hesitantly, and Alex smells so much like hair dye that it is overpowering all of Rian's senses but he'd love to drown in that smell as long as it means drowning in Alex and their noses brush and Rian lets his eyes fall shut and then

The timer goes off, blaring an aggressive alarm throughout the bathroom, and Rian almost has a heart attack as he jerks backwards and he is going to fucking break his phone into many many pieces.

-

They're quiet as Rian rinses the dye out of Alex's hair. The worst part is Rian can't quite figure out what kind of silence this is, if it's awkward or anticipatory or what. But thinking for too long makes him want to scream or something, so he stops thinking and just focuses on washing out the dye. Alex is sitting in a chair they pulled in from the room, head tipped back under the sink, that same look on his face that — 

But Rian's not thinking about it.

The water starts out bright blue, and Rian almost panics before Alex says lightly, "You just have to rinse until the water runs clear. Don't freak out if it's blue, that's normal."

So Rian does not freak out when the water is blue, and true to Alex's word, it starts to grow clearer the more Rian lets it run. If it were Alex in his position he would probably have a thousand poetic things to say — it's like life, he'd say in a tone just shy of pretentious, it starts out looking like it's going wrong but then everything literally becomes clear — but Rian isn't Alex and to him it's just a Good Sign that he hasn't Fucked Up.

Well he hasn't fucked up the hair, at least. Probably. Yet.

At long last, the water starts running clear, and Rian breathes a sigh of relief and turns the tap off. "You're good," he says, wringing the worst of water out of Alex's hair. His hands are stained blue, he now notices; probably he should have put the gloves back on when he'd gone to rinse Alex's hair, but he hadn't thought to.

"Yeah?" Alex asks, experimentally lifting his head and stretching his neck. "Ah, that is not the most comfortable position, not gonna lie."

Rian grabs the hand towel and dries his hands off, then gives it to Alex so Alex can dry his neck, which Alex does, and then leaves the towel around his shoulders. They are definitely going to get dye on this towel and the hotel will not be pleased, but as Alex stands up and begins rearranging his hair to look like himself again, the comment dies in Rian's throat.

Predictably, he looks really fucking good.

Rian watches Alex like some kind of lovestruck idiot until Alex turns to him, tilting his head, and says, "So? Final thoughts? How do I look?"

"Can I kiss you now?" Rian says, surprising himself. "That's what was about to happen before, right? Like, I'm not insane?"

"Your sanity has nothing to do with whether or not we were gonna kiss," Alex says, grinning, eyes bright, "but we totally were and now we definitely are."

This time Rian wastes no time, and his dye-stained fingers blend into the blue oasis of Alex's new hair color as their lips meet. Briefly, Rian's mind is once again crowded with dumb pointless questions, but he pulls Alex closer and Alex curls a hand into the front of Rian's shirt and Rian decides that his mind can take a hike.

As they break apart, Alex laughs. "So you think it looks good?"

"It looks terrible," Rian deadpans. "Yes, of course it looks good. You could shave your head and it would look good." Alex gasps. "Well. Okay. That was an exaggeration to make a point but I'm not sure it's actually true. But honestly, Alex." The jig is up, so Rian just smiles at him. "I always fucking think you look good. This?" He tugs at Alex's hair. "Hot. No doubt."

"Well, that's the only vote of confidence I need," Alex breathes, and then they're kissing again.

(The hair dye leaves its mark on the towel and Rian's hands and the pillowcases they sleep on that night, but its impact, in Rian's opinion, is altogether immeasurable. It's not every day a box of blue hair dye gets him a boyfriend.)