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whumpywhumper · 4 years

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Trouble

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

TW: Sick fic, mostly fluff

Tagging: @misspelledwitch @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @voidwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @walkingchemicalfire @captivity-whump @liliability @muumimafia @fanastywhump @elisabethrosewrites @unsure-but-alive-752 @jeverest00 @texdoeshalo

As always, special thanks to: @0idril0 @rosesareviolentlyread

I’m spoiling you with content, it’s been months since i’ve posted this much. This is set shortly after Markus is released from the hospital, in the vague future timeline.

Masterpost

V***V

Markus shivered, pushing himself deeper into the couch, icy hand tucking the blanket around the exposed skin of his neck.

He really wanted to sleep. If he could sleep then maybe he’d start to feel better.

The doctors had warned him about pushing himself too hard so soon after being released, but working on one charm had rolled into the next, and before he knew it, he’d been working for hours. He had barely managed to drink some tea before the exhaustion was rolling over him. The sandwich he hadn’t even really wanted was still sitting on the coffee table, untouched.

What he really needed was sleep anyway.

He grunted, shifting on the couch to try and soothe the ache in his back and muscles. Now that he wasn’t vertical, he couldn’t find the motivation, or the energy, to get up and go to bed.

The couch was comfortable enough, usually. He would just sleep here.

If only he wasn’t so damn cold.

Groaning, he leveraged his heavy eyelids open and found Kincaid’s blanket thrown over the back of the couch. It was a thick, lumpy crochet thing that Ben had apparently made for him years ago, and the man was ridiculously proprietary of it. Even Ben wasn’t allowed to use it without suffering from Kincaid’s damn puppy dog eyes.

Heavy eyes slid across the room, the dusk light creating shadows over the empty apartment. From what he recalled, Ben and Kincaid wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Snaking his arm out into the frigid air, he snagged the soft material and pulled it over his own blanket, the heavy weight pressing him back down into the couch. Heat slowly built under the blankets, and while Markus didn’t feel any more comfortable than before, it allowed his muscles to relax.

With a sigh, he let his eyes slide back closed, eyelashes feeling glued together. Absently, he hugged himself, arms bracing his perpetually aching ribs. He took a deep breath, coughing slightly as the air tickled his throat, and rubbed his cheek against the throw pillow.

Maybe he could sleep now. Get some energy back. He would feel better in the morning.

Ben unlocked the apartment door, his duffle hanging heavy on his shoulder as he made his way into the dark entryway.

Trying to be quiet, he lowered the bag to the floor and toed off his shoes. It had been a long day, and Ben was eager to get to bed even though he wouldn’t be sleeping next to Kincaid. The other officer was still on stake out, but Holland had sent Ben home.

He’d fucking fallen asleep. Twice.

Using the light of his phone, he illuminated his way into the kitchen, grimacing when the oven clock announced that it was two o’clock in the morning. He groaned lowly, rubbing at his whiskery cheeks. Grabbing a glass of water, he thought about rummaging in the refrigerator, using the microwave to heat up something, but he didn’t want to wake Markus.

They were getting along better, the witch was less wary of him now, but it was still day by day. Something about the fact that Ben wasn’t a supernatural made Markus nervous, and after everything he’d been through, it was tough to blame him.

Shuffling toward the living room, he yawned, intent on the bedroom at the opposite end. A soft, muffled whimper from the couch, however, halted him in his tracks, ice sliding down his spine.

He swung around, the dim light of the phone not doing much other than showing him an indistinct lump on the couch. Infinitely more awake than before, his hand snagged the chain on the standing lamp, the soft, yellow light flooding their apartment. Ben’s eyebrows drew together in concern when he made out the lump on the couch.

Markus’s tall figure was curled up there, somehow buried in the cushions to where only the back of his head was visible. Ben’s heart swelled when he realized that the witch was wrapped in Kincaid’s throw.The blanket was a monstrosity of yellow and white, Ben’s ill conceived hobby resulting in only the one blanket that he’d gifted to Kincaid for their second anniversary.

It was ridiculous, not to mention inappropriate, how his heart skipped a beat and sped when he thought about Markus being wrapped in it.

Padding over on sock clad feet, Ben peered into the cocoon of blankets and frowned at what he saw. Markus’s face was flushed, color high on the apples of his cheeks, and his eyes moved rapidly under red tinged lids. Ben cocked his head, ears picking up on the slight wheeze to each of his sleep heavy breaths.

“Markus?” he questioned softly, hesitant to startle his friend. The witch barely stirred, his nose wrinkling slightly as he let out another quiet sound of discomfort. As gently as he could, Ben brushed the back of his fingers against the sleeping man’s cheek, unsurprised by the heat he found there. He tsked, frown deepening.

On autopilot, Ben moved to he and Kincaid’s bathroom, collecting the supplies he would need and snatching one of his many kits from under the sink. He wasn’t terribly worried, even though the witch hadn’t been out of the hospital all that long. Markus’s immune system was down, and the witch hadn’t been very receptive to all of their warnings about taking it easy. This was probably just a bug, but he still needed to check Markus’s injuries and see if they’d gotten infected.

Back in the living room, Markus hadn’t moved, his dark hair glistening slightly with beads of sweat. Sliding an untouched sandwich out of the way, Ben set his supplies down on the coffee table, and started rubbing Markus’s shoulder through the blankets. “Hey, Markus,” he called, voice slightly louder than before but still soft, “I need you to wake up for a minute, okay?”

Markus shifted slightly, moaning in complaint when Ben started rubbing his back a little harder. “Wake up, buddy, I need to check you out.” Green eyes creaked open to glare at him, and Ben couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even hazy with fever and sleep, Markus’s ire at being bothered was clear. “Easy there, tiger,” he chuckled, “it’s just me.”

“Ben?” Markus mumbled, voice rough, “wha’s goin’ on?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me,” he answered, smiling encouragingly, “I think you’ve got a fever, I gotta check you out, make sure nothing’s wrong.”

The other man grumbled, turning his face back into the pillow. “‘M fine, just need some sleep.”

“Nuh-uh,” Ben shook his head, not allowing him to escape that easy. He brushed his fingers through Markus’s hair, pulling gently at his shoulder. “At least roll over and let me check your temp, huh? Get some ibuprofen in you.”

“Don’ wanna,” Markus groused, “‘Lemme alone, ‘m sore.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Ben said under his breath, reaching behind him for the temporal thermometer. As well as he could, he pressed the small device against Markus’s forehead, rolling to get an accurate read. 101.8. He winced, whistling through his teeth. “Yeahhh,” he drawled, “you’re running a fever, Bambi. C’mon,” he coaxed, pulling at the corner of the blankets. He needed to get that fever down and the only thing the blankets were doing was making it worse.

Markus shivered, whimpering softly as the cool air hit his fever warm skin. “You suck,” he whined, “it’s cold.”

“I know I do,” Ben agreed, helping Markus as the witch finally cooperated and rolled onto his back. “I’m gonna grab you some water to wash these down with, I’ll be right back.”

Throwing his arm over his eyes, the witch nodded stiffly as he clenched his jaw against chattering teeth. “Be here,” he said faintly, fisting his free hand in the corner of the blanket.

Ben shook his head, pressing his lips together as the exposed line of Markus’s throat caught the dim light, the small, shiny scars from the bite marks standing out. The poor guy can’t catch a break, he thought darkly.

In the kitchen, he grabbed one of the chilled water bottles they had in the fridge. As an afterthought, he snagged a soft towel from their overstuffed drawer and wet it. He knew how much he hated being touched when he was running a fever, but he didn’t want that for Markus. Hopefully, the worn material wouldn’t chafe the witch’s oversensitive skin.

“Can you sit up for me, Markus?” he called, hearing a groan answer him. He returned to the witch leveraging himself up on his elbows, arms shaking as his dark hair fell into his face. Ben darted in to support Markus’s shoulders, murmuring a soft apology as his quick movement garnered a flinch. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, the much more familiar endearment slipping from his lips as easy as breathing, “sorry, just want to help a little.”

Markus let him take over the movement, allowing Ben to brace him against the back of the couch as he sat next to him. “S’okay,” the witch sighed, “just dinn’t see you.” Their eyes met, and Markus’s placating smile wasn’t enough to hide all of the exhaustion that had nothing to do with fever and sickness.

Ben suppressed the instinctive need to soothe him, knowing it would just be taken as pity, and hummed in response. “Take these for me?” he requested, handing over a few ibuprofen. The witch grimaced, but tossed the pills back and dry swallowed with the practiced motion of one accustomed to a barrage of medications. Ben cracked open the water bottle and held it out, but one look at Markus’s shaking hands had him raising it for the other to drink.

A glassy, irritated glare was all the objection he received, so he let the bottle rest against Markus’s chapped lower lip, ignoring the way the water soothed the dry skin as he tipped it. Markus drank a few mouthfuls of the cool water, shaking his head and turning away with an exhausted sigh when he was done. “Okay, baby, just a little more, and I’ll let you go to sleep,” Ben said quietly, “Can I see those incision sites? I need to know if they’re infected.”

“Can’t get me outta my clothes that easy, Ben,” Markus slurred, eyelids firmly closed even as his lips lifted in a soft smile, “gotta at leas’ buy me dinner.”

Ben couldn’t help but laugh, his hand moving to brush the hair away from Markus’s eyes without even registering the motion. “Aw, c’mon gorgeous, you’ll make my night.”

Markus laughed, but the exhale turned into a low, grinding cough that made Ben’s smile drop into a concerned frown. The witch grimaced in discomfort, hugging his ribs as he tried to even his breathing. “Fucking hell,” Markus cursed, breaths rough in his throat.

“Yeah, okay, Bambi,” Ben soothed softly, petting through Markus’s hair again. His chest ached when the witch turned to nuzzle into Ben’s palm, the unconscious action startlingly comfortable. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, fingers going to the buttons of Markus’s soft flannel. Clinically, he examined his friend’s lingering injuries, moving the waist of his sweats as modestly as he could so that he could palpate the healing stab wound above his hip. Other than a grimace at the ache, Markus didn’t show any sign of discomfort, and Ben felt himself relax when there wasn’t any sign of infection.

“I don’t think anything’s infected,” he announced softly, pulling the stethoscope from his bag, “but I’m thinking that cough is going to be our culprit.” The cool circle of the tool made Markus jump, and Ben hissed in apology. “I always forget to warn about that, sorry, pumpkin. Take a deep breath for me?”

Markus obeyed, staying limp against the couch as he took the careful, measured breaths that Ben requested. His skin was pebbling with goosebumps as the fever made him shiver, a slight sheen of sweat highlighting his pale skin. “‘M really cold,” Markus whimpered, eyes sliding open to half mast as his breath colored with the sound of a sob.

Ben’s heart broke, and he set aside the stethoscope to pull Markus’s shirt closed. “I’m done, baby, I’m sorry. I know you’re cold.” He disentangled Kincaid’s throw from Markus’s and draped the crocheted blanket back over him, tucking it around him even though he probably needed the thinner material of the other blanket. “I think you’re gonna be okay, so no ER tonight. Do you want to stay here or do you want to go to your bed?”

“Not movin’,” Markus muttered petulantly, long, dark eyelashes kissing his rosy cheeks as he seemed to sink back into the cushions.

“Gotcha,” Ben chuckled, “I’m gonna help you lay back down, okay?” Carefully, he slid his arm under Markus’s shoulders, free hand cradling the back of the other man’s head as he moved to stand and free up the space on the couch.

A hand latched onto Ben’s bicep through the blanket, and he froze when Markus’s foggy green eyes fluttered open to stare into his own. “Don’t go?” the witch breathed, the request so soft that Ben wouldn’t have been sure he heard it except for the desperate longing in Markus’s eyes.

It was impossible for his weak heart to resist.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Ben replied, settling back onto the cushion and grabbing the damp cloth he’d set aside. Reverently, he maneuvered Markus so that he was in the circle of his arms, heart fit to burst as Markus’s cheek settled against his chest, “I won’t go anywhere.”

Gently, Ben pressed the cool cloth to Markus’s face, moving it over his heated cheeks and down to his neck. The witch sighed in relief even as another shiver stole through his body. Ben smiled sadly, knowing the contradiction of fever hot cheeks and cold aches that made your entire body sore. Absently, he pressed his lips against Markus’s hair, holding the other man as his breathing evened out into a restful sleep.

It wasn’t long before Ben joined him even with the light of the lamp pressing against his eyelids. The exhaustion of the day, the last several weeks really, catching up with him as he held his friend.

That was how Kincaid found them hours later. Ben’s legs stretched out in front of him and his cheek smashed into Markus’s hair. A gentle kiss to the forehead had Ben twitching and opening his eyes, automatically smiling as he met his lover’s gaze. “Hey, baby,” Ben whispered softly, words ponderous and sleepy.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Kincaid whispered back as he ran a hand through Ben’s dirty hair, “what’s going on?”

Ben hummed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he picked his head up. “Markus was running a fever,” he answered, yawning through his teeth. “He didn’t want to get up.”

Kincaid’s face creased in concern, moving his hand from Ben’s head to brush the back of his fingers against Markus’s cheek. The witch didn’t stir other than to curl his fingers tighter around Ben’s thigh, causing Ben himself to blink in surprise. He didn’t remember Markus’s hand moving there.

“He still feels a little warm, but it doesn’t seem high.”

“I think he pushed himself a little hard today, I don’t think it’s too serious. We’ll monitor him, make sure he takes care of himself and doesn’t let it get worse.”

Kincaid nodded, and Ben watched his lover’s eyes soften as he took in the two men curled together on the couch. His big hands were gentle when he pulled the edge of his blanket back around Markus’s shoulder, smoothing the bunched, well-loved yarn as he stroked his back. Already wrapped around his little finger, Ben thought, heart swelling.

“We’re in so much trouble,” Ben murmured, smiling softly when Kincaid’s eyes snapped over to his own. Ben didn’t feel anything other than acceptance, love, and affection in his expression when he pressed his cheek against Markus’s hair again. There was nothing else in his heart for both of these two.

“I know,” Kincaid whispered, shaking his head a bit as his growing smile turned rueful.

They didn’t need anything else to know that the other was on the same page.

Slowly, Kincaid bent to place a kiss on Markus’s forehead as well, his other hand curled around Ben’s nape.

#Whumptober2020 #No. 21 #Infection #Markus/Lucien Series #hurt/comfort #sickfic #fluff #Markus Protection Squad

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thecrazydragonlady · 7 years

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A Gift for Adrien- A Miraculous One-Shot

Synopsis: Chat Noir has noticed something. Lately, whenever they finish patrol, his lady happens to pull out some yarn from the bag she’s taken to carrying. Oddly enough, his classmate Marinette is working on the same gift. There’s no way they could be…? Could it?

Author’s Note: I'm still trucking along and this time, with a fluffy Adrinette/ Ladynoir reveal fic requested by Soggy on AO3! Enjoy!

Chat Noir scaled the side of the Eiffel Tower with ease, landing on a steel beam, his eyes glowing in the evening gloom. His ears twitched and his nose caught the whiff of something rather lovely. He lifted it in the air. Licking his lips, he strolled across the beam until he joined Ladybug where she sat on the edge, swinging her legs back and forth as she hummed lightly to herself. She leaned her head just enough to acknowledge his approach. Her bluebell eyes didn’t turn to face him as she was completely engrossed with something in her hands. He smiled. Sitting next to her, he stared at the movements of her hands.

“How'd it go,” she asked, still hooking and wrapping the yarn in a technique he’d remembered as crocheting. He shrugged.

“Not bad. Managed to catch some guy harassing a couple of ladies on their way home but for the most part, it was quiet.”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was pretty quiet on my end too.” A smirk appeared on her lips and she paused in her work long enough to reach to the other side of her seat and toss him an all too familiar bag. With the emblem “TS” on the front, Chat licked his lips as the goodies landed in his lap. He opened the bag quickly. Inside was an assortment of cookies and croissants which he greedily searched through until he found one with chocolate, his favorite. He sat the bag back between them.

“Thanks LB.” She muttered in response. They sat in silence for sometime until curiosity finally got the best of him. “So what are you making? You’ve been working on it pretty hard for the last week or so.” She hesitated, her fingers slowing around the yarn. She didn’t stop though. Absently, she replied, “It’s a birthday gift for one of my classmates.” He smirked.

“Really? That’s awesome. You know, my birthday is coming up soon too.” She blinked. A soft smile crossed her face.

“Sorry Chat. I didn’t know. I won’t be able to make you anything but I’d be more than happy to get you something.” He waved a hand.

"Don't worry about it."

"Chat...."

"Seriously," he held his hands up defensively. "We'll be on patrol that night anyway. Just seeing you will be enough." Ladybug frowned.

"Aren't you going to celebrate with your family?" Chat's ears drooped against his head. He turned to look back over the Paris skyline, his tail swinging back and forth.

"Not... No, I won't," he eventually replied, "My dad... well, he's busy all the time and celebrating my birthday isn't... isn't something we've done since my mom disappeared." She blinked. Suddenly, she was hugging him and he was stunned for a second but eventually hugged her back. They stayed like that for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his neck. He sniffled but smiled, releasing the hug first.

"I'm alright. I'm used to it. He's strict but he means well." He eyed her project again. "So who's the lucky classmate who's getting that?" Ladybug smiled softly herself, holding it up. Chat could easily see the shape of a mitten that was coming into form; the blue color reminded him of the scarf his father had gotten him for his birthday last year.

"Last year," she started, "I made him a scarf from this same color but he thought his dad got it for him. He was so happy that I didn't have the heart to confess I was the one who had given it to him. So this year, I'm going to give him a matching set of mittens and maybe a hat if I get the time." She sighed. "I've just been so busy that I haven't had time to work on them at home." Chat's eyes narrowed. His heart pounded like crazy the more he listened to her speak. What were the chances that the color of the mittens matched his scarf? What were the chances that he received a scarf last year from his dad?

Or had he?

Chat kicked his legs a bit. "Just be sure to take care to get enough sleep my lady. One last question: What's the name of this classmate? I think I'll get him something too since he's getting something from Ladybug." She giggled and poked his nose.

"You silly cat. Adrien's not going to know it's from Ladybug." She paused and then face palmed. "I didn't mean to say that." He blinked. Adrien? As in ADRIEN AGRESTE? As in him? No, no, no. He couldn't be hopeful. Afterall, how many Adriens existed in the world? He swallowed hard.

"No worries my lady. There are tons of Adriens out there. Your identity is still safe."

She relaxed a bit and reached over to scratch under his chin. He closed his eyes, purring softly. When she released him, she packed up her bag. "Alright kitty. Bedtime for these heroes. I'll see you later." He blushed and nodded watching as she took off into the evening. Chat stood quickly. Heart racing, feeling like it was embedded in his throat, he ran off for his own home.

****

Plagg watched as Adrien tore through his closet. Not even seconds after detransforming, his chosen had taken off for said location, mumbling and looking like no tomorrow. The cat kwami only rolled his eyes. He flew down lower to look over his friend's shoulder as he frantically looked through the closet for the article of clothing they'd spoken about. Finding it, he held it up with a triumphant cheer.

"Great you found it. Now about my cheese...."

"Just a sec," Adrien absently replied. He walked over to his desk where he laid the scarf across it. Yep. The blues definitely matched. He'd recognize that color anywhere; it was his favorite second only to the deep blue of Ladybug's eyes. He took in a sharp breath. There was nothing... nothing he recognized at least. Nothing to give her identity away. At first glance. Plagg's eyes narrowed and he yawned as he watched Adrien examine the scarf as closely as possible. He hummed and grumbled to himself. After a couple of minutes of this, Plagg finally had enough. He flew down and glared at his chosen.

"Give it up kid. Do you think Ladybug is actually careless enough to give away something about herself? Meanwhile, I'm dying of starvation here!"

Adrien sat up then, smirking rather broadly, eyes glassy and far off. "I found it," he whispered.

Plagg blinked. "Found what? Cheese I hope."

"Even better. I know who Ladybug is."

His mouth dropped. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Plagg humphed but shrugged.

"Whatever. Can I get my cheese now?" Adrien smiled, but finally handed the greedy cat his cheese.

****

Marinette was sure she was losing her mind. It was one hundred percent a fact. For the last week alone, for some odd reason, Adrien Agreste of all people had been... well, acting strange is the only way she could think about it. Usually, Adrien maybe said something like "hi" or "Your work is awesome" to her but lately, he'd been trying to actually make conversation with her, asking her questions like how her day had been or what her favorite color was or what she thought about Chat Noir (even though he'd already asked her that in the past). Of course, her lack of ability to actually have a conversation with him got in the way and she'd run off each time, leaving him to contemplate his next plan of attack.

She sighed as she sat on one of the benches with Alya next to her. She raised an eyebrow at her dark haired friend. "Girl, what's got you all down?"

"I don't know," she finally admitted, "but have you noticed something... odd about Adrien?" The umber haired girl eyed her but then turned to eye the model who was across the way talking animatedly with Nino. She shrugged.

"Nothing. Why?"

She returned the gesture. "I don't know. It just seems like... like he's actually trying to talk to me more." Alya squealed and hugged her.

"That is the opposite of a problem Mari! That's exactly what you want to happen!"

"Yeah but I'm still no good at talking with him. It hasn't been going well." Alya hummed.

"Why don't you use your birthday gift as a conversation starter?" She blushed, eyeing her bag where said gift was hiding. She'd managed, thanks to her near peaceful nightly patrols, to finish the mittens and hat even though Winter and cold weather was nowhere near being back in the city of Paris. Chat had been oddly quiet during that time too. He didn't make puns and he didn't ask questions. He merely munched on the goodies she'd brought from the bakery and made pleasant comments about how the Dupain-Cheng sweets were the best in all of Paris and how he could eat them for the rest of eternity and never get tired. Alya smiled. She elbowed her friend in the side. "Well, you better decide if you're going to use it or not. Good luck!" Suddenly, the girl was gone, skipping off back upstairs before Mari could stop her. She gasped.

Adrien walked over but stopped a few feet away. His face was flushed red and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously as his green eyes shot back and forth between her and the ground. "Hey Marinette," he greeted. She squeaked, her face turning red as she waved to him. There was a pause. He cleared his throat. "So... um...." Marinette was amazed when she saw the red grow on his face and he rubbed his hand over his face now. He looked... so hesitant and scared and shy that she found it completely adorable. "Listen, Mari," he said slowly, "I need to talk to you. Can we... can we go somewhere private?"

She blinked. "Uh... s-sure." He smiled, motioning for her to lead the way. Her brain spun as she grabbed her bag, leading the way out the front of the school and across the street to the park. It was mostly empty as everyone was pretty much at work or school or preoccupied with the rest of the park. The weather was cool and pleasant.

They were pretty much alone.

She was sure her head was going to explode. If not that, then her heart. She fidgeted as he took the lead and led her over to a deserted park bench. No one was around; all they could hear was the distant laughter of children too young for school and the birds in the trees. Her nervousness only grew the longer they sat there.

What in the world could he want to talk about?

She took a breath. Then, using what little courage she could muster, she quickly reached into her bag and pulled out the gift, presenting it to him. Adrien blinked.

"H-happy birthday Adrien," she stuttered. Slowly, he took the package, opening it in front of her. She buried her face in her hands as she held her breath, waiting.

Eventually he spoke. "I knew it," he whispered. Mari squeaked when suddenly, his hands were around her, giving her the tightest hug ever. She blinked. She wrapped her arms around him in return. He breathed in her scent deeply; she smelled of sugar, bread, and sweetness.

He wanted to purr.

When she pulled back, it was with a quizzical but happy, "What did you mean? You knew it?" It was his turn to smile. He took her hand and gently placed a kiss on the knuckles. Her face erupted red.

"I knew... it was you my lady," he whispered. It took a second but his words set in. Marinette gasped, pulling back her hand to cover her mouth.

"You... you...!" He smirked.

"I am," he answered the question. She stared at him then reached up, mussing his hair. He closed his eyes and let it happen. When she was satisfied, she sat back, her eyes growing wider and confused.

"But... how? You two are so different!"

"You wound me my lady. Whether I'm Chat Noir or Adrien, both sides of me are clawesome and completely me."

"Oh god you are him," she complained, face palming. "No one makes puns that horrible except you and my dad." He laughed. Slowly, he took her hands in his, staring down at them as he rubbed gentle circles into them.

"Are you mad," he asked, "that I found out or that... I'm Chat?"

"What? No! For either of those. Why would I be mad that you're Chat?"

He cringed. "You were so gun-ho about keeping our identities safe that I was scared to talk to you about it and … well... you never seemed to like Adrien so...." Marinette smiled and put a finger on his lips. He stopped talking.

"Adrien, minou, I don't hate you. I've never hated you. Sure I didn't exactly like you when we met but after we talked... well, it was the opposite. I started liking you Adrien." She paused. "And I trust Chat with my life. Sure it's surprising to find out you two are the same and I won't lie, I'm worried about what Hawkmoth will do if he finds out who either of us is, but right now, I can't be mad that you figured it out."

"Really?"

"Really."

The smile returned to his face and he hugged her again. "Thank-you my lady," he whispered in her ear. Pushing back, he finally stated, "This has got to be the best birthday ever."

She laughed. "Right. Say that after we finish with our physics test." She grabbed her bag and held out a hand to him. "Shall we go?" He nodded, taking it and letting her lead the way back to the school for the rest of their day.

#mlfanfiction #ladynoir #adrinette #reveal #one-shot number 3

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