Originally posted Feb 14, 2016 on Tumblr as a #MiraculousValentine drabble. (I'm sarahcada on tumblr. You can chat me up if you're there, too!)

The thing with Adrien Agreste is that he's simply too handsome.

Tired and spent from fencing? He doesn't sweat; he glistens.

Just standing outside the College while waiting for his car? He's absolutely stunning.

Sneezing up a storm from pigeon feathers? Magnifique.

It's almost unfair, and sometimes Marinette has to consciously remind herself that he's Chat Noir, just Chat Noir, goofy dorky Chat Noir, to be able to keep herself from sighing and staring at him like a lovestruck schoolgirl.

Well, she is a lovestruck schoolgirl, but that's not the point.

Even now, sharing cookies with Tikki while waiting for Marinette to finish her sketches so they can go to the movies, he looks every inch like the sought-after model that he is— despite the fact that he's sprawled in a decidedly undignified manner on her chaise. It's almost as if a photographer had arranged him to sit like that, going for "adorable but hot boy next door, good with cute little animals".

She's not even looking at him—fighting to keep her eyes on her sketchbook and her fingers moving her pencil across the paper—but she's completely and utterly distracted.

Chat Noir, Chat Noir, Chat Noir, she chants in her head.

It doesn't help, today.

Because instead of his ridiculous puns, all she can think about is how Chat Noir had pursued Ladybug, and Marinette is Ladybug, which means that Chat Noir pursued Marinette, but Adrien is Chat Noir, which means that Adrien had pursued Marinette.

She already knows this; they've known their identities for some time, now. They've been having conversations about their masks and their true selves and the agreement to get to know each other all over again— but sometimes it feels like a fresh discovery threatening to make her head explode. Because the fact that Adrien tried to wooMarinette (however indirectly) meant that once they figure out their criss-crossed feelings of romantic love and deep friendship, they can watch a movie and get juice and get married and live in a beautiful house and have three kids and—

"A hamster?"

"GAHH!"

Marinette's pencil flies to the opposite side of the room, very nearly hitting Plagg where he's dozing on a window sill. He only cracks one green eye open at the commotion before deciding to return being comfortable in his spot in the sun.

"AH! Sorry!" Adrien offers from where he's now stood beside her desk. He was leaned over her shoulder a second ago, but now he's stood rigidly straight at her outburst. Marinette isn't sure if she's relieved or disappointed. "Did I surprise you?"

"A— A little. I didn't hear you coming and— uh— you were a bit… close."

"Ah… sorry," he repeats. "Old habits?"

Marinette attempts to narrow her eyes at him as she reaches for another pencil. "I don't recall you making a habit of whispering in my ear."

"Hmmm…" he pauses to tilt his head, appraising her. "I should have, though, if I'd known it'll make you blush like that."

She very nearly drops her pencil again at that, but she holds on, this time.

"So…" Adrien begins before she's able to come up with a rebuttal. "A hamster."

She looks up at him before following his gaze on her sketchbook. Sure enough, off to the side of the design she's working on, is a little drawing of a hamster.

"Ah! Um— I didn't even notice— It's obviously not part of the design. Ahaha!" She bites her lip, refusing to look up and give him a clear view of her burning face.

Chat Noir, he's Chat Noir, with the terrible puns—!

She risks a glance through the corner of her eye. He's looking so intensely at her sketchbook, it's as if he's expecting an akuma to flutter out of it any time now.

"It's just a doodle," she tells him.

"Of a hamster."

"Yes. It is indeed a hamster. I believe we've established that." She peers up at him then, all embarrassment gone to be replaced by confusion. Why does he keep repeating—

"When you draw things in the margins, it's usually design details or your notes," he says quietly, and she feels a thrill at the fact that he's noticed and remembered. "Sometimes you draw random swirls or flowers… Or a black cat, once or twice…"

It's a black cat a lot of times, actually, and they both know it.

The black cat is essentially him, and they both know it.

He turns his gaze to her, finally, and she feels warm again. When he looks at her like that, all honest and open and so Adrien-and-Chat-Noir, the urge to sigh dreamily is the strongest.

There is a hint of worry in his eyes, though, and it grounds her and kicks her brain into gear. Because, honestly, she knows what the absent-mindedly drawn hamster means toher, but what's it to him? Surely, Alya hasn't told him of Marinette's old daydream, so why is it such a big deal that she's drawn a hamster instead of a random swirls or a black cat—

Oh.

OH.

Don't tell me…

"Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

Adrien's eyes widen, and he looks away, crossing his arms. It's confirmation enough. Marinette could barely believe it.

"Of a hamster!"

It's his turn to flush, and Marinette can't help the snort that escapes from her at the sight of his childish pout. Adrien Agreste, ladies and gentlemen: Hero of Paris and top fashion model.

He can still probably sell clothes while looking like a child throwing a tantrum, though.

"I'm— I was just curious," he defends. "Curiosity and cats and all that."

"Yes, yes, kitty," she laughs, standing from her desk and grabbing her purse. "I'll remember to doodle a cat next time."

"You better," he mumbles under his breath before asking, "But why a hamster?"

"You'll make us late for the movie, chaton, let's go."

"Hey, Plagg, is there a hamster kwami I should be aware of?"

"Adrien!"