A/N: Based off a tumblr prompt by jacquesthepigeon. "AU where Adrien and Marinette never met as civilians but, as adults, he discovers her identity (Ladybug knows that he knows). Naturally, he tries to wiggle into her civilian life by offering to model her designs out of the goodness of his heart to help promote up and coming artists. She tells him that if she wanted a model as white and generic as he is then she'd use a plain mannequin. He doesn't leave his room for a week."

Her earrings were on the last spot, and Ladybug looked nothing short of panicked.

She released the purified akuma into the air, the city having already been cleansed and the former victim dissolving back to a normal human. Unfortunately, this also meant the swarms of reporters were closing in and Ladybug was about to turn back into a pumpkin. And with one shrill beep, she did.

Instantly, Chat spun around to pull her face against his chest, sweeping her up into his arms and launching away from the reporters as quickly as possible.

He lost them within ten blocks, so he paused to set her down. She still kept her face in his chest—which he really didn't mind in the slightest—as she adjusted the pink, highly-embroidered skirt she wore that had ridden up during their quick escape. "Thank you," she said.

He swallowed, trying not to focus on how her lips moving against his chest made his heart race. "Of course, bugaboo. Anything for you."

And that's when he felt something land on his head.

He looked up at the clouds that darkened Paris. They looked angry, but before they started fighting the akuma, they hadn't looked angry enough to rain.

They did now.

Ladybug removed her head from his chest—which was a disappointment—meaning he refused to look down until she told him he could.

"It's going to rain," she commented.

"And my guess is quickly," Chat agreed.

Ladybug sighed.

"I can't leave you up here in the rain to recharge," Chat said. "I'm not going to."

"I know," she said, leaning back against his chest. He allowed himself to look down again and hold her close to him. What he wouldn't give to do this on a regular basis.

"Could you take me home?"

Chat's ears stood up on end in shock. "W… what did you say?"

Before he could look away, Ladybug pushed away from his chest, revealing herself to him. Heaven help him, she was too adorable for words. She gave him a smile, one that wasn't as confident as usual but instead shy and sweet and sheepish. "Could you take me home, kitty?"

His heart pounded a couple beats inside his chest before he nodded. "Yeah. Of course. Absolutely. Totally. Yeah."

She giggled, a light blush to coating her cheeks.

His heart ramped up again. "You're really pretty."

The words poured out before he could stop them, but he didn't regret it. That blush deepened, and something in him reveled in the fact he could do that. He'd been fighting beside this woman for years, and his heart had taken the inevitable tumble into being madly in love with her. It killed him, dancing around each other and their feelings like this but never being allowed to touch. He wanted to know everything he possibly could about her. And while he still didn't know her name, seeing her face satisfied one part of him just enough for now.

"Umm," he realized, shaking himself clear of his thoughts. "Home. You; home. Where?"

Her eyes closed when she giggled this time. "Cat got your tongue, kitty?"

"Gah." And just like that, she rendered him useless with a single flirt. Just as she always did.

Her smile brightened, causing her eyes to glitter. "Have you heard of the Dupain-Cheng Bakery?"

"Y-yeah. They're the best bakery ever."

"I rent the top apartment of the building. They're really nice people."

Chat felt himself beam in satisfaction. He knew where she lived. He knew where she lived. "Okay. Then, off to the bakery we go."

She squeaked when he picked her up in his arms again, but soon enough her arms were around his neck and holding tight. He smiled at the contact before bounding off towards where he knew the bakery to be. And while he was there, he'd definitely snag a pastry or two.

Just as the sky started drizzling, Chat landed on her balcony.

"I didn't leave out the door when I heard about the akuma," Ladybug had said.

Chat could see why.

Carefully, he lowered her to her feet.

"Thank you, kitty," she said, quickly stepping away. "Now, you better go. The last thing I want is for you to get stuck in the storm."

He grinned. "Well, for a view like mine, that's a price I'm willing to pay."

The red came back to her cheeks.

"The skirt suits you," he commented. "The pink matches your complexion while the flowers match your personality."

"Stop it, you incorrigible flirt," she chastised, though, her smile brightened at his words.

So naturally, this meant he needed to continue until the Ladybug got his tongue again. "And the black shirt that goes with it? Perfect. Winters are the only ones who can truly pull off pure white and black and look drop-dead gorgeous—"

"Oh, so you're a fashion expert now, are we?" Ladybug asked, a curious gleam in her eye paired with an embarrassed smile.

"Only with people I care to share that secret with."

"So everyone in the world."

"No. Just my best friend and the love of my life."

She almost retorted before realizing what he said, starting up a whole new round of blushing. "Go home, idiot. Before you get wet."

"Okay. Only for the price of an answer."

"An answer?"

He nodded. "Where'd you get that skirt? The design is lovely."

She looked down at the skirt that clearly was a full circle. "This?" she asked, straightening out the embroidered part and allowing him to see the loopy MDC stitched into the fabric. "I made it."

His jaw dropped as he met her eyes. "Did you?"

She grinned. "You aren't the only fashion expert, Chaton. I make all my own clothes. Now price paid: Go home."

He chuckled. "All right. All right. I'm going." Tossing back one final wave, he turned and launched himself off the balcony just in time for the clouds to open up and dump on him.

It was still worth it. He'd pay the extra cheese to Plagg as a bribe to keep him from whining and take a hot shower to mitigate the chill from the rain. But knowing what he guessed was her initials and knowing where she lived and learning she loved fashion?

There was no price he wouldn't pay to learn those little things from his lady.

Lady Luck herself was smiling down upon him, today

Adrien was being forcefully dragged along to some fashion thing with his father at a fashion school and just so happened to catch sight of his lady there. She was a passing face in the small Saturday crowd, but it was clear by the way she held a sketchbook and had a backpack hanging off her shoulder that she was a student here.

He was blessed again when that fashion thing included his lady being in the small crowd.

It was a "business for fashion designers" seminar. His lady seemed intent of listening to everything. Adrien had learned this was an optional event for students, hence why it was held on a Saturday and had low attendance. The people who were here were people who wanted to be here, but that gave him even more pride in his lady.

She also had questions at the ready, unlike most of the others who simply sat in awe and listened intently. Adrien didn't know if it irritated or pleased his father that the moment he asked for questions, Ladybug was the first one with a hand raised.

When the seminar was finally over, Adrien didn't know whether to be thankful or curse the time. He didn't exactly want to be there, but he also didn't want to lose his lady. The moment she walked out the door, she was gone once again.

While he shouldn't have done it, there was an opportunity that was far too good to pass up. The seminar had to be signed up for in advance, and the attendance sheet happened to pass under his very nose.

"You swiped it?" Plagg cried, looking over Adrien's shoulder to where the page sat on his desk.

"Quiet, Plagg! I know it's wrong but—"

Plagg scoffed. "It's a piece of paper you basically snatched from its fate in a garbage can. I don't exactly classify that as stealing. It doesn't even have a single mark on it."

That was true. But Adrien chose not to comment and continue looking down the list at each set of initials.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Adrien dropped his pen as he stared at the page. Marinette. What a beautiful name. It suited his lady.

"Marinette."

He even liked the way it rolled off his tongue.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Like the bakery. She said she rented that room, but maybe she was renting it from her parents? Or she lied in an attempt to keep her name secret. He couldn't blame his lady if the latter.

"Ugh," Plagg grumbled. "I know what's going through that head of yours, but just know that if you get me involved, it's going to cost you big time."

Adrien grinned. His lady went to a fashion school. And he was in the fashion industry. Who said he needed Plagg? "Don't worry. I won't."

The plan took weeks to execute, but Adrien was plenty happy when he finally managed to complete the goal: meet Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Adrien Agreste.

However, the results were… lackluster at best.

She was polite enough to smile and shake his hand and briefly talk fashion.

But things started going downhill from there. And by the end of the semester, his plans to make her like Adrien Agreste were a step away from a fiery death.

Still, he took his chance. "I'd love to model for you. From what you've told me about the designs, it sounds amazing. Maybe I could show it off for you?"

Marinette didn't look impressed. "The school provides models whenever they are needed. Which they are not for this project."

"So, they may not be needed," Adrien began. "But let's face it, having a person model your clothes is better than any old mannequin."

"But mannequins don't talk or stalk me everywhere."

"Me-ouch!" he cried, feigning hurt—not that it didn't sting a little—and gaining a slight reaction from her. She always sidestepped half a step away from him whenever he punned. It kinda hurt considering how much he knew his lady loved his puns. "But mannequins aren't as handsome as me; you have to admit that."

"I don't know," she snipped. That was the other thing he noticed; she always got snippy with him when he punned. "Put a blonde wig on a mannequin and you have a spitting image with zero of the stupid puns."

He tripped over his own foot at the feeling of a knife in his chest. "But," he continued, shuffling up beside her in one last ditch effort. "Face it, having the Adrien Agreste model your design would have to give you some street-cred."

Marinette stopped, forcing Adrien to stop as well and spin to meet her. And the look he was met with… he knew too well. That was her "I'm going to take down this akuma" face.

And it was currently aimed at him.

"Look," she practically growled. "I said that I don't need your help. Tall, muscular, blonde models just like you come a dime a dozen. You're not that special, daddy's boy. If I need a model, I can find one who knows how to respect boundaries." Then she flashed him a large grin that oozed with sarcasm. "Thank you."

And with that, she was gone.

Adrien was quick to retreat home and yank the knife from his chest. He spent the next week holed up in his room nursing the wound.

"'Nursing' is a generous word," Plagg commented more than once. "You're flat out sulking like a moody teenager."

It sucked Plagg could phase through solid objects. It meant that no matter how many pillows Adrien chucked at the little brat, he never learned to shut up.

"What's the matter, Chat?" Ladybug asked, grabbing him before he could run away.

"Nothing, milady," he said, though he couldn't muster up much fake enthusiasm. After all, this was the same lady who snapped at him a week and a half ago.

"Liar," she said.

Before Chat could say a word, her earrings beeped a minute.

"You should go," he said, tugging his arm free of her grasp.

Ladybug wasted four of her precious seconds glaring at him before snatching his hand up and yanking him along. She didn't need to tell him that she meant for him to follow her. It was clear.

Only once her house came into sight did he realize she was taking him home.

He nearly stumbled on that last leap onto her balcony. Thankfully, he managed to land somewhat gracefully. It also meant he had two feet solidly on the ground by the time her transformation ran out and stole his breath away. She caught her kwami in her hands then looked back up to Chat. "Come in."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"Come in," she repeated. "Because I have to go get cookies for my kwami and if I leave you up here alone, I know you're going to bolt."

He was shocked she could read him so well. But then again, they had been partners for several years now, their relationship ranging somewhere between best friends and secret lovers. He knew her, and she knew him.

"Fine."

He followed her down the hatch into her room.

"Sit," she instructed. "Stay. I'll be right back with sweets."

The half-smile he gave actually felt genuine. "I will. I promise."

She smiled, then headed down another hatch to get those sweets.

He tried not to snoop, but he was a curious cat. He looked back at the billboard by her bed, one covered in pictures of her and her friends—including the Ladyblogger whom she looked really close to, much to his surprise—and a couple pictures of him and Ladybug. He smiled fondly at those, mostly because they weren't the ones snatched from the Ladyblog or online.

His ring beeped with warning. Three minutes left.

Oops.

Thankfully, Marinette was back up soon enough with a small plate of cookies for her kwami and a larger plate for them. He wanted to eat the entire plate.

After setting the smaller plate down on her desk for her kwami, she met him back up on the bed. "Okay," she said, setting the plate between them and sitting across from him on her knees. "Talk, kitty. Out with it."

"It's really nothing." That I want to discuss with you.

Her entire expression softened. "Chat," she began, quiet and sweet. "You were out of it the last two battles. The last akuma nearly got you. Something's wrong. Tell me."

He wanted to fight, but he just couldn't. Not against his lady.

He sighed. "I… how do I say this?" He stared down at the plate of cookies. "Um… I offered to help someone, and they basically told me to shove it."

Marinette's expression fell. "And it affected you that much?"

"It… it was a harsh burn by someone I…" He quickly bit back the 'I love' that wanted to come tumbling out. "I'm close with."

Her expression softened. "Oh, kitty. I'm sorry. That's really rude."

"She called me common and overrated and that she didn't need me."

She gasped, dropping the cookie she'd snatched. "What?"

He gave a pathetic smile. "I offered to help her with a project. She…" He swallowed. This was bad. He really needed to shut up. Too bad he couldn't hold back. When it came to her. "She has a project I offered to help model for. But she told me no, she didn't want me in her pictures."

A light blush coated her cheeks, and he wondered if she was thinking back to that day. "I'm sorry," she said, forgetting the cookie and instead crawling over to his side. She sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around his elbow and leaning her head against his shoulder. "Wow, that's rude."

His half smile wasn't quite forced. Not when he was more than content to nuzzle her head. "Yeah, it… it kinda stung."

His ring beeped again. Two minutes.

"Well, kitty," she said with a grin. "For the record, I think she's as wrong as could be."

He raised a brow. "Yeah?"

With a sweet grin that could knock him to his knees, she nodded. "Yeah. But to be fair, I wouldn't want you modeling anything for me, either."

He frowned, his heart sinking to the floor. "Y… you wouldn't?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're mine and I don't want to share."

His heart outright stopped as he looked at her, his eyes blown wide. She was blushing, unable to face him. Her hands were now tightly clasped together in her lap instead of wrapped around his arm. Yet, despite the distance she put between herself and him, he still felt like he couldn't breathe. "Y… you…"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

His ring beeped, but he only faintly heard it. Right now, there were far more important things on his mind. Like how he was sitting with the woman he had loved for years and that she herself edged close to a topic she avoided like the plague. She'd just called him hers. Possessively.

"What do you think of me?"

Slowly, she brought her eyes up to meet his. "I…" It was her turn to stumble and blush her way through her words. "What does it matter?"

"I want to know what my partner thinks of me."

She bit her lip. "Why?" she asked quietly. "Why does it matter? You're my partner."

"I'm not asking what you think of me as a partner."

So much time slipped by, he thought she wasn't going to answer. But she surprised him. "I think," she began, "you're a kind, charming, funny, trustworthy young man."

His heart did a funny thing in his chest, and it was hard to breathe in that moment. "Nothing on my looks?" he quietly teased.

"It doesn't matter all that much," she said with a shrug. "But," she continued quietly. "I can tell you're handsome under that mask. Or, at least, I think so."

An unabashedly happy grin crossed Chat's face. His heart was fluttering, his head was spinning, and he really wanted nothing more than to kiss this girl right now.

Instead, in a flash of green, Chat Noir disappeared, leaving Adrien Agreste in his place.

All at once, he realized what he'd done, and guilt flooded him. "Marinette, I'm sorry," he said, reaching for the shocked girl's hands. "I just… I just couldn't help it! Y-you were so beautiful, and then I took you home, and I knew I couldn't let you go, so when I saw you that day at the college, I couldn't keep myself from you. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

By now, he was on his knees and begging. He couldn't help it. This was his lady. His Marinette. The love of his life.

And she was smiling at him. "Oh, kitty."

In a heartbeat, she wrapped him up in her arms. He was quick to return the embrace.

"You're such an idiot," she whispered against his shoulder. "But I should have known you'd pull something like that."

"You're not mad?" he asked.

"No."

One word, but the relief it granted him was unreal. "I'm glad. I thought you hated me."

She stiffened, pulling away from him to give him a puzzled frown.

"You…" Adrien's gaze hit the bed spread. "You always treated me—Adrien, me—with disdain. Like I was irritating you. And you hated when I punned. Did I really tick you off that much?"

She was quiet for a moment. "No," she finally said.

Adrien had the courage to look back up at her.

She was now smiling. "No. You didn't. You just… you reminded me so much of, well, you. It hurt."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Her cheeks turned red, and it was her turn to look away. "I…" Her eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened, she reached out to grab his hand. "I like you."

He turned his hand so he could weave their fingers together. "I like you, too."

"More than like," she clarified.

He shot her a pained grin. "A lot more than like."

"The other four-letter word I can't say?"

"Yeah."

Her blush burned brighter. "I can't have you."

He wanted nothing more than to tell her he loved her. He loved her more than anything in the world. But he couldn't. "I know. Not now. One day, though. One day."

She smiled, but it was pained. "One day."

He returned that sad smile. "So what now?" he asked. "Because I can't not see you now."

She hummed "You—Adrien, you—can see me out and about," she said. "But no flirting. Adrien and Marinette are nothing more than friends. And nothing can change between Ladybug and Chat Noir. The press absolutely cannot discover we're together."

He felt his body slump in disappointment. "Oh. 'Kay." But he understood. They'd had this conversation so many times before. No dating. Chat Noir and Ladybug were not and would not be an item in any way, shape, or form as long as Hawkmoth ruled the city. And Adrien and Marinette had just met. That would take time to build up a realistic relationship.

She shifted, her lips ending up near his ear and nearly killing him in the process. "At least, noting can change in public."

His heart skipped a beat. Did… did she mean…? "W-what?"

She shifted closer, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Call me selfish," she whispered. "But… I just… I want…"

He didn't need her to finish that sentence. He grabbed her, pulling her flush against his chest and clinging to her tightly like the lifeline she was. "Okay," he whispered. "Terms agreed to."

The way her fingers got tangled in his shirt proved how much that meant to her. And that meant the world to him.

Parting, as they say, was such sweet sorrow.

"So, my lady," Chat Noir said, bowing over her hand. "Until tomorrow."

She shook her head. "Good gracious, you are such a dork."

"Your dork," he said with some pride.

Her smile grew. "My dork."

"Your dork who happens to be a killer model." He waggled his brows. "You have to admit that."

She sighed. "We'll you shouldn't be. And I really don't like that you are."

"Why not?" he teased, though he was curious as to why. "Any girl would be thrilled to get a piece of this handsome face."

"Exactly." She reached out and grabbed his bell, yanking him closer so his nose was inches from hers. "It means I have to share, and I don't want to."

The warm, fluttery feeling that shot through him at her words drowned out the pain in his neck. "Don't worry, my lady. I'm no stray."

She hummed doubtfully.

"And if I wear your clothes," he continued conspiratorially. "You could say you marked me."

Slowly, a sultry smile crossed her face. He wished he never saw such a grin that left him wanting unlike ever before. "Well, then," she purred, causing his stomach to knot. "I quite like that idea. Best watch out, kitty, or a certain Agreste is going to be marked with my initials."

His heart was racing wildly and his cheeks were on fire, but he couldn't stop that wide smile that stretched across his face at the thought. "Go wild, milady," he replied. "That couldn't sound more purr-fect."