Originally posted on tumblr on Feb 17, 2016. Dedicated to wintermoth, gigiree, and thelastpilot- three people who have blessed made me laugh many, many times, with their work, reblogs, comments, and tags.

"You're not really all that much of a klutz, you know."

Marinette snorts, and for a fleeting second, she remembers the time when the one who gave exaggerated compliments was Chat Noir, when the one who snorted at him was Ladybug, and when Marinette's only response to Adrien's voice was to sigh stupidly.

Oh, how time flies.

"Adrien," she deadpans into her phone, "have you seen me?"

"Yes, and you're beautiful."

Marinette rolls her eyes, even though she knows he can't see it.

"I can hear you rolling your eyes," he tells her with a laugh. "But, really, you're not a klutz. You're just expressive and full of energy and you…happen to…hit things when you get carried away sometimes."

"I am pretty sure that's the definition of a klutz."

He laughs again, a melodious sound, before he breaks into a yawn. Marinette frowns as she glances at the clock. It's almost midnight, which means that he's been fully awake for almost twenty-four hours, working a dawn photoshoot, then a high-class breakfast, then school, fencing, some meetings, yet another photoshoot, and a charity gala, which landed him getting home only a few minutes ago. Marinette wonders if he'd even changed out of his tuxedo yet.

"You should get some sleep," she tells him. "You're exhausted."

"In a bit. Your voice is soothing."

"Oh my god, you're such a sap!"

"Only for you."

His voice is slurring a little, but Marinette can clearly hear his smile over the phone. There's a sound of shuffling cloth on his end, too, and she hopes he's making himself comfortable on his bed. (She also hopes he's changed into something more comfortable than stiff formal wear.)

"C'mon, then," he prompts, "tell me more about your Sailor Moon rewatch revelations."

"Aside from how Usagi and I are both klutzes?"

"I still disagree. You're not a klutz. Also, Usagi is on a whole different level of klutziness."

"Well, there's the fact that we're both usually late for school."

"There is that."

"We both wear our hair in two parts."

"I like your pigtails more than her odango ones."

"And we both have super hot boyfriends."

She fully expects him to take that bait, to hum lowly and flirt through a smirk while he waggles his eyebrows. Or, it can go the other way it usually goes when he's tired from work— he might say that he's not all that great, scratching the back of his neck as he does so.

Instead of either possibility, though, there is only silence.

"Adrien?" she whispers after a moment.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he says flatly.

Marinette hesitates, and she briefly considers just hanging up to force him to sleep, but decides that his uninterested tone must mean that he's well on his way to dozing off. Well, she'd do what she can to hurry that along, then.

"Did you know that Mamoru's name in the English dub is Darien?" she asks. "It's almost exactly your name, except the first two letters are switched."

"…I wouldn't wear such an ugly jacket."

"Of course you wouldn't, Monsieur Model," Marinate giggles. "But, I happen to like green."

"His taste in clothes is still atrocious."

"But a tuxedo, though." Marinette sighs, imagining Adrien at the gala earlier tonight. He must have looked so very dashing, and she again feels no small amount of disappointment that he couldn't bring a date, this time— and it has nothing to do with not being able to meet world-class designers.

"What he's wearing actually isn't a tuxedo; it's a white tie dinner suit," Adrien points out. And before Marinette can laugh at how technical he's being, he continues: "Plus, he's got the useless cape. Capes are hazardous to superheroing. Ask Edna Mode."

"He needs that cape for panache," Marinette explains, and she thinks about how Chat Noir doesn't need a cape to look impressive. Every hair on his head, every fibre of his being, is infused with flair— the kind that she can't help but think to be elegantly and unbearably attractive.

She thinks about roses, and how Chat Noir occasionally gives her one with a bow, a flourish, and a kiss to the back of her hand.

She thinks about masks. While Tuxedo Mask's white one does highlight his blue eyes, Marinette prefers Chat Noir's, especially how they make him even more catlike, and accentuate the glint in his eyes.

And his voice. Marinette can just drown in his voice forever.

"Marinette?" that voice floats into her ears through her thoughts. And a wonderful voice, it truly is. A dreamy sigh escapes Marinette again. "What are you thinking about?"

"A tall genius with nice shoulders and enigmatic eyes hidden behind a mask…"

"Hey. Stop."

"Hm… Make me."

A grunt, a clatter, and, suddenly, the line goes dead.

Marinette confusedly blinks up at her ceiling before she pulls her phone away from her ear and sits up in her bed.

What just happened?

Well, Adrien hung up on her, obviously, but…

"Really, Marinette," Tikki scolds from the foot of her bed. "Gushing about another man to your boyfriend, of all people."

"What?" Marinate asks, wide-eyed. "What do you mean? I didn't— I mean, Chat Noir and Adrien are the same person!"

"Of course I know they're the same person," Tikki answers, narrowing her eyes at her human. "Hold on, are you saying that you were sighing about Chat Noir?"

"I was," Marinette confirms slowly. "Who else would I be sighing ab— Wait, do you think Adrien thought I was— about Tuxedo Mask?"

"It sure sounded like it."

Oh god.

Adrien, NO.

Marinette scrambles for her phone—despite the fact that she never actually let go of it—and hurriedly redials Adrien's number. She barely notices as Tikki floats down to the lower part of the room, probably to let Marinette panic and fix things by herself.

His phone rings.

How very Marinette to manage making the love of her life jealous (probably) of another mask-clad superhero, when she was actually daydreaming about said love of her life's superhero self, while being on the phone with… said love of her life's civilian self.

It's almost as confusing as that time when Adrien didn't notice her because he's actually Chat Noir who is in love with Ladybug who ignored him because she's actually Marinette who's in love with Adrien.

His phone is still ringing.

Marintte ends the call, already considering asking Tikki for help so that Ladybug can pay Adrien a visit and explain. But, Adrien might not appreciate an ambush, either. He'd had a long day, he's exhausted and sleepy and—

Marinette jumps as her balcony door flings open, bathing her bed with the moonlight, and a very awake Chat Noir drops onto her mattress in a crouch—

"Chat—"

—and pounces.

Marinette is only given a split-second to catch the sheen of his green eyes—she didn't even have the chance to actually see what kind of expression he's wearing—before her eyelids slam shut at the familiar warmth that courses through her from his kiss. He hasn't even touched her anywhere aside from her lips, hovering over her on all fours as he was, but he's enveloped her and claimed her, and Marinette feels herself melting into him like she usually does—

Except that there's something she needs to clarify before she can let herself enjoy this.

Gently, she places a palm on his chest and applies a fraction of strength to push him away. He obliges her, and she takes a moment to marvel at how he's always sensitive to her boundaries, even when he's feeling particularly assertive or passionate.

"Listen," she says to the bell on his neck, because she doesn't think she can be coherent while looking into his eyes. "About Tuxedo—"

The rest of her sentence disappears into a shuddering gasp when his lips latch on that spot on the bottom her neck that always renders her speechless. She clings to his shoulders—such nice shoulders—and she wonders if he's focusing his attention on her neck to give her mouth a chance to continue talking. Except…well…with the way he's giving his attention, he must know that he's robbed her of the ability to utter even a single word.

Unless, of course, that word is his name.

She doesn't even know which of his names she breathes out, but whichever it was, he finds it satisfactory, because she can feel his grin on her skin. He presses feather-light pecks on his way up her neck, his cat ears brushing her cheeks as he goes, and skims her jaw with the masked bridge of his nose. He rewards her waiting lips with a full kiss— and another— and another— alternating between sweet and needy, giving and demanding. And then he angles his head just so and takes her lower lip between his teeth, and Marinette is falling, falling, falling….

Mon Dieu…!

Chat Noir pulls away, a separation of contact so soft compared to the intensity of the last few minutes. Marinette is overwhelmed by the combination of fevered lightheadedness, sharp disappointment, and staggering gratitude for being able to keep her sanity; she almost collapses into her pillows, but the sudden presence of his hand on her back prevents it. She only then realizes that it's the first time she's felt his hands since he arrived. Were they really just resting on her mattress this whole time?

She finally looks up at him, dazedly taking in that look in his eyes. It's a mixture of feral possessiveness and pride, and on other days she would be chiding him for being so satisfied with himself, but tonight, she's so very satisfied with him, too, so she'll let that slide.

Maybe.

Possibly for only 10 seconds.

"So…" he begins, and god, she wants to wipe that familiar smirk off his luscious, highly kissable lips. "Got anything else to say about Tux Boy?"

Marinette blinks.

"Tuh— Who?"

His smirk widens even more, and Marinette decides that enough is enough. She may not currently have the mental capacity to figure out why he's so smug, but she can sure as hell fist his hair and pull him in for another kiss.