It's her voice that softens a chord in his heart, and perhaps, he should have known that that would be what tipped him off, one day. Cat Noir had known for a while that Ladybug's voice settled over his heart and made a steady nest there. Just, how he'd end up here from just hearing her voice wasn't particularly clear to him.

Just, one day, he was listening to Marinette ramble excitedly about a designing competition that she'd entered and somehow was staying on top of the workload despite everything else that could get in her way, and he'd been impressed.

"I've never participated in one like this before." She's explaining, hand idly fiddling with her sleeve, not worried about whether she was rambling or saying too much or boring him. She was in one of those excited stupors that Cat Noir loved; it was just so endearing and personable.

He'd just been hearing her gush over the types of fabrics and what color she'd be making the outfit in, and suddenly, it hit him that her voice was the same voice that struck a chord in his heart and belonged there. He doubted, even now, that it had been what she said.

It had to be an inflection in her voice or a remote gesture that spoke volumes, and suddenly Cat Noir couldn't look away. Seeing his Lady or rather seeing her for the first time since this realization made him hyperaware of every detail. The way her lips curled up slightly less on the right side than the left, the beautiful smattering of freckles where the mask would cover, the rich, deep blue of her eyes that always seemed to transport him to the ocean or a gorgeous blue night, the beautiful fingernails of her, pale and uncolored but perfectly delicate, the excitement that more than dusted her voice.

Cat Noir couldn't find the words to draw her attention in like a magnet, so that he could at least let her know that he was vaguely sure that she had the same voice, the same mannerisms, of the woman that he'd begun falling for so long ago. She was well into the story that he'd accidentally zoned out of once his realization hit him.

"M-Marinette?" Finally, he says something, just her name though it came with a slight stammer, a tremble, at the very beginning of her name.

"Yes?" Marinette answers before her face turns pink, "I'm sorry for rambling."

"It's fine." Cat Noir worries that his words will appear too sudden as he finally speaks up again, "Your rambling is cute."

"Oh." Marinette paused, waiting to see what exactly had caught his attention, letting him lead the conversation now instead of her.

"Um," Cat Noir paused, suddenly unsure of himself, "You have the same voice as Ladybug." The observation suddenly feels more real now that it's spoken out loud. His belly erupts in nervous butterflies, and he's wondering if he could have treaded this conversation a little bit lighter.

"Oh, it does?" Marinette stammers, face a brilliant red, "What do you mean? She's three thousound years old, and I'm not."

"She's your age." He answers before he can stop himself; they hadn't specifically told each other their ages, but it was clearly apparent that they were close in age, so they'd never felt the need to pry much further.

"U-Uh, you sure?" Marinette still looks nervous, and that makes Cat Noir definitely feel that he's on the right track.

"Marinette, listen to me." He looks down into her blue eyes, trying not to get lost at sea as he finds the right words to go on, "I think you're Ladybug. I just heard you talking, and my heart responded where my mind often fails. You look like her, and you are just as incredible and selfless as she is."

Marinette stops, and he realizes that she won't try to hide it anymore. Yet, words don't seem to come easily to her right now, either.

"Uh, Cat Noir?" She steps closer, "Should we make it equal?" Marinette's thinking about the balance now between Black Cat and Ladybug, but more than that, she's thinking of her partner having to bear her secret alone, having to endure his being on the brink of his tongue, eager to fall off and enter the air between them. She knows that it's her responsibility to ease that heavy burden.

"W-We don't have to." He's thinking of her desire to keep their identities as secret as possible from each other. He doesn't want to cross a boundary that they can't return from.

"I want to." She rests her hand overtop his, and he realizes that it's a gloveless hand, that that is soft skin gently pressing down against his glove. He just longs to stay close to her, even as he finally drops his transformation. Adrien Agreste now stands before Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and yet, even so, he did not expect the way that she reacted.

Marinette's arms snaked around his waist as easily as if he'd still been wearing the suir, her hands gripped him tight and pulled him close, and suddenly, Adrien felt very, very loved. Her arms kept him both grounded and reminded him for perhaps the first time in way too long that he was loved enough that someone would hold him close and be reluctant to let him go.

Adrien loops his arms tighter around her, just wanting his Lady to feel the same way, to feel just as loved as evening grows later stiill.