A.N. Once again, here I am with a fic inspired by a bollywood song. I have been writing way too much fluff recently. The song is Gulabi

This heart knows all the colours,
Pink is the colour of the beloved

When Adrien asks Marinette out, the sky is pink, bathing her in a soft glow that makes her look ethereal with the sun setting behind her. It makes his heartbeat quicken and, longing for just a little more time with her, he offers to walk her home.

They walk in silence, the atmosphere between them crackling, thick with the words they won't speak—not yet. There will be time for words later. For now, they content themselves with sneaking glances at each other when they think the other is not looking; with brushing the backs of their hands together tentatively as they walk, neither yet brave enough to be the one to reach out and twine their fingers together.

Adrien doesn't know the proper etiquette for walking a girl home—what does he say? What does he do? Surely his education is lacking if he doesn't know such basic things—and when they finally arrive at her door, Marinette turns to him, turning her large blue eyes on him and...he panics.

Without a word, he lowers his head quickly, pressing a kiss to her cheek and spinning on his heel before she can respond, hurrying to where the Gorilla has the car idling at the curb, the tips of his ears tinged pink.

He's fairly certain Gorilla is laughing at him in the front, but Adrien doesn't care. Sinking back into his seat, he brings a hand to his lips—still tingling from that brief second of contact with her petal soft skin—and he smiles.

Their first kiss happens two weeks after their first date. It had been an awkward affair, but Adrien was determined to try again and this time they go to the fair.

It's bustling and loud and so hectic that Marinette grabs hold of his arm and doesn't let go, her body pressed against his to make sure they don't get separated in the rush and he bites his cheek to hide his smile.

Afterwards, when they've been on all the rides and eaten enough junk food to make themselves sick—more sugary junk than he's probably had in his entire life— they walk through the park.

It's getting closer to winter and as Marinette shivers, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to open up his jacket and pull her against him, closing the jacket around her to keep her warm. Her arms slide to wrap around his back, sending a shiver of electricity down his spine and for a minute they just stand there reveling in the feel of each other before he decides to kiss her.

But Marinette has the same idea and as he lowers his head, she rises on her tiptoes and their heads knock together, making them rear back out of each other's embrace. He's groaning, and she's babbling apologies to him, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide in horror.

The whole situation is so ridiculous that he can't help but laugh. Marinette stares at him like he's crazy but then she giggles too, and they're both standing there on the path, doubled over in laughter until without thinking, Adrien reaches out for her, tugging her forward gently.

Marinette's giggles die out and she stares up at him, looking so beautiful with her cheeks flushed pink, her breath coming out in little puffs of air that he doesn't think; just moves, bending his head down to kiss her.

She tastes like pink candy floss and her lips are just as soft, moving against his tentatively until he presses a little harder and her arms come up to wrap around his neck, drawing him closer. His chest rises and falls as he draws in a breath and pulls away, resting his forehead against hers.

Marinette opens her eyes slowly, blinking languidly up at him, and Adrien feels the urge to kiss the corner of her mouth, right where her lips are beginning to curl up in a smile—so that's exactly what he does.

(Later, he'll take the hat that fell from her head and pull it down over her ears, and she'll wipe pink lipstick from his mouth)

When they've been together for a while, Marinette starts coming to his photoshoots, brandishing his favourite pastries. It becomes the highlight of his day, seeing her at the edge of the set; especially on days when he's working with a model who's a little too clingy, laughs a little too loudly in his ear.

He's leaning away from the girl when he catches Marinette's eye as she walks onto the set, hovering at the side. She's wearing the pale pink dress he's watched her work on for weeks now and it's just as exquisite as he knew it would be. The skirt falls to just below her knee and it moves as she shifts, revealing the intricate embroidery she did—darker pink roses on a vine—along the hem. She's wearing the pendant he got her—a silver cat—and he's struck again by how beautiful his girlfriend is, how lucky he is to call her his.

She smirks at him, raising an eyebrow and he wrinkles his nose in response, subtly trying to hold up a finger to indicate he'll be with her in a minute.

Vincent follows his gaze though and just sighs, muttering about being due a break anyway, and he's lucky that he likes Marinette. Adrien doesn't need to be told twice. Extricating himself from the model—ignoring her whine to have lunch together—he strides across the set and takes Marinette's face in his hands, tilting her head up and kissing her slow and deep.

He'll never tire of kissing Marinette. Of feeling her lips move against his, of biting her lip gently so she gasps into his mouth and tugs at his hair. Of the way she makes his heart beat faster in his chest. Adrien smiles against her lips and when he pulls away she's blushing, twin spots of colour bright on her cheeks.

(He'll never tire of that either—of being the only one to make her blush)

Marinette's eyes flicker briefly to the model behind him who's let out an outraged shriek, but he hardly pays attention, already tugging her away to his dressing room.

Over the years, it becomes a tradition to return to the fair when it comes to town every year. To spend the day stuffing their faces with candy floss and exchanging sticky kisses between giggles.

Marinette gets a polaroid camera for her birthday and she spends the whole day taking pictures of everything—the rides, the bunting flying above them, their candy floss smeared faces grinning into the camera, the pink lipstick print she left on her cheek that he refuses to rub off.

(They buy a pair of rose tinted glasses, but when he looks at Marinette he sees no difference.)

At the end of the day, they go on a carriage ride through the park as the fair releases fireworks up, lighting up the night sky above the city in bright pinks and oranges and purples. Marinette has her head on his shoulder, exhausted from the long day and the fireworks cast a glow over them. Slowly, he brushes the hair back that's fallen into her face and she nuzzles closer to him, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Adrien gestures for the driver to take another turn around the park and pressing a kiss to the crown of Marinette's head he thinks I'm going to marry this girl.

Adrien had always thought that love was red. The colour of passion and desire; a bold colour for bold feelings.

Nobody told him about pink.

Pink, the colour of Marinette's cheeks whenever he kisses her; the colour of her room, the walls absolutely plastered with photos of the two of them; the colour that explodes behind his eyelids every time they kiss.

But that's alright, Adrien thinks. Let the world think love is red. Pink is for him and Marinette.