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Marinette would like to think it was pure luck, the universe bestowing her with a bit of the good kismet she most definitely deserves, in her humble opinion.
(Saving Paris, and like, the whole world tbh, from imminent doom and destruction as often as she does has got to have racked Marinette up with some pretty solid karma points.)
Yes. She’s like to think it was luck. Destiny, even.
But the poorly concealed giggles and not-at-all subtle looks from the girls leads Marinette to believe Alix’s sticky and deft fingers may have had the slightest part in ensuring that the name Marinette pulled out of the little tin box just-so-happened to read Adrien Agreste.
Marinette is not complaining though. Whether it was the universe or her scheming friends, she’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She’s Adrien’s Secret Santa and this is the absolutely most perfect opportunity to give him the bestest, most wonderful gift ever!
And, because it’s for a class Secret Santa, she won’t have the chance to chicken out and will be able to give Adrien a gift without burdening him with the pressure of having to accept it or give her something back in return.
Yep, it’s the perfect opportunity!
“I’m surprised you’re not freaking out more.” Alya bumps Marinette’s shoulder, shooting her a teasing look.
“Me? Freaking out? Of course not.” Marinette marches forward with purpose, the chilly December air biting at her exposed cheeks. Ah, gone are the days when walking home from collège was just a hop-skip-and-a-step over to the bakery. Lycée is a few more blocks of walking but the thought of steaming hot drinks and freshly baked cookies are invigorating enough for Marinette to power through the icy discomfort of the early winter weather.
“Really?” Alya raises an eyebrow, the skepticism on her face nearly offensive. “You’re not about to have a panic session over what to get Adrien?”
“Nope,” Marinette shrugs.
“So I shouldn’t expect any three am calls featuring a hysterical Marinette panicking about whether Adrien will hate his gift and never speak to her again?”
“That would be quite a discourteous thing to do to one’s best friend.”
“No overcomplicated flow charts cataloguing Adrien’s current interests, cross-referencing it with current gift trends, or plotting out what kind of reaction each potential gift will elicit in an obsessively colour-coded Excel sheet?”
“Alya,” Marinette waves a hand, the picture of casualness, “it’s a class Secret Santa. There’s no need to get so into it.”
“Who are you and what have you done to Marinette?” Alya tugs on her arm.
“What can I say? I’m a changed woman,” she shrugs, hooking her arm around Alya’s.
“A sane woman now, too,” Alya laughs as Marinette gives her a shove.
“It’ll be perfect. I’m great at giving gifts, you know.”
“I know,” Alya nods. “But your track record for giving Adrien gifts is not so stellar.”
“Changed woman!” Marinette reiterates. “No more fumbling or chickening out! All I have to do is get Adrien a super awesome gift and give it to him.”
“ And keep it a secret until gifting day,” Alya reminds her.
“Well, lucky for me I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” Marinette grins, the two of them dissolving into giggles as they finally approach the bakery, the warm air chasing away the icy needles poking at their skin.
Marinette stands by her statement that she’s good at keeping secrets.
She will concur that she is a terrible liar and absolutely no good at coming up with excuses on the fly. But she’s managed to keep her secret — a pretty major, life-altering secret mind you! — under wraps for the two or so years she’s been Ladybug.
Two . Only two people (human people that is) know that Marinette is Ladybug and the current Guardian of the Miraculous. Considering Paris’ population is upwards of two million, that’s a pretty good number!
The thing is — she may have forgotten to factor in the second member of the We-Know-Ladybug’s-Secret-Identity Club while she was airing her bravado in front of Alya earlier today.
“Who’d you get, who’d you get, who’d you get?” An insistent little black cat hovers above her, his wispy blonde hair falling away from his forehead as he leans over her.
Marinette swings her legs, very glad her Ladybug suit doesn’t let the cold seep through to her butt where sits on the frigid concrete ledge of the rooftop. She ignores Chat Noir for another thirty seconds or so before the whining starts again.
“Buginette~ ” He throws himself against her, body pressed up against her left arm, eyes comically wide and a practiced pout on his lips. What a silly kitty.
“Yes, my dear chaton? ” She turns to look at him, a genial smile gracing her face.
“You really not gonna tell?” Chat Noir huffs, blowing a section of his bangs away. Marinette watches as it flutters back into place. She manages to resist the urge to feel how silky and soft his hair is, only because she knows she wouldn’t really be able to feel it through her gloved hands anyway.
“It’s called Secret Santa for a reason, mon minou ,” she flicks his bell.
Perhaps, Marinette should have made a spreadsheet. Maybe she would have remembered to account for the fact that her giftee is also her needy, persistent partner. Her needy, persistent partner who has a killer set of kitty-cat eyes that he is ready and willing to weaponize at a moment's notice.
“Can you at least tell me what you’re giving them?”
“Nope,” Marinette shakes her head, returning her gaze to glance over the twinkling Parisian lights.
“I need ideas though,” Chat sighs, leaning over to rest his cheek on top of Marinette’s head. Her heart doubles in speed, beating erratically against her chest.
“All you have to do is get something your giftee will like,” Marinette says, proud at how normal and casual she sounds. “It’s not that hard.”
And it isn’t, not when you’ve spent two years brainstorming and planning what gifts to give a certain person for any possible situation that may call for any sort of gift-giving.
(Adrien probably has not done that, though. Maybe. Who is Marinette to guess what level of love-compelled neuroticism plagues the boy?)
“I’ve never done a Secret Santa before though,” Chat pouts. “What if I mess it up?” This time the wide-eyed look on his face isn’t faked; he genuinely is worried about messing up. Marinette is met with the now familiar urge to punch Gabrial Agreste in the face for isolating his son from society to the point Adrien can’t even enjoy simple experiences without worrying about committing social faux-pas.
“Okay, how about you tell me what you’re thinking of giving, and I let you know if it sounds like a good idea?” Marinette offers.
“I haven’t really gotten that far yet,” Chat admits, sheepishly running the tips of his claws through his hair before allowing it to flop back into place.
It’s getting long — his hair, Marinette notes, eyes trailing down to the honey-blonde strands that ever-so-slightly curl around his neck. She wonders if he’ll cut it soon, what he’d look like with short hair. Good, probably — Marinette can’t imagine him looking bad with any sort of cut— but she definitely likes him better with longer hair. If he grew it out a bit more, she could probably braid it. It’d be cumbersome having such long bangs though. Oh, or he could wear a cute headband to keep it back, or maybe little hair clips and—
“My Lady?” The blur of a black hand cuts in front of Marinette’s eyes, breaking her away from her daydreams about Adrien’s too-pretty hair.
“Right!” Marinette hopes that her blush will be attributed to the cold night air. “Well, let's start brainstorming now then.”
“Right now, right now ?”
Marinette nods, effusing her body with cheerful enthusiasm, hoping to shoo away the lingering thoughts about her partner’s pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty face and ugh, why’d he have to be so pretty?
“Umm…okay…” Chat hums, drumming his fingers against his cheek as he thinks. “Something someone would be happy to get… Money? Diamonds?”
“Are you buying a gift for a classmate or your sugar baby?”
“Uhh,” he tries again, “...cheese?”
“ Cheese? ”
“It makes Plagg happy!” Chat defends.
“Plagg isn’t exactly the most ideal model for normal human interests.”
“It’s hopeless,” Chat sighs, laying down across the ledge. “I’m no good at making people happy,” he mutters, forearm covering his eyes.
“Hey!” Marinette scowls, slapping his shin. “That’s my partner you’re talking about and he happens to make me very happy.”
“Really?” Chat lowers his arm, lifting his head slightly to glance up at her. Marinette feels her face heat up, the weight of her words finally registering.
“O-of course,” Marinette nods, unwilling to say any more lest she opens the Pandora’s box of heartfelt words that have been sitting in her heart all this time, growing, evolving, into a cacophony of affection and fondness and love. Burdensome love.
“You’re too nice to me, Buginette. ”
“I am the normal amount of nice to you. In fact, I think I will be even nicer to you from now on.”
“Don’t,” Chat says with a laugh and Marinette wishes he were pressed up against her again so she could feel the vibrations of his laughter. “My heart won’t be able to handle it.”
“Well, get a stronger heart, loser. Drink more milk or something.”
“Milk makes your bones stronger.”
“What food makes your heart stronger then?”
“I dunno. Leafy greens. Walnuts, perhaps.”
“Disgusting.”
“Avo catto too, I think.”
“That one was weak. Like your heart.”
They never do get back to Adrien’s gifting crisis but Marinette manages not to slip up and reveal her own giftee, so it’s a win.
Monday rolls around and Marinette and Alya are having lunch in the school cafeteria with Nino and Adrien.
Today’s special menu item is a fancy-looking kale salad with a sprinkling of walnuts on top and sliced avocado on the side.
Marinette, in a totally conspicuous manner, slides a serving onto Adrien’s tray. They make eye contact and it takes every ounce of self-control she has not to burst out into a fit of giggles.
By the looks of Adrien’s quivering lips and the sparkles in his eyes, he’s not faring much better.
“Marinette,” a strident voice interjects into their little bubble of silly joy, falsely admonishing, chirruped with phony sweetness.
Lila — who has literally no business being at the end of the queue, like she doesn’t even have a tray with her — shakes her head at Marinette, a disapproving frown on her face as if she’s a mother about to scold her misbehaving child. But the vicious look in her eyes paints her for what she truly is — a lying witch.
“How can you just put food on Adrien’s tray like that?” Lila continues, the purposeful loudness of her voice drawing the attention of others around her. “You shouldn’t force people to eat things they don’t want to.”
Marinette doesn’t roll her eyes; she’s afraid they’d get stuck up there with how much force she’d use.
“Us models,” Lila places a hand on her chest, her voice becoming even louder, “eat more than just salad, you know? You shouldn’t perpetuate such harmful stereotypes, Marinette.”
Marinette takes a deep breath, catching Alya’s gaze across the cafeteria. The unadulterated fury that comes with merely being in Lila’s exhausting presence must still be visible on her face as Alya motions for Marinette to take another deep breath.
‘ Calm and collected,’ Alya mouths at her. Marinette takes another breath, rehearsing in her head how she will explain to Lila that no , her putting some salad on Adrien’s tray does not mean she’s trying to enforce stereotypical and unhealthy eating habits, it’s just some salad you stupid bit—
“Lila,” Adrien speaks up, voice as serene as angel’s, “it’s okay. Marinette was just looking out for me and my weak heart. She’s so caring like that,” Adrien gushes and Marinette’s heart screams like a boiling kettle. Maybe she should grab some heart-healthy salad too.
“Oh my goodness, Adrien,” Lila gasps, “I didn’t know you had a heart condition, I would have —” Marinette tunes out Lila’s voice — a survival instinct at this point — and heads towards the table Alya and Nino have secured, not even having to look back to know Adrien is dutifully following her like a loyal puppy or, well, a loyal kitty.
“What was that about?” Nino asks shooting a dry look at Lila’s fuming and retreating figure.
“Marinette wants my heart to be healthier so she can shower me with affection without sending me into cardiac arrest,” Adrien explains, even though that is no explanation at all.
Nino and Alya shoot Marinette a look, their confusion and curiosity clear as day.
“Leafy greens are good for your heart. And walnuts, or so I’ve heard,” Marinette says taking a sip of her water.
“I also have heard that,” Adrien nods.
“Must have been a reputable source then,” Marinette hums.
“The most reputable,” Adrien agrees.
“I forgot how weird you two are,” Alya shakes her head.
Marinette bites back another fit of giggles by shovelling her own food into her mouth. She makes it through the rest of the day without incident, until the last period that is.
Adrien is called to the office to be picked up early. Rumours of his supposed heart condition have spread throughout the school it seems and have been detected by Nathalie’s spidey senses (aka her rather impressive and intensive code that filters and sorts through any and all Adrien-related news on the internet) so Adrien is being whisked away from their riveting history lesson for an emergency check-up at the hospital.
Marinette doesn’t laugh aloud so much as she wheezes, palm pressed against her lips to prevent any sound from coming out when she sees Adrien’s spent facial expression as he packs up his bag. Alya rubs a hand on her back and Nino shakes his head in exasperated fondness as Adrien forlornly asks him to send him his notes later.
It’s so funny Marinette can’t even bring herself to care that Lila is reprimanding her right now.
“...laughing when Adrien could have a serious heart condition. I had a cousin with a heart condition once and your attitude is so inappropriate Marinette. Oh, my cousin? He’s fine, one of my paternal uncles is a world-renowned heart surgeon…”
“So, how goes the gift procuring?”
“You mean the gift purrcuring. ”
Marinette groans and throws the last bite of her French fry at Chat Noir. He catches it — damn cat reflexes — and pops it into his mouth with a grin.
“See if I offer you my wisdom again,” Marinette huffs, grabbing another fry. They’ve long grown cold, as eating on top of a random rooftop on a cold autumn night is not how you keep your burgers and fries warm, but it’s not as if Ladybug and Chat Noir can go and sit in the nearest McDonald’s to enjoy their midnight snack.
“Noooo, Ladybug,” Chat whines, “I need your wisdom. I have none of my own. I’m wisdomless. ”
“I am aware.”
“Wisdom is your job anyway.”
“And what’s your job then?” Marinette snatches a cold and slightly soggy fry from Chat’s box.
“Being a silly little catboy.”
“You’re doing great in that case.”
“Thank you, I try very hard.” Marinette shakes with silent laughter. Oh, how she so treasures their ridiculous rooftop moments.
“Anyway,” Chat says, “The gift procuring is not going well. I picked something but I’m not sure it’s any good. I’m not even sure if I’ll have time to get it.”
“Get it? Chaton, ” Marinette raises an eyebrow. “We’re exchanging gifts on Friday.”
“I know.”
“It is Friday!” Marinette opens her yo-yo, shoving the bright screen that reads 02:19 into Chat’s face.
“I know. But I had four photoshoots this week, and double the fencing practice because there’s a tournament coming up in the new year, and I won’t have any time near the holidays because I need to practice the piano piece Père is making me do for some charity event and—” He takes a deep breath, inhaling through his nose and out through his mouth.
It is both admirable and a little sad how composed Adrien tries to keep himself at all times.
“And nothing I came up with seemed good enough. Why is this so hard? It shouldn’t be so hard, right?”
“I’m sure whoever your picked will love whatever you get them. It’s just some class fun, it doesn’t have to be anything spectacular, mon minou. ”
“But it does! Because they’re spetacular.”
Marinette’s heart does a funny thing, stuttering in a way a heart really shouldn’t.
“The person you picked?” Marinette asks, surprised her voice had come out at all.
“Yeah,” Adrien sighs, all fond and sweet.
And if this was just Adrien confessing to her he thought one of their classmates was spectacular with that sweet and loving look in his eyes, Marinette would have surely spiralled into a fit of panic and jealousy and heartache.
But he’s not just Adrien anymore. No, Adrien is Chat Noir and Chat Noir is Adrien and as much as Marinette pretends she doesn’t, she is all too aware of their little dance of unspoken words, of lingering glances, and warm touches, of the emotions they won’t let, haven’t let, materialize into anything solid and real and true.
It’s me. He picked me!
“Trust your gut,” Marinette says, “Whatever you’re thinking of giving, I’m sure it’ll be great. Spectacular, even.”
Alya is given no time to say ‘I told you so’ when Marinette calls her at three twenty-seven am. Marinette launches right into it, diving headfirst into the latest dilemma.
“Adrien got me, and I got him! How could you let this happen!?”
“Woah, woah, woah. How’d you find out who he picked?” Alya’s sleepy brain still likes to get all the facts in order.
“Unimportant,” Marinette waves a hand that Alya can’t see. “What’s important is how you girls could let this happen!”
“Honestly, Alix only made sure you got Adrien’s name. We didn’t mess with Adrien’s pick,” Alya yawns. “That was all luck. The universe just wanted it that way, I guess.”
Damn you, universe.
“Can you explain why you’re spiralling now though? I thought you already had the perfect gift for Adrien planned out.”
“I did!” Marinette flops back onto her bed. “It was the perfect gift when it was just me giving Adrien a gift. I didn’t know he’d be giving me a gift too.”
“How exactly does that change anything?”
“What if our gifts aren’t balanced?” Marinette chews her lip. “What if mine is too much, and his is more simple? Wouldn’t it look like I’m trying too hard, or trying to make him look bad? Or! What if his gift for me is way better than my gift for him? What if he thinks I got a lame gift because I don’t care or, or —”
Marinette muffles her screams with a pillow.
“I need to make a spreadsheet,” she decides.
“No! No spreadsheets at three in the morning, you promised,” Alya chides.
“What do I do then?” Marinette groans.
“First, you’re going to go wash your face and put on a nice face mask before your stress your skin into breaking out,” Alya, who has long mastered how to talk Marinette down from her midnight frenzies, instructs.
“Okay,” Marinette says meekly.
“Then you’re going to meditate for at least ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
“And then you’re going to go to sleep because the gift exchange is less than twelve hours from now and there’s nothing you can do about it now anyway. You will not stay up all night panicking or making a new gift because you need your beauty sleep so you can look all cute and fresh when you tell Adrien you’re his Secret Santa tomorrow. Got it?”
“Got it,” Marinette grumbles, heading down her ladder and towards the bathroom.
“Okay. Love you, good night.”
“Love you too.”
Morning arrives and Marinette gets dressed. She tugs on some fleece-lined tights and a black pleated tennis skirt, tucking the hem of her white turtleneck into the waistband. Overtop, she throws on a baby pink cropped cardigan. She puts her hair half-up with a claw clip, adjusting her bangs so they sit right.
Marinette grabs her winter coat and her Tikki purse and her backpack and then finally the gift-wrapped box that sits on her chaise.
“At least you don’t need to worry about signing your name this time,” Tikki says, floating over Marinette’s shoulder.
“Ha ha,” Marinette’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
“Marinette,” Tikki says with that firmly but kindly, “you could give Adrien a crumpled-up piece of paper and he’d still love it.”
“Yeah, that kid’s got low standards.”
“He’d love it because it came from you, ” Tikki clarifies.
“You think so?” Marinette asks in a quiet voice.
“I know so,” Tikki says, giving Marinette’s cheek a quick hug.
Marinette grabs a paper shopping bag on her way out, gently putting her gift into it, to keep her gift anonymous until it's time to exchange them. When she gets to class she places it on the table at the back of the room that’s been unsystematically hidden away by random Christmas decor and propped open tri-fold poster boards from past presentations.
Marinette carefully pulls her gift out of the bag, running her fingers over the cream-coloured wrapping paper decorated with bright yellow bananas — something she’s sure Adrien will find funny. She places the box on the table and steps out of the poster board partition and heads to her seat next to Alya.
The day drones on at a snail’s pace and Marinette isn’t the only one frantically waiting for lunchtime to roll around; her classmates buzz in excitement and curiosity.
But finally, finally , the time comes!
Everyone tries to sit facing each other, moving closer to each other to form a messy almost-circle in the classroom. The poster board partition is dismantled, revealing the table full of colourfully wrapped presents and gift bags.
“Who’s first?”
“Me!”
“I hope that big ass one is mine.”
“I can’t wait to see who my Secret Santa is!”
“Quiet down, you animals!” Chloé barks. As this year’s class representative — fairly and sincerely voted for, even! — Chloé has been left in charge of wrangling her classmates into some semblance of order. “We’re picking names out of the hat.”
“That’s gonna take forever,” Kim groans.
“It’s on theme ,” Chloé huffs. “Your name gets called you go up and find your gift. Open it, fawn over it, and then your Secret Santa will reveal themselves.”
“Boring!” Alix boos.
“Ooh, let’s try guessing who our Secret Santa is before they reveal themselves,” Rose suggests, the class murmurs in agreement.
“Whatever,” Chloé relents. “Sabrina! The names!” Sabrina hops up to the front, offering Chloé a box full of folded strips of paper.
Chloé inserts a perfectly manicured hand into the box and plucks out a name.
“Juleka,” she reads out, tossing the paper into a nearby recycling bin. The class cheers as Juleka shyly heads to the back table, searching for her gift. She selects a medium-sized box that looks like it’s been professionally wrapped, a large purple bow adorning the top.
Juleka opens the gift-wrapped box, revealing a pair of chunky combat boots. Totally trendy, totally Juleka’s style, and totally way above their recommended thirty-five euro budget. Juleka tries them on and confirms that they’re a perfect fit.
“Damn,” Alix whistles. “That’s a killer gift. Who was Juleka’s Secret Santa?”
“You have to guess,” Mylene reminds. Juleka helplessly shrugs, glancing at Rose who shakes her head no. Everyone glances at each other, trying to figure out who the gifter was.
“Twas I,” Chloé declares, a smug look on her face. “You’re welcome, Couffaine. I better see you wearing them.”
“Okay, you totally picked Juleka first so you could show off your gift and make the rest of us look lame,” Alya raises an eyebrow at Chloé.
“Prove it!” Chloé sticks her tongue out at Alya before forcefully sticking her hand back into the box of names.
The gifting continues. Rose gifts Nathanial a few volumes of his favourite manga. Ivan gifts Max a two-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. Sabrina gifts Nino a pair of fuzzy Ninja Turtle pyjamas that he absolutely adores.
Eventually, Adrien’s name is called and while the blonde boy searched for his gift, Marinette does her best not to vomit from anxiety.
He returns to his seat and carefully unwraps the paper — a sharp contrast to Alix who went before him and tore open her present like a toddler on Christmas morning. He sets the wrapping paper aside and lifts the cardboard lid off the box to reveal a black mock-neck sweater knit from the softest yarn Marinette could get her hands on. The cable-knit sweater has small, heart shape strands running down the front, nearly hidden among the dark black yarn, and features a secret Plagg-shaped pocket on the inside.
“Gee, I wonder who that could be from,” Alya grins.
Adrien looks up, right at Marinette, with his bright, beautiful smile and endearingly green eyes and —
A blaring alarm rings throughout the room — a warning sound that most of Paris have long grown accustomed to.
Akuma attack.
Adrien’s smile drops, a serious look crossing his face as he gives Marinette a slight nod.
Marinette nudges Alya lightly, the other girl springing to her feet.
“It’s only a few streets from here,” Alya announces checking her phone. “I gotta go film!”
“Dude!” Nino whines at his girlfriend.
“Uh, shouldn’t we stay here and wait it out?” Sabrina says meekly.
Alya is already out the door.
“I’ll go with her to keep her out of trouble!” Marinette says, clambering over to her desk, one foot in the air as she grabs her purse, ignoring her classmates' baffled looks.
“I need to go home,” Adrien declares, grabbing his bag and heading toward the door as well.
“What? Now? ” Nino asks, bewildered.
“I, uh, forget my medicine. For my heart condition.”
“You said you didn’t have a heart condition!”
“They’re still running the tests!” Adrien says, all but running out the door.
Oh, she is so making fun of him for this later.
The akuma is, as far as akumas go, not that impressive.
Just some assistant who got tired of her boss asking her to reschedule meetings, who started forcing all of Paris to stick to the rigid schedule she designed for them.
A well-timed Cataclysm and hair-comb-shaped Lucky Charm later, she was waving goodbye to a purified butterfly and pounding her fist against Chat Noir’s.
“See you at patrol tonight,” Chat Noir gives her a salute and a flirty wink before they part ways, heading to different locations to detransform to keep up appearances of ignorance regarding each other’s secret identities.
Marinette heads back to school, eager to get back to the gift-giving. She fishes out her phone while waiting for the crosswalk signal to change, and calls Alya to find out her whereabouts.
Alya already made it back to school a while ago and informed Marinette that afternoon classes had been cancelled in light of the akuma attack — considering it was the Friday before winter break, not much work was getting done today anyway.
“But what about the gift exchange?” Marinette asks, disbelieving.
“Everyone kinda just grabbed their gifts and bounced,” Alya explains. “I would have grabbed yours for you, but I couldn’t find it. Think someone took it by accident?”
Marinette thinks back to Chat’s jaunty wink, a gnawing feeling biting at her gut.
“No, I have a feeling I’ll be getting it soon.”
It’s a couple of hours past midnight and the frigid night temperatures mean that the streets of Paris are scarcely populated. It also means Ladybug and Chat Noir are free to enjoy their spot on the Eiffel Tower without any prying eyes.
Marinette waits for her feline partner, tapping her foot impatiently, jumping slightly when she hears a pair of boots land softly behind her.
“You’re late,” she says, staring straight ahead, arms crossed over her chest.
“Miss me, My Lady?” Chat teases, sliding up next to her. Marinette hums disinterestedly, pretending to survey the city below.
“I didn’t get the chance to say thank you for your gift. So, um, thank you! I really like it. It’s really soft and cozy and— ”
“You tried it on?” Marinette asks, slightly disappointed she didn’t get to see it on him.
“I’m wearing it right now,” Chat confirms, nodding shyly.
“There’s a pocket for Plagg—”
“I know, he loves it,” Chat laughs. “I love it too. The whole sweater, not just the pocket.”
“I’m glad,” Marinette smiles at him, a sense of relief flooding through her.
There! She did it! She successfully gave Adrien a gift for the first time ever!
“But,” Marinette drops the smile and adopts a stern look. “Aren’t you forgetting to give me something, mon chaton? ”
“Ah,” Chat runs a hand over the back of his head and Marinette notices how he’s been keeping one hand behind his back this whole time. “You figured that out? Oops.”
“Well, hand it over!” Marinette tries to peek behind him but Chat moves away, blocking whatever he’s holding from her view.
“Close your eyes,” he demands. “It’s a surprise.”
Marinette complies, screwing her eyes shut and doing her best not to fidget.
“Oookay,” Chat says after a moment, “You can open them.”
Marinette opens her eyes and sees Chat Noir standing closer to her. He’s gotten taller over the years and she needs to crane her neck ever-so-slightly to look at him. She cranes it up further when she notices him holding something above their heads.
“Mistletoe?” Marinette blinks.
“Surprise! I’m your gift~” he coos.
“Oh, very funny,” Marinette rolls her eyes shooting Chat an unamused look.
“Well, my lady,” Chat smiles at her, all kittenish and teasing, “Are you going to accept your gift?”
Marinette assesses Chat — the teasing smirk on his face, the achingly soft look in his eyes, the way his mask bends over his adorably boopable nose, the way the nightly December wind ruffles his golden hair.
“Oh, fuck it.” Marinette uncrosses her arms and throws them around her silly kitty’s neck before planting her lips against his.
He kisses her back, all sweet and warm and soft. He tastes like strawberry chapstick and smells like a field of lavender. Marinette wants to drown in him, to never take her hands off him again.
She steps back eventually, the need for air unfortunately outweighing her need for Adrien, but gives him one more peck, just because she can.
“Wait,” her brain finally catches up on the situation, “you weren't going to offer me mistletoe and ask me to kiss you in front of the whole class , were you?”
“Obviously not. ” Chat rolls his eyes. “Here,” he presents Marinette with a small, neatly wrapped box, “is your actual gift. Of course, if you’d prefer another kiss instead—”
“I’ll take the present,” Marinette smiles sweetly, snatching it from Chat Noir’s hand, giggling at the exaggerated pout he gives her. She opens up the box, excitement humming through her bones.
“I didn’t really know what to get you,” Chat rambles, sounding uncharacteristically nervous, “You’re actually a pretty hard person to find a gift for since you can just make any clothes or jewellery and you live in a bakery so it’d be lame to give like chocolate or something and —”
His nervous words are cut off by Marinette’s delighted gasp.
“He’s so cute and tiny!” Marinette says, absolutely enchanted by the tiny little Chat Noir figure in her hands. It’s so small and adorable, she wants to squeal with delight. She’s so happy, she can’t even be embarrassed that Adrien is aware of her (admittedly unsubtle!) habit of collecting every piece of Chat Noir merch she can get her hands on.
“Haha, see. I told you I was your gift.”
“I’ll cherish him forever,” Marinette promises, unsure why she’s getting so choked up over a little catboy figurine.
“And me?” Chat Noir asks, bending down so they’re closer to eye level. “Aren’t you going to cherish me forever?”
“I dunno, forever is a long time.”
“Buginette,” Chat whines.
“Besides, I have this little cutie now,” Marinette teases, booping her mini -minou’s nose.
“I’ll cry,” Chat threatens, “I’ll start bawling right here.”
“My god,” Marinette huffs. “Okay, fine. I promise to cherish you too. But only ‘cause I don’t want to see your ugly crying face.”
“My crying face is beautiful,” Chat pouts.
“Come here and kiss me again already, you silly cat.” Before he can come to her, Marinette is already throwing her arms back around his neck.
The second kiss is just as sweet and toe-curling as the first, and Marinette can’t wait for the many, many, more kisses to come.
The universe owes her that much, at least.