#mlfluffiction

He supposed he had therapy to thank for how he felt right now. When Marinette proposed, he'd been honest that he wasn't sure if he could ever face his fear of becoming what his father was, minus the magical villainy of course. She wanted children, but was willing to forego the experience if he was never ready for it. He wasn't sure who was more surprised when he brought it up seven months ago, her or him. They'd talked, waited, and talked some more, until they were both sure they were ready for this.

Her fashion label, Dame La Chance, had been running strong now for nearly three years, so the long days of putting in her own sweat and time were past. Her income was enough to allow him to stay out of the workforce even with an added family member, and being a stay at home dad was how he wanted to start out. As the primary caretaker, he'd make sure his child got all the loving affirmation they could get from their father. Marinette wouldn't let herself become distant from those she loved; she'd proven that time and again with him, even during those grueling early days of starting a company.

"Here's our stop," he said as they approached the station. "Do you want to head up to the apartment and wait or go in through the bakery."

"Bakery," she said quickly. "I wonder if they have any orange canelé… ooh.  Or a chocolate filled pâte à choux with a sugar glaze."

"Your sweet tooth is showing," he said, with a chuckle. Having been deprived of sweet carbohydrate-laden treats as a child and teen, he was normally the one who suggested desserts and brought home surprise sweets.

"Don't mock the pregnant lady, Chaton," she said, mock pouting at him. "Bad kitties don't get pets."

His laugh in response was loud enough that a few people turned to look at him. "I'm not bad." He fluttered his eyelashes at her.

She gave him a gentle shove, then caught his hand to nestle their fingers together.

"I was just pointing out that Tikki is still doing her work." He patted her tummy. "If the kwami of creation is working through you, it makes sense that you need sweets to recharge."

"Oh!" Her feet faltered a little and her eyes suddenly went watery. "Do you really think so?"

"I do." He let go of her hand to cup her face. The pregnancy had made her a little more emotional than usual, but any conversation about their kwami generally brought tears, and this was no exception. "Oh love," he whispered. "I know it hurts not to see her, but we know she's well. And Master Fu promised we'd see them again when the time is right." He kissed her forehead. "She'll be so proud of you."

"I m-m-miss her," his wife mumbled, her hands grasping the front of his shirt.

"I know, love." He wrapped his arms around her, and moved them both out of the direct flow of foot traffic, grateful it was too early for the after work rush. "I miss them both. But Emma's our own little gift of creation, something special from Tikki." He felt her nodding against his chest. "I was thinking, maybe we could honor Tikki with Emma's middle name. If you want."

Marinette went still and she looked up at him, rivulets of tears streaming down her face, but suddenly calm. "Really?" she asked in a choked whisper.

"Emma Tikki Dupain-Cheng," he said. "It's purrfect, don't you think."

She wiped her hands over her cheeks, beaming up at him. "I do. She'd love it."

This was supposed to be a 30 minute sprint, but brain wasn't braining and had trouble getting it into gear. I'm hoping to finish off April with a few more Adrienette pieces I've already got planned.

"First in two ways," Tom clarified, holding up two fingers. "It's good for learning bread basics, so it's a good place to start. And first in that I fully plan to teach you at least four other types of bread before you move into your own place."

Warmth washed over him. "Really? You'll teach me more?"

Marinette came stampeding down the stairs then. "Got it!" She held something aloft.

"Excellent," Tom said. "I knew you could come up with something. You're so clever, Cupcake."

"Let me see your paws, Kitty," she said, plugging in a hot glue gun and waving him over to a part of the counter away from the ingredients.

"What are we doing?" he asked. It had seemed unsanitary to make bread in his Chat gloves, but they didn't come off. When he tried wearing disposable gloves over them, his claws popped through the tips. He'd have to talk with Plagg about that.

"We're making you claw caps," she said with a happy smile. "People use them for real cats. I wonder if they make them for panthers and stuff.  They may not be our permanent solution for your cooking lessons, but they're a good place to start." She was so cute when she rambled about something she was excited about. That it was somehow related to him pushed a happy smile onto his face. "The glue isn't super hot, but it would burn my bare skin. Your suit should protect you enough that you won't even feel it."

She caught one of his hands, and he relaxed it so she could put it in the position she wanted. Seeing her fingers wrapped around his brought back that warm rush of happiness. Marinette and her family were so casual and affectionate. He got more physical touch here in an hour than he got in two months at home. It was no wonder he'd started spending more and more time with the Dupain-Chengs, and it wasn't always just with her.

He watched as she ran a line of thick melted plastic around the base of his claw in a continuous spiral until she'd covered the entire thing. He was so impressed with her; she could find solutions to anything . She could probably rival Ladybug's creative problem solving. His crush had stubbornly persisted, and he was beginning to wonder if that meant it was more than a crush. It certainly felt stronger than any other, even his infatuation with Ladybug. Plagg had been no help, cackling at him when he asked for advice. It was frustrating to be so unable ta talk to anyone about something like this. He watched, mesmirized as she coated all his claws in rubbery glue.

She looked them over one last time before unplugging the glue gun. "We should help you put on the gloves to make sure we don't dislodge them.  And if we're careful taking them off, we may be able to reuse them." She wound up the cord. "I'll just go put this away." She ran off, taking her steps two at a time despite her short legs.

Tom nudged Chat's arm, and he realized he'd been staring after her in a daze. His human ears suddenly went hot.

"My Cupcake is brilliant," Tom said gently.

"She is," Chat agreed, turning back to the ingredients on the counter.

"Respect her and her boundaries as you have, and we'll have no problems." He patted Chat's shoulder.

Chat gawked at the man. "Uh.. what?"

Tom smiled and winked. "And don't worry, I won't tell her a thing. You can work through it in your own way." He chuckled. "It's like making bread, actually. There's a lot of ways to make it, once you understand it. And the end result is worth the work you put in."

Check out chapter six >>

30-minute sprint

She heard him puttering about in the kitchen as she tidied up and shut everything off in her office for the night. She'd never been a slob, but living with him had inspired her to manage her project messes better. No loose threads to track about the apartment. No stacks of fabric swatches precariously perched on a chair. It helped that he'd insisted they use her refunded rent to get the storage solutions she really needed for her office.

"How does it already smell so good in here?" she asked. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, but the kitchen was filled with the scent of garlic, onions and tomatoes. "Oh, that's heavenly."

"Can you make up a green salad?" he asked, tossing sliced zucchini into the fry pan. "We've got angel hair dressed with a vegetable sautee."

"When did you cut your hair?" she asked, grinning as she opened the refrigerator.

"I didn't?"

"You said we're having angel hair, and you're the only angel here." She grinned up at him and pulled the spinach from the drawer.

"Oh, you!" He reached out to tickle her. "You're trouble, you are."

She laughed as she danced away, carrying her produce to the sink. "Admit it, you just wish you thought of that one first."

"Oh, I totally do," he agreed. "You know how I feel about wordplay."

She snorted. "I half-wonder sometimes if you have a language kink."

He let out a bark of laughter. "No Mari, I wouldn't call it a kink. But it is one of my favorite pastimes."

"So what's this favor or thing you need my help with?" she asked, flicking on the water.

"I'll explain it over dinner," he said, a secretive smile creeping over his face.

As they had done for so many meals, they worked together to get dinner prepped and on the table, all without getting in each other's way or duplicating the work. It was less surprising how well they read each other's body language since discovering he was her Chat Noir.  In what felt like no time, she was sitting down and pouring the wine. The lights dimmed, surprising her. Sometimes they had sweet candle-light dinners, but tonight hadn't felt like that kind of meal.

"Mood lighting?" she asked.

"I need the right ambiance," he explained.

"For your favor?" she asked, confused. Maybe he was just being sweet and silly; he'd done that sometimes.

"Well… I guess it is a favor." He shrugged. "Could I borrow your left hand a moment?"

She held it out to him. As expected, he pulled it to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

What he did next, was less expected. He turned her hand over and pressed something into her palm. "Could you see if that fits?"

She looked to find the beautiful ring he'd placed there. She glanced up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "You…" She had to clear her throat to speak properly. "You want me to try it on?"

He nodded. "Ring finger, please. See if it fits ."

It slid on easily, as if it had been made for her. "Uh.  Yeah. It fits."

"It physically fits, but does it suit?" he asked quietly. "Does it feel at home there? The way I feel at home with you? Does it shine for you the way you do for me?"

She looked closely at the ring, watching it sparkle in the low light, surprised how comfortable she was to see something like this on her hand. She looked up again and nodded.

"Marinette," he said quietly.

"Yes, Adrien," she replied, meaning it to be both acknowledgement and her answer.

His smile grew. "Would you be so kind as to consider being milady for the rest of our lives?"

"I said yes, and I meant it."

"I hadn't asked yet," he insisted.

"I still meant it." She reached across the table for his hand. "I'm giving you that suit as an engagement gift, you know."

He laughed. "It's already in our closet, remember? You told me to wear it whenever I like."

"Yes, but you keep claiming you're borrowing it and that I can't just give it to you. It's too grand." She smirked. "But I can definitely give it to my fiance. I'm going to put in a tag with your name on it. Oh!" She felt an even better idea burst into her mind. "I'm going to name that whole line for you. Everyone is going to want an Adrien suit."

Chapter 11 coming soon >>

This started as a 30 minute sprint and it went really well until the end, which I hated, so I had to go over my time limit to fix it.

"Come on in," she called. "It's unlocked."

She usually opened it for him, but perhaps she was busy. Hopefully not too busy for her stray. He pushed up the dome and slipped in. She was under the bed talking in a hushed whisper, and he could practically feel the excitement radiating off her. "Princess?" he drawled, playing along. "Wherever are you, my princess?"

As his boots reached the floor, she jumped out from under her bed, holding a tiny ball of black fur aloft in his direction. "The circle of liiiiiiiife!" she sang.

The ball of fur looked at him and let out a tiny, "Mew" of inquiry.

He gasped, recognizing the kitten as her favorite from the litter she'd helped him rescue just a few weeks past. He'd gotten to see all of them during his volunteer shifts, and this one had had a sold sign on his enclosure since day two. He'd had to stay at the shelter until he'd been properly weaned from his adoptive mama. "Kitten?" He gawked at Marinette.

"Is that any way to greet your son?" she demanded in mock indignation as she drew in her arms to gently tuck the kitten to her chest. She kissed the tiny head. "Don't worry baby," she whispered. "I'm sure your papa is delighted to see you. He's just had a long day."

Chat crept closer, his eyes darting around the room to find kitten toys, a scratching post, and over near her sink, a litter tray. "Papa?"

She grinned up at him and held the kitten right next to his face. "He looks just like you."

"You adopted him? Your parents let you?" Before dropping the litter off at the shelter, he'd mentioned he wished he could adopt all the homeless cats. It was both unrealistic and not healthy for anyone, but he'd settle for just one, hopefully once he got his own place. She said always wanted a pet, but her parents weren't keen on the idea. Yet here she was, with a kitten and all the trappings. Enthusiasm bubbled up in his chest. He'd been happy the entire litter found homes, but he'd known he'd miss them. They were special to him.

"Mama and Papa even paid the fees," she said proudly. "This way you can still see him now that he's strong and healthy enough to be out in the world. And if you'd like, he can come live with you when you get your place."

He gawked at her.

"When I visited the shelter, they said that black cats don't get adopted at the rate of the others." She frowned, her whole face sad. "I'm very fond of black cats." Her eyes darted toward him and then away, and he was pretty sure he could see a hint of pink blooming in her cheeks. "So I asked if I could get him."

"May I hold him?" he asked, eager enough that he could feel his tail wriggling with excitement. "What's his name?" She gently transferred the kitten into his capable paws, and he could hear the instant purr through the suit.

"I couldn't name our son without your input," she said, aghast. "You play with him while I go get snacks. Then we can find his name."

Check out chapter seven >>

30-minute sprint

"I'd love to have Mama here," he said softly. While she loved that he cherished her parents and his relationship with them, it still hurt how surprised he seemed to be at their genuine affection toward him. "Baba and I had such a nice time. And he did a lot of exploring on his own while I was at work." He tilted his head and rested his chin on his hand. "He baked a lot, too.  I've got good Dupain bread to tide me over for weeks.  And my coworkers loved his treats."

"Baba shows his love with food," she said, unsurprised. Even when they were kids, they were always feeding him, whether he was Adrien or Chat Noir.

"You look tired, Bug. You getting enough sleep?" His hands fiddled with his tablet, apparently setting it in its stand.

"It was just women's fashion week," she pointed out.  "You know what a zoo that can be."

He nodded, but waited quietly.

She shrugged. "It's a little hard to be alone in our bed," she admitted. She didn't want him to feel guilty, but they'd both had enough with of secrets and lies. "It's not as cozy without my space heater. You know how I get."

"When you come out next weekend, we can spend the whole weekend snuggling," he promised. "I'll queue up some good movies and we can spend the whole time in bed." His tiny efficiency was a step up from a dormitory. His appliances were half-sized, he had a shower cubicle, but no bath, and he'd invested in a nice camping cot for when he had guests who weren't keen to share a bed with him.

"I'm holding you to that," she insisted. "Kitty snuggles and take out."

"Plagg wants to know if you'll bring him some of that brie he likes so much," Adrien said, clearly speaking for his kwami. It had turned out that in addition to not showing up on pictures and video, the kwami weren't visible through facetime either.

"We sure will." She'd missed Plagg, though perhaps not as much as Tikki did. "He's going to get all the snuggles, too. And he can complain all he wants.  We know he loves it."

Adrien chuckled. "He claims he wasn't going to deny it, but we know better." He sighed, seeming content. "Go to sleep, Bug. I'll stay on with you until you get in bed, but let's get you there, okay?"

"Always taking care of me, aren't you," she teased gently.

Adrien smirked. "Plagg wants me to point out that you love it, and I agree with him."

"I do," she admitted. "But I love taking care of you, too."

"Cutting the pear in two" is a French idiom meaning meeting someone halfway. 

"That was quite the… well, it wasn't a fall exactly," said a balding middle-aged man who stood halfway between the hallway and the spare room that would become her new office. He was their building manager Rudolf, and she hadn't realized they were expecting a visit from him. "A feat of acrobatics, rather. Are you all right, Miss Marinette?"

Marinette nodded, feeling a bit shaky.  She glanced to the doorway and realized it was his shoes that gave her the flying lesson. "Yeah. But I think that's my last load for the day."

"Did you pull something?" Adrien asked, traces of worry apparent in his voice. "Are you hurt?"

"Pfft!" Marinette let out a laugh. "With how klutzy I am, I've learned how to fall… or not fall." She grinned at him. "But once I start tripping like that, I've learned it's best to just stop everything and sit for a while or it's just going to get worse and I will damage something."

"So just the sewing stuff left?" Adrien asked.

She nodded. "Two bins of fabrics and notions, the serger, the sewing machine, and an unreasonably large collection of thread." She'd been amused with his reaction when he saw her thread rack.

"Adrien was just talking to me about the updates to the lighting in your office," Rudolf explained, gesturing to the spare room. "I'll be able to get that taken care of by end of next week. Sorry it can't be sooner."

"Oh no, that's fine," Marinette insisted. She'd actually expected it to take longer.

"We can set up your sewing things in the living room tomorrow," Adrien suggested. "I don't want you to miss out on commissions."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "It'll be a bit of a clutter." It was part of the reason she'd left her sewing gear for last.

Adrien nodded and gestured toward Rudolf.

"If you can guarantee you'll be out of the old place in three days," he said, "I can refund most of the month's rent. I have someone in need of a place immediately, and I'd be happy to terminate your lease early to make that work."

"Really?" Marinette asked. That was a really nice unexpected bonus. She smiled up at Adrien. "Are you ready for the full Marinette invasion?"

He laughed, and for a moment she felt like she'd been transported to their first days as friends, when his umbrella had closed on her. "I have been eagerly awaiting your occupation since I first moved in."

Shaking her head, she turned back to Rudolf. "Honestly, I can be out by tonight, if it helps. It's even cleaned, and I ran over the carpet with a magnet this morning."

"A magnet?" Rudolf asked, puzzled.

"To make sure I'm not leaving behind any stray pins."

"Aah.  That'll be a bonus, having the wood floor in your new office, then, I suppose," the man said.

"Fewer pins in your toes," Adrien suggested.  "I'm all for that."

"Just drop by with the keys when you're out. And I'll get back to you on the specifics for the lighting work."

Check out Chapter 10 >>

I have at least one more chapter for this story for Adrinette April, but it will be several days before I can get back to it because Saturday is the deadline to get a beta to my critique group.

Chat cackled with glee. "Yes, Princess. I look forward to that day."

"Mama and Papa will be right behind me on the assault bandwagon, just so you know," she cautioned. "And no, I haven't told them anything about him or your horrible relationship with your sperm donor. They've been able to figure it all out on their own, and they're worried about you."

He relaxed and his face went all soft and misty. It wasn't fair. She wanted to kiss the meekness right off his pretty face. He shouldn't be surprised that her parents cared about him, and what did it mean that he found that fact special and emotionally triggering?  Nothing good, she was sure.

"Now back to your knitting, which is far better than the average beginner," she redirected them. "How many hats do you want to make?"

He shrugged. "Not really sure. I mean, more is probably better… but only if they look good enough that people will buy them.

"We're going to put special tags on those," she decided. Yes.  It would help him feel better about his skills while boosting their participation in the Mittens for Kittens fundraiser.  As the weather got cooler, and the fiscal year neared its end, the shelter that had taken in Jean Luc Picat had decided to do a winter wear fundraiser. Handmade or store-bought hats, scarves, and mittens were all welcome. Chat had been so excited when he mentioned it, asking if she could teach him. "Made by Chat Noir, purrrtector of Paris," she said, setting aside her knitting to grab her sketchbook.

"How will that help?" he asked.

She grinned as her pencil flew over the page. "Who wouldn't want a Chat Noir original?" she asked. "I know I'm going to want one."

His cheeks went a delightful pink. "Really?"

"You're a hero.  We all look up to you." She flashed him a smile then returned to her work. "I bet your stuff will outsell everyone else's."

"You're teasing me," he said, throwing her an exaggerated pout.

"There's also the special irony of getting something that was created by the hero who embodies destruction," she pointed out. "That alone may be a marketing point." She shrugged.  Either way, I'm going to plan around your creations, making mittens and scarves for your hats. And if you switch over to scarves like I suggested, I'll make hats and mittens to go with them."

"Nice plan. And if folks buy the whole set, they'll be guaranteed to have some parts that don't disintegrate when they get wet. And I bet folks will be excited to get high quality pieces from Chat Noir's secret friend." He gently bumped her with his shoulder as if he had no idea what that did to her.  Well, maybe he really had no idea.

She giggled. "I'm not your friend, silly. I'm family. We're raising a kitten together. You don't just do that with a friend."

"Are you sure we can't let him be in here with us right now?" Chat asked, gazing sadly at the closed trap door.

"Pffft.  You've seen what he does to yarn, and we're under a timeline, which means we really can't focus on training him right now."  She patted his shoulder, then let her fingers run into his hair. It was as soft as Jean Luc’s kitten fur. "But don't worry. He'll be up for cuddle breaks, and our first one of those is scheduled for fifteen minutes from now."

"Really?" His eyes went wide, and his pupils rounded out a bit. "You've scheduled cuddle breaks?"

Smiling smugly, Marinette nodded. "I don't want to overwork you, Kitty. We can help the shelter while still having fun and not hurting our wrists.  Cuddle breaks are the best way to do that."

"How are you so purrfect?" he asked, slowly leaning in to touch his forehead to hers.

"I'm really not." she whispered, suddenly feeling like something in the room had changed.

"Near enough," he replied, straightening up and turning back to his clumsy hat with a smile.

Check out chapter nine (coming soon) >> 

30-minute sprint

He paused at a stoplight and pulled out his phone while he waited to cross.  Sending a quick text to Nino, he let his best friend know he was only a couple blocks away.  They were meeting up at André's cart, and because the glacier moved around so much, they'd planned to decide the rest of their afternoon from wherever that happened to be.  

Turning the corner, André's iconic cart came into view on the curved sidewalk bordering the bleuet de France roundabout. Nino and Alya were already there, holding hands, their heads tipped toward each other as they waited.  Marinette was nowhere to be seen, but that was hardly unusual. While she'd gotten better about getting to school on time in the last year, she still had a tendency to go missing during akuma attacks. If she wasn't actively helping evacuate their class, she was nowhere to be found. Alya mentioned that she suspected their friend had an anxiety disorder; until she wanted to share it, they would just support her as best they could.

Adrien broke into a jog, eager to get to his friends.  "Hey Nino, Alya. What a perfect day."

Alya laughed. "Look, the sunshine came out," she said, gesturing to his face. "I'd almost forgotten what it looked like."

"Pfft," Nino snorted. "It's nice to see you so happy, dude.  I think I finally understand what radiant truly means, looking at you in the sunshine, away from photographers and fans."

Adrien rolled his eyes.  "You two are ridiculous. Where's Marinette?  She never picks on me."

Alya coughed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "She wants to pick you up."  But that didn't seem right.

"Alas, my dude," Nino said with mock sadness and a slow shake of the head. "Your staunch protector is stuck at home, running the bakery counter while her parents prepare a huge order for some shindig at the Grand Palais.  I guess it came in late, but with a bonus Tom and Sabine couldn't turn down."

"Awww."  Adrien felt his joy droop a bit.  He'd really hoped to hang out with all three of them, not just because he'd heard Marinette's tales of woe at being a third wheel with the other two.  But he was determined to not let this setback bring him down. "Well, maybe we'll have to swing by the bakery later, see if she's up for a movie or something."

Alya grinned, looking positively predatory.  "Yes. Let's definitely do that." She looked over at André's  cart, where the line had dwindled to the last couple. "But until then, how about we get our ice cream."

"Yes!" Adrien agreed.  "I love this stuff. André's the best."

Adrien stood behind his friends as they ordered.  The André experience was half food service, half performance art, and he loved it.  There was something sweet and, dare he say, magical about it. As his friends stepped to the side, beaming at each other over their matched couple ice creams, he met the man's eyes.

"Ah!  Adrien, so good to see you."  André held his outstretched hands to his sides.  "Still coming to see me without your sweetheart, I see.  Perhaps this one will draw her out, yes?"

Trying not to blush, Adrien shrugged.  "I can hope."

Making a show out of waving his ice cream scoop about, before digging in and assembling Adrien's treat with a pronouncement that sounded suspiciously like a spell. "Strawberry with black chocolate chip! Blackberries for her hair, and blueberry ice-cream just like her sky blue stare!"

"Purrfect as always," Adrien said, thinking of his Lady as he reached for the treat.  "How do you always know?"

"Ah, ah, ah."  André grinned and wagged a finger at him.  "Trade secrets. Not to be shared."

Adrien understood all about keeping secrets, and honestly, given his work with the miraculous and Master Fu over the last two years, he was inclined to believe in magic.  "Have a great day, André." He walked over to where his friends waited.

"What did you get?" Alya asked, eyeing up Adrien's ice cream.

"My usual."  Adrien held it out for them to see before he scooped up a bit with the tiny spoon.  He closed his eyes and savored the first taste.

Nino took a step closer, going so far as to catch Adrien's wrist and hold it steady as he stared at it.   "Dude," he said gently.

"Yes?"  He felt unaccountably nervous all of a sudden.

"Dude."  The word was elongated and a sly grin spread over his face.  "Marinette, eh?"

Adrien glanced around, wondering if she'd been able to show after all. "Marinette?" he asked, uncertainly.  Alya's eyes had gone much wider than usual, and she'd slapped a hand over her mouth. He realized his friends were staring at his ice cream.  What did Marinette have to do with his ice cream. "Oh! You think my ice cream is Marinette themed," he said, understanding. "I guess I can see that, but no, it's…"  He froze. In the middle of preparing to reveal what they would see as an embarrassing fanboy crush, realization hit him like last week's akuma.

Blackberries for her midnight hair, worn in twin tails since they'd met.  Blueberries for her piercing blue eyes. Eyes he'd seen in the face of two amazing girls… one.  He corrected himself. Just one girl had those amazing eyes, even if she had two forms. The strawberry chocolate chip wasn't just her super suit.  It symbolized that she had the heart of a hero, that she was truly Ladybug, whether she was transformed or not.

He stared at his friends in shock.  "Oh my god," he whispered. "It is