Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"By the wayy...." Adrien said. "When was the last time you took a shower?"

Claudia stared at him blankly.

...

"Are you fucking insane?! Stop trying to ram me through the fucking doorway!" She cried, pushing back against the doorframe as hard as she could to resist Adrien's... kinetic persuasion.

"Not ramming, pushing. And I'm doing it because you clearly don't want to go in there on your own!"

"Maybe I would if I wasn't in such a vulnerable position!" she hissed back.

"I dunno, I can think of a few more vulnerable ones I've had to see," a shrill voice called from the other side of the room. Both Adrien and Claudia told Plagg, in a very impolite tone, to promptly shut the fuck up before going back to quarreling.

"-Think of how much money I'm saving! I'd be adding so much onto your water bill," she bargained. "And I'd have to be using your shampoo which you bought for yourself—"

"Don't care!"

"But I—"

"Nope, don't care! Take a shower!"

Claudia grumbled, finally letting go just enough to where Adrien could move her past the door. 

"You won't be able to actually prove it if I don't, just saying," she added. "I'll run my hair under the sink or something."

In a moment of blinding, mythological impulsivity (and, to be fair, a desire to get his way), Adrien took his shirt off, saying "Then I'll shower with you to make sure you actually do it."

"Huh?!"

ADRIEN COULD ADMIT TO HIMSELF QUITE ASSUREDLY THAT THIS WAS A VERY, VERY REASONABLE REACTION TO THE SITUATION.  

....Too late now though. 

"Yeah, bitch," he added, doubling down on a sense of bravado as if that made him look any better. "Strip for me."

She did, actually, but only to throw a ball of clothing directly at his face.

...

Both of them stood in the shower for about 5 minutes straight before one of them thought to even turn on the water. Not to imply anything erotic—quite the opposite. The only times they weren't staring off in opposite directions at the wall were the few glances they took to check to see that the other was doing the same. It was, on all accounts, a very stupid idea.

"You have way too many flavors of shampoo, man," Claudia blurted out, holding a bottle of Hibiscus and Mint Moisturizing Hair Mask with the suspicion of a grizzled (and nearsighted) detective. 

"...Flavors?" 

"—Kinds. you know what I mean," Claudia retorted. She flicked the wet strands of hair out of her face, her whole mane flattened into something resembling more of a grumpy weasel. "How do you even choose?"

"It just depends on the day, I guess," he replied. "Look, unlike you, I've already used shampoo rather than just gawking at it. I'd rather not be stuck in here babysitting you for an entire hour."

Offended, Claudia snatched a random bottle off a shelf and tapped out a glob of gel into her hand. "Babysitting, what babysitting? —Stop hogging the water and let me stand under it, I'm cold!"

Adrien stepped out of the way promptly. He might've looked in admiration at her backside once, maybe twice—but that was a secret he would never tell.

Adrien heard a weird gurgling sound all of a sudden.

"—Are you drinking the shower water?!"

Claudia turned around, her cheeks puffed out.

"....No. —PSSSHKKKT!!" She was telling the truth, in all fairness—Adrien knew that because she'd immediately started to spit it all back at him.

"—Hey! Stop squirting on me!"

"Oh really?" she smiled. "I thought you liked when I did that!"

"Why, you little—"

It was a custom of sportmanship in Ancient Greece to compete naked, and this was true for wrestling as well. Such was the inspiration for the word "gymnasium", in fact—its origin, the Greek "gumnasion", meant to exercise naked. Whether this was ever done while bathing, or even done with such terrible technique and sportsmanship, wasn't something Adrien could really comment on, so not many more similarities could really be drawn. 

—In fact, the usual way of scoring points was when a wrestler hit the ground with their back, hip or shoulder, but both of them had fallen onto to floor without any intentions of conceding defeat. Such was the nature of competition, so it seemed.

"Can you guys keep it down in there? Every day with you kids is like a fucking zoo—"

They looked up to see Plagg, phased partway through the door. He was not at all pleased to witness what he had barged in on.

"You two disgust me." Plagg phased back, but then decided to open the door just a hair so he could immediately shut it on them to emphasize his point. 

"....Well," Claudia said, wiggling out from under Adrien. "I'm clean enough, this counts."

"—You didn't even use conditioner!"

"Maybe next time," she shrugged, yanking a towel off of its rack. 

...While it wasn't the victory he had hoped, it was still a victory nonetheless. Another point for him, Adrien supposed.

Chapter Text

“Here. I was tired of eating two week old pizza from the fridge, so I splurged and cooked real food for myself the other day. I saved some for you.”

She tossed him something wrapped in a plastic bag. It was a bagel.. sandwich? A bagel with cheese on the inside… But not just any cheese.

“Camembert?” Adrien asked, unsealing the bag.

“Yeah. I bought it just for you. I thought you liked it because I’ve noticed you faintly smell like it sometimes.”

It seemed that only after she said that did Claudia realize just how weird that statement probably was. 

“Wait, I uh, didn’t mean to imply— Uhm—“

Plagg was already munching on the cheese that stuck out from in between the halves of the bagel before Adrien could even say anything. 

“Okay, everything I’ve ever said about you, man,” Plagg squeaked in between chewing bites of the bagel and cheese, “I take it all back. I’ve been won over, you guys can do your gross kissing stuff as much as you want.” Plagg then jumped into the center of the bagel, where most of the cheese had pooled to as it had cooled off. Adrien wanted to take a bite as well, but didn’t, since the idea of taking a bite of Plagg as well didn’t sound like a particularly great outcome.

Claudia and Adrien just silently watched Plagg munch away at the bagel (a considerable feat when one takes into account the bagel was easily four times his size) before Claudia spoke again.

“Is it… all cheese, or just Camembert?”

“I’m not actually sure—“

“Camembert is just a preference. But I wouldn’t eat dog shit just because I technically could.” Plagg was resting inside the hole of the bagel as if it were an inner tube. “Kinda like you guys, I guess.”

“Ah… Karra will drink anything that’s red, honestly. She tried to scare me when we first met by saying she needed to be fed with blood, but when I told her I could just pick at the scabs at my arms, she chickened out,” Claudia said with a tired laugh. “But ketchup works too, and wine—which we certainly have enough of at my house. She’ll usually just binge and be fine for the rest of the week.”

“…Even when you’re transformed?”

Claudia was puzzled. “…Yeah. I’ve been invisible for hours sometimes. I’ve even thought about trying to pull off a heist once or twice, just breaking into some department store so I can get stupid shit like stuff to decorate my room without having to worry about wasting money. …Why?”

Adrien looked at Plagg, since he probably knew more about this than Adrien did himself. 

“Oh, yeah— Once you’re old enough you can use Cataclysm as much as you want.”

“Wait, what? And you never told me this… why?”

“‘Cause then you’d also stop feeding me, and I like food.”

Adrien couldn’t really do anything but just huff contemptibly at Plagg. He really thought Plagg had told him everything he needed to know about being a holder…

“That’s stupid. You should’ve just told him from the start under the promise that he would keep feeding you!” Karra seemingly had woken up from her nap, and had floated over to Plagg still resting in Adrien’s bagel. Karra crossed her arms, adding “That’s what I did at least.”

“And why should I take advice from a knockoff like you?”

“As if a knockoff would be worshipped as a member of the Nauhtzonteteo! You can’t even compare yourself to me, miztōnpōl!"

Chapter Text

“Okay, so: The reason I invited you over.” Adrien stated, looking over his glasses. “…I have a girlfriend.”

Chloé nearly fell out of her seat with what could only be described as a prideful glee. 

“You do?! Ohmigosh, like, finally!” She looked around, realizing they weren’t the only two people in the restaurant, and then hunched over and adjusted to a whisper. “Like, that one Asian girl was totally just spreading rumors for the sake of it, I knew it. If you were gay I would’ve known way before she did.”

Adrien was unsure whether the fact that Chloé didn’t know Kagami’s name was worth being surprised over—Chloé and Kagami had met and talked to each other on multiple occasions over the past few years, but at the same time, Chloé rarely cared to remember the names of those she didn’t care about.

Adrien motioned for Claudia to move over to them from an adjacent booth. The girls didn’t seem to know how to initially regard each other: Chloé just blinked her long eyelashes as she stared at Claudia, and Claudia herself looked out the window and started to burrow her way into her new seat. Adrien nudged his girlfriend’s elbow for a bit, hoping she would remember to offer to shake Chloé’s hand like he’d made her promise she would.

Chloé turned to Adrien first to voice her first opinion.

“Is she…?”

“Yes,” Adrien answered hesitantly. “She was born here.”

Claudia growled something about rich kids under her breath.

“Oh, no!” Chloé gasped, her pink pencil-thin glasses sliding further down on her nose. “Adrien, I would never ask such a thing! Do you really think I’m the type of person to be—”

“Insensitive?” Adrien asked. 

“A racist bitch?” Claudia muttered simultaneously… Adrien was eternally thankful that Chloé didn’t hear that part.

“No! I was just wondering why she’d wearing her eyeshadow upside down!” She said. Claudia glanced over at Adrien as if to ask if his childhood best friend was really, truly this stupid.

“They’re eyebags,” Claudia added.

“Really? …But they’re such a pretty color!” Chloé scooted closer to where Claudia was seating, grabbing her by the face much like she used to do with Adrien. “Sorry, dear, I just wanna…”

Claudia seemed to turn a shade of pink Adrien rarely ever saw before as Chloé started to take pictures of her face. It probably didn’t help that Chloé had a terrible filter, humming this and that to herself about Claudia’s “beautiful” skin tone and noting her peculiarly dark eyes. 

“…You guys seem to have become, uhm… fast friends,” Adrien interjected. “I suppose I couldn’t’ve asked for this to go any better.”

“Yeah, I’m taking her to get mani-pedis with me and Bibi on Friday,” Chloé said, inspecting Claudia’s hand. “I can see why you like her, Adrikins, but these nails of hers need some TLC.”

Claudia was unresponsive, and suspiciously flustered.

“I-I’d really prefer we keep this whole thing between the three of us.” Adrien went over to take Claudia’s other hand as a show of reassurance, but Chloé decided to slap his away and instead take both of Claudia’s hands for herself.

“Saturday, then. I’ll bring you along too. We can make it a date.”

He started to question who exactly the date would be between….

Chapter Text

Ironically, the thing Claudia seemed to dislike the most so far about playing piano was that she couldn't sit on the piano bench the way she normally would; Instead of having one knee tucked up to her chest, she needed to sit with her feet flat to probably reach all the keys she needed to.

"It probably doesn't help if you slouch like that either," Adrien added, mostly to himself. Still, he saw her straighten out her posture, if a little begrudgingly. 

Adrien was still busy marking up a blank page of staff paper with a pen, so Claudia had taken it upon herself to fiddle with the keys. Like everyone inexperienced with piano, it was filled with a lot of cluster chords: In essence, she was pressing down with her entire hands on the board here and there and letting the Bösendorfer chime out a raucous sound of incongruity. He wanted to talk a bit about theory in regards to scales and equal temperament, and then mention the fascinating evolution of equal temperament, and then maybe give a short lesson on well temperament, another lesson and performance on Bach's The Well-Tempered Clavier... But he was getting ahead of himself already. And getting ahead in his own head, too.

"Okay, see this dot I just wrote down?" Adrien asked, setting down the staff paper notebook on his desk. "That's 'C'. And it corresponds with the 'C' on the keyboard."

Claudia looked down at the keyboard, seeing no letters there whatsoever.

"Are you trying to make me look stupid?"

O-kay, read between the lines here. That means she feels you're going too fast, which is reasonable because you fucking forgot that people don't automatically have keyboard knowledge programmed into their system. 

"S-sorry," he added, tapping on the white 'C' key in front of Claudia. "That one."

She tried to mimic him, but she pressed D instead of C instead. So, he pressed C again.

"Can you color code these or something?'

Adrien thought about it for a moment, but soon realized just how cruel that would be to his poor piano. Baby grand Bösendorfer or not, this thing was practically the closest thing he'd ever have to a child. His poor, helpless, 419kg child that he couldn't bear to mutilate with stickers or paints or whatever his old piano teacher had done to her own piano, bless the thing's nonexistent heart. Adrien drew up a diagram on the bottom of the paper instead.

"Okay, so basically, the two black keys here show you where the 'C D E' is, and the three black keys are 'F', 'G', 'A', and 'B'. And so the cycle repeats again." He played through a C major scale, singing along to it. "C D E F G A B C~"

Adrien realized in moving up the scale that he was now leaning into Claudia. His eyes flickered between looking into hers and then at her lips, and then Adrien sheepishly moved away again.

Claudia readied her hands over where it seemed Adrien once had his, but again, they were ever so slightly off. Gently, he held onto her wrists and moved them into place. "There you go," he said, trying and failing to make the moment less awkward. She sat still for a moment, contemplating and probably muttering to herself about how much of a dumb idiot he was and other things he knew she didn't mean.

Claudia went through the notes slowly, as if she was worries they'd change places and pitches if she didn't act carefully enough. She sang along too, just like Adrien had done, albeit much more quietly and with less confidence.

"C, D, E, F...." 

Her thumb hovered over the G, wondering if she should let her right pointer finger take its place.

"Go on," he said, hoping it would assure her. 

"Shut up! G, A, B, C, I fucking did it!" Claudia threw her hands up, glaring at him.

"Hey, we can stop if you want, I'm not forcing you to do this or anything."

She was silent for a moment, embarrassed by something she wouldn't dare reveal. "No. I'm not stupid, I can learn this." She even tried to prove herself by starting the C major scale from a lower key, shifting closer to Adrien to the point where their hips were side-by-side. Unfortunately, she hadn't gone an entire octave down.

"C, D... wait.."

"You started on 'G', my love."

Claudia got pissy again, scowling at him. "I'm learning, okay!? Shut the fuck up."

"And you're doing great at it! I'm really proud of you," he smiled. "Hey- You're doing much better than I did at my first lesson."

Of course, his first lesson was when he was around four, and even that was a lie anyways, but Adrien had learned so far that the one thing Claudia needed the most (and, ironically, the one thing she consistently got the most flustered and mad about) was being complimented. 

"Okay, so 'G' then." Claudia played the key with her pointer finger, humming after the piano played its pitch. "Then it would be... 'G', 'A'... 'B C'... 'D E F G'!" But then she hesitated, because playing through it didn't sound the same. Claudia plunked out the G scale again, before she had two fingers stuck on F and G as if she had reinvented the mordent.

"Ah, here—" Adrien took her hand again, moving one finger up to F♯. "That should fix it for you."

A lightbulb seemed to go off in her head, so to speak. "Oh! So that's what the black keys are for!" Claudia played it through one more time, finally completing the G major scale.

"Yeah! Exactly! You have two scales down already!" Without thinking, Adrien caught Claudia in a side-hug, unable to stop himself from grinning ear to ear. "See? I told you it's not so hard!"

But, yet again, they were distracting themselves. Adrien let go of her, as much as it probably hurt to say he did. 

"Uhm, sorry," he said, tugging at his shirt collar. "Teacher-student relationships are probably, uh... not a boundary we should cross. I should keep this professional."

For what it was worth, he got a solid eye-roll and giggle out of his girlfriend.

Even that in itself was probably distracting to him, her smile enrapturing his mind and making it hard to think about anything else. 

Claudia was back to fiddling around with the piano again, upon which she came across a familiar strain completely be accident: ‘E F♯ G C’. It was the start of Autumn Leaves.

The idea of teaching it to her almost seemed too good to be true. Adrien got ahead of himself again, already imagining playing a duet with her on piano, and playing their song no less. He quickly mapped out the right chords in his head and cycled through them to refamiliarize himself: Am7, D7, Gmaj7, Cmaj7, F♯m7♭5, B7, Em.

“Play that again,” he asked. She repeated it, albeit a little stunned by his enthusiasm: ‘‘E F♯ G C’. 

“Okay- Uhm— Now do that again, but move it all one key down.” Adrien demonstrated it himself: ‘D E F♯ B’. “And then do that, two more times.” And so, it was followed up with ‘C D E A’, then ‘B C♯ D♯ G’.

Claudia paused for a moment, trying to tap lightly enough on the keys as she practiced it that any mistake would go unheard. She scrunched her face up the way she always did when she was annoyed, albeit she was much quieter about it this time around, not really shouting about it and instead just staring at Adrien’s still hands as if she wanted them to tell her the answer themselves.

“Can you do it slower?”

“Oh! Sure. -Here, we can play it together.” So, Adrien played just as before, albeit watching Claudia’s hands this time rather than his own. The notes came out slowly, but not hesitantly; It was as if the two voices of the piano were speaking in a dramatic attempted unison, every break between pitches meant to enunciate the clarity in their ‘words’ rather than show uncertainty. It was after going through it a few times, each one slightly faster than the last, that Claudia finally recognized the tune. She just looked over to him with this sort of self-satisfied half smile forming on her lips, the sight of which was so wonderful Adrien could swear it nearly knocked him off the piano bench.

“I’ll, uh- I can add the chords onto it this time. Just keep playing the melody, alright?” Holy shit, holy fuck. It was small, it was simple, but they were already going to play a sort of duet. Claudia was going to be playing piano, with him, playing their song, the song that made him think of her beautiful face and beautiful hair and beautiful everything and the song that would always make him think of her until the very day he died. And they were going to play it together, and it would be theirs!

Claudia started the tune off.

And it was Adrien's fault, in all honestly, to forget to play a closing chord. He hadn't expected Claudia to do that—to finish the melody.

"...Did I do it right?" 

Well, no, it was 'F♯A G E'. But that part didn't really matter to him, and inferring stepwise motion is a mistake even intermediate players do.

"Pretty much," he said, still a bit fascinated by it. "How'd you—"

"I bought a CD of Autumn Leaves," she confessed, looking down at the piano again. "I listen to it, like, every day. ...I'm kind of ashamed I didn't recognize the piece instantly, honestly."

She listened to it. Every. Day. 

If Adrien teaching Claudia was a roundabout, complicated way to tell her he loved her... perhaps this was Claudia admitting she loved him back.

"You do?" he asked, hoping she'd say it again, just as she did before."

Claudia laughed a little, mistaking it for dumbfoundedness. "Yes, every day, did you not hear me?"

Chapter Text

“God, I’m so fucked.”

“…Why?”

“I have some literary analysis paper due tomorrow that I haven’t even started. I don’t even remember what I need to do it on— Something about French fables or whatever.”

“Ah. Sucks for you, I guess.”

“I think it’s just like, analyzing the fable from a critical lens? Nothing too complex, I just… I can’t settle on choosing one.”

“Damn. I mean, I’d help you out, but I probably suck at decisions as much as you do.”

“…I mean, I could do the Fox and the—Wait, shit, that’s Aesop. …Maybe I go with a Perreault story and not a La Fontaine? Ugh— What’s one fairy tale you know?”

“Just any?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Cendrillon.”

Figures. That one was basic anyways, so he wouldn’t get any credit for originality. Though, at the same time, maybe not? He remembered hearing more conversation in class about Fontaine fables, like The City Mouse and the Country Mouse "through a Post-Industrial lens" and the like. So maybe Cendrillon wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Okay, Cendrillon." He opened a document on his laptop, ready to type. "...What the hell do I talk about?"

Claudia shied away when he looked back to her for more. 

"Hey, you're the one in this class, not me! I'm not gonna have any smart ideas or whatever!"

"Neither am I!"

"I don't even know how to do an analysis!"

"Well—Like— You just gotta look at— what's in the uh, the story, and—“

"Okay.."

"And talk about why it's there!"

"...It's there because they decided to fuckin’ write that, what do you mean?"

"No, I mean- I have to find some part in Cendrillon and talk about what it would be like if it wasn't there."

"Oh," she remarked. "...That's stupid."

"Yeah, exactly."

There was nothing worth saying for a good minute or two. Adrien started contemplating whether this assignment was worth the trouble at all.

Claudia leaned over towards his laptop.

"Talk about her being pretty."

"Hm?"

"...Isn't the whole point the prince likes her 'cause she's pretty? She gets a fancy dress from a tree and shit, but if she was ugly like her stepsisters, then even the fancy dress wouldn't get the prince to like her."

"...That's a good point, actually. Oh—And I could talk about how their physical appearance is tied to whether or not they're a good person! The ugly stepsisters are mean because they're ugly, Cendrillon is nice because she's pretty, and so on so forth!" Adrien's fingers tapped like sparks of lightning against the keyboard, putting his thoughts into a proper outline. "Wait..." He stopped. "Is that part of the original tale or just a modern addition?"

"Dunno. What you're saying is smart, so I don't think it matters."

"Hah, yep. That's French Lit for you."

"...It's cool to be able to see this though. 'ts a helluva lot more interesting than anything I ever had to do in my school, and that's even after I got put into the smart classes."

"Smart classes?"

"Lydia was on some advanced track for stuff. I went to collect her homework and stuff on her behalf, and then it just got easier to take her classes for her."

"That was nice of you."

"It was selfish. I was bored as fuck at home 'cause I got suspended all the time for getting into fights. Lydia's stuff was actually a little interesting... and I felt bad for her so I stuck it out for the shitty parts too."

"Yeah. And I'm saying that was nice of you."

"...Whatever. Shut up."

"If you say so." He stopped talking, just as she'd asked, focusing all of his attention on his work. ...It didn't take long for her to change her mind.

"I take it back, you can like... talk if you want, I guess."

He just smiled back, and brought a hand up to ruffle her matted, frizzy hair.

Claudia flinched—but it was a little less of a flinch than she used to do. 

“I mean, it makes sense why it would be written that way, I guess,” she mumbled. “…Why would a prince ever wanna marry someone.. ugly?”

Adrien just watched her, once-typing hands now motionless, biting his lip in a silent disagreement. “Who knows,” he replied, still not wanting to take his eyes off of her. 

Chapter Text

Lucky Lucky Ladybug had scheduled a fan meet-and-greet for herself (and, unusually all of them were only for herself) the next day, so Bugbite was obligated to attend. —Well, she'd justified it to herself as her technically "crashing" it, but she'd agreed to behave herself for it, so it was for all intents and purposes just her filling in for Lucky. 

Speaking of the event, they'd made sure to revamp their costumes the night before, Pawltergiest especially. Adrien thought the name was cute, and he decided to lean into it—shortening himself to maybe around 1.4 meters, covering his face with a lime green bandanna and a black hood, really trying to balance the line between loveable rogue and adorable mascot. He really wanted to get a better shot at having people like him, so he was going to be the designated cutie out of the two. He much preferred it over possibly being the "pretty" one (since he knew very well what being forced to be pretty for the fans was like), so he found himself liking the new body pretty quickly.

...Of course, when she found out you could drastically change your height, Bugbite decided to make herself a whopping 2 meters tall. Pawltergiest had tried to inform her that she'd be unable to fit through any doors without ducking at that height, but she just laughed it off and then bumped her nose on a doorframe immediately after.

Most of the fans that had come to the meet-and-greet, as Pawltergeist quickly realized, were little kids; Some were maybe 13 at the oldest, but most were around 5 to 9 years old. The first in line—some kid who looked like she'd eagerly laid her Lucky Lucky Ladybug costume out on the side of her bed the night before—seemed hesitant to approach either of them.

"Hey, it's okay," Paw said, extending one of his padded hands. "I'm not scary, I promise."

Lucky Lucky Ladybug had taken Chat Noir to only one fan meetup before in his previous career, and nobody even came to take a picture with him even as a joke. For a moment, as the child's mother eyes him suspiciously with one hand on her daughter's shoulder, he worried it would be the same way.

But the little girl approached him.

"Are you Chat Noir?"

Paw was surprised people even bothered to remember his name. "No," he smiled underneath his bandanna. "I'm Pawlie." Flexing his paws, he showed off the part of his costume he prized the most—His lime green toe beans would squeak when they were pressed. The little girl lit up instantly.

"You're so cute!" she said, immediately embracing him. "Mommy, can I take a picture with him instead?"

Pawltergeist felt himself tear up a little. He returned the hug for the photo, and the little girl seemed genuinely happy that he did. God, Gabriel really could've made him market toys or candy and his life could've been like this instead, couldn't it? To send her off, Pawltergeist offered her a high five, and his paw squeaked when she returned it. Then, the girl and her mother went on their way. 

Bugbite, as Pawltergeist expected, had attracted a crowd of little boys, all of whom where trying to climb on her. As soon as she bent down to talk to one, another latched onto her arm like a monkey. Still, it seemed like she was having fun—She was practically glowing.

"Up top, little man!" she said, high-fiving one of the smaller ones. "You wanna see my pincers?"

The crowd of boys grew silent, creeping closer to her. She bared her teeth, growling a bit for them, before opening her mouth to clack her pincers a few times; The little mob of boys erupted in hoots and hollers of amazement. ...For the record, Paw wasn't exactly sure how she had beetle pincers fitting in her mouth, but he wasn't going to question it if people liked it.

"Hey! I'm Pawlie!" he greeted another kid in line brave enough to meet him. "Wanna see something cool?"

The little girl—blonde, with her hair in pigtails—looked back at her dad and the camera in his hand. 

"Okay," she said. Pawltergeist tapped her on the cheek with his hand, and she suddenly had a green pawprint on her face.

"I'm a stamp!" he exclaimed, before looking up at her father and saying "It's washable, don't worry."

The little girl touched her face, watching the ink come off on her fingers. "..Can you do my arm next?" she asked. The line behind her also seemed to find it fascinating, hollering out a slew of "Me next!" and "I want that too!"

This was, by far, the most fun he had ever had at an event like this, as Chat or as Adrien. He really, really hoped Lucky Lucky Ladybug would stay on vacation forever.

Chapter Text

It had become a routine to listen to jazz while the two of them made dinner. Adrien had put a lot of work into showing Claudia the classics, and over the years she’d grown to appreciate it (or maybe, as she’d joke to him occasionally, being married to a jazz enthusiast just eventually wore her down). She knew Night in Tunisia by heart now, and it had become one of the many songs she tended to listen to while making pasta for dinner—Tonight, it was spaghetti carbonara.

Adrien walked into the kitchen, watching his wife intently watching the pancetta in the frying pan and trying to make sure she didn’t burn it like last time. Claudia felt his hand lightly tap against her ass.

“Hey!” She turned around to pretend-glare at him, but Adrien was smirking into his mug of black tea and pretending he hadn’t done anything. “Scoundrel,” Claudia just huffed, going back to watching the pancetta. When he knew she wasn’t looking, Adrien instead wrapped and arm around her waist, giving her a light kiss on the head. He’d grown taller in the few years since they met, so it had become the norm to kiss her head rather than her cheek like he used to do.

“You started on the sauce already?” He asked, setting down his mug. 

“On the counter, just haven’t added in the pasta water to it yet,” she replied. “Or mixed it, for that matter.”

Adrien found the bowl right where she said it was, and decided to prepare for working with the food. He always had a habit of taking his rings off to wash his hands—just the wedding rings now, he’d given up his Miraculous in exchange for a life like this—and rolling up his sleeves even when he didn’t need to. Claudia wondered if it was just because he liked to show off the tattoos on his arms, if for nobody but himself. It was a mess of unrelated images on his forearms, most of which tattooed for aesthetic sake; Except, of course, for the black cat on his left arm. Plagg, specifically. 

“Xocoyotl!” He called back to the living room. “We’re almost done with dinner!”

The groans of a typical teenager echoed from the couch. “I don’t even EAT human food!”

Claudia turned around, shaking her spatula at her fake daughter. “Xocoyotl Perreault, you drank nothing but wine for five years. You’re eating this carbonara pasta or else!”

Xocoyotl slumped over In her seat, making a show of the fact that she was turning up the volume on her iPhone 6s. Of course, Xocoyotl would eat and always did; She just had a flair for the dramatic that seemed to parallel her mother’s. 

“Tch, that damn kid. Did you hear what happened at school today, Eddí?” She asked.

“No, I didn’t.” Adrien was busy draining the pasta, holding onto the oven mitts to do so rather than actually wearing them. “She almost get suspended again?”

“Worse.” Claudia rolled her eyes. “She got sent to the principal’s office because she was changing hair colors in class again. Right in front of everyone, too.”

Adrien shrugged. “I mean, gods will be gods, no?” He knew Claudia would give his side a little backhand at such a notion, but he only smiled at it. “Joking, joking. I’ll talk to her about it after dinner, darling.”

“Oh no- I already did,” his wife muttered. “She better not do it again. —I would’ve never even thought about it at her age, I swear. Showing off with magic tricks for my little friends, shapeshifting in broad daylight.” She stopped for a moment, both to turn down the heat on the pancetta and to reflect for a moment. “Was I like that at her age, Eddí? I was never like that.”

“Darling, at that age I was still four years off from meeting you.” He blew some air past his lips before he said it, causing his mustache to puff up a bit. “—But no, I get what you mean, we were never like that.”

“Ay! Exactly! At this rate she’ll be starting a cult behind our backs!”

Adrien noticed their daughter was indeed, not listening to her music, and was instead peeking out from behind the doorway and intently listening to their conversation. 

“Yes, mi amor, she’s absolutely out of control,” he said. “…As out of control as I am for you~” He wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist, pulling her in closer. “With an untamable, fiery lust!”

In an instant, Claudia knew what he was doing. “Oh, Eduardo, you savage beast~!” she exclaimed, pulling him in for a passionate, overdramatic kiss. Both of them heard Xocoyotl retch and make other noises of disgust from beyond the door. 

When their daughter inevitably ran away, they still took a minute to stand there in each other's arms; They had made a habit of no longer pulling away so suddenly, like they had done so many times in their youth. 

Claudia admired her husband's tattoos, his mustache, that smile on his face: He was happy in this life in a way she knew he could never have been prior. This glow of confidence, a happiness with being in his own skin. His skin would soon start to keep the crinkles he got in his face when he laughed, and she smiled at seeing such a future unfold. 

Adrien admired his wife's gray hairs, few and far between but so, so beautiful. The bristles on her face, her still-crooked smile, this new and beautiful twinkle in her eyes, it was as human and as wonderful as the day he first met her. He was growing older and more human with her every single day, and he couldn't enjoy it more.

"I don't say this enough," he said, intertwining a hand with his, marveling at their matching rings. "Even if I say it every day. —I think meeting you genuinely saved me."

"It saved me too, Eddí," she laughed. "We saved each other."

He smiled, taking yet another look at her wonderful face, a face he'd never grow tired of. "I love you more than anything."

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

It was Adrien Agresté’s wedding day... Not like he particularly gave a shit.

It was late at night, in the interim between the hideous ordeal that was the ceremony and the reception that was to occur the next day. Of course, anyone in their right mind would balk at the idea of extending the entire wedding across two days, whether for ego or to demonstrate a particular level of wealth or influence, but the media had eaten the idea up like nuts. Marinette especially had been insisted that this was the most romantic thing to do, to give each part of the wedding its own day to shine. 

…But that wasn’t the reason Adrien had insisted upon it. And it especially wasn’t the reason he had put off consummation of the marriage.

Giddy as any newlywed should usually be, Adrien exchanged his tuxedo for a casual green sweater and chinos; He donned reading glasses he had left alone for years; He slipped off his Miraculous and set it on his nightstand. And, taking one last look at his old room before it would inevitably be overrun by a second person…. Adrien slipped out the window and down a ladder, just like old times.

He had done it! After two years of agony, he had done it! His contract to happiness had been fulfilled, his debt to destiny paid in full. Adrien couldn’t help but shout with an inappropriate joy as he ran through the streets like some sort of madman, barreling over stopped cars and through groups of passerby, across street corner after street corner after street corner until he reached Place de Bastille. He knew how to get to the café from there; He’d etched the memory deep into his heart.

And at 23:00 in the evening, Claudia Perreault got an unexpected costumer at the Cafe L’Automne. 

“Adrien—“

He dashed over to give her the kiss he’d been saving for her since the very day they parted. Even as he had to cut it off to let himself catch his breath, Adrien still kept himself within a kiss’s reach, just so he’d be ready for another.

“I- I missed you so much, Claudia,” he panted, marveling at the sight of her once more. Her hair had been dyed this wonderful fuchsia, and in an instant Adrien wished his wedding had been filled with nothing but. Fuchsia bouquets, a fuchsia pocket square, fuchsia bowtie and fuchsia altar. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

Claudia checked her watch. “I’d say it was probably, like… two years, give or take. Maybe less.”

Adrien pushed the counter door open, taking Claudia by the hand and pulling her out into the dining area of the café, twirling her past cleaned tables and stacked chairs. “God, Claudia, you’re as perfect as the day I lost you! If only-“

Adrien stopped for a moment, then remembered the other ring still on his hand. He pulled their hands together and leaned in to give Claudia another kiss, but his first love was not as easily fooled as Marinette was... And Claudia had taken the ring long before Adrien could remove it himself.

“If only what?” She asked, eyeing the ring distrustfully. Adrien hoped she hadn’t been paying attention to the local news lately, though perhaps it was a bit too late to hope such a thing.

Adrien sighed, before pulling her in and trying again, this time with words and not actions: “If only you were the woman I exchanged rings with today,” he spoke, caressing Claudia’s cheek. “I’ll forever wish that was the case.”

“Uhm- I’m sorry— Today?!” Claudia extended an arm to force her ex-lover further apart from her, eyebrows knit together in exasperation. “Oh, god, Adrien,” she muttered, pinching the bridge with her nose, “How many hours ago did you get married?”

“Well, maybe like, eight or nine.” Adrien took his wedding band back from Claudia, only to slip it into his pocket. “-But it was a necessary sacrifice! You remember, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know, but within the same 24 hours?” Even when she was annoyed at him, she was still so beautiful. “That’s really the most damning part, Adrien. You couldn’t bear to wait a day?”

“God, no. -Hell, I’m disappointed you don’t offer catering, I would’ve had you be there with me if you did.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s every woman’s dream to be catering for her ex’s wedding. Right.” Claudia tried to walk back to the cafe’s counter, only for Adrien to grab her by the hand.

“They wouldn’t have to know…” he smiled, spinning her around again with just as much passion in that single move as he’d probably give for the entire of his first dance with his wife the day after. 

Claudia just rolled her eyes at him, her lips pursed together. “Until they found you cornering me in the bathroom, that is.”

“Oh, baby, I would never~”

“Corner me in the bathroom, or cheat on your fiancée during your own wedding?”

Adrien paused for a moment. “The former,” he sighed. “Just the former. …It would be to one of the bedrooms that I’d try to whisk you away.”

Claudia just shook her head at the notion, exasperated. As romantic as this man was, it was apparently in all the wrong places. “I don’t know what I’ll do with you, Eddí…”

“You could always ma—“ Nope! Can’t say that anymore! You already are! “…You could hear me out. Let me visit every once in a while, let me stay the night, perhaps…”

“Is there such a thing as aiding and abetting in an adultery?” She muttered to herself. “Or would I not count if I’m the mistress?”

“She’s the mistress, sweetheart, not you,” he lied. “The rings don’t really mean anything,” he lied again. “I want to make it work with you even despite these circumstances.”

“…Right.” Claudia rolled her eyes again. “You can start by going back home, Eddí. Give it at least a month, okay?”

A month. Yeah, he could wait a month.

Chapter Text

"Sometimes I worry we fucked it all up by doing this," Claudia groaned, smoke falling out the corner of her lips. It was a cold October night, and yet she was out on the rooftop with only a bra to cover her upper body. Adrien could see the underwire was snapped and poking out of the fabric, like barbs on a thicket... if thickets only had a barb or two each, that is. He just sat there silently, clutching onto the coat that Claudia had rejected minutes prior.

After her next drag of nicotine, Claudia threw her head back to the sky, not caring that the smoke would fall back over her face the minute she let it go. "Maybe we were never meant to do any of this to begin with," she said. "Maybe we're siblings."

"Siblings?"

"Well— fuck, not literally," Claudia grumbled. "But I never had a younger brother, y'know? So what if you're just my little brother to me, and then we just fucked it all up by, y'know..." She threw her hands out, both to gesture and to flick ash of her cigarette. "I wouldn't know the damn difference, my only sibling only ever talked to me twice and then she was dead."

Adrien, not really able to think when he looked in her eyes, just shrugged. "I mean, I wouldn't mind if you were my brother," he said.

"No, Eddí— That's weird. You get that that's wrong, right?" She tucked one knee in closer to her—always her right one, then maybe the left if she wanted to tuck in both. "We're weird for this. We don't even know what our feelings are."

"...I'm pretty sure I do." 

There just had to be something about the way he was enraptured by her presence, the way she seemed to shimmer like a black hole against the blinding light of the city, the way Claudia drew him in and offered him comfort and reassurance and affection that made him sure it had to, had to be love. And if he was wrong, God help him, he'd wonder what about him made it so that he couldn't love something that deserved it so much as Claudia did.

"Well you're wrong," she said, not even willing to look at him. "You don't know."

Chapter Text

I would rather not go 

Back to the old house 

There's too many bad memories 

Too many memories there

I would love to go 

Back to the old house 

But I never will 

I never will 

I never will

Chapter Text

Premise: According to Wikipedia, “The Newlywed Game is an American television game show that puts newly married couples against each other in a series of revealing question rounds to determine how well the spouses know or do not know each other.” Of course, to make things more fun for myself, I’m having both our favorite idiots give answers for each, rather than only having one answer per question. This would likely take place in the Exile Ending, but for consistency, Adrien is just called Adrien.

Also: Yes, I know not all of them explicitly state the placard answers. I only added them in if they serviced the joke, the majority of them just happened to do that.

Who’s your partner’s Celebrity Crush?

C: Oh, this’ll be easy. 

A: Well, it’s me, isn’t it? [He kisses his wife’s hand] Who else—

[Placard flips around to reveal the answer Claudia gave was ‘Ryan Gosling’]

A: THAT’S MY CELEBRITY CRUSH!!

C: That was the first one that came to mind, I don’t know shit about celebrities!

A: Well now you just gave my answer away, didn’t you?

[Placard flips around to reveal the answer Adrien gave was also ‘Ryan Gosling’]

What’s your partner’s favorite sex position?

C: Cowgirl.

A: Anything where she’s in control.

C: wh- No, you should’ve said ‘doggy’.

A: Is that actually it? You never-

C: No, no. But if you had said it, I would’ve acted like that was true. It- It would’ve been funny, right? 

A: Oh.. [to Karra, the ‘host’] Can I change my answer?

C: You can’t fucking change it now, stupid—

[Karra stares into the camera like she’s in The Office. She thought this game would be funny.]

Who says “I’m sorry” first after having a fight?

[Both start laughing]

A: It’s both, right?

C: Both.

A: Sometimes we even say it in sync. It’s like couple’s telepathy.

C: And yet you always need me to make a list of what to buy for dinner every week.

What’s your partner’s biggest sexual fantasy?

[They exchange looks that seem half like they’re considering telling a dark joke, and half like they’re about to share the death of a loved one]

C: Did you lie on this one?

A: [embarrassed, looking away] …No.

C: Damn. …Okay then. This is just one of them but it used to involve chopping his head off and [What happens for about ten minutes is non-diegetic censoring of Claudia’s words, black bar over her mouth and everything. The few bits that are uncensored seem to be more in line with a cooking tutorial, what with all of the knives and the eating.]

C: …But of course, things have changed since then, we’re a bit more… ‘normal’ now.

[Adrien is leaning over one side of the couch, hand over his bright red face and legs crossed together to hide something. Apparently he’s not immune to it even when it’s just being spoken.]

[Placard flips around to reveal ‘TL;DR Sexual Cannibalism’ as the answer]

C: And what’s mine?

A: [mumbling] …Me being happy.

[Placard flips around to reveal ‘My darling husband being happy’ as the answer. Normally, Adrien would gush over how cute this is, but he’s a little preoccupied with flexing his quadricep*]

What does your partner love the most about your personality?

C: [smirking] He thinks I’m feisty.

A: Oh-kay. That is playing into harmful stereotypes about race and ethnicity, which I refuse to uphold—

C: [leans closer to him] Then how did you say it? That I’m ‘upfront’? ‘Honest’? ‘Willing to speak my mind’?

[Placard flips around to reveal Adrien’s answer was, verbatim, ‘Upfront, Honest, and willing to speak her mind’]

A: Fine then. I’ll guess mine. You enjoy my thoughtfulness and compassionate nature?

C: [grinning like an idiot] Nope.

[Placard flips around to reveal Claudia’s answer was ‘Dat ass’ (sic.)]

What’s the weirdest place your partner has had sex?

A: Her roof.

C: My roof.

[Placards flip around in sync to reveal this exactly. I should probably mention that, in your head, you should be imagining the Family Feud answer reveal sound effect for each of these.]

What is the thing they're most likely to end up in jail for?

A: I’m not sure now, but when we first met…? God, everything.

C: Okay, they didn’t let me write down ‘everything’, you’ll have to be more specific.

A: Right…. You told me you had a warrant at one point, right?

C: I— Well, yes, but when you phrase it like that, you—

A: Shoplifting and Larceny!

[Placard flips around to reveal Claudia’s answer was ‘Stealing shit’, so he’s technically right]

C: For him, it would probably be murder.

A: You go to prison for murder, Claudia. Not jail.

C: You go to jail first! [Again, to Karra] Everyone goes to jail at first, right?

[Karra shrugs. As a kwami, she doesn’t know. No jail could ever hold her long enough anyways]

C: I swear you were genuinely plotting to murder your dad at one point.

A: [Apprehensive] ‘Plotting’ is a very strong word.

C: It was a very strong thing you were doing.

A: I didn’t write down ‘murder’. That’s all I’ll say.

C: Fine then. ‘Being Chat Noir’.

[Placard flips around to reveal Adrien’s answer was ‘Whatever Ladybug could realistically frame Chat Noir for’]

How does your partner like their eggs cooked?

A: Oh gosh, when’s the last time we had eggs?

C: This morning, Eddí. We made them together.

A: We did? …How long ago did we write these answers down, though?

C: The same day. 

A: [Currently being what one can only call an ‘AuDHD icon’] Really? Hm. How did you cook them….

C: He likes his over-easy on toast. Unless Croque Madames count as a way to serve eggs, in which case it’s with those.

A: Oh! With hot sauce! I remember the hot sauce!

C: Yes, but how did I cook them?

A: [Guilty over being an inattentive husband when in reality he’s just scatterbrained] Gosh, how did you….

[Placards flip around to reveal Adrien and Claudia answered ‘Over-easy on Toast’ and ‘Scrambled with Hot Sauce’ respectively]

Who cried during the proposal?

A: She did.

C: I also punched him.

A: Wait, which one are we talking about again—

C: Wouldn’t it be the first one?

A: …You didn’t say yes to the first one.

C: But I cried, didn’t I? 

If your partner could have dinner with any author, dead or alive, who would it be?

[Claudia eyes Adrien knowingly.]

C: You know, I feel like this one was definitely asked with you in mind.

A: [Physically restraining himself from jumping at the opportunity to talk about literature] Mhm. Yep.

C: I wouldn’t be surprised if he listed, like, 50 or so. Did you?

A: I could’ve listed 50?

C: I- Well— [She laughs] Forgive me for this, I chose the one you’ve talked to me about the most. I’m gonna have to go with ‘Proust’.

[Placard flips around to reveal what one would guess to be a condensed list of only 35 authors, none of which you would particularly care for, but highlights include Dostoyevsky, Kafka, and, indeed, Marcel Proust.]

C: I remembered you talking about the Madeline cake in that one book of his.

A: Yes! In Recherche’s first volume, the narrator— [He sits back down, biting his lip] Uhm. Anyway. You probably went with Sylvia Plath, didn’t you?

C: Wait, is that how you pronounce it? Fuck.

[Placard flips around to reveal ’Sylvia Plathe’ as Claudia’s answer]

What’s a language your partner wishes they could speak fluently?

A: [Triumphant] SCRAMBLED!

C: …Huh? -Oh. The eggs.

A: See! I told you! [He grabs her and starts to shake her] I remembered!

C: Yes, yes, good job. [She kisses him on the cheek] We’re on languages now, though.

A: Right, right. You’d go with Nahautl, right?

C: Either that or whatever dialect of Spanish my dad spoke back in Mexico.

[Karra starts sniffling tearing up behind the “camera”]

C: Aww… fine. It was Nahautl, you’re right.

[Placard flips around to reveal the answer Claudia gave was ‘Classical Nahautl’. Karra is absolutely beside herself, bawling offscreen.]

C: it’s alright, though. Karra helps me get closer to it every day. I just wish I’d learned it earlier in life.

K: [sniffling some more] S-shut up, I love you too!

A: You two are so sweet together.

C: Anyway, you’d go with Latin, right?

A: No, not Latin. I’m still pretty close to fluency. I’m about B2 still, though I was at C1 at one point. Think older.

C: God, what the fuck is older than Latin?

[Placard flips around to reveal the answer Adrien gave was ‘Proto-Indo-European’. Below it, as if it’s a footnote, ‘Or Phoenician’ is also scribbled in.]

What’s your partner’s favorite thing to get at a coffee shop?

A: [Unsure] ….Money?

[Claudia bursts out laughing.]

A: Well, we technically run a coffee shop, so—

C: No, no, that’s not why I’m laughing!

[Placard flips around to reveal the answer Claudia gave was ‘Paid’.]

C: [Snorts so loud from laughing she scares herself a bit] Okay, okay. I’ll have to remember what you usually have me make for you. Give me a moment.

A: Take your time.

C: …Wait. [She points at him] You probably gave some sarcastic answer too, didn’t you?

A: [Smiling and looking away] I tried to.

C: Okay, so it has something to do with me, then, doesn’t it? Hm…. Well, with how many windows there are in the shop, ‘laid’ is definitely out of the question.

A: Ooh, good idea, that one would’ve been funny.

C: Kiss. Something to do with kissing.

[Placard flips around to reveal the answer Adrien gave was ‘Kisses from my beautiful wife’.]

C: You fuckin’ sap.

A: What? It’s true.

What’s your partner’s favorite comfort food?

C: [Deadpan and as serious as a funeral, before the question can even be fully asked] Pussy.

[Adrien is now the one who bursts out laughing. While he does so, his Placard flips around to reveal his answer was ‘Claudia’, as he was trying to give himself at least a bit of plausible deniability. Claudia did not give an answer to this, as she knew that she wouldn’t be able to top this anyways.]

And, finally: If you had to choose an actor to play your spouse, who would it be?

A: [Still reeling after the last question] …Ryan Gosling.

C: Ryan Gosling.

[The placards flip around for the final time. One again, they both simply say ‘Ryan Gosling’.]

Chapter Text

There was something addictive to the way he would hold her. The way his hand held onto her thigh like he was about to die; Looking into her eyes like she was the only cure. Perhaps she was lucky, she supposed, that the person she’d seen look at her like this was someone like him. 

Does he even realize that he’s using her? …If she’s the only one who feels that way, is it even real? He sure seemed genuine about it, with every finger that pulled against her skin, every kiss, every chemical. Hell, he probably was entirely genuine about it, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be something fake about it.. Right? 

”You really are beautiful,” he said—he would always say—with that strange look in his eyes. Claudia supposed it was a look of adoration. No, that wasn’t all of it. It was worship. Did she really deserve to be worshipped? Did anything? 

“Thanks… I guess.” She planted a kiss on his forehead. He didn’t grip onto her the way she deserved to be: He was clinging to her like she was a precious jewel and not… well, what she was. Someone else needed to be filling his hands. Someone else needed to be the person tearing through her with their fingers. …Because he wasn’t tearing, really. Not even close.  

Adrien started to place another constellation of kisses all over Claudia’s stomach, hips, legs… “Do you not believe me?” He asked, resting his chin on the pouch of her abdomen right below her navel. “I really do think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Claudia. Truly.” 

Finally, something she could pick apart. 

“I don’t know if I could really call myself a ‘woman’,” Claudia sighed, running a lazy hand through Adrien’s hair. She was only 19, really—20 in less than half a year—and she felt that was a word she still needed to grow into; If she ever grew into it, that is. If it was ever the right word to begin with. 

Adrien laughed at himself, the sound short and quiet as it passed his lips. “The most beautiful man, then. Or person, or even the most beautiful thing. That’s not the important part. I’m willing to call you whatever you like, because the sentiment will still be true.” 

A light touch from Adrien’s hand suddenly caused all the muscles on her back to tense up; She balled up her fist in Adrien’s hair, perhaps even a little too hard. 

“You know,” he added, “There’s a word I think you’d like: ‘grotesque’. You’ve heard of it before, haven’t you?” 

Claudia nodded. Grotesque meant a lot of things; In English, it carried connotations of the gross and gory, of slime and of mold and the generally unpleasant or unsightly. In French, it instead meant something ludicrous or strange, sometimes even ridiculous. 

“What’s interesting about the word is its etymology. It comes from the Italian ‘grottesca’, or ‘of the cave’, and referred to a very particular style of ancient Roman paintings, specifically a style of ornamentation on frescoes.” Adrien kept his other hand still on the back her thigh, perhaps holding on a little tighter now. “For a while, it meant something much closer to ‘extravagant’ or ‘highly detailed’. And, in my own opinion… you could perhaps say even ‘gorgeous’.” 

“Are you saying you think I’m grotesque?” Claudia smiled, before Adrien pulled her in closer again. 

“Maybe. I’m just wondering if you would prefer I call you that instead. That way you can always interpret the word in the way you like, and I can interpret it in mine.” 

Claudia thought for a minute about it. Surely, in some sense of the word, there was something grotesque about all of this. She was ‘grotesque’ as in unpleasant… he was ‘grotesque’ as in extravagant… And together? ‘Grotesque’ as in strange. It was easier to accept the way he looked at her now, though, for some odd reason; Now that it conjured the image of him worshipping a statue of Medusa rather than one of a goddess. Even if it was wrong, she liked the idea that he adored her as a monster than as an idol. That, in her eyes, felt actually genuine. Maybe it was the idea that she inspired a little fear in him, too, that sold it. 

Chapter Text

There was a certain time of evening every December where the light snowfall would slow to a stop. This, of course, was much different than the phenomenon of the snow stopping entirely for the rest of the day. Rather, it was an intermission of sorts, a lull between soft showers of crystalline snowfall as the city around them would retreat back to their spaces for a final meal. It could be compared to a short death, in a way—the orangey glow of the city lighting the path of Lethe, the passing cars and buzz of Paris foot traffic falling slowly into a silence as the murmurs of Hypnos took no prisoners. 

None except two, at least. 

"Or we could go on a bar date!" Adrien chimed, holding onto Claudia's hand as if it was a natural extension of his own arm. "Wouldn't that be nice? The music, the drinks, the atmosphere~"

"God, Adrien, it'll probably be awful," she laughed.

"But what if it's wonderful instead?" Without really even thinking of it, He picked Claudia up by the hips and spun her around in the middle of the street, no doubt causing a few people to turn their heads and stare. "I'm sure it'll be wonderful if I'm with you!"

"Ack—! Eddí! Put me down!!"

No matter how many times he did it, Claudia wondered just how the hell he was able to raise someone over his head, especially considering how scrawny he was. ...He'd probably say some corny shit like his strength came from his devotion to her if she asked, though. 

As soon as she requested it, Adrien set her back down on the ground, hands still lingering on her hips for the briefest moment, maybe to cherish her presence or just to make sure she stayed close for as long as she'd allow. 

"Then how shall I indulge you tonight? We could visit a bakery, go out on the channel, perhaps the Louvre... though I'd be pressed to not touch the masterpieces..."

Oh my fucking god, she knew where this was going. And she knew he knew that she knew where this was going.

"...Especially considering I wouldn't be able to get my hands off a magnum opus such as you~"

The laughter that escaped Claudia as Adrien drew her in for another hug was a sound like the squawk of an exotic bird. For every time she tried to playfully bat him away, Adrien would dodge and find a spot on Claudia's cheek to pepper with kisses. 

"Nuh-uh, I—" Claudia could barely speak over her own laughter. "—I am not fucking you in the Louvre , you couldn't- You couldn't pay me to—"

"We could find a way," he joked back. "I could bribe a guard or two~ How hard could it be? I'm willing to be Adrien Agresté again if it's convenient for us."

"That's how we end up in the news, Eddí."

"Wonderful! Then the whole world shall know of my love for you!" Adrien brought his lover closer to him again, this time kissing her on the back of her hand. "We'll be immortalized in print side by side, my dear."

"FUCKING?!"

Her face when she was both parts amused and exasperated was probably the cutest in the world. Claudia would knit her eyebrows together as if she was trying furiously to hold on to feelings of irritation, her nose scrunched up in four or five crooked wrinkles. The hair on her lips would also bristle out when she puckered them, almost like the whiskers of a dog, and god, the look in her eyes was always just so unplaceably wonderful to behold. 

“If that’s what it takes, I suppose.” Adrien planted more kisses on her knuckles, unable to restrain himself from seeking out the rush it gave. “Though I do understand your concern, my love. —I suppose one of these days I should work on my planning skills. Order tickets to a ballet or an opera instead, prepare in advance for something.”

“Well, I don’t know if I have anything I could even wear for something like that,” she scoffed.

Ah-ha! 

“What a wonderful suggestion! We’ll spend the evening shopping.” Adrien watched Claudia’s eyes widen at the idea, which luckily seemed to be more out of genuine surprise than abject horror. “I’ll get you all the dresses and suits and jewelry you could ever need in your entire life. Maybe even some swimsuits too, for good measure.”

Claudia smiled at him incredulously, blush finally giving way on her cheeks. It was so nice to get on each other’s nerves in a way that was actually enjoyable, he supposed; Nobody he’d ever been with was one for play-fighting or exchanging childish glances, friends or otherwise. Adrien had always been considered “too nice” or “too agreeable” to ever be in such a position, and Chat Noir had never been worth anyone’s time to begin with. But under the warm glow of the streetlamps and the darkened sky slowly creeping in through the late afternoon, he was neither. He was him. 

“I am not trying on any skimpy little bikinis for you!” Claudia exclaimed back at him, already giggling. “And I’m sure as hell not letting you pay for anything either!” She turned away dramatically, crossing her arms. In response, Adrien crept up behind Claudia, his fingers slowly walking across her waist before pulling her into a hug. 

“What’s wrong with me paying, darling? It’s simply how I show my affection.”

“It’s— You-“

Adrien rested his chin on Claudia’s shoulder, and she could suddenly feel his breath past her neck. “Hm?”

“You just try and pay for everything!”

“Is that so?” He replied, now swaying side to side with Claudia in his arms. She started laughing again, trying to pull Adrien’s hands apart to free herself to no avail. “Personally, I think I should be doing a little more than just trying to.”

Claudia tilted her head back, now able to rest it on Adrien’s own shoulder. “You’re just throwing your money away,” she chuckled. “You’re not getting anything good out of it, you know.”

“Have you ever considered the point of a gift is that I don’t get anything out of it?” 

Obviously, this was a lie. Her benefit was what he gained from it, and he was comforted by the idea that his money could be used for a genuinely noble cause. Sure, it was only one person, but the impact was much more direct than any of Gabriel’s tax-break-charity-donations had ever been. 

Claudia rolled her eyes, letting out a sigh so dramatic it made her cough. “Fine, shopping it is. No swimsuits. ”

“As you wish, my love.”

The Carrousel du Louvre was only a few minutes walk, so Adrien decided that was the best place to visit (besides, then they had the Louvre close by in case… other plans were reconsidered). Sure, La Pyramide Inversée wasn’t really at its best at such a late hour, but he could always take Claudia to see it another time. He was surprised she hadn’t been, in all honesty, even if she just said she was always too busy to go. There were a lot of places he was surprised to hear she hadn’t visited, in fact.

“I’ve always wondered what a Swarovski store is like on the inside,” Claudia muttered under her breath. “Man, it looks bright in there.”

For whatever reason, Adrien found himself swinging Claudia’s hand as they walked. “We could go in, I wouldn’t mind.” 

Adrien got a stern look in response.

“But then you’d get me something. And then I’d have to wear it.”

“What’s wrong with you wearing nice things?”

“I’d get fucking mugged?” Claudia exclaimed. “Or worse, mistaken for a tourist.”

“…If you insist. Maybe I’ll have to wait until after I get you a new apartment for you to be open to the idea of nice earrings.”

The best part about Claudia’s guard being down was that Adrien could watch her bristle up at every asinine comment he made. His working theory was that she usually just didn’t have the energy to react to things—and that getting an energy drink in her system would only provide the bare minimum—so the fact that her sleeping schedule had regularized made it easier for her emotions to bubble up to the surface. With most jokes it wasn’t as obvious, but there were a few specific buttons he could press where she’d get all tense and spiky every single time: Money was one of them.

“You’re—“ Realizing he was provoking her on purpose, Claudia immediately dropped the matter. 

The first dress Claudia was willing to try on was an A-line gown with an off-the-shoulder neckline. The chiffon was dark red like an aged wine which then faded to a crimson at the hem. Adrien had put in a considerable amount of silent effort to find dresses that weren’t designed by Gabriel Fashion House or Audrey Bourgeois, simply because he wasn’t fond of the idea of letting those paths cross whatsoever; But tonight, he had been quite lucky. This specific gown was one of the more subdued Zuhair Murad pieces, its luxury only shining through with the intricate beading on the skirt itself. Adrien hoped it wasn’t too flashy for her tastes… but many of the other Murad gowns were quite sheer and with eye-catching silhouettes, so this was probably the best fit from Murad in particular. 

…Not like Claudia cared for any of those details. She was busy inspecting her arms.

“I should probably shave.”

“Nonsense. We’ll simply find some tights and a nice bolero to cover your arms, and then you’ll be fine,” he replied. “Besides, it’d only be natural to add layers on considering the season.”

Claudia seemed unconvinced. Mostly because she was still so tense, staying still as if she was scared the dress was laced with a trap. She’d barely bothered to look in the mirror, instead facing away from it and towards Adrien. In an attempt to comfort her, he had taken her hand in his, simply taking in the sight of her by himself. She was just the right shade of tanned to compliment the dark red of the dress—her skin the color of tawny terracotta or even a light agar-wood—and the way her hair curled around her face reminded him of paintings of Circe or Calypso, aloof yet incredibly enchanting. And yet, even in the greatest of works, their facsimiles of what beauty was could truly never compare. 

Adrien spoke softly, his thumb running over her knuckles. “It’s a shame the world knows not of your beauty.”

“Tch, ‘beauty’. I look monstrous,” she said, as if this monstrousness wasn’t the beauty within itself. “Seriously, I’m like Chewbacca.”

“And what if I think Chewbacca is the best looking out of the cast?”

“Well, then you’d be wrong, because that’s Hayden Christensen,” she laughed. “…Ewan McGregor is cute too, honestly.”

“I’ll admit, I haven’t watched the prequels, so I’ll have to take your word on it.” Adrien stepped back to give Claudia room before asking “Can you do a spin?”

“A what?!”

“Please? You can’t try on a dress like this without doing a spin in it. I promise, just try it!”

Claudia pursed her lips, but ultimately spun around as she was asked. It was awkward and a little choppy, but nothing that more practice of trying on dresses wouldn’t fix. Thoroughly contented by the sight of it, Adrien found himself giving her soft and very polite applause. Of course, she bristled up at that too.

“You’re an asshole!” Claudia exclaimed. Adrien knew Claudia didn’t mean it, though there seemed to be more of a genuine sentiment to it when she followed up with “God, you’re so embarrassing sometimes.”

“Claudia, we’re the only people in this dressing room.”

“Yeah,” she growled back, her words sharp as flint. “I thought you were looking for a show, but not like— this kind of stupid show.”

“Come on. If I’m really the only person who cares that you exist, surely nobody’s going to care enough to pay attention to us.”

She scowled, specifically in that same whiskery-cute way that reminded Adrien of a poor-tempered cat. Unable to come up with a good rebuttal, Claudia did the next best thing of simply ignoring Adrien and going back to look at herself in the mirror. To examine the constellations of bumps and freckles and acne on her bare shoulders, how her unkempt hair was swept over to one side… then to examine the dress itself. How stupid she thought it looked with her beat-up converse shoes and their tattered laces, and how Adrien would probably respond to such a concern by offering to buy her heels—And how he’d somehow always know the right height for the heels to be so they’d still be walkable, and already know if she’d be comfortable with straps, and once again balk at whether or not they costed more than her rent. How he’d already figured out what colors looked good on her before they even entered the store: Dark reds and purples, the occasional navy blue. Wines and plums and burgundies and whatever stupid fancy words he used for them.

“And you said you could just keep it at your house?”

“If that’s what you want. I’m sure I can find a place for it in my mother’s old closet.”

But it wasn’t for her, this wasn’t for her, there had to be a catch that he wasn’t telling her about. What was it?

“…What did you say you’d want me to wear this dress for?”

“During Christmastime, I’d like to take you to see an opera. La Traviata or Salome, maybe.” As his heart so often begged him to do in every moment they were apart, Adrien moved closer in to Claudia again, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’d take you to a nice dinner, get us a chauffeur to the opera house, and we’d have the best seats the house had to offer.”

“…And?”

Here came the part she’d actually be interested in, from what he knew.

“And then we’d probably both sneak out thirty minutes in and fuck around for the rest of the night. Then, at some ungodly hour, we’d finally eat for real at whatever fast food place you choose,” Adrien laughed. “And I’d say once or twice or maybe even three times that you really should’ve given the opera a chance, and that its story is really so incredibly fascinating…”

Claudia looked back to him.

“…And then I’d get lost in those eyes of yours all over again, and forget what I was even saying to begin with.”

It was a good thing Adrien couldn’t read her mind. She’d thought about kissing him… but her own doubt won her over in the end. Claudia just sighed dramatically, like she tended to do whenever she wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face with a kiss but was too scared to do it. There was no reason for her to be scared, really. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it sometimes.

“I can’t justify you getting it for me if I only wear it for one night, though,” she lied. She couldn’t justify it in any case. “So what else? Another opera?”

“We could find other occasions, you know. Sometimes it’s not about dressing for the event, but planning for the dress.”

“That sounds like something your dad would probably say.”

A quick succession of images flashed in Adrien’s head: His father, a rifle, a bleeding burlap sack. “God, I hope you’re never in a position to meet him,” he winced. “And he’d word it more as an indisputable law of the universe than as a word of advice, for starters.”

As the conversation died again, Adrien hoped to distract himself with happier images. He started to think about the suits he owned, and which would go best with this particular dress. Black was often commonplace, but also quite basic; A dark heather gray was always a good compliment with red, but perhaps this red was too dark for the combination to work. Blue was off the table for this late in the winter, in his own opinion, and brown suits had never looked right on him. And, of course, there was the decision of whether to choose gold or silver cufflinks—either could work, Adrien supposed, as what it was most dependent on was which metal looked better on Claudia. 

When Claudia broke the silence, it was with a soft whisper, fraught with timidity and perhaps even some guilt. 

“Thank you.”

“Anything for my girlfriend.”

This time, Claudia wrapped her hands around Adrien’s not as a means to pry them off, but to keep them where they were. 

“…So, we’re buying this one?”

“Not if you don’t want it.”

God, she always had to admit to wanting these things, and that was the worst part. Claudia wasn’t comfortable with admitting to wanting anything anymore. Not when all she ever got in response was “That’s too damn bad” or “We need to put your sister first”. Or her father first, or her mother first, or just some nebulous something that existed in the chain of priorities before she did. To ever express anything was to be greedy, because it meant you thought people were entitled to hearing what you had to say. And nobody ever gave a shit if you wanted something, because nothing you asked for would ever be a ‘need’ to them. Just you whining over a ‘want’. 

“I…”

But she could rationalize that she was giving something up somehow. That she wasn’t actually doing it for her more so than she was doing it for Adrien. Because of course, Adrien was clearly lying. He’d definitely be belligerent and even mean about buying this dress, force her at verbal gunpoint, forbid her from leaving the store without it and what have you. So obviously her saying ‘yes’ was still a sacrifice, and the world could start spinning again.

“…Sure,” she said. “Let’s get it.”

“Only a ‘sure’? ” Adrien asked, as if he wasn’t meant to accept the first ‘yes’ he got. “We can look through other dresses, dear, we have all night…”

Why was he making things so hard?

“Yes. This is the dress I want. …I like the way it looks.”

She was getting worse at lying, and she could tell because Adrien didn’t look even the slightest bit convinced. He pulled his hands away this time, unwilling to play a part in any of it.

“I’ll ask the clerk to hold it for us,” he replied. “We can look at other things while you decide, okay? Really, I don’t want to push you.”

So, Claudia had fucked it up again, and she regretted it. Even more so, she hated that she did regret it. You don’t deserve this dress. You should be happy that he’s not forcing you to get it after all. You didn’t need it anyways, you don’t need anything.

“Are we really going to trust them to hold onto it, though? …What if someone else comes in and offers to pay more for it?”

“They’ll have stiff competition. I’ll make damn sure of that.”

Claudia wrung her hands together, adding “…But you’ll never know for sure. Unless we just get it tonight.”

It was unusual that he was able to get what she meant just like that. Maybe they were speaking a language all their own, one left in whispers below each sentence, questions and answers covered up by what actually came out of their mouth. It was a nice coincidence that they both knew how to speak it—What was it that one author had once said? “Whatever they make souls out of, his and mine are the same”? …Like that, but with unspoken languages. Because Claudia could often just say something and look at Adrien and he would just know . She wouldn’t even have to go as far as admit to herself what she really meant, because they were so alike that Adrien could just get it instantly. And he would look back at her… and he’d smile.

“I wholeheartedly agree,” he replied. “Perhaps you should even wear it out of the store so I have an excuse to carry you home. The roads are awfully muddy tonight, after all.”

A truly stupid blush crept its way back onto Claudia’s face. 

“…Okay, now that’s probably too far.”

Not like it stopped her from considering it, though. She liked being held. 

Chapter Text

He had never seen Claudia dance before, so there was no foundation for him to daydream of her dancing either. Even so, there was such a lifelike quality to what he imagined, watching her dance with her back always towards him, twirling like a dim flame flickering out, the world around her a dark, featureless stage, freshly waxed for its danseuse étoile. 

Adrien could hear her joints crack and pop as she stretched, her body so unused to the movement, her legs and arms familiar only with menial work and the banality of her everyday life, never knowing of the wonders of La Traviata, L’histoire de Manon, or Balanchine’s Orpheus—Not as though Orpheus was nearly as popular as the others. Adrien simply had a soft spot for Greek mythology, practicing both Ancient Greek by reading the myths proper and Latin from the later developments, but there was something about the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice that got him in a way nothing else did. Maybe it was the romantic aspects, or the death, or hell, even both. He had a feeling Claudia would enjoy reading it as well, but maybe that was his own biases leading him astray. 

It was in thinking about this that the dream changed—rather than just watching her move alone, with her beautifully choppy, unchoreographed lilting, he was suddenly dancing with her too, recreating the scene in which Eurydice pleads with her lover to remove his blinds and prove his love for her. They traded steps, Adrien moving his head always just out of view of her exactly as Orpheus was meant to, sticking to his script, but temptation pulled him to look Claudia in the eyes once more, to give himself the relief of those warm, tender eyes of hers just for a second longer. He had always regarded Orpheus’s choice with skepticism, pondering why he hadn’t just stuck it out until he had summited the path out of the underworld with Eurydice, but now, now he knew! It pained him to not look at her, to dance around her pleas both in metaphor and in truth, to shield himself from a vision he knew he longed for every minute, every second, every moment.

When he finally looked back at her, it was instead him that disappeared as consequence. He had left her alone again to swim in the darkness like a petal lost in the water. 

But she wasn’t a petal, was she? No, he could see her face now as she danced, and he had to confront a Claudia much different than the one his blinds had made him envision before. She was not Eurydice, not just because he found the fate of losing her again far to cruel to compare her to Claudia, but also because Claudia was far from the rosy-cheeked ingenue dressed in virginal veils of lily-white. 

Adrien watched her dance, her bones still ricketing, straining to move like rusted, well-worn hinges, and realized that she could not, could never be Eurydice. No—How could he have missed it? Claudia was the underworld herself, the depths of the earth in all its glory, black as ash and rock and volcanic sand, but ethereal all the same. She was a statuette of wolfram and onyx, a mannequin with polished joints yet rough limbs, the sheaves of mineral almost like scales that stuck out like arrowheads at her elbows and knees. The lampad would draw closer to him to cup his cheek for a moment, to taunt him, catch his eyes with hers glowing like torches, before moving away once again, letting the gloom surround her and grasping it around her shoulders like a shawl. 

And God, the way she moved her hips—! He could see the candlelight’s glow reflect softly against the ridges of bone that arced down, grooves that could carry water down from the sides of her hips to just above her thighs, watching the streams disappear seemingly into nothingness when she would press her legs together, the space between an abyss he could only yearn to experience himself. She bewitched him just as Circe had Odysseus’s men, an enchantress blessed by Hecate Chthonia herself, a seductress he could not fathom nor even want to escape from. A seductress of gravel and ash and soil, geodes on her skin glittering and marbled with inclusion of quartz and scheelite, towering over him as she danced so carefree, not just in spite of how badly he wanted her but to deny him further, leave him cold and alone and—

“Do you know what she wants us to annotate for this section?”

Shit. Fuck. He’d forgotten he was in class, hadn’t he? Hopefully nobody had been able to tell what he was thinking about, but Adrien tucked his knees in as close as he could just in case there was something worth hiding. 

“I, uh, I wasn’t paying attention, sorry,” he whispered back to Marinette. He opened his notebook and flipped to a new page to retain a shred of academic decency. 

“Okay, I wasn’t sure either.” 

This was probably the most he had heard Marinette speak to him in… well, forever, he supposed. Adrien felt as though he was probably supposed to know her better, perhaps by some vague conceptions of fate or rather just that they were both part of the same general friend group, but she was always so quiet around him that he always assumed she didn’t care for him. Her body language seemed to convey she thought of him as a close friend, however—the way her legs were angled towards him as she sat, her comfortable-but-not-overly-slouched posture as she sat next to him. Her outfit was rather cute that day as well, pairing warm beiges and pinks despite the norms to wear tones of mulled wine and orangey browns in the fall season. She had always had a nice, soft sense of fashion to her, which he couldn’t help but admire. 

“I just wish Mdm. B had assigned us something else by Victor Hugo instead, like Les Miserables or Notre-Dame de Paris… Y’know, something I’ve read before,” Marinette added, twirling her pencil and its pink bunny-shaped eraser in circles. “I have nothing to go off of here. It’s all just—“ She gestured at the book in bemusement— “Confusing!”

Adrien just nodded, before opening his own book and skimming through the poem he was supposed to be in the middle of discussing already. It opened with prose about waves and ships and so forth, but how that connected to the title Aurore or connected to whatever Hugo was trying to get across anyways was lost on him. It was unlike him to be a lost cause in his French literature class of all things, but that was what he was like today, so so be it. 

Unable to focus on what he was supposed to, Adrien instead noticed that Marinette was wearing that same familiar perfume again. It was the re-release of Aphrodite; A scent from Gabriel that his mother walked, talked, and nearly breathed advertisements for during the media's coverage of his parents' engagement. Old collections and prints in his father's collection always showed Emilie in blush pink silks and flower petals, and the most sensational was the one where his mother had her lips pursed into a deep red cherry, as the key ingredient was said to be "cherry hearts". Anybody with half a brain knew that cherries had a pit, and that they weren't exactly aromatic... but Adrien's mother could've sold the masses their own shit at the height of her popularity. Whether or not cherry hearts existed wasn't a concern anybody but Adrien had.