#i wasn't exactly sure what that meant (still a little uncertain tbh haha) but i hope you enjoy this anyway!

[matchaball]

parallel lines

AN: Hello hello @convenientalias !! I am your secret santa this year! :D I saw that you particularly like canon-divergent fics and decided to go off on that and do a slow reveal between these dorks :') Hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

Giant thanks to @mlsecretsanta for organizing this enormous event!

EDIT: I also must thank @ming85 5 billion times over for helping me out with this fic and for kicking my writer’s block square in the butt. You’re a star!! <3 

( AO3 )

1. they say, seeing is believing.

“Could you pass me the icing please?”

Adrien bends down close, melding his personal space with hers, but Marinette leans into it and hands him the bag of icing sugar lying beside the gingerbread house she’s decorating. Another time, she would have blushed uncontrollably at the way her fingers brush his, and she would have thought of literally nothing else for the next few glorious days moments.

Instead, she has to do everything in her power to not drop her gaze to where the breast pocket of his jacket lies beneath his apron. She can see the slight bump in the fabric anyway, out of the corner of her eye.

She’s seen him. The kwami.

The black cat kwami.

(She could’ve chalked up Adrien walking out of the same alleyway she saw Chat duck into after a particular harrowing akuma attack as a funny coincidence, but then the punchline came zooming out of his jacket pocket demanding cheese, and she knew.)

Which means…

Instead of decorating, Marinette leans back a little and openly watches Adrien as he concentrates on piping eyes and a mouth on the little fondant figure he’s sculpted. His tongue sticks out just the littlest bit, and his tousled hair glitters with the sugar that exploded over him from Tom greeting him with a great bear hug earlier.

It’s as subtle as a shift of light, but now that she knows what to look for, it’s as clear as day and night.

She sees Chat as clearly as she sees Adrien.

His eyes focus entirely on the task at hand, but her gaze seems to nudge at him until he looks up at her.

Marinette’s breath catches in her throat as those brilliant green eyes blink slowly at her.

(She wonders if she could make him purr.)

“Am I doing this right?” Adrien asks, a shy, uncertain smile growing on his face in light of her unwavering stare.

Another time, Marinette would have babbled to the ends of the earth to assure him he’s doing grape- no, gorgeous- no, great, and she likely would’ve knocked everything off the table in the process. But the bump in his jacket pocket is there, and he looks far too reserved for the friend, and partner, and so much more that she knows him to be to her so-

“It’s purr-fect,” Marinette declares, winking as she taps his nose. Like flicking a switch, Adrien’s face lights up with a familiar mischievous grin.

“It is, isn’t it,” he agrees with exaggerated pride as he holds up his handwork. One eye is smudged and the smile wobbles on one end, but the iced blue pigtails and pretty pink fondant outfit makes it undeniably Marinette. “I’m sure you could get bread-er if you didn’t loaf around so much.”

“Oh, you don’t want to start that with me,” Marinette smirks. “At the very yeast, save yourself or else you’ll be toast.”

Laughter blooms from her chest, as light and airy as cotton candy, and it grows ever bigger as Adrien seems to do a double take at the easy way she volleys puns back at him. He flounders for a moment, clearly teetering between bemusement and delight before relaxing into an easy smile she’s seen hundreds of times, framed in black leather and shared high up among the rooftops.

“Well,” Adrien sighs theatrically, “I guess that’s just the way the cookie crumbles then.”

Marinette’s hand instinctively stutters to her hip, her fingers searching for the tiny purse that cradles Tikki. Her too-loud laugh hastens to cover her transition to grabbing a fistful of chocolate chips on the table.

“Careful what you wish for!” Marinette teases.

It takes a second for Adrien to realize what she means, but a second is all she needs to launch said chocolate chips at him. Glee lances through his eyes before he lunges forward, mouth open and aimed at the delicious projectiles. A few bounce off his face, and more evade him still as they fly to land softly in his hair.

She flicks one more. He goes cross-eyed in his attempt to catch it- and luck lands it squarely on his waiting tongue.

They both freeze, absolute surprise mirroring across both their faces, before Marinette breaks it with a cheer. Adrien fist pumps into a dramatic victory pose and it’s pure Chat, through and through. Her willpower pushes down the natural instinct to fistbump him, and she settles for grinning broadly at him instead, sharing in the victory.

“That’s definitely my hardest accomplishment of the day,” Adrien laughs, his cheek puffing out as he sticks the chocolate chip to the side to suck on.

“Sculpting me definitely didn’t take you all day and was the easiest then, wasn’t it.”

“Piece of cake,” Adrien grins. “Actually more like, the icing on top of the cake.”

He gestures to the magnificent gingerbread house taking up most of the kitchen table. Its candy cane balcony and translucent sugar glass storefront windows makes it a close replica to the bakery and her home.

“I think the house is pretty much decorated,” Marinette decides, tilting her head in thought.

“Not quite,” Adrien insists. He hunches over his work and concentrates on adding the finishing touches, before straightening up and gently, carefully placing his little fondant figure up on the balcony. Fondant Marinette beams up at them with her icing sugar smile and glittering sprinkle eyes, perfectly framed by the gumdrop fairy lights strung along the gingerbread rooftop.

It’s technically complete, and yet…

“It’s missing one more thing,” Marinette declares. She scoops up some leftover fondant and briskly, expertly moulds them into the exact shape she wants. Her fingers fly as they collect icing sugar and sprinkles for decoration, and several heartbeats later, her creation comes to life between her hands.

She hesitates, then settles the little black cat next to her own sugar figurine on the balcony.

“There,” Marinette says, softly. “Done.”

A part of her, the cautious, logical part, clambers immediately for her to rewind and redo, because this felt about as subtle as a brick, but the larger part of her, the braver, curious part, looks up, and watches.

She spots the breath that catches in Adrien’s throat for just that split second, spots the bump in his breast pocket shift ever so slightly, and she wonders briefly if his heart is beating as fast as hers. He turns to look at her, green eyes focused thoughtfully, intensely on the open book of her face, reading between the lines. He looks for an answer she’s not sure she can give.

It’s a look Marinette’s seen before, when her Lucky Charm is cradled between her palms like a giant question mark waiting to be solved.

There’s always a split second, a terrifying, infinitely long second, where she’s not sure if she can do this- be the person with the answers, be the infallible superhero, be Ladybug. The fear is irrational, she knows that- and yet no matter how often the fear comes to seek the cracks in her confidence, it never lingers.

“Less a house now, I think,” Adrien says, a smile curling up to warm his expression into something soft, something hopeful, “and more a home.”

He sees her, and she believes.

2. they say, believing is knowing.  

Believing was never the problem, with Adrien.

It just happens to fall into his particular blend of trust and optimism. Why wouldn’t he believe that Hawkmoth will be defeated, that that they could have a white Christmas, that Plagg could potentially eat something other than Camembert?

Call him romantic, or foolish, or naive, but he likes to hope. And no matter how tiny the hope, he holds on and doesn’t let go.

Except he might have slightly miscalculated how much holding onto this particular hope could cost him.  

“Get out of the way, GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Marinette screams as she rockets towards him, arms flung out in a desperately futile attempt to balance herself. Her skates knife across the clear ice as she accelerates towards him like a furious, pink torpedo.

Adrien gracefully glides out of her path and snags her arm as she zooms by. She swings around his pivot like a yoyo until she’s safely reeled in and stopped within the bracket of his arms.

“This looks like the opposite of getting out of my way,” Marinette muffles into the blue of his scarf.

“You’re welcome,” Adrien laughs. He carefully moves back, never letting go of her mittened hands. “Ready to try again?”

A fierce, determined look flashes through Marinette’s eyes, and at her decisive nod, Adrien slowly begins skating backwards. Their linked hands tug Marinette forwards, and soon she’s wobbling along as he guides her across the rink.

It’s funny, how flipping across the rooftops of Paris as Ladybug is as natural as breathing, yet a simple layer of ice proves to be her ultimate downfall. It’s funny, how she can nail a pinpoint landing onto her balcony for a detransformation that he accidentally spots, yet the simple act of even turning her skates proves impossible without his help.

Adrien’s fingers tighten protectively, possessively over Marinette’s, and his heart is the one stuttering and tripping as Marinette glances up at him, cheeks pink from the cold, blue eyes sparkling from the lights strung around the rink, mouth stretched wide in a grin as they complete a full circuit without stumbling once.

Honestly, it’s a miracle he can still function around her now.

“Ok… I think I’m getting the hang of this,” Marinette says slowly as they begin to circle around once more. Her fingers squeeze his, then begins to untangle from his grasp.

“Are you sure?” Adrien asks, reluctant to let go.

“Yes,” she answers. A pause, then, “Maybe. Stay close… just in case.”

A worried knot within Adrien’s chest loosens at that, and this time he can let her go. He gracefully turns himself around so he’s by her side, and adjusts his pace to match hers. It takes a few minutes, but soon enough they’re mirroring each other, stroke by stroke across the glittering ice.

“Not bad, for someone who hasn’t skated since she was three,” Adrien teases as they maneuver around a pileup of kids and their pylon cones.

“I can start just fine,” Marinette protests. “Stopping…”

The mere thought has her wobbling dangerously for a heart-stopping moment. Adrien reacts before he can think, his hands shooting out to steady her to him. He doesn’t miss the way Marinette’s hands fly to the pocket of her peacoat, and he has to resist his curiosity to ask about her kwami.

“You’re gonna need steel-toed skates at this rate,” Marinette grumbles as she rights herself.

Adrien stumbles and covers it up with a loud laugh, because oh, the irony.

“I’ll wear them next time,” he promises with a wink, “just for you.”

Princess almost escapes at the tail end of his sentence but he catches himself just in time. The word lingers in his mouth, sweet as sugar, but a pause still seems to bubble up anyway in lieu of the endearment.

Marinette merely reaches up and taps his nose fondly. “Silly, they’re protection for you. It’d be just my luck if I skated over your toes or something equally horrifying.”

“Sounds more like my kind of luck,” Adrien chuckles, feeling Plagg shift in his pocket.

“Maybe we’ll find a balance, between the both of us,” Marinette laughs. Her skates catch upon a patch of rough ice and she lurches forward with a, “Oh n-”

“-ope, not today!” Adrien finishes as he catches her yet again and steadies her until she’s solidly upright. He laughs, long and loud, as she puffs her cheeks at him, amusement and exasperation mingling in her eyes. “Looks like we already balance each other out.”

“You’re being way too nice,” Marinette huffs. “I haven’t done anything except almost take you and everyone else out the whole time we’ve been out here.”

“You’re dazzling,” he counters confidently. The sentiment comes out a little more honest, a little more heartfelt than he’d intended, and Marinette’s cheeks go pink right alongside his at the compliment.

“...sounds like a challenge,” Marinette comments after a moment. The smile she sends him is pure Ladybug, confident and daring.

The grin he sends back is all Chat, with mischief curled in the corners. “Only if you can keep up.”

“Keep up?” Marinette laughs, tossing her head back. “You’re on.”

She digs her skates in, and flies, blowing right past awkward fumbling and into breathtaking speed. Adrien whoops as he pushes off after her. The wind whips by his cheeks and playfully ruffles his hair as they chase each other around and around, a dance they’ve done dozens, hundreds of times up among the rooftops and framed against the endless sky.

“You’re a natural!” Adrien laughs breathlessly as Marinette glides to a slow, panting stop.

“It’s easier when I’m with you,” Marinette grins. She shrieks as he pulls up next to her with a hard stop that sends ice shavings flying in a spray of glittering white. They catch the light, turning into wings, into butterflies, that perfectly frame the way her laugh rings through the air.

It’s such a little snapshot of a moment, but it’s extraordinary in that it’s theirs.

Adrien’s always believed in Ladybug, but believing in her twice- loving her twice- makes him know.

Marinette is better than hope; she is real.

3. they say...

“I thought we said no presents this year,” Ladybug says, eyeing the bright pink package held between Chat’s hands.

“We did,” Chat nodded blithely as he gestured to the sky blue bag dangling from Ladybug’s fingertips. “Clearly we’re both great at following rules.”

They only ever had one hard rule though- and evidently that had been too difficult to follow as well.

“Well,” Ladybug chuckles as she sits down at the edge of the rooftop and pats the space next to her for him. “At least we’re on the same page.”

“Always, My Lady,” Chat grins as he folds himself down next to her.

They sit in peaceful silence, enjoying the lingering smell of chestnuts and hot chocolate from the markets that were open earlier. Fairy lights still twinkle through the streets, illuminating the few couples and families out for a late night walk in the scant snow dusting the ground.

“Here,” Chat says softly as he nudges the pink box over. “Merry Christmas Bugaboo.”

“Merry Christmas Chat,” she smiles as she passes him her bag. “Are we opening them now?”

“Why not?”

For such a light suggestion, the air between them feels a little heavier, a little more loaded as they open their gifts.

Ladybug gasps in delight as a soft pink scarf winds around her hands. She immediately wraps it around her neck, sighing blissfully as the plush wool curls against her skin. It’s handmade: her fingers find the sporadic gaps and occasional lump in the scarf, finds the time and love infused in each stitch. She looks up to thank him when her hands find a little surprise.

At one end of the scarf is a small pocket. Not quite big enough for a pair of gloves, not quite small enough for anything better off in her purse.

But a perfect size for a kwami.

Paranoia freezes her on the spot, holds her thanks captive in her mouth, so she is utterly silent as she simply watches him unwrap his gift.

Chat makes quick work of the tissue paper stuffed in the bag, and draws out a sky blue beanie. He doesn’t need his night vision to see that the beanie is made from the same yarn his scarf is made out of, the scarf gifted to him on his birthday, allegedly by his father.

He knows better now; the carefully stitched signature at the edge of the scarf that he found shortly after receiving it tells him several truths. It’s Marinette, who made him the scarf, who made him feel remembered and welcomed and loved. It’s Marinette, who’s always been there for him, always.

The beanie rests carefully in his clawed hands, and he turns it over and over until the light gilds the fine thread stitching a tiny signature along the inside edge.

He looks up at her, a question in his eyes, and sees it mirrored in hers.

Do you know?

A breathless, weightless heartbeat passes and neither one of them moves first.

“I saw you.”

The words rush out of out Ladybug’s mouth and drops between them like a gauntlet. At Chat’s startled, wide-eyed look, she swallows and commits.

“I saw you,” she whispers, and the emphasis leaves no room as to what she means.

Chat’s ears prick forwards and he scoots closer to her, a gentle smile curling on his face in contrast to the tense furrow of disbelief wrinkling Ladybug’s brow. He picks up her challenge and turns it into an invitation.

“I had hoped it was you,” he admits, as openly honest as he can be in this strange teetering space they find themselves in. “Of everyone I know, I had hoped Ladybug would be you. You’re confident and so capable and so easy to love. I really do think you’re dazzling, with and without your Ladybug powers.”

“I don’t know how I thought you could be anyone else,” Ladybug whispers. The tension in her shoulders begins to unwind at his honesty, at his softness. “You’re always so kind. Talking to the akuma victims after we defeat them. Offering your umbrella to someone who snubbed you the whole day. Your heart’s always been the same.”

“My heart’s always been yours, my lady,” Chat murmurs. He takes a breath, and falls first. “Princess. Marinette.”

“Kitty,” she says, softly. Logic has her hesitating, but it’s the look in Chat’s eyes that has her falling after him. “Adrien.”

The revelation stuns them both into silence, but as a shy smile grows on Chat’s face, a similar one mirrors across Ladybug. They break out into nervous giggles, smoothing out into a familiar, comfortable ease.

“So where do we go from here?” Chat asks.

“Let’s… not go anywhere,” Ladybug decides, slowly. “There’s no rush, right?”

“No rush, no pressure,” Chat agrees as he tugs his beanie over his head. His cat ears poke up into the soft fabric, making the fit a little odd, but he beams so delightedly that it looks perfect anyway. “We have all the time in the world.”

Relief settles onto Ladybug’s shoulders, but she shouldn’t be surprised. In anything, everything, she’s never had to handle anything truly by herself. She’s never been alone.

She shifts until she can rest her head on his shoulder, and sighs softly as he wraps an arm around her waist, his head coming to rest on top of hers. They breathe, and accept, and hold on to each other as peace comes to blanket warmly over them.

To see, to believe, to know, has nothing on love.

“Hey,” Ladybug murmurs, “I’m glad it’s you.”

Chat chuckles, and turns to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”