Chapter Text
“Can you DD?”
Marinette perked her head up with a soft hum, the noise morphing into more of a hiss as her neck popped at the motion. In all her years of being a seamstress, the girl had yet to get it through her thick skull that hunching over a slip of fabric for hours on end without rest wasn’t exactly great for her posture.
‘I’m the very picture of a responsible adult,’ she thought absently, rubbing behind her head as Alya quirked an eyebrow in the doorway.
“How long have you been working on that thing?”
“What time is it?”
“The fact you even have to ask me that tells me you’ve been at it too long,” Alya chided, stalking over to settle atop Marinette’s scrap-strewn bedspread. In keeping with the university student stereotype, her mattress was laid straight on the floor with only a box spring to support it. One bad thing about growing up with a lofted bed was that Marinette did not, in fact, own a bed frame, meaning she would be (literally) grounded for a while until she was able to buy one.
“Fashion major problems, I guess,” the dark hair girl sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before standing to tidy up her area.
They had only moved into their shared apartment a scant three weeks earlier, but Marinette’s room was remarkably put-together (compared to the mess of boxes still stacked in Alya’s bedroom). In her typical fastidious fashion, Marinette had completely overhauled her tiny space within the first few days, fitting as many of her personal belongs as she could into her new room and sending what didn’t fit back to the now-empty room at the top of her parents’ bakery. The walls were plastered with pictures and plaques, shelves stuffed with books and trinkets, each a little memory accumulated over her 20 years of living.
And yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly the Ritz, their snug two-bedroom situated south of downtown. The pipes rattled, the floors squeaked, and sometimes the balcony door stuck, but it was home. And the girls couldn’t be happier with the exhilarating (if sometimes stressful) sense of freedom gained from living away from their parents for the first time.
“You’re working too hard,” Alya said, watching her friend square away the mess, “and you really need a break. Come out with us, Mariiii…”
“Where are you guys headed, and how long do you plan on staying out?” Marinette grilled, plopping down on the comforter once she was satisfied with her progress.
“Well, mom,” Alya began with a roll of her eyes, “there’s a new club that just opened in the fourth and they’re having a masquerade tonight. I’ve heard it's really trendy and they’ve got killer music and please just say you’ll goooooo…”
“Well, I don’t—”
“Plus cover is free for ladies.”
Marinette’s frantic student mind latched on to the word "free" and ran with it.
“I’m in,” she said brightly, echoing Alya’s smile as the girl leapt up with a hoot.
“Perfect!” the redhead announced, swinging her way out of the bedroom and letting her voice carry down the hall. “The girls will be here in five minutes, so put on your heels, find a mask, and get your pretty little self out here ASAP!”
Marinette gave a vaguely affirmative hum, trying and failing to smother an excited smile as she closed the door to change. She padded to her closet, shifting though the racks while mentally keying herself up for the night out. It had been quite a while since she had taken some time off for fun, and the idea of a long-overdue trip to the club was an attractive one.
Though she didn't look the type, Marinette had a deep-seated adoration of the dancing scene. Something about the dim lights and the thrumming music seemed to unwind her at the seams, lending her a high much more satisfying than any drink could (plus no one had ever gotten a hangover from dancing, to the best of her knowledge). Sure, she’d been a bit awkward during her first club-going experience, but with two years under her belt the young woman now considered herself a seasoned pro.
“What are you going to wear?” Tikki questioned, zipping out from her hiding spot to settle atop her chosen’s shoulder.
“Not sure,” Marinette answered, letting her hands ghost through her wardrobe in consideration. The blue dress was always a hit, but she’d left her matching pumps back at the bakery, so that ensemble was struck off the list.
‘Maybe my high-waisted shorts and a crop top?’ the girl pondered, liking the idea of having pockets at her disposal. Tikki interrupted her musing with a tittered reminder.
“Well, whatever you choose, make sure you find a mask to match.”
‘Shoot,’ Marinette thought, gnawing on her lip in concentration. “A mask. Right.”
She stewed for a second, desperately trying to remember if she even owned a mask… besides the one that magically melded to her skin along with the rest of her Ladybug suit, that is. ‘And I obviously can't show up to the club dressed as a super he—‘
An idea struck.
Marinette left her closet and made a beeline towards the only remaining pile of memorabilia that still need sorting, rifling through it with purpose. True, she couldn’t go out as Ladybug…
…but there was nothing stopping her from donning the black plastic mask and matching cat ears she fished from her hoard.
Marinette could still recall the day a smirking Chat Noir had presented her with the novelty dress-up set. She’d rolled her eyes at the time, ignoring the way he'd howled at his own corny April Fools shenanigans, but hell if the gag gift wasn’t coming in handy now. She tore at the package, ignoring the hilariously small suit (not only had her partner gotten her a cheap costume, he'd gotten her a child’s costume) as she extracted her prizes from their shrink wrapped prison.
‘Perfect!’
Having her accessories in order greatly sped up the process of her outfit selection, and when Marinette turned in front of her mirror a few minutes later, the room was filled with Tikki’s bell-like giggling.
“If Chat Noir saw you looking like that—“
“Oh, I know,” Marinette assured her kwami, giving her reflection the once over. “I would never hear the end of it.”
Luckily, there was no chance of Chat ever seeing her in this kind of kind of getup — a blessing considering that her incorrigible companion would absolutely boil over with laughter if he were to catch sight of her current appearance.
With cat ears nestled forward from her high bun and pointed mask affixed across the bride of her nose, Marinette had rounded out her feline look with a form-fitted romper in a similar black, paired with sheer charcoal pantyhose. The garment was stylish and functional, with pockets (perfectly sized for a kwami hideout) on either side, and short ruffled leg holes that flared at the bottom, giving the illusion of a dress while maintaining the comfort of pants. It nipped in at the waist, flowing up into a boat neckline that was sliced with a triangle of mesh that added just a touch of flirtatiousness to her outfit (as well as a peek at her push-up-aided cleavage).
Foreseeing a long night ahead of her, Marinette had passed up stilettos in favor of a lower heel, donning two-inch wedges in an electric lime green that graciously complemented her monochromatic color scheme. She admired the way they drew her look together as she twirled in front of her mirror. Chat’s mask covered half her face and she wasn’t exactly a fan of lipstick, so there wasn’t much to be done in terms of makeup. Marinette dotted some concealer and went in with a swipe of mascara nonetheless, finally approving her look with a sultry nod at her reflection.
One thing was for certain… she did not let out a playful feline growl, regardless of what Tikki would say on the matter.
“Helloooo kitty,” Alya hooted, nudging her newly arrived group of friends as Marinette joined them in the living room. Empty shot glasses were lined up on the counter, and their presence combined with the happy flushes scattered across the girls’ cheeks indicated that their pre-gaming had already begun in earnest.
“That’s Chat Noir to you!” Marinette said in a jovial tease, posturing like her companion would as her similarly masked friends erupted into tipsy cheers. “Designated driver Chat Noir, to be exact. So, who’s ready to roll out?”
She found no objections from her bubbly bunch.
Upon reaching the club, Marinette and her friends wasted no time in immediately joining the party. Following a quick group migration to the bathroom as well as a strict review of their girl code rules (a safe time is a fun time), the college students had happily insinuated themselves into a thriving corner of the dance floor.
Fitting with Alya’s description, the venue was definitely “trendy”. The club itself was situated in an old brick two-story, renovated to be a single high ceilinged space with light-strung industrial beams running across the upper eaves. Much to Marinette’s delight, her heels didn’t stick to the floor and she rejoiced that she wouldn’t have to clean her shoes the next day.
(Most clubs that had been around for more than a few months came coated in a solid millimetre of beer, and to be in such a filth-free environment was practically a luxury.)
Marinette’s heart rate had begun to climb the second she’d heard the music working its way through the venue door, but that pulse was nothing compared to rhythm that her chest (as well as various other parts of her body) now vibrated with amidst the center of the action. A hypnotic, upbeat tune thrummed out from the speakers above her, and she let its steady beat sink into her limbs and guide her gyrations as she swiveled around amongst her peers.
Alya wormed her way over, winking from under her Venetian style mask as the besties linked arms and danced with identical laughs of excitement.
“Glad you came out?” Marinette wouldn’t have been able to hear the question if her friend hadn't been a scant two inches away, but one thing (good or bad) about clubbing was that there was never much elbow room to get in the way of conversation.
“I am,” she shouted back, rolling alongside Alya as the beat melded into a new tempo. “I needed this.”
“What you need is to find a nice partner to grind it out with!” her redheaded enabler drawled over the music. Marinette laughed, twirling around just once before her eyes settled on her friend’s devilish face.
“Isn’t that what I keep you around for?”
“Sorry, girly,” Alya replied with a shake of her head. “As much as I’d love to sweep you off your feet, I’m set on bagging me a tall one tonight.”
“I should have worn higher heels,” Marinette said with a fake sigh, keeping her face comically serious for just a moment before the two of them burst out laughing. Alya hooked an arm around her cat-eared companion, drawing the both of them back into their circle of friends as the club continued to move around them.
The atmosphere was right, the music choices were inspired, and everything about the night lulled Marinette into an easy state where inhibitions fell away. ‘Maybe I will find myself a dance partner,’ she thought with a gleam, feeling the intoxicating state of excitement around her whisper endless fun ideas into her waiting ear.
‘Besides, what’s a Chat Noir without a matching Ladybug…?’
After a mere fifteen minutes of clustered dancing, Marinette’s group of ladies had already begun to draw more than a fair amount of attention from the other club-goers. This wasn’t surprising (they made quite the attractive bunch), but the admiring glances thrown their way were still appreciated as the girls shook and shimmied in their gleeful circle of movement. The aura of fun generated by Marinette and her crew drew men and women alike, attracting dancers like moths to a flame as more people attempted to insinuate themselves within their niche.
One by one, people began to pair off.
Sativa was nabbed first, luring a sizeable crowd with her pretty face and sensuous body before she finally took her pick of admirers. The lucky winner flashed a smile, instantly falling in besides the blonde girl as she wiggled around the dance floor.
Alya was a close second, throwing a peek over each shoulder to find two equally hopeful candidates before sandwiching herself between them both with a wild laugh of abandon.
And after taking another song to dance with the remainder of her group, Marinette slyly began to dangle herself out there as well.
Pulling from her playbook, Marinette sampled some of her best moves, making it increasingly obvious she was looking for a partner. The dark-haired girl scooted out from the circle just a smidgen, positioning herself so her back would be facing the majority of the crowd before letting her hips twirl around in a way that could only be described as inviting.
‘Come and get it…’
It wasn't long before someone took the bait. Marinette smiled as she sensed a presence creep up behind her, one hand planting itself on her hip as she undulated beneath it. While in most situations having an unknown person try to get in her personal space would be grounds for an ass-kicking, clubbing wasn’t most situations — so she allowed the intrusion, rolling alongside her partner until the music wound down again.
Once that dance had ended, Marinette set her trap again — and again, never straying too far from her dispersing crew and always ensuring she kept at least one of her friends within eyesight while she wove her way through the crowd. The next few songs went off without a hitch, the music bumping and bubbly in a way that charged up the night as she grooved her way through each number.
She got lost in the sounds and the motions.
She got lost in the feeling of her hips swaying, their rhythmic swing more often than not accompanied by a matching moving pair as she led nameless, faceless partners in dances that ranged anywhere from silly to sultry (depending on the song).
She got lost in the high of the night, in the exhilaration of the chase, and then—
Well, then Marinette just got lost, period.
There was a lull in the music as the DJ stepped out of the sound booth to hand the turntables over to his follow-up act, a repetitive beat running over the speakers to create suspension between sets. Pulled from her high at the interruption, Marinette slowed and swivelled to wave at her retreating partner (a somewhat short fellow whom she had danced with purely because his bunny-earned mask was so endearingly cute) before realizing she had strayed from her group’s original position near the back corner of the building.
Marinette let her eyes trace the crowd around her, chest rising and falling with the exertion from a near-solid hour of dancing as she searched for a familiar face among the club goers. Slipping through the bodies surrounding her, she locked eyes with one of her group members a few feet over and sent the girl a nod of acknowledgement.
But just as she was about to rejoin her squad for a little group dance, Marinette’s gaze snagged on a visage that was familiar for an entirely different reason, one that inspired her lip to quirk up in amusement and her head to churn with ideas.
‘Found one…’
Marinette turned back to her friend with a jerky wave, hoping to properly convey her intentions as she inclined her head in the direction of her next vict— *ahem* — potential partner.
Thankfully her message seemed to get across, earning the girl a hearty thumbs up that spurred her towards her goal. The new DJ threw on a set-opening banger, the building tempo working its way into Marinette’s chest to mingle with her rising heartbeat and give purpose to her weaving limbs.
With club-granted confidence, the cat stalked her way across the dance floor, electric heels clicking and glittering eyes intent on their prize...
…said prize being the very handsome blonde sporting a very familiar polka-dotted mask.
Clubbing had seemed like a perfectly acceptable idea when Nino first brought it up (when the light of day and the thrill of the unknown had painted the concept in an exciting light). But now that Adrien Agreste found himself alone and floundering in the crowd, he couldn’t help but wish he’d elected to hide out in the sound booth for the remainder of the evening.
Don’t get him wrong, the first part of the night had been a blast! The two of them had made it to the club fairly early: Nino chattering in anticipation of his first run as a DJ at a major venue, and Adrien dutifully cheering him on as they planted themselves at the bar to soak in the growing population of the place.
“Here’s the crash course,” Nino had told him, leaning an arm on the counter with a look of wry experience. “Clubbing 101, if you will. First off, keep moving. Nobody likes a stagnant body.”
Adrien had taken a mental note, nodding like a prudent student.
“Second, don’t be sloppy. You can dance or you can get drunk, but you shouldn’t do both.”
That wouldn’t be a problem. Alcohol wasn’t a part of his strict model diet, anyway.
“And lastly,” Nino had said, inclining his head towards the crowd of moving people, “always be on the lookout for invitations.”
With his inexperience, Adrien had needed a bit of clarification on that point. Nino had given him a rundown on all the signs someone wanted to dance with you until Adrien was confident in his ability to spot said invitations, at which point he'd knocked back his ginger ale (‘really letting loose tonight’) before the pair hit the dance floor.
Sliding into the crowd had brought on a wave of giddy excitement for Adrien, though his movements started off stiff and unsure. Nino led him for the most part, pulling his friend along as the seasoned veteran grouped and regrouped with ease. Adrien found himself in awe at the display of confidence, watching with raised brows as Nino flawlessly found partner after partner with little more than a subtle glide in the right direction or a light hand placed in silent question.
To his own small shame, Adrien had jumped no less than a foot in the air when he first felt a girl slide up in front of him, jerking his head around so fast that he nearly unsettled his Ladybug mask. Sure enough, it had happened just as Nino said it would — his new partner throwing an inviting look over her shoulder before winking through the eyeholes of her disguise and slowly backing her way towards him — but it had still taken Adrien by surprise.
To say his first attempt at dancing had been less than ideal would be sugar-coating.
Like, a lot.
Turns out swaying in place with your hands pinned to your sides wasn’t exactly the name of the game, as evidenced but the way his companion had skittered away less than minute later, but Adrien hadn’t let it eat at him, instead making a mental note to be more — was "physical" the right word? — the next time around.
And there certainly was a next time, as each new song had brought new partners and new chances for him to ease into this foreign scene as the blonde acquainted himself with the rules and rituals of the club around him. Adrien had spent the next two hours soaking it all in, growing marginally less awkward with each encounter until he could no longer be considered a newcomer.
He'd felt invincible, like someone his stumbling, homeschooled fourteen-year-old self would idolize for his daring. He'd felt comfortable. He'd felt alive. He'd felt exhilarated.
That is, until Nino had inevitably been summoned for his set.
“You’ll be great, bro,” the DJ had said, flashing his friend a thumbs up as they made to part ways near the stage. His slot was scheduled to begin in mere minutes, but he still seemed to be in a state of relative ease.
“Shouldn’t I be the one cheering you on?” Adrien had responded with a lopsided grin, returning the thumbs up as he stood below the sound booth.
“Please, this is my natural habitat! You, on the other hand, are a greenie still in need of a proper partner.”
“I’ll find one eventually…”
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” was Nino’s chuckled response, giving his friend a final fist bump as he was introduced over the loudspeaker. “In fact, I’ll be sure to play some tunes guaranteed to draw your lucky lady in. Now go get ‘em, tiger!”
So now here Adrien was, wandering the dance floor as he tried to will himself back into the action. Technically he wasn’t alone: there was probably a good 200 people packed in around him, as well as an astonishingly asleep kwami nestled in his lapel. Still, Adrien couldn’t help but feel a bit stranded as he waded among the crowd.
‘Well,’ he thought, swallowing the discomfort at being on his own while he navigated the waves of people around him in search of a possible niche, ‘time to see how well I can swim without my water wings.’
His rescue came in the form of an outstretched hand.
Adrien stopped short, looking down at the grandly bowing figure before him with a timid sense of excitement. ‘Could that be…?’
He had just enough time to register the pair of black cat ears nestled in a head of luminous dark hair before that very same crown was raised in greeting. A familiar mask spanned the figure’s grinning face, confirming Adrien’s suspicions in the best of ways as the girl blinked up at him with inquisitive blue eyes.
“Well hello, Ladybug,” she drawled over the crowd, hand still extended in a summons Adrien knew only too well. “I’ve been searching for you all night.”
“If it isn’t Chat Noir,” Adrien responded, immediately falling into the charade as he slid his hand into the stranger's grasp. “Don’t you have some bad luck to spread?”
With a cheeky smile fit for her namesake (he of all people could confirm her impression was spot on) “Chat Noir” bent down to brush a kiss atop his knuckles. The gesture sent a jolt of warmth through the young man even as he ruminated on the irony of the situation.
“Not tonight, my Lady,” was her purring reply, the words carrying surprisingly well despite the noise around them. “I’ve got another mission in mind… That is, if my trusted sidekick is down for the adventure?”
“If anything, I’d say you were the sidekick,” Adrien pointed out, letting himself match her rhythm as the girl began a subtle sway before him. ‘Well damn, she makes a prettier Chat Noir than I do…’ he thought appreciatively, trying his best to keep his gaze polite as her black ensemble shifted with each movement of her torso.
“Let’s just split the difference and call each other partners.”
“In crime fighting, or dancing?”
“Why not both?” Chat Noir said, lifting her shoulders in a carefree shrug before turning around and slotting herself against him with a mischievous wiggle. Adrien immediately let his hands settle on her waist, drawing from his (admittedly limited) past experience as he fell into motion alongside her. His heartbeat thumped pleasantly in his chest, less in response to the rising tempo of the music and more as a result of his partner’s easy yet exciting dance moves.
The dark-haired little lady expertly toed the line between fun and flirty, humming under her breath with a childlike sense of innocence that balanced out the decidedly more adult things the rest of her body was doing, and Adrien felt himself grow comfortable with her at once. He grinned as he guided his partner to twirl in time with the beat and laughed as she tossed her head with an over-the-top wink. Likewise, he played up his Ladybug persona accordingly, striking a few heroic poses before the two of them launched into a full-fledged game of “who can act more like their costume?”
She would bow and dip, stalking and strutting with a cocky smirk that sent him laughing at the movements’ hilarity. He in turn teased and sidestepped, channeling his years of first-hand experience with Paris’ bespeckled heroine into every movement of his body. Their comradery was easy, seamlessly shifting from goofy to sultry and back again as Nino continued to spin a perfect soundtrack for the night.
But the simmering spark between them was bound to either flare up or fizzle out, just as it had for every other partner he’d encountered that night, and by the duo’s third dance Adrien could feel them reaching that unmentioned tipping point. The shift in mood didn’t go unnoticed by his partner either it would seem, as evidenced by the way she pressed herself closer in a slow grind that indicated she was far from through with him. Adrien swallowed, thinking past the noise and commotion to focus on the way “Chat Noir” twisted her hips against his own.
‘If only she knew her partner was the real deal,’ he thought with a gleam, watching the young woman weave her arms up into the air before tracing them down her sides. ‘Would she be more or less confident, I wonder?’
His mental train of consciousness nearly derailed as Adrien felt a slim hand grip the back of his head, the girl’s arm snaking behind her to bring his face deliciously close as she glanced over her shoulder. They had yet to speak since their teasing introduction, but she broke that silence now, using their new closeness to her advantage as she tittered over the music.
“Show me your best moves, superhero…”
The entreaty lit a pleasant heat under Adrien’s skin, making him momentarily forget that they were strangers and coaxing his pelvis forward to trace across her backside. “Chat Noir” arched into the movement, never ceasing in her undulations against him as her approval only stoked Adrien’s ever-swelling…
…ego.
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” he shot back, feeling the familiar confidence that came from being masked and anonymous flow hot through his veins. Chat grinned.
“Deal.”
Not a second after the words left her mouth, the young woman swung into a sinister move that looked like it came straight out of a stripper film. Adrien's eyes widened as he took in the sight of her wiggling to the floor with a mischievous roll of her torso, and he felt his hands go slack as they traced up her descending sides. With each downtick in the music, “Chat Noir” let her body dip lower until she had sunk into a near-squat.
‘What is—’
Adrien barely had time to ponder her play before his partner shot up again, leading with her backside as it bobbed up to wag against him in a motion more akin to an excited puppy than her feline namesake. “Chat Noir” moved like an animal, but the laugh she gave when she heard his soft curse was all human, feminine and free and so very attractive in its blasé appreciation that Adrien had to work to keep his head from spinning. ‘Damn, she’s good…’
The area under his mask was flushed, partly from exertion, partly from bashfulness and partly from something else entirely, but he thought through the heat to force his body into cooperation. He may be green, dammit, but that didn’t mean he was about to be shown up by his own alter-ego!
Adrien gathered his courage, pressing one hand into his partner's torso to angle her into an upright position, while the other skated down the side of her thigh. He shivered at the proximity, drawing her increasingly familiar form flush against his body and aligning the two of them until they matched up in perfect synchronisation.
Despite the fact he’d only met his partner a scant half-hour earlier, Adrien felt inexplicably drawn to her, to the way she moved and coaxed. That dark hair, those challenging blue eyes — everything about the girl just dug at him, and as they continued to grind into each other, Adrien couldn’t fight down the strong sensation of familiarity... or the feeling they had been weaving alongside each other for years rather than just minutes.
“Chat Noir” threw another grin behind her, but this time Adrien matched it with his own equally disarming look, letting his fingers bunch in the black fabric across her hips as he met her every twitch and twirl. Her moves were both lewd and sophisticated, somehow managing to keep an air of refinement about her even as she ground against him in a manner that could only be described as provocative. The way she teased only made the temperature of the already sweltering dance floor soar. It made him soar.
It also made him hot, in more ways than he’d thought possible, and Adrien felt his eyes drawn to the pale column of her neck where it emerged under her dark bun. The cat ears atop her head were taunting him, attractive in a way that verged on the worrying.
‘I definitely don’t have a kink for girls dressed like my alter ego,’ Adrien tried convincing himself.
He gave into the notion a mere four seconds later when “Chat Noir” winked one eye behind her mask.
'Okay, I so I maybe… definitely… have a kink for girls dressed like my alter ego. Sue me.’
Perhaps things would have been different if they weren’t dressed as a matched pair.
Perhaps things would be different if he weren’t so lost in the drumming beat or if she wasn’t so phenomenal at pressing her ass into the space between his legs.
But things weren’t different, and Adrien (the same sweet, semi-innocent young man who just yesterday would have sworn up and down he wasn’t the type to put the moves on a literal stranger) was so liberated by his surroundings that he barely registered his decision to draw “Chat Noir” closer until he had her lined up against him inch by shuddering inch.
Until he whispered a soft, “How’s this for moves?” against the shell of his partner’s ear.
Until he was planting an open-mouthed kiss against the invitingly flushed skin of her neck.