The sun really was an all powerful source, which knew how to send the most stable of people over the edge—especially when they were sleeping off a rather extreme intake of tequila from the night before.

Groaning, Ladybug pulled the covers over her head, wishing more than anything that the ache in her brain would disappear. She'd gone a little overboard last night, especially as she didn't usually drink, but she was just so infuriated. The whole quiz with Adrien had given her a lot to think about, but there was only one answer, Adrien was not the one for her.

It also came with two other realisations: Chat Noir really was her perfect match, and he loved Marinette as much, if not more, than he'd claimed to love Ladybug.

She always thought his love for her superhero form was superficial, that he couldn't truly love someone he didn't know, and she would stand by her point today and say she was right. But when it came to Marinette, there was something else there, something else between them.

He knew Marinette well (a little too well), and he seemed to really like her—flaws and all. The reveal should have caused her to collapse into a mess. She should be anxious and annoyed that he'd figured it out. She should be worrying about the repercussions. She should be angry. But apart from the pounding headache, it was the most relaxed she'd felt in years.

She needed to question him more, to find out how he figured everything out. But that could be a problem for another day. Right now, she wanted to remain in this little bubble—their bubble.

The way he'd kissed her last night was like a man starved, like he couldn't get enough of her—she most certainly couldn't get enough of him. The way his hands had roamed around her body, helping her to get closer to him, to feel every hard, toned inch. The way he trailed kisses down under her ear before venturing down her throat. She'd been all consumed by him, and a tingle ran down her spine at the thought of him doing it again.

There was no going back now...only forward. She wanted—no, needed—more from him. He was hers, and nothing had ever felt sweeter.

Rolling over in their bed, she forgot her hangover as she grabbed his pillow and cuddled onto it, basking in the remaining smell. Chat Noir had left fifteen minutes ago to find some breakfast for them—and some nice, strong coffee, too.

As if the day hadn't been mortifying enough, she'd pretty much (very much) passed out mid-makeout. He'd been sweet and moved her to the bed. He'd told her this morning that he'd tucked her in and left her to sleep—then he had said that she'd snored like a freight train with asthma.

Her being Marinette hadn't phased him at all. If anything, it'd only encouraged the situation, like a band holding so much tension had finally snapped, and he could move forward with her.

She smiled into the pillow and nuzzled into it a little more.

"I thought I was the cat." The deep tones of her partner's voice made her smile.

"We both know I rock the suit more," she sassed back, lifting her head out of the pillow to look at the most wonderful breakfast treat, holding a tray full of pastries, different juices and a single glass of chocolate milk.

"There's no denying that," he said. Amusement danced in his eyes, with a flicker of something else—more cat-like, more primal. He placed the tray down on the bedside table and sat with a distance between them, a distance she didn't like. Was he regretting it? "It's worrying how many times I searched that image up on the internet. Though, some I do want to forget."

Nope, definitely not regretting it.

He looked at her with a shy, nervous smile. "Good morning."

Finally letting go of his pillow, she scooted over in the bed and lay back on hers, stretching her arms over her head, eyes closed. As she opened them, she saw him studying her like some sort of art piece in the Louvre.

"What?" she asked with a small giggle.

He shook his head, causing his beautiful blond waves to surf side to side. "Just...last night...you never said yes or no?"

"About?" she replied curiously. What was he on about?

"Are you...Marinette?"

Oh, that was what this was about. "Does it make a difference if I'm not?"

"After the way I kissed you last night? Yes. I...you told me so many things that just led me to make the assumption that you're her, and I'm so madly in love with her, and you, of course, and the combination...I've never felt that overwhelming need before. If you're not Marinette, I really need to apologise because I was thinking about her, and you, but mostly her, and I kissed you. Do you forgive me?"

Ladybug couldn't help but giggle, a small one which turned into a mighty guffaw which made her sides hurt. "It's okay, Kitty Cat. Tikki, spots off."

In a flash of pink, Marinette laid herself bare to her partner, suddenly feeling vulnerable in a way she never had before. This was the first person who truly knew her inside and out. Yes, Alya knew she was Marinette and Ladybug, but having Chat Noir know her so intimately was something else. He was part of her life in a way no one else could be. He completed her.

She felt her cheeks flame as he stared at her, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide. Slowly, the corner of his lips pulled and she was met with a warm, bright smile which made her stomach flip like she was on a wild, exciting roller coaster.

"Hi," she breathed out, the corner of her eye catching Tikki as she made herself scarce.

Forgoing the greeting, Chat Noir launched forward, pouncing on her much like his namesake and wrapping his arms tightly around her. She couldn't be certain, but she was sure he was sniffing.

"Are you okay?" she giggled out.

"Yep!" A sniff sounded next to her ear, was he crying? "Just got something..." He moved back and placed his hands on her shoulders, his glorious neck bobbing as he attempted to swallow.

"And what's that?"

"The most beautiful woman in the world."

She smacked him playfully on the arm, only for him to dramatically fall from the bed, pulling the covers with him. "Oi!" she shouted through the laughter bubbling in her chest. She scrambled to the edge of the bed, ready to pull it back when one of their many throw pillows appeared in her line of sight...and smacked her straight upside the head.

"Watch it," she snickered, feeling around the bed for a pillow of her own. "I'm out of the suit now, I'm just a normal..." She moved forward. "...defenceless..." She moved a little more, pushing up onto her knees and holding the pillow over one shoulder. "...girl." She looked down, swinging the pillow only for it to hit the duvet and nothing else.

She looked around the floor, not a single blond hair to be seen.

"You're so predictable, M'Lady."

Turning sharply, she came face-to-face with not a cute, blond cat, but a white pillow hitting her square in the face, knocking her back into the bed.

"That's not fair!" she screeched, the weight of a body over hers causing her to open her eyes and look into heaven. A ruffled, sexy piece of heaven who looked like he wanted to eat her up for all three meals of the day—and indulge on her as a snack.

His pupils had dilated as he straddled her hips and grabbed her wrists bringing them above her head. She didn't even bother trying to break free. She didn't want to. Everything inside her stirred like she'd swallowed a hurricane, and if he didn't kiss her right now, she was determined to make him pay for it for the rest of his life.

All of a sudden, the swirling of untamed butterflies gave way to confidence. "What are you waiting for?"

He moved forward, his handsome smile disappearing as he grew closer, his lips puckering and body lowering. The wait for him was delicious in all meanings of the word. Her eyes flickered closed as she ran through the events of the night and the morning, the untouched food, the now-ruined bed, the waking up to–

Her head shot up, headbutting him and causing him to yelp back in what she guessed was shock? "What's wrong? I moved too fast again, didn't I? Damn it, I'm so sorry, Marinette, please–" he said, frantically.

"I haven't brushed my teeth," she interrupted, one hand covering her mouth suddenly remembering that her breath probably smelt like a badger's arse.

"Um...okay?" His eyebrows frowned in the cutest possible way, a clear sign he didn't understand what the hell was going on. She crawled forward, straddling herself on his lap before placing a hand over her mouth again.

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet, and I don't want our kiss to taste like I licked the trash can."

He snorted and rested his forehead on hers. "If I let you go and brush your teeth, will you come back and let me continue where I left off?"

"I don't plan on us leaving this bed today, Chaton."

Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and let her go. "Hurry back."

With a light blush on her cheeks, she moved from the bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind and resting her head back against it. She closed her eyes as her lips drew into a large, overenthusiastic smile. Life was sweet.

Pushing away from the wooden door, she couldn't help but do a little dance, hips wiggling and heart racing. She couldn't believe it. Everything was going so perfectly, and they had the whole day ahead of them before the next round of their Mr and Mrs Valentino Island that evening.

She picked up her toothbrush and made sure she got every single millimetre of her teeth before she flossed and gargled mouthwash—minty fresh. If she had her way they would be spending the entire day in bed. There was nothing to hide now–well apart from his identity, but something hit her, something that made her stop and stare in the mirror for a moment. She didn't care that she didn't know who he was, because it didn't matter. Chat Noir was her favourite person in the world, and, regardless of who lay under the mask, she'd support him to the end. He was hers, and she was his, and they had the rest of their lives to get to know each other.

With a quick addition of mascara she was ready to get back to him.

Marinette made her way back into the bedroom, catching him lying, so calm and peaceful, doom scrolling through his phone. As though always knowing where she was, he turned his head to look at her, a smile that could have rivalled the brightest star in the sky.

"Hi," she said again, his smile growing with her greeting.

"Hey." He shuffled up on the pillow to a sitting position as she headed back to the bed and straddled over him, her hands playing in his hair as he held her gently by the waist. His thumbs ran backwards and forwards in the gap between her shorts and her tee. Her flesh turned to goosebumps from his simple touch.

"How's your phone now?"

She smiled. "Tikki worked her magic, and it's working again."

"Good."

She looked into his eyes. They seemed to be telling her a story—their story. From the moment they met on the street until last night when he'd figured her out. The love, the pain, the want, the need. It was all there as his eyes shined and dazzled with undying love and adoration. She moved her hands down from his hair to cup his face, thumbs stroking over his eyebrows in a matching action to his over her hips.

The story continued. The hope. The loss. The arguments. The make up. Their relationship was a continuous push and pull battle, but there was no one else she would want to do it with. He understood her. He always came back to her, even if it took guidance from someone else. They needed to talk more, she knew that, but right now talking was the one thing her lips didn't want to do. All they wanted was to be connected to his!

"It should be illegal for someone to be so beautiful." His voice came out like a rustle of trees in a summer breeze.

Impossibly, her smile grew wider and she moved her hands to cup his face. "Says the most handsome man on the island."

"I thought it was in Italy," he teased back.

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Or the world?"

"Kitty," she giggled. "Just kiss me again, please."

"Manners go a long way, little bug."

Her lips leapt with joy as they once again met with his. The tingling sensation only intensified when she tasted the slight hint of pineapple juice on his lips. She needed more. Pineapple and her Kitty was an addictive mix—more delicious than any cocktail the island had to offer. She wiggled herself closer to him, sitting heavier on her lap when her phone began to ring. The first sign of life since the unfortunate toilet incident.

"Ignore it," she said between kisses, trailing her lips to his ear and nibbling on his lobe. "It's probably just my parents."

A second phone began to ring in the room. This time Chat Noir's. He moved his lips to her neck, wide, open mouth kissed which caused her to giggle, everything inside her begging in need to feel more. Her head dropped to the side allowing him greater access to her neck and collarbone. His hands moved around her back and further down, it was so close to...

A phone rang again, and again, and again...the mood finally broke and Tikki flying with it.

With a growl, she gave Chat Noir an apologetic look and headed over towards the bedside table. Alya, of course.

"What do you want?" she huffed down the phone, keeping it slightly from her face. Chat Noir chuckled as he rearranged himself on the pillows.

"Woah, Marinette! Is that a man in your room?"

"Not the time, Al!" She looked over her shoulder holding up a finger to signal she'd only be a minute. Chat Noir nodded and moved to grab his phone, too. She tilted her head to look at his butt as he leaned over the edge of the bed to pick it up from where it had fallen. He must have dropped it in their make out.

"Someone's utterly frustrated. Unfortunately, whatever you're up to is going to have to wait," she announced. "I'm sorry, Marinette, but Monarch's back. Paris needs you."

Chat Noir sat back up, waving his phone like the flag of surrender. Paris didn't just need her; it needed them.