RENA ROUGE FOLLOWED LADYBUG DOWN the stairs into the basement of the Palais de Justice, and Carapace followed Rena Rouge.

Her feet moved as quickly as her mouth, skipping deftly down each stone step without a glance. "I find it a tad—just a tad—ungrateful that we, Paris' number one sidekicks, have to clean out the office. I mean, sure, we created these documents, but surely the judiciary has a team of interns or clerks waiting around somewhere to do this. We could be off protecting public safety or something! Kicking evil ass!"

"Just a tad," Carapace echoed, amused by her outburst. Carapace, bless him, was so pleased with the newfound freedom and sense of peace that had descended on the city after the verdict that he was willing to keep helping out, wherever needed. But Rena had a backlog of Ladyblog posts to write, all insider scoops for her online audience.

It was only because Rena was in the company of trusted friends—boyfriend and best friend—that she was complaining so passionately. She was very ready to tie a bow on this whole trial, but now they were being employed once more not as investigators or superheroes or courtroom security, but paper pushers. Filing, tagging and archiving all the transcripts and dossiers from the Agreste case. As if they hadn't been volunteering for months.

"Special request from Heloise, I'm afraid," Ladybug called back, not sounding apologetic at all.

When the trio stepped into the familiar basement office, the door slammed shut and bolted behind them. Rena startled and whirled around at the metallic thud. Chat Noir had a dark claw pressed against the wood, smiling wider than she had ever seen him smile.

"Uh." What was going on?

The shelves had already been cleared. No boxes or dossiers to trawl through. Nothing to archive. Then she noticed the smell. Pastries? Ladybug whipped a chequered in the air and let it float down onto the workbench in the centre of the room. Chat Noir's baton extended with a shink through the handles of three wicker baskets in the corner, and he deposited all three in a perfect row just as the tablecloth settled. By now, both Rena and Carapace were itching for answers.

"We have some news to tell you," Ladybug said. Chat Noir walked to her side and started opening the baskets. The smell of sugar, fruit jam and baked dough grew stronger. Carapace's eyes drifted distractedly to the food before refocusing on the two heroes.

"What is it?" Rena wondered.

Ladybug opened her mouth. No sound emerged. She tried again, and then chuckled and shook her head. Rena could see a flush underneath her mask. What was the news? Finally, words having failed her, Ladybug tiptoed and placed a kiss on Chat Noir's cheek. He hadn't been expecting it, unwrapping a bundle of blueberry danishes (maybe a little too intently), and Rena saw his pointy ears prick right up, his cheeks flushing to match his Lady's. He gave her a soft smile and still wouldn't look at Rena or Carapace.

She understood. Ladybug's indecision, now decided. The many conversations they had about love and letting Adrien go and her anxieties, now settled. She'd chosen to take a leap of faith with Chat Noir, finally.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God."

She ran into Ladybug's arms and squeezed tightly. This was fantastic news. Carapace, too, caught on and said, "Wow. Congratulations. What a power couple."

Chat Noir cleared his throat. "Thanks, Carapace. There's more. Plagg, claws in."

Huh?

A rush of green magic curled around Chat Noir's body, and when the haze cleared, Rena saw—

"Adrien," Carapace whispered. His mouth hung agape. For a long time, no-one said anything. Ladybug folded her lips inwards and waited, while Adrien nervously from foot to foot. Adrien. Chat Noir.

"Wait," Carapace said dazedly, "I thought you and Ladybug weren't supposed to know each other's— how long have you known?"

"It's okay. We're safe now," Ladybug answered. "I've known since the trial."

Alya's mind was spiralling. What. How. How perfect. Adrien was Chat Noir, who loved Ladybug, who was Marinette, who loved Adrien, who was right there in front of her. She hadn't really had to decide between them in the first place. Because he was Chat Noir. Round and round the thought process went, each time landing on a new memory that suddenly meant something totally different. How he kept running off whenever someone was akumatized. Chat Noir's absence at the start of the trial. The surprising strength and fierceness that Adrien exhibited in his testimony.

She blinked back into the office and realised Carapace had shed his shell. Nino had circled around the table and was clinging to Adrien, arms locked around his shoulders. Adrien laughed, eyes squeezed shut.

"—when I said I hated Chat Noir," he said rapidfire, "I didn't mean any of that."

"I know."

"I can't believe you!" Nino exclaimed, the pieces clearly falling into place for him, too. "You just played the ultimate game of double agent."

"I know," Adrien said apologetically.

"Fuck, man. That must have been so difficult. I love you."

"I know." Adrien squeezed Nino tighter, clapped him on the shoulder and stepped back. "I love you, too." When Rena looked at Adrien, there was such familiarity and fondness in his eyes that she knew he was seeing through her mask. He knew she was Alya. This moment was only among friends, so she detransformed.

Nino suddenly chuckled bashfully. "Sorry, Ladybug. Got emotional there."

"It's okay, Nino," she said. "I understand." Ladybug took a breath. "Tikki, spots off."

Oh. Was she finally ready to shed her mask?

Alya was waiting by her best friend's side as the glow faded from her body, and Marinette appeared. This time, Nino seemed to go into shock. A strange but not unhappy blankness settled on his face. Robotically he walked to the computer benches, slid out a stool, and sat on it.

"Nino?" Adrien asked worriedly.

"Yes. I am Nino. You are Adrien."

"Uh..." Marinette drawled. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Marinette. You are Ladybug."

Alya fished two danishes from the basket. "This is actually a step above Nino fainting, you guys." Which she'd also been witness to. He just needed food and a distraction until his mind caught up to all the bombshells that had been dropped. "Danish, babe?"

Nino blinked. He took the pastries and started eating, nodding hypnotically in time with his chewing.

Alya put a hand by her mouth and whispered, "He'll be fine."

In fact, now she was confident they all would be.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Marinette sighed and leaned back on her palms, watching the evergreen trees sway gently in the wind.

It was a clear day, but still February, so it was cold despite the mild sunlight dappling the grass. She and Adrien were eating a late lunch in Places Des Vosges because he loved being outside, after spending the autumn and winter cooped in a hotel suite. His scarf was wrapped high around his neck, hiding some of his face from any incidental bystanders. The media frenzy around the trial had largely settled down now that the trial was over and Adrien had left the modelling industry, but a life of fame had made him ever-cautious.

Adrien had finally moved from the hotel back to the Agreste mansion. With Gabriel's household staff dismissed, and the investigatory team packed out, he had full reign of the place. He despised that fact, having no need for a ballroom or six guest bedrooms or a secret underground lair. But with Gabriel beginning his prison sentence, and as a legal adult, Adrien had come to inherit all the assets of his father.

Thankfully, it wasn't as lonely as the last time he lived there now that his friends had permission to come over and throw all the parties they liked. Marinette knew he was planning something bigger, something more thoughtful for the Agreste mansion—she could tell the soaring columns and polished excesses didn't fit right on Adrien—but he wouldn't say what.

Or maybe he didn't know himself yet.

In addition to being outside, he loved walking to parks, taking public transportation, going to the cinema, buying his own groceries, and attempting to cook. Sometimes, the cooking attempts went haywire but he took all these challenges in stride.

A few weeks ago, after the judgments of Gabriel and Nathalie were passed down, Adrien had confessed that he was terrified of operating as an individual in the world. Last year he was a child, with supervisors, and now he was an adult all of a sudden. He couldn't drive, couldn't cook, didn't know how to pay his phone bills, had never withdrawn cash from an ATM. All these simple tasks (performed for him by employed labour) made him feel juvenile, incompetent.

"Chat Noir, incompetent?" Marinette had said. "Never. Besides, I can't drive either. And have you seen me in a kitchen? My clumsiness is an occupational hazard."

"It baffles me how Ladybug is so co-ordinated and Marinette is so..."

Marinette had arched her brows. "So what? Choose your next words carefully."

"So wonderful, and inspiring," Adrien had quipped. "Beautiful, too."

Reflecting on the new Adrien gave Marinette hours of entertainment. Some of Chat Noir's traits—traits she would have once utterly precluded as Adrien Agreste's—had bled through. He had an edge, a cheeky, playful air. He teased her, played pranks. He flirted unabashedly. He did spontaneous things like literally sweeping her off her feet or twirling her around the room.

But he was Adrien, too, thoughtful, sincere and sensitive. When they were in private, he became such an attention-hungry stray. Probably an effect of all those years of isolation. He secretly adored having his hair ruffled to disarray (despite complaining that it was a nightmare to fix), cuddling up with Marinette, and listening to her convoluted, vivid stories. His favourite story was the story of Ladybug and Chat Noir, and how the former fell in the love with the latter. Even though he'd heard her say she loved him so many times by now. Probably especially because he'd heard it all before.

Marinette found old memories and dynamics constantly bubbling up to the surface, where Adrien eagerly fished them up and treasured them. She told him how, when she thought they were separate people, she felt undone, out of control, eaten up by fire with Chat Noir. How with Adrien she was light as air and full of fantasies. How falling for her partner had terrified her. How had this happened? Where was the tipping point? Those two months without him, which for the first time felt like treading water in the open ocean, waiting for rescue? The day he came back, and returned her feet to dry land. His rashness and unfathomable approaches to the investigation, which piqued her interest and heated her blood. The kiss.

But a tipping point implied a buildup. Marinette also produced the little moments before. "I liked our banter. It felt dangerous, almost too-close to flirting, but not quite. Any time you touched me—mostly for professional reasons—my heart would jump and I'd get this weird awareness all over me."

Then Adrien had smiled a Chat Noir smirk, and she told him so.

"What?" he spluttered amusedly. "What is a Chat Noir smirk?"

"I don't know how to describe it. It's just... the purr-fect balance of dangerous and safe."

Marinette's phone rang. She shifted off her haunches so she could pull it from her pocket. The call was incoming through the MM network, and she glanced around the sparsely populated park before deciding to answer. "Heloise, bonjour."

Adrien heard the judge's name and became very intrigued.

"Uh-huh," Marinette said. "Oh. How soon would Lila's case go to trial? Right. I understand. I see."

Marinette glanced at Adrien and saw keen comprehension in his grass green eyes. He was smiling knowingly at her and shaking his head, cutting a hand across his neck. Despite his clear objections, Marinette couldn't help herself. Her sense of responsibility was undying. "Well, maybe I would be free for a meeting—"

"Sorry, Heloise," Adrien interrupted, snatching the phone and bringing it to his ear in what seemed like a nanosecond. "Ladybug and I have taken on a new project." Marinette grasped desperately for her phone back, knowing how unpredictable a combination Adrien's charm with Chat Noir's confidence was. He did a smooth roll under her arm and pivoted onto his feet.

"It's time and labour-intensive, and I expect it to take the rest of the year." She lunged again and he dodged neatly, feline reflexes sharp as ever. Curse him. "Yes, maybe even longer," he was saying. "Yes, so sorry. You, too. Have a good day. Bye."

Then he hung up.

"I cannot believe you." She was as irritated as she was impressed, and more flustered than anything. "I can speak for myself."

"I know that." Adrien tossed the phone in the air and Marinette caught it, fumbling only once (a real win considering her civilian clumsiness). "I also know you would have agreed to a meeting, and then felt weirdly responsible for Lila and her crimes, and then volunteered to spearhead yet another investigation, even though now there are no Miraculous involved."

"As dangerous as she is, Lila is hurting. You don't know what I felt when I was using the Butterfly Miraculous." It was so poisonous. Lila had very old wounds inside, festering and infecting every new relationship or environment she entered. Marinette could so easily envision a life of cages (real or imagined) and darkness if no-one intervened and got her the support she needed. Was it justice to just send her to prison? It didn't feel like it. "I really worry about her."

True, sometimes she overstepped her obligations. But Marinette couldn't bring herself to wish away her sense of duty. That was what made her such a good hero. Adrien's words on the night he was amokized always helped ground her when dilemmas like these arose. Ladybug would be nothing without Marinette, he'd said. And she tried to believe it was true. She tried to invest more into her personal life and take necessary time and space away from carrying the weight of the city, even when it called to her. She was trying.

It truly was one of the hardest battles she'd fought.

"I can imagine. I love your empathy and your desire to help everyone," Adrien said, tugging her hand into his. "But you can delegate. You deserve a break. We both do."

"There's no villains now, though. What am I going to do in the meantime?"

"I don't know. Be my girlfriend?"

"Adrien."

"What?" he said innocently.

"It's so soon after the trial. Everything is still changing, even though it feels like it's over. Are we ready?"

"I know I'm ready." Gazing up at his clear, bright eyes, Marinette was ever-thankful she didn't have to fight this new battle alone. Adrien was so supportive, so clear-sighted about priorities, so unerring when he championed what was best for her. "But I will admit, my Lady, being my lady is a challenging role. Full-time, very competitive, just as high-stakes as being a superhero."

"I'm sure," she quipped. "What's the pay like?"

"It's also voluntary, unfortunately—"

"—oh, I see how it is—"

"—but the benefits are great."

Everyone knew what her answer would be. Marinette sighed, took a step closer and tapped her forefinger on his dimple, just resurfaced. "See here."

"Hm?"

"This is a Chat Noir smirk. Textbook."

He laughed. She loved making him laugh. (And while Marinette discovered it was rather difficult to kiss and smile at the same time, she gave it her best shot.)

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a/n:

again, thanks for all your patience! i'm very pleased to say that the wait, and all waits, for this fic are over. i'm dropping this chapter, the last, and an epilogue today.

read on!