A/N: Sorry, guys! I know some of you are hoping for a sequel, but I've got too many other projects to work on, and I kind of like having this fic be a standalone. That said, I might be writing a couple drabbles from Adrien's POV for this fic or Burgundy and Blush, which I'll post on my Tumblr (ominousunflower) if I do. Thank you for reading!

Around an hour later, Marinette and Adrien breathe a sigh of relief as they serve Alya and Nino their dinner. Aside from the close call with the chicken, nothing else had gone horribly wrong with their cooking.

Alya folds her arms, inspecting the chicken dish in front of her. "Don't think I didn't see you picking around all the burnt pieces. Because I totally did."

"Only the best for our favorite judge," Adrien says, hopping onto the stool across from her. He uses a fork to poke a burnt piece of chicken floating on his plate. "Unless you want the burned bits…"

Marinette frowns as she sits next to him. "Adrien, you didn't have to take all of the bad pieces for yourself."

"It's fine," he says with a shrug. "It's my fault the chicken got burned."

"But I'm the one who ran off to the bathroom," Marinette points out. "If you hadn't come after me—"

"Okay!" Alya says. "How about we say it's both your faults, and leave it at that?" She grabs a spoon and wags it at the two of them. "Of course, I will have to deduct some points for that chicken mishap. That was definitely negligent cooking."

"Alya," Adrien says. He sounds like he might cry. "You're not saying I lost the bet because of some burnt chicken, are you?"

Alya raises her eyebrows. "I said I'd deduct points. Not that you lose." She scoops some chicken and rice onto her spoon and lifts it from the plate. "If this chicken tastes as good as it smells, you should be safe."

Marinette holds her breath as Alya lifts the spoon to her mouth. She jumps slightly when Adrien's hand wraps around hers underneath the table, clinging tightly to her fingers.

"Sorry," Adrien whispers. "I, uh…"

Marinette smiles and squeezes his hand. "You'll be fine," she whispers back. "And if you somehow lose and have to go to that concert, you won't be alone. I'll be there to help with your banana."

Adrien squeezes his eyes shut, entire face flushing pink. "Y-you—uh—maybe we shouldn't say my banana?"

With a yelp, Marinette snatches her hand away from Adrien's. "Right!" she says. "I—I mean, he's everyone's banana. The city's banana. Paris's favorite banana."

"Oh?" Adrien says. The blush fades from his face, and his voice takes on a teasing lilt. "Is he your favorite banana, too?"

"I—I mean—" Stupidly, her brain chooses that moment to remind her of Bananoir. "Th-there might be…one…other banana."

"Sounds like you're a pretty big fan of this other banana."

"He has a very nice banana," Marinette says, nodding. "Suit! A very nice banana suit! And that is the only banana he has. Or, um, he technically has another, but—I mean, I'm sure it's also…uh, nice…"

Adrien's forehead hits the table with a thunk.

Hesitantly, Marinette pokes his arm. Did she just incapacitate Adrien Agreste with an accidental banana euphemism? But she wasn't even talking about his banana! She was talking about Chat Noir's! Wait, no. Not his banana. His banana suit. That's perfectly innocent!

Across from them, Alya makes a pleased humming sound. Lightning fast, Adrien lifts his head from the table to stare at her.

"Is it okay?" he asks.

Alya nods. "I've got to hand it to you, Agreste. You're a decent chef."

Adrien buries his face against the table once more. "Dieu merci," he mumbles.

"Yeah," Nino says, "this is really good, man. I'm impressed." He tugs on his cap. "But oh, dude. Three hundred episodes of anime? That's going to be a lot."

"Not exactly," Alya says, shoveling another spoonful into her mouth. Marinette can tell that she's trying to hide how much she enjoys the food. "Remember the point deduction? You get one show, or one hundred episodes of anime. That's how much this chicken earned you."

"I'll take it," Adrien says, sitting up. His hand comes to rest on Marinette's shoulder, sending a pleasant warmth straight to her bones. "And now that that's settled, I'd like to dedicate my binge-watch to Marinette. This wouldn't have been possible without her."

"Does that mean no anime?" Nino whispers to Alya. "I think this means no anime."

"Quiet," Alya says, elbowing Nino in the ribs.

"Oh, I—I didn't do much," Marinette says. She laughs. "I just scooped some chicken out of the skillet and chopped half an onion."

Marinette still can't quite believe that part. She'd been so certain that she would have to take charge and save Adrien from a terrible defeat in the kitchen—and then he'd gone and practically cooked the entire meal all by himself. Did he really learn all of that from online cooking guides? It seems impossible, and yet, there's no other explanation.

She glances over at Adrien, only to find that he's leaned into her space, his face much closer to hers than she expected. "Trust me," he says, winking. "You helped more than you realize."

Marinette stares at him in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

"Also," Adrien says, turning back to his food, "I'm looking forward to my baking lessons." He takes a bite of chicken and chews, humming. "Oh, hey. This isn't too bad."

"Baking lessons?" Marinette says.

"You said you'd show me how to bake a pie, remember?" Adrien says. He raises an eyebrow. "Or are you too intimidated by my awesome cooking skills?"

Rolling her eyes, Marinette shoves his shoulder lightly. "Don't tell me you're secretly an expert at baking, too."

"Oh, no. Definitely not." Adrien points his fork at Marinette, leaning close to her. "That's why I need you to teach me."

A camera sound goes off.

Marinette glares at Alya and her phone. "How is this documenting the process?"

"Oh, it's not," Alya says, smirking. "You two just looked cute."

"Yeah," Adrien says, "Marinette is pretty cute."

Marinette's face flushes. "I—I am?"

Alya's mouth falls open. "Did you just call Marinette cute?"

"Yeah," Adrien says. But, wait—is that a smirk tugging at his lips? Oh, no. Marinette has the feeling he's about to say something utterly Chat-like.

Then Marinette sees an opportunity to disrupt him: the piece of chicken on his fork, which is still hovering right near her mouth.

"Très mignonne," Adrien says. "Or should I say, filet mign—"

Marinette dives forward and bites the piece of chicken off his fork.

Adrien yelps. He stares at her with betrayal in his eyes. "Marinette!"

She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "You were about to make a bad food pun."

Adrien's lower lip juts out in a pout. "That was my chicken."

Marinette chews and swallows the piece, trying not to wince at the bitter burned taste. "Not anymore."

"And I wasn't going to make a bad pun!"

"That's debatable."

"I take it back," Adrien says. "You're not cute. You're mean. You're filet méchant."

Marinette groans. "That was even worse."

"No, wait," Adrien says. "You're filet oignon. You know why?"

"No," Marinette deadpans, even though she knows exactly why Adrien just called her an onion.

"Because you make me cry," Adrien says, pouting again. He points to his eyes. "See, Marinette? Do you see my tears?"

Marinette snorts. "Try not to cry in your food. You wouldn't want to add too much salt."

"Hey," Alya says, "are you two going to eat, or are you going to flirt until your food gets cold?"

"We're not flirting!" Marinette squeaks. She turns back to her food and picks up her fork, chasing a piece of chicken around her plate. "Not flirting."

She definitely wasn't flirting with Adrien. She doesn't even know how to flirt with him! And besides, he doesn't like her that way. They were just teasing each other. Plenty of friends do that.

Adrien laughs nervously, his face as bright red as the tomatoes he cut earlier. "W-we—I was just—hey, look! There's chicken on this plate!" Still blushing, he shoves a forkful of chicken and rice into his mouth.

Marinette glares at Alya. Did she really have to say that and make Adrien uncomfortable? Marinette wasn't trying to make things romantic.

Alya grins and flashes her a thumbs-up.

Once plates are emptied and dishes washed, Marinette retrieves a chocolate cake she'd helped her father make the day before. Before she can serve it, though, Alya and Nino gather their things and join her by the sink.

"Sorry, girl," Alya says. "We've got some errands to run."

"Errands?" Marinette asks, brow furrowed. She glances at Adrien, who's sitting by himself at the kitchen table. He smiles when their eyes meet.

"We're trying to get you two alone," Nino says.

Alya elbows him. "Nino," she says. "You said the quiet part out loud again."

"Oh," Marinette says, "no, really, you can stay. That's not necess—"

"See you around!" Alya says.

Then she grabs Nino and drags him out of the apartment, before Marinette and Adrien can properly say goodbye.

Adrien stares after them, his forehead wrinkled with concern. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," Marinette says. She cuts two large slices of cake—because really, someone should eat Alya and Nino's portions—and serves them onto plates for her and Adrien. "You know how those two like to have their alone time."

Adrien snorts. "Yeah. They're pretty big fans of Super Penguino."

Marinette laughs and slides onto the stool next to Adrien, setting the plates down in front of them. She's pretty sure Adrien starts drooling when he sees the cake.

"Wow," he says, eyes wide. "Did you make this?"

Hearing the awe in his voice, Marinette can't help but blush a little. "I helped, yes."

Adrien smiles at her. "That's amazing."

At that, her stupid mind starts wondering—could she have this, one day? Cooking with someone every night, bumping hips, touching hands, laughing and joking in the kitchen. Decadent desserts, silly food puns. A loving smile, warm green eyes…and oh, no, she's not even sure who she's thinking of.

She's always wanted this with Adrien. But now, with him here, she's reminded of how much she would miss having Chat around. Somehow, it feels wrong to choose one over the other.

Marinette wishes she could confide in Alya about this. Even if she could, though, Alya would just snort and tell her to date both boys. And, well—if Adrien's crush on Luka is anything to go by, maybe he wouldn't be opposed to dating Marinette and Chat? He's never mentioned a crush on Chat, but, come on. Horrible flirting and ridiculous food puns? They're a match made in heaven.

She could test it out. See how the two get along, maybe. She still has some more cooking lessons with Chat, and Adrien wants baking lessons. Chat would probably want baking lessons, too, right? Maybe she could combine them.

Marinette pokes Adrien's arm. "You know that friend I was helping? I don't suppose you'd be interested in combined baking lessons? You, me, and him?"

Adrien raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. "Sorry, Marinette. Three's a crowd, isn't it? I'd rather have you to myself."

"H-have me—to—"

"Are you sure you can keep track of both of us?" Adrien continues. "I mean, we'd both have no idea what we're doing. I'm concerned there would be some sort of kitchen accident."

Marinette groans. He's right. She imagines it, actually imagines it, now: Adrien would second-guess every step, moving carefully and slowly, all while Chat tries to show off what a quick learner he is. They'd end up competing, wouldn't they? She knows that Adrien has a competitive streak. And of course, Adrien would be hyper-focused on Marinette the entire time, asking her if she's okay every time she blushes or squeaks—and she'd be so distracted that she wouldn't notice Chat sneaking cookie dough out of the bowl behind her back.

And if one of them made a food pun and found out that the other boy likes punning just as much…oh, no, it would never stop. Marinette would be drowning in soup jokes and quips about cheese.

Worse, if Chat and Adrien really hit it off, there might not be any room left for her. What if her baking lessons make them fall in love, and they run off together, and they start a restaurant with some awful food pun for a name, and they forget all about her and she spends the rest of her life alone and—

"Marinette?" Adrien says.

"I'll keep you two separate," Marinette says. She swallows, gathering all of the sass she usually reserves for Chat. "But you don't have to lie. I know why you really want separate lessons."

Adrien's eyes widen slightly. For a moment, he almost looks scared. "Y-you do?"

"Yeah." Marinette leans forward. "You want me to yourself, because otherwise you can't flirt with me. I haven't forgotten that you asked for a kiss, you know."

A sigh gusts from Adrien's lungs. "Oh! Uh, y-yeah, that's it! You caught me. Just trying to get a kiss." His eyes go wide again. "No, wait! I—I wouldn't—I didn't ask for a kiss. T-technically I said I might ask for a kiss. I never asked."

Marinette shrugs, heart thudding loudly in her ears as she feigns nonchalance. "So you don't want one? Suit yourself."

"I—I mean…" Adrien rubs the back of his neck. "I wouldn't be opposed."

Marinette's head snaps to face him. "What?"

Adrien stares at her like a deer in headlights. Then, in a way that's all too familiar, his expression morphs into a playful smirk. "I feel like I deserve a reward for cooking so well."

"That's why we're having cake," Marinette says. She stabs her fork into her slice to distract herself. "Besides, I thought I helped you more than I realize. I think I've done enough."

Adrien's silent for a moment. When Marinette glances at him, she sees his lower lip jutting out and his wide, shining eyes trained on her. "Marinette," he whines.

Marinette sighs. What is this? This is right out of Chat's playbook! Flirt, tease, and then pout when he doesn't get his way. It's absurd. How did she get stuck with the two most handsome, infuriating boys in Paris? How are they so much alike? It's not fair.

"No one in Paris would believe me if I told them this," Marinette grumbles. She shoves a bite of cake into her mouth. "Paris's most eligible teen bachelor, begging for a kiss. As if you don't have dozens of boys and girls lining up to kiss you every day!"

"But I didn't cook chicken for them," Adrien says, still pouting.

"You didn't cook it for me, either," Marinette points out. "You cooked it for the bet."

"Sort of," Adrien says. The pout slips off his face, replaced by a soft smile. "Honestly, Marinette, I was more worried about messing up in front of you than I was about winning the bet. I didn't want you to think I was stupid or incompetent."

"Quoi!" Marinette says. "Adrien, I would never think that."

Adrien raises an eyebrow. "So if I hadn't known how to use a can opener, or had forgotten to peel the garlic—you wouldn't have thought, even for a second, that I was dumb?"

Thinking of Chat, Marinette shakes her head. "Not for a second. I might have been a little surprised, if you'd said you knew how to cook and then didn't know those things. But I wouldn't think you were dumb." Hesitantly, she reaches out and rests her hand on his. "I—I think you're amazing, Adrien. Really. Even if you didn't know how to cook, I'd still think that."

Adrien gives her a brilliant smile. "That's good. Because, can I be honest? The first time I cooked garlic, I totally forgot to peel it. And I spent the majority of my life not knowing how to use a can opener."

You're in good company, Marinette thinks, remembering Chat's first time cooking. "That's not so bad."

"Right. S-so, uh…" Adrien rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. Marinette notices that he hasn't tried to move her hand from his. "Do I pass? I mean, are you impressed, or—well, not impressed, that's the wrong word, but, I, well…"

At first, all Marinette can do is stare at Adrien. He risked humiliation in the kitchen just because he wanted to prove himself to her? That can't be right. And yet, isn't that basically what he just said? How ridiculously sweet of him.

She leans forward and presses her lips to his cheek. "Very impressed," she says, her face warm.

"G-good. Uh. That's good." Adrien smiles, blushing. "I don't suppose you want a reward, too?"

"I already have one," Marinette points out. "One hundred episodes of whatever show I want." She nudges him with her elbow. "You didn't have to give away your prize, you know. I would've loved to watch Alya and Nino suffer through a hundred episodes of anime."

Adrien laughs. "You still could. It's your choice."

"Maybe you can make some recommendations," Marinette says. "I don't actually mind anime, so—"

"Really?" Adrien says. "Because if you want, there are a few shows I've been meaning to rewatch. We could watch them together, if you want? I'll try not to make too much commentary."

Marinette smiles, mentally cheering. Sitting on a couch with Adrien, watching his favorite shows together? It's not quite a date, but it's definitely a step forward. "I'd like that."

After that, they eat their cake in comfortable silence. Adrien eats his with little grace, getting smudges of chocolate and crumbs all over his face. Strangely, it's nice to see him lack decorum. It makes him seem more…real.

And more Chat-like, but Marinette refuses to let her brain go there.

It's not until she's halfway done eating her slice of cake that a horrible realization hits her.

I don't suppose you want a reward, too?

Adrien's reward had been a kiss on the cheek. Does that mean…did…

Did Marinette just TURN DOWN A KISS FROM ADRIEN AGRESTE?

Oh, she did. And she said she wanted one hundred episodes of anime instead.

Marinette sighs, taking another bite of cake. At least Alya left before this disaster occurred—because if she had witnessed Marinette's epic failure just now, she would never let her live it down.

On the bright side, thanks to the baking lessons and anime marathon, Marinette will still get to spend more time with Adrien. And hearing his laugh, seeing his smile…really, isn't that enough of a reward? Spending time with Adrien is worth more than a little kiss on the cheek.

She still wishes that she had said yes to the kiss, though.

o - o - o - o - o

Later that night, Marinette stands on her balcony and sips from a cup of tea, her entire body weak with relief.

Adrien had left a few hours ago, smiling on his way out the door and rambling about all the different anime shows that they could watch together. The names and premises have all blended together in Marinette's mind, to the point that all she really remembers is something about gay ice skaters and a basket of fruit.

As he left, Marinette swears he leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek—but Marinette, being the fool that she is, had halted him with a fist bump instead.

"A fist bump, Tikki," she groans, as steam from the tea warms her face. "What was I thinking?"

"You'll have another chance to let him kiss you!" Tikki says. "I'd still count today as a success." Then she squeaks and dives into one of Marinette's planters. From within a tangle of flowers, she whispers, "It's Chat Noir!"

Marinette scans the sky, and sure enough, Chat comes soaring through the night air a moment later. He lands on Marinette's balcony railing and gives an elaborate bow, somehow managing not to fall off the railing as he does so.

"Bonsoir, princesse," he says. "You're having a good evening, I hope?"

Marinette nods, taking another sip of tea. "I survived."

"You won the bet?" Chat asks. "Or did it end in disaster?"

"We won," Marinette says. "No Monsieur Banane."

"Félicitations!" Chat says. He drops into a crouch on the railing, then sits down with his legs dangling over Marinette's balcony. "That's a relief."

"Don't be too quick to congratulate me," Marinette says. "I'm pretty sure I made a fool of myself."

Chat raises an eyebrow. "I doubt that."

Marinette levels him with a flat look. "Alright. Use your imagination for a second."

Laughing, Chat closes his eyes. "Okay. I'm imagining."

"You're sitting in the kitchen next to a really cute guy."

Chat hums, a smile playing at his lips. "Oh, I like where this is going."

Marinette lightly shoves his arm. "I thought Ladybug was your one and only?"

Chat makes a shushing sound. "Quiet, Marinette. It's not every day I get to be in the kitchen with a cute boy."

Snorting, Marinette says, "Alright. So you're sitting next to a cute boy. You've been flirting with him for the past hour or two, and—"

"You were flirting with him?" Chat asks, forehead creased.

Marinette holds her cup of tea close to her chest, regarding Chat. "Chat, are you jealous?"

"No," Chat says, the lines disappearing from his face. "It's just, I thought this was a bet. I didn't realize you had a date." He waggles his eyebrows, unable to wink with his eyes closed.

"It wasn't a date!" Marinette says. "Can you let me finish?"

"Alright, alright. I'm listening."

"So you're with this boy, he's cute, you've both been flirting, and he offers to give you a kiss on the cheek. What do you do?"

Chat scrunches his entire face up, as if he's deep in thought. "I…make passionate love to him on the kitchen table?"

"Chat!" Marinette squeaks. She shoves him without thinking, and he flails for a moment, nearly losing his balance.

"Hey!" Chat says, eyes flying open. "Careful, princesse! I know I have superpowers, but I'd rather not lose one of my lives falling off your balcony." He squints at her, pursing his lips. "I suppose I'd let the cute boy kiss me. But something tells me that's not what you did."

Marinette groans. "If only. I panicked and told him I didn't need a kiss, because I'd rather watch one hundred episodes of anime."

"I mean, anime is pretty cool," Chat says. "I'm sure he wouldn't hold that against you." He leans forward, gripping the balcony railing to keep his balance. "So—so you wanted this boy to kiss you?"

"I—well, I…"

Chat raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"Maybe a little," Marinette grumbles.

"My kiss last night wasn't enough for you?"

A blush heats Marinette's cheeks. "I thought your kiss was a joke!"

"Hm." Chat kicks his legs, head tilted to the side in thought. "Did you still have a good time otherwise? Or did this silly boy ruin your night?"

"He's not silly," Marinette says. She sighs. "I guess the important thing is that we won the bet and had fun. But I can't believe I said no to a kiss."

Chat gives her a sly smile. "Do you want me to make it up to you?"

"Chat!"

"Marinette," he says, grinning. "If you want a kiss, all you have to do is ask."

"Charmeur," she says.

"I confess," Chat says, "I am sometimes a bit of a flirt."

Adrien's words from before flash through her mind—shyer, more nervous, but the same sentiment. "That makes two of you," Marinette mutters. She sets her teacup on the balcony table and turns back to Chat, her arms folded. "Why would a kiss from you make things better?"

Chat holds up his hand and counts off fingers as he makes a list. "I'm devastatingly handsome, you spent all week putting up with me—doesn't that deserve a reward?—and I could be wrong, princesse, but I think you might have a crush on me."

Marinette's face heats with a blush. "H-how…"

How did Chat find out about her crush on him? Merde, Marinette just found out about her crush on Chat! He can't possibly know already.

"Papa Garou?" Chat says. He winks. "Plus a few other things you've said."

Stuttering random syllables, Marinette glances around the balcony, searching for something to look at besides Chat's handsome face. "Th-that—I—you—what about you?" She points an accusatory finger at Chat. "It's not nice to tease if you don't reciprocate."

Chat smiles. "You know me, Marinette," he says. "I'm always nice."

Marinette presses her lips together. Chat has a crush on her? She shouldn't be surprised, really, since he's always liked Ladybug, but it's still caught her a bit off-guard. "Wait. Were your cooking lessons just an excuse to spend more time with me?"

"Oh, no," Chat says, laughing. "I definitely needed emergency cooking lessons."

"But why would you need—"

"Spending time with you was nice, though," Chat says, cutting her off. "Marinette, I think you're really sweet and incredible. I mean, you pretty much taught me how to cook in three days, which shows how amazingly kind and dedicated you are. And I'd still like to keep cooking with you, if you, uh…if you have room for me. I mean, it sounds like you'd like to pursue this other guy, but—"

"I'll take that kiss now!" Marinette says, face burning. Anything to stop Chat's monologue, which is currently making her heart do all sorts of acrobatics in her chest.

"Oh." Chat stares at her with wide eyes. "Right. Sure."

Still sitting on the balcony railing, he leans forward and presses his lips to her cheek. Marinette's eyes close, and she sways slightly underneath the soft feeling of his mouth on her skin.

"Congratulations on winning your bet, princesse," Chat murmurs. "Then again, I knew you would."

Marinette squeezes her eyes shut, trying to keep her breathing steady. Two blonde boys swim around in her mind, all green eyes and sweet smiles, and as hard as she tries, she can't bring herself to pick one. There's no Beef Bourguignon Super Facile that's easy to throw away. Both boys are so kind, so dear to her, that she can't possibly choose.

Damn these two dorks. How dare they confuse her heart so much? She might have won the bet and gotten closer to Chat, but this past week has officially thrown her love life into chaos.

After a few seconds pass, Marinette's eyes flutter open. Chat's face still looms close to hers, and there's a warm smile on his face, soft and shy like Adrien's. Once again, she thinks it would be so much easier if she didn't have to choose—and in her love-induced haze, she can't help but blurt out one cursed thought from earlier:

"How would you feel about dating me and Adrien?"

Chat jerks backward, slips off the balcony, and tumbles to the street below with a crash. He holds his hand in a thumbs-up above his head—which could either mean I'm okay or yes, Marinette, let's date Adrien—and then he groans and lets his face fall flat on the sidewalk.

Marinette echoes his groan, hiding her face in her hands. Her dueling feelings for Adrien and Chat are almost bound to be a recipe for disaster, and yet, she can't bring herself to be concerned.

In fact, she feels the opposite. She's looking forward to attempting that particular dish.

(Later, when Chat holds an ice pack to his head and mutters a strangely familiar phrase about his lettuce being on fire, Marinette thinks he might be concussed—but really, that's just the first ingredient in a recipe for a reveal.)

Translations:
Dieu merci – Thank god
très mignonne – very cute; filet mignon – tenderloin (meat)
méchant – mean
Bonsoir, princesse – Good evening, princess
Félicitations – Congratulations