Paris was hot.

Like really, really hot.

The kind of sticky heat that feels like you're being wrapped up in a warm, wet blanket, able to do nothing but pray for the quick and merciful release of death.

Factoring in the humidity, the temperature was somewhere around a balmy 40°C and Adrien could feel his cool, I-am-an-impeccably-coiffed-model persona slipping faster than the sweat down his back. It was too hot to worry about appearances. Really it was too hot to do anything other than complain about the heat.

Yet here he was, agreeing to meet up with his friends and willingly venturing out of his cool, air-conditioned home, into broad daylight and blinding sunlight and sweltering heat.

Why am I doing this again?

Curse Nino and his powers of persuasion.

His dark-haired best friend had cajoled him into it over the phone, assuring him that a dip in the nearby public pool would be just the thing to alleviate the heat.

(He may or may not have also agreed to marathon the new anime Adrien was currently obsessed with next time they hung out. Fair's fair, after all.)

Although not the biggest fan of swimming or public pools in general – due in part to his feline alter ego as well as his mild germophobia (do you have any idea how many people get warts from swimming pools?) – Adrien found himself agreeing because he was tired of sweating, goddamnit.

Having agreed to meet his friends at a park close to the nearby pool, Adrien was surprised to find that both Alya and Marinette had beaten him there. In spite of the fact that he was a full 15 minutes early – thanks to several of the Gorilla's slightly insane and possibly quite illegal manoeuvres – the two girls appeared to have been there a while, reclining gracelessly under the trees.

"I'm hot," Marinette whined, sprawling back on the grass and fanning herself lazily with one hand.

Well, you're not wrong there… Adrien did not even attempt to stop the lascivious thoughts swirling through his mind.

Nor could he really prevent himself from appreciating the way the sun glinted off of her blue-black hair and the pale skin of her legs, which were stretched out in front of her and accentuated perfectly by her denim short-shorts.

Adrien's 17 year-old hormone-addled brain sent up a quick prayer of thanks to powers that be for creating the person who created short-shorts. Hallelujah, amen.

"Like what you see, hm?"

Alya's slightly amused voice succeeded in effectively cutting through his, uh, admiring of Marinette's assets.

He started guiltily, hoping that he could pass the red flush in his cheeks off on the heat.

"Yo Adrien. Nice of you to finally join us." The red-haired girl went back to tapping at her phone, pointedly ignoring the way he had been blatantly ogling her best friend. Although the look on her face assured him that she would not be forgetting, and was undoubtedly storing the information away to be used at a later date. Most likely as blackmail.

If they were still the awkward lil' 15 year-old versions of themselves, Marinette would have undoubtedly begun flailing or squawking at Adrien's sudden appearance. Luckily 17 year-old Marinette had developed some semblance of a Chill around him since then (probably due to repeat exposure since their best friends were dating/basically madly in love) and so settled for waving a hand vaguely in his direction, eyes glued to the horizon.

"You guys are here early," Adrien commented, trying to make idle conversation. Both for something to do and so as avoid any more unwanted ogling. Marinette was his friend after all. And friends don't imagine what it would feel like to have their friend's long, shapely legs wrapped around their waist. And they definitely don't imagine what it would feel like to have them tightening enticingly as they–

AbortabortABORTABORT

Adrien coughed loudly, viciously clamping down on his mind's meanderings. That was not a path he could afford to let his mind go down.

Marinette gave him a strange look, sensing his sudden shift in mood but thankfully choosing not to press the issue. Adrien had never been as grateful for the heat as he was at that moment; it slowed people's mental processes, making them more complacent and less likely to notice any weirdness (or accidental half-boners).

The sun continued to beat down on them as they waited in relative silence for Nino to show up.

And waited.

And waited.

"Alya, if your boyfriend doesn't get here in the next five minutes I swear to god–" Marinette's blue eyes flashed with the promise of pain and suffering, her face flushed and hair plastered to the back of her neck with sweat.

The redhead simply rolled her eyes, used to putting up with her friend's antics.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon Mari, there's no need to worry." Adrien smiled, trying to appease the dark-haired girl.

The only person who should be worried is Nino if you manage to get your hands on him…

Marinette let out a frustrated huff, blowing away a piece of hair that had fallen in her face. Adrien winced as she ripped the hair ties out of her hair, none too gently, and began tying her hair back into a ponytail.

"Does anyone know where the front entrance is? I've never actually been here…" Adrien trailed off, not quite willing to divulge the fact that he was kind of a dweeb who didn't like swimming and ruin his tough guy façade. Which he most certainly had.

Right.

"Ah, I think it's over that way," Marinette pointed with her free hand, the other extended behind her, holding her hair in place.

The motion drew attention to her slender arms and – bulging biceps?!

Adrien felt his eyes widen, certain that his expression was a mixture of both awe and admiration.

Because hot damn. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was ripped.

Like, could-be-a-professional-tennis-player slash probably-able-to-crush-a-grown-man's-skull level ripped.

Seeing her without sleeves for the first time, Adrien could comfortably say that Marinette's arms were the most impressive he had ever seen. His own arms looked weak and scrawny in comparison, and he had to resist the urge to flex in order to compensate. Chat Noir most certainly would have, but Adrien Agreste simply could not engage in a Battle of the Biceps with his cute classmate (as much as he might like to). Really the only person whose arms he could say were comparable were those of his Lady, although he couldn't really say definitively, because he'd never seen her arms outside of the suit.

Thoughts of Ladybug and Marinette and their ridiculously attractive arms were swirling around in his head, and he was starting to get rather hot and bothered – this time for a reason other than the brain-melting intensity of the temperature.

A swim is sounding better by the second.

Marinette sighed, stretching her toned arms above her head. Adrien watched, unabashed, as she flexed her muscles, before he found his attention unwittingly drawn to other, ahem, softer parts of her body.

And maybe a cold shower. Or twelve.

"Ah, Nino just texted me!" Alya exclaimed, typing away furiously at her screen. "Oh mon dieu, the nitwit's already at the pool. Apparently he got the meet-up location confused." The affectionate look on her face betrayed her attempt at appearing annoyed, and Adrien found himself once again feeling jealous of his friends and just how in love they were with one another.

If only we could all be so lucky.

"Race you there," Marinette challenged him, leaping to her feet. He barely had time to catch the tantalizing smirk on her face and the mischievous glint in her blue eyes before she was taking off towards the front doors – her powerful muscles pumping as she sprinted forward.

Wait.

That smirk.

Those eyes.

Too surprised to do anything other than gape, Adrien came to a sudden, life-altering realization.

I'd know those muscles anywhere…

"L-Ladybug?!"

alternate title: betrayed by the biceps - the story of marinette dupain-cheng

i swore i would never write a reveal fic and yet here we are. whoops. (although let's be honest this like barely counts sooo)

also i am sorry for who i am as a person

this fic has been cross-posted from ao3!