A/N: Surprise! It's an epilogue chapter. I was going to mention this in the last chapter, but I was anxious to post it (in case you couldn't tell from the typos) and I forgot to insert an A/N. It's been over a month, though, so that was probably for the better. Also! I have started writing another ML FF, called When One Door Closes, and you can find it on my page!

C&C was my first fanfiction, so thank you for hanging on through my beginner-ness and being such an encouraging reader base. I really appreciate you.

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The weak sunlight of a late March afternoon shone through Adrien's picture windows onto the two teens sitting cross-legged on the couch, battling each other ferociously in UMS III.

"That was dirty!" Adrien yelled when Marinette finally took the match.

She smirked. He wasn't wrong, but it was too much fun beating him to let him win. Somewhere along the line he had gotten really good and she had actually needed to start trying.

"All's fair in love and war," she taunted. "Now are we going to play again, or are you going to go cry to da—ahhh!" She was cut off when he tackled her, pinning her against the couch and holding her wrists above her head.

"I'm sorry," Adrien smarmed, smirking down at her. "Did you say something?"

"I said," Marinette repeated slowly, staring up at him with wide-open eyes, "that poor losers can go cry to daddy."

"That might be a little bit difficult," Adrien said thoughtfully, "because I'm the only daddy I see here."

"You did not just say that." Horror registered in Marinette's face, and then she tried to pull her hands away. "That's disgusting! Get off of me! I'm leaving!"

He was grinning. "Ask nicely," he sang.

"Please get off of me," she growled.

"Please get off of me, daddy," he corrected her, enjoying himself far too much until Marinette brought a knee up into his stomach and knocked him onto the ground.

"I was just kidding!" he whined loudly, curling himself into the fetal position. "You're so mean!"

"Yeah, yeah. Now get up here for round five."

"No! I don't play with mean people!"

She sat down next to him on the floor and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"There," she said, "all better. Now stop being a baby and come lose like a man."

"I'm not a baby," Adrien whined. And then: "But I could be your baby daddy."

"Bye," Marinette declared, standing up. "I'm leaving."

Adrien launched himself at her ankles, bringing her down onto the floor. "You're not allowed to leave me!" he yelled while clinging to her legs. Marinette couldn't help laughing, and she didn't fight when Adrien crawled over and sprawled on top of her. "Mine," he whispered, nuzzling his face into her neck. Marinette had noticed that the more comfortable he got around her, the weirder he was. It was cute, though. She enjoyed it, and she was glad that he felt comfortable enough around her to be himself.

She had seen him around other people, and he always appeared so subdued, so quiet and proper. The only other person who seemed to see strange Adrien was Nino, and slowly but surely it was coming out around Alya.

The two of them laid there on the ground for a few minutes, and as Marinette was preparing to get up, she caught a glimpse of something under Adrien's bed.

"What's this?" she asked, rolling over to drag out a long, flat storage bin.

Adrien lay on his side, watching her. "Comics," he said absent-mindedly. "There are a couple of other bins under there, too."

"Seriously?" The one she was looking at was filled to the brim.

"Well, one of the bins is actually manga, but yeah. Why?"

She stretched her arm under the bed to pull out the other two. "That's just a lot," she said. "I think Alya just reads them online."

"But where's the fun in that? I like holding them."

Marinette opened the manga bin. Adrien had the entire Bleach series, in addition to Naruto and some other titles she didn't recognize. "You're such a nerd," she teased, pulling out the first volume of Case Closed. "You could open a small store."

"They've been building up for a while," he explained. "It's not that bad."

"This is more impressive than my dad's movie collection. What's this?" She reached farther under the bed, pulling out a cardboard shoebox.

"Um… I'm not sure," Adrien answered, crawling over to join her next to the bed. "Oh! That's just one of those treasure boxes kids fill up. I haven't seen it in ages. Totally forgot about it."

An excited smile eagerly stretched across Marinette's face as she opened the box, only to start laughing at the small pile of rocks filling half of it. "You had a rock collection!" she exclaimed. "That's so cute!"

"They were special!" he defended himself. "See this one?" He grabbed one, round, smooth, and smoky gray. "It's from Nice on the Riviera. Mom said it would be perfect for skipping, so I saved it… for skipping. Sometime."

Marinette raised her eyebrows. "You know that by keeping it here, you're obstructing that skipping stone from reaching its full potential. That's just cruel."

"I was planning to use it!" he argued. He looked down at it thoughtfully, slowly running his thumb back and forth over the surface. Marinette watched him, watched the soft frown develop on his lips. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Eventually, Marinette placed her hand over his and the stone.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

He quirked a small smile at her. "Not right now," he answered, "but later."

She nodded. "I'll be here when you're ready."

He leaned forward and kissed her softly. "I know you will," he whispered. "Thank you."

"Do you want to finish going through the box then?" she asked.

"I don't know. It feels like something really private, but… I want you here for it."

Marinette shuffled herself next to him and placed the box in his lap. "Then I'm right here," she stated, leaning into his side.

He smiled, wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and took a deep breath. It was going to be a rough little trip down memory lane, but he knew it would be good for him, and he was relieved he didn't have to take it on his own. A certain warm contentment told him that he was ready for this. "Then let's dive in."

They made a small pile with the rocks behind the box and Adrien pulled out a small woven bracelet. "This is one of the friendship bracelets Chloe and I made," he remembered. Threads of green, yellow, and pastel blue braided around each other, resembling a matching bracelet buried somewhere deep in Chloe's jewelry. "She said if we couldn't use pink, then at least the blue had to be girly enough to not embarrass her. We wore these every day for… years. I wonder if she still has hers."

"You make her sound so sympathetic," Marinette giggled. "I bet you two were adorable."

"Excuse you," Adrien cried, indignant. "I am still adorable."

"Whatever you say, silly kitty. Oh my gosh!" She pulled out a sheet of construction paper on which two poorly-contrived children held hands among beaucoup floating flowers. Their features were not undetailed, but also not good. "Who drew this? You or her? It's so cute!"

Adrien's cheeks were on fire. "Chloe," he mumbled. "It was definitely Chloe."

"It's so cute how you think you can lie to me," Marinette teased, tapping the tip of his nose. "It's not bad! How old were you? About eight?"

"More like eleven," he said very, very quietly. Marinette tried her hardest not to laugh, but she failed, and Adrien snatched the picture out of her hands. "You lose looking privileges!" he exclaimed. "If you're going to laugh at me, you don't get to look at anything else!"

"I'm sorry!" Marinette wheezed, trying to contain herself. "It's just so… cute…" She dissolved into more laughter.

"Not all of us can be Marinette Dupain-Cheng, okay? Let me guess. You have an exact replica of the Mona Lisa you painted when you were nine."

"I was still drawing stick figures when I was nine," she argued, "but at least I could draw a flower."

"Looking privileges," Adrien said. "Gone."

Marinette started to pull away, but he squeezed her arm tighter around her shoulders.

"Who said you could go anywhere?" he asked.

"You literally just said I couldn't look at anything else."

"I didn't say you could leave. Close your eyes."

"Adrien." Marinette stared him in the face, and he met her eyes very seriously. "You're being ridiculous."

"It may surprise you," he said matter-of-factly, holding her stare, "but I've actually heard that before. Now close your eyes." Giggling, she obeyed. "Good girl." He kissed her lightly and then went back to work.

There wasn't much left in the box. A children's Power Rangers watch, some papers autographed by actors and soccer players he had met through his dad, and a pack of photographs. He opened it, pulled out the first two, and slowed.

He remembered taking them. The quality was poor, because they had been taken on a disposable camera bought especially for this trip to the mountains and because he had taken several of them himself. Depicted in the first was a small family: A very tall, very thin man who couldn't be older than thirty, a stunning young blond woman with striking green eyes, and a small boy, nine years old at the time, with his mother's soft features but a sharp gleam in his eyes that mirrored his father's. They were all smiling, and sincerely. Adrien couldn't remember seeing his father look so at peace in years. There was no tension, no weariness, just joy to be on vacation with his wife and son. Adrien swallowed.

The second picture showed his parents on the ground, laughing. They had been on a hike and his mother had slipped and almost fallen off the side of the trail. His father had grabbed her and pulled her back, and they both fell on the ground. For a moment, Adrien had been terrified, but for some reason he had thought to snap a picture of his parents once they were safe. His mouth wanted to smile at the memory, but his eyes were watering.

"She's beautiful," Marinette whispered, and Adrien didn't even complain that she was clearly abusing her looking privileges.

"Yeah," Adrien whispered back around the sharp stone that had lodged itself in his throat.

"I mean, I've seen the portrait, but… She looks so happy. The way she's looking at your dad…"

"Yeah," Adrien responded.

"You look like her," Marinette told him. He nodded. "I bet that makes her happy."

"She always said I look like father," he whispered. "I think that made her happier."

"I think she was happy just to have you. You and your father. She must have loved you so much."

A tear slipped down his cheek as he struggled to breathe. Marinette's arms slipped around him and something inside of him gave up. She hummed softly in his ear and ran her fingers through his hair while he cried into her shoulder. Every child who has lost a parent lies awake at night trying to picture their face, but eventually Adrien had stopped. He remembered her face. He saw it every time he looked at that portrait, and he remembered her voice clearly, and how clearly her emotions showed in her eyes. Adrien's green eyes were unreadable, but her green eyes were open and honest.

It wasn't that he didn't think of her, but that he had shut off his emotions concerning her. His father had never wanted to talk about it, and no one else understood. Now, however, someone was listening, and the gates he had closed years ago swung open with a vengeance. For the first time since he was young, he let himself be sad without being anything else. He felt his loss without clinging to his anger or his anxiety. And slowly, he began to feel just a little bit lighter.

He remained huddled in Marinette's embrace after he had finished crying. Her arms were a warm place, a place of comfort and safety. He took deep breaths, all of his air filtering across her skin before entering his lungs. Eventually, he pulled back, keeping his gaze down.

"Sorry you had to see that," he mumbled to the floor.

"I'm happy I could be here for you," she replied, one hand gripping his shoulder. "Do you want to come over? You could stay at my house tonight if you want to."

He met her eyes and smiled reassuringly. "I'll be fine," he said. "I want to sort some things out on my own. But I'm glad you were here, too. Having you here helps me."

"I love you," Marinette purred.

"I love you, too." He leaned forward and kissed her, softly at first and then less so, and she wrapped her arms back around him and pulled him closer.

"Now," he whispered huskily in her ear, "come sit in daddy's lap like a good girl."

Marinette jerked back, staring at him with narrowed eyes. "Why am I dating you?" she exclaimed.

"Oh, I don't know…" Adrien rolled back on his heels, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Is it my dashing good looks? My purr-fect sense of humor? My exceptional wardrobe?"

She stood up and stalked towards the door, stopping by the couch to grab his sweatshirt. "I'm leaving," she announced. "And I'm taking your Givenchy sweatshirt with me." She stomped towards the door and paused. "I love you," she grumbled. "Bye." She could hear him laughing until she reached the stairs. He was a dork, but he was her dork.

Nathalie met her by the door. "Do you need a ride home?" she asked.

"I'm fine, thank you," Marinette responded. "I like the walk."

Nathalie nodded, then glanced around the room. "Thank you," she said softly. Marinette nodded and smiled at the assistant before excusing herself into the cool evening.

Outside, dusk was falling. Marinette pulled the sweatshirt over her T-shirt and walked home. Was she just getting used to it, or did the Agreste mansion seem a little bit less oppressive than it had?

In the morning, she woke up to a text message from Adrien.

Feel like a picnic?

Always, she texted back.

Great! Insert happy cat emoji. We should go out by the river. I feel like skipping rocks today.