"Well, well, if it isn't little Marinette. Let's see who's victorious this time."

Not good. Not good. Not good.

Chat Noir watched, horrified, as his clumsiest classmate scrambled away from their akumatized friend. Adrien took Ultimate Mecha Strike as seriously as the next teenager but he never thought he'd see the day when someone would be willing to kill over it.

Yet here he was, racing across rooftops in an effort to keep up with Gamer and his unfortunate target.

Chat didn't need his lady's lucky charm to know who was behind the (admittedly awesome) mecha striker controls. Adrien had been there earlier that afternoon when Marinette Dupain-Cheng trounced their school's reigning UMS III champion, securing her spot at the city-wide tournament later that week. He could admit watching Max gracelessly accept his defeat was painful, but no more so than Marinette cooly ignoring Adrien's congratulatory handshake in the same way she'd ignored everything else about him since the day they met.

Thanks a lot, Chloe.

Nino had told him he just needed to apologize and explain that the gum thing was a misunderstanding. Adrien knew enough to know he'd waited too long for any explanation on that front to fly. Especially when his childhood friend seemed to derive particular joy in tormenting their class president and dragging him along for the ride.

So it wasn't a mystery why Marinette hated him. The few times he'd interacted with Alya outside of class and Marinette's presence, she said he needed to grow a spine and stand up to Chloe himself. Until then he was just as guilty as his friend.

Which sucked, really, when by all accounts Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a badass.

He was working on it.

He would work on it.

Chat swallowed when he thought of what that particular conversation with Chloe might look like and shook his head.

Later. He would work on it later.

For now…

"Game over," Not-Max said as Marinette's luck finally gave out and she stumbled to the ground. Acting fast, he knocked the akuma's visor off-center, buying him just enough time to land in front of his startled classmate.

"Need a lift?"

"Chat Noir! No– wait!" Her eyes widened, but not in relief. She threw up her hands to stop him even as he was already hoisting her into his arms.

"Sorry princess, no time for gallantry!"

He could hear the sound of Gamer's lasers whizzing past him as he sprinted, hell for leather, far and away from its range. Marinette's grip was tight around his neck as he vaulted them from car to car to roof to roof before finally landing safely on the rooftop of Le Grand Paris.

"It's okay," Chat said, when she made no move to release him. "You can let go now."

"I really can't," She groaned, frustration evident as her forehead thumped against his shoulder.

"What do–" He tried to pull away from her, his words falling short as he found that he physically couldn't.

Chest to chest, arms to back to arm to neck, they were completely entangled.

He nearly collapsed as the truth struck him.

They were completely

"Stuck," She sighed. "Again."

Stuck Stuck Stuck Stuck

"Tikki warned me that this could happen."

Again Again Again Again

"My lady?" He whispered, his knees buckling underneath him.

The girl in question winced, fruitlessly attempting to adjust her position before giving up and relaxing into his arms with a chagrined smile.

"Surprise?" She said.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh god.

OH… "How?" He croaked.

Marinette (Ladybug!) grimaced and gestured with the arm that currently wasn't wrapped (trapped) around his neck.

"Magic?"

His panicked heart gave a tiny, traitorous flip.

This was going to be a disaster.