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Adrien and Marinette don’t go on dates often.
Sure, they’ve been dating for a while, and they have date night every Friday, but for them, date night is Adrien coming over in a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie with a new movie for Marinette to watch, or accidentally staying up until two am playing some new video game Marinette had bought. With Adrien’s high profile and the gossip hungry paparazzi, it was just more convenient to have date nights with minimal hassle.
They’re both happy with their routine. They like the lazy cuddles and kisses under the blankets. Both of them are simple people with simple desires, and so long as they’re together, they’re happy. They don’t need candlelit dinners and violins in the background. They just need each other.
But that won’t cut it for their one year anniversary.
Or, Nino didn’t think it would, at least.
“What do you mean you ‘don’t go on dates?’” He had said, his eyes widening.
Adrien had shrugged while scanning the page on his history textbook. “We just don’t go out often.”
Nino screwed his mouth over to the corner of his face. “But it’s going to be your one year anniversary.”
“So?” Adrien asked, looking up at Nino. “We’ll still be having date night.”
“I dunno, man. I just know that Alya would kill me if I didn’t take her out on a day like that.”
He furrowed his brow. “Do you think it bothers her, and she’s just not telling me?”
Nino shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Maybe? If there’s one thing I know, it’s that women are finicky.”
The conversation weighed on Adrien’s mind for the next week, until he and Marinette had their next date night. This time, she had some over to his house, and she was sprawled out on his bed, all pale long legs and messy raven hair. Her head was on his chest, scrolling through some social media while Adrien was reading a book. They stayed like this for a while, in comfortable silence. It was only then he realized he hadn’t turned the page in over fifteen minutes.
“Mari,” he broke the silence, closing the book and setting it aside, “do you like this?”
She pushed up and shifted so that she could look him in the eye. “Like what?”
“This,” he said, gesturing at the room around them. “Just spending date night like this, instead of, I don’t know, going out.”
Her sharp eyes darted over his frame, taking in every bit of his body language. She’d always been good at reading him. “Like, to a restaurant or something?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Do you want to go out?”
He shrugged a bit. “Our one year anniversary is coming up. It could be fun.”
Marinette sits in thought for a moment, seeming to be weighing his suggestion. “Well,” she said finally, offering him a her small smile, “I’d certainly be willing to try.”
Now, he is standing on her doorstep in his nicest blue button up and slacks with a bouquet in his hand, rocking back and forth on his heels while he waits for her to appear.
When Marinette opens up the door, he is speechless.
She’s beautiful. Her hair is in dainty ringlets cascading down her shoulders, the dark pitch of her hair standing in stark contrast to the brilliant red of her dress. The neckline sweeps just under her delicate collarbones in a way that was oh so appealing. The dress hugs curves he didn’t know she had, coming in tight around her small waist and flaring out around her hips, ending just above her knees, drawing his attention to her slender legs. She has on a black sweater, and it’s tight against her arms.
Suddenly, Adrien doesn’t want to go out. Images flash in his mind, fantasies of rushing inside, pushing her against the wall, and kissing her with the thirst of a dying man.
“Adrien?” Marinette says, sounding timid. “Are you alright?”
“Yes!” He blurts, a flush rushing to his cheeks. “I’m, uh, I’m great.”
He swallows as her thin fingers point to something, leading his eyes to her wrists, up her arms, into the crevice of her collar bone…
“Are those for me?”
Startling, he looks down at the flowers in his hands. “Uh, yes, of course my lady.” His green eyes are like saucers as he hands them to her. “For you.”
“Thank you.” She reaches behind the door, grabbing her jacket off of the coat rack and pulling it on, covering up all of her delectable edges with the heavy fabric. “Shall we go?”
He nods dumbly, the imprint of her body burned into the back of his eyelids.
The entirety of the walk to the restaurant, she tries to make conversation, and Adrien continually finds himself distracted, thinking about what’s hidden just underneath that coat…
She side steps around him to get to the door, the skirt of her dress flitting up a bit, revealing an inch more of her leg. In a fluid motion, she opens the door to the restaurant for him, ushering him in with a flourish of her hand.
A hostess guides them over to their table near the window, and Adrien settles in across the table from Marinette. He looks up when he hears the rustle of fabric, and his mouth falls slightly agape when he sees Marinette peeling the coat off of herself. The sweater slipping just enough for him to see the smooth skin of her shoulders as she does so, but she pulls it back up before too much is revealed.
He is immediately filled with the hunger to see more of her skin again.
As she looks through the menu, her teeth pulls at her bottom lip in concentration, and it is so overwhelmingly sexy. Yet she doesn’t seem to realize this, so she simply continues chewing on her pink, lush lips as she turns the pages of the menu, the muscles of her arms standing out under the tightness of the sweater with each movement she makes. When she leans forward, he gets a slight peek of the flesh of her cleavage, and he can feel heat stain his face.
She straightens up as the waitress comes to the table. The waitress’ pen skitters across the paper as she writes down Marinette’s order, and Marinette looks over to him, eyes blue, wide, and expectant, but he doesn’t speak, he can’t. So he just sits in stunned silence, and she sighs and gives the waitress his order, fluttering her hands as she does so, and oh god, her hands . Her hands that attach to her wrists which attach to her strong, pale arms which attach to the gentle slope of her shoulders that draw his eyes up the path of her neck.
She’s talking now, trying to make conversation with him. Her lips are moving, her soft, kissable lips, oh god, they look so delicious, but they’re moving, and words are coming out, but he can’t hear them, he tries but he can’t. He is too drawn in by the beauty that is encapsulated in her form to think over the roar of desire in his head.
He can see her face fall, slowly, he’s disappointing her, he knows it. He tries to talk to her, he really does, but her breasts look so damn soft and he can see the fabric of her sweater strain against the pull of her arms as she eats, cutting into her steak with a gentle touch that he longs to feel against his own skin.
And then, all too soon, she is standing, pulling back on the heavy coat and reaching into her purse to replace her credit card. No, no, no, this is not how tonight was supposed to go. He was supposed to be witty and charming and make her smile. Her brow is clouded over as she passes him, and he can feel the anger rolling off of her. He’s offended her. The guilt rolls up in his throat. How is he supposed to explain that he couldn’t speak because her beauty had clamped his throat shut?
Adrien follows her out of the restaurant, down the streets, following her clicking heels in dead silence.
The street lights become brighter as they approach her house, until they cast shadows in the sharp lines of her calf muscles. When did everything about her become so intensely appealing?
Marinette unlocks the door and steps inside, throwing her coat on the back of the couch before whipping around and blowing up.
“What the hell was that, Adrien?” She yells, throwing her hands out in exasperation. Even that motion pulls the fabric tighter around her chest, and he swallows, hard.
“Marinette, I-”
“Don’t you ‘Marinette’ me, Adrien. That performance was horrid! You hardly said anything the entire time! Do you know how stupid I looked, talking to myself?” She’s pacing now, her long legs making elegant strides and her dress ebbing around her strong thighs. Even when she’s yelling at him, he can hardly breathe.
“This was your idea in the first place, and you just let me sit there! I might as well have gone alone!” Her clicking steps stop, and she stares at him in exasperation. “Say something!”
Adrien covers his eyes with his hands, needing to stop seeing her so his throat can unconstrict and let him speak. “You just look amazing, okay?”
“What?”
He can’t see her through his fingers, but he can imagine her, standing with her hand on a cocked hip, eyebrows raised and head cocked. The very thought of it makes him blush, but he presses on. “You look so sexy, and cute, at the same time, and I couldn’t think! I’ve never seen you in a dress like that before, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but…”
He trails off as a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls his hand away from his face, until he was looking straight into eyes as blue as the sky.
“My sexiness was distracting you?” Marinette asks, a laugh tingeing the edge of her voice.
He nods desperately, and this time, she’s the one who blushes, stepping back and smoothing out the dress, sending fiery sensations all over his body. “You really like this?”
“I have never been more attracted to you in my entire life.”
She bites the edge of her lip again, this time in embarrassment. How does any human being look so good while doing that?
Adrien presses his eyes shut, bracing himself for a lecture. Instead, he feels a cold kiss pressed to his burning cheeks. His eyes snap open, and Marinette is smiling at him. Her voice is sultry and dripping with sugar as she says “good.”
________
Later that night, they are on her bed, his head in Marinette’s lap and her fingers carding through his hair. Adrien’s heart still hasn’t stopped beating, and his breathing is still on the heavy side.
“Princess?” He whispers.
“Hm?”
“Could you wear that dress more often?”
Her quiet laughter sends tingles dancing in the pit of his stomach. “Of course I can, kitty.”