Chapter Text
State of Grace (Marichat's Version)
The moonlight danced across the rooftops of Paris, casting silver shadows that flickered like memories across the Seine. Marinette stood alone on her balcony, arms crossed against the soft night chill. Her heart raced—not from fear, but anticipation.
She had felt him coming.
And sure enough, with a soft thud and a trademark chuckle, Chat Noir landed beside her, twirling his baton before offering a grin.
"Bonsoir, Princess," he greeted, his voice light but with a questioning edge. "You looked like you were waiting for someone."
"Just enjoying the night," she replied with a small smile, hiding the pounding of her heart. The truth was, she'd been thinking of him. Of them. Of everything unsaid between their masked selves.
"You always say the stars are brighter from this balcony," he said, turning his gaze to the sky, his tone softer now. “But tonight... you outshine them.”
Marinette’s cheeks flushed, but she masked it with a laugh. "You’re laying it on a little thick tonight, Chat."
"Can’t help it," he said, stepping closer, voice dropping lower. "It feels like one of those nights... where something shifts."
He was right. Something had shifted.
Unbeknownst to Chat Noir, just an hour ago, Paris had nearly fallen under a quiet akumatization—one he never even knew about. But Marinette, ever the vigilant guardian, had sensed it and used the Mouse Miraculous in secret. As Multimouse, she had quietly intervened alongside her Ladybug form, working in parallel to fix what no one knew was broken.
Two Miraculouses. Two identities. And now, two secrets.
She looked at him, and something inside her ached. He didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Not yet.
"Why do you really visit me, Chat?" she asked suddenly.
He blinked, caught off guard. “Because I trust you,” he said honestly. “And because... sometimes, you feel more real than anyone else.”
Her breath caught in her throat. He was looking at her like he knew, like the veil between them was growing thinner with every heartbeat.
“This is a state of grace,” he said quietly, as if quoting the very words she’d been thinking earlier. “It’s fragile... rare. And terrifying.”
She turned her head, staring out over the Paris skyline. So this is the golden age of something good and right and real... the lyrics echoed in her mind.
If only he knew the truth. That Ladybug stood inches from him, hiding behind Marinette’s soft smile. That tonight, she had worn two faces, fought a silent battle, and still come back to be just Marinette—for him.
And she would keep it that way.
For now.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered, her voice full of weight and wonder.
He smiled and sat beside her on the railing, their shoulders just barely touching. “Me too.”
Above them, the moon hung heavy in the sky. A secret kept. A truth unspoken.
And a state of grace neither of them dared to break.
Paris shimmered below, alive with soft golden lights and the hush of midnight wind. On a distant rooftop, Chat Noir landed with a gentle thud, spinning to face his partner for tonight—Multimouse.
Or rather, Marinette.
She moved with precision and grace, her multiple mini clones scattering briefly through alleyways, checking corners before rejoining her in a swirl of soft pink and silver light. Her braid bounced as she came to a stop, calm and confident.
“You’re getting better every time,” Chat said, unable to hide the admiration in his voice.
Marinette’s lips quirked into a smile. “I try to keep up.”
He stepped closer. “You do more than that. You’re... amazing.”
There was a pause. A charged one.
She felt it—the way his gaze lingered. The air between them heavy with words they hadn’t said. Maybe couldn’t say. Not when she still had a third mask behind the mask. Ladybug. But to Chat Noir, she was Marinette—the girl who baked too much, who cared too hard, who now wielded a Miraculous with quiet strength.
“I need to tell you something,” he said suddenly.
She turned to him, heart beating fast. “What is it?”
“I know you're Marinette.”
Her breath caught.
“I didn’t mean to find out,” he continued quickly. “But I noticed things. Your patterns, how you move, the way you talk... the way you care.”
Silence.
“But I haven’t told anyone,” he added softly, stepping even closer now. “Because it made me realize something... I don’t love Ladybug anymore.”
That stopped her cold.
Chat looked straight into her eyes. “I mean—I always admired her. But it was something I projected, something I chased because I didn’t know the girl underneath the mask.”
He reached for her gloved hand. “But with you, Marinette... there’s no projection. You’re real. You're here. And you're incredible.”
Marinette felt her guard crumbling. She had always wondered if Chat's love for Ladybug could ever turn to the girl behind the scenes—the one who wasn’t perfect, who wasn’t the symbol.
Now she knew.
Their eyes locked under the Paris sky. The wind stilled.
And then, they moved.
It wasn’t gentle. It was urgent. A kiss born from nights of tension, from a thousand stolen glances and the ache of identities colliding. Chat’s hands found her waist as hers tangled in his hair, her heart pounding against her ribs like a war drum.
It was a kiss that said this is real, and this is terrifying, and this is worth it.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, his forehead rested against hers.
“I love you, Marinette,” he whispered. “Not because you’re a hero. Because you’re you.”
And as she stood there, still wearing the mask of Multimouse, still carrying the secret that she was also Ladybug, she whispered back, “I love you too.”
But the truth still hung in the air.
He loved Marinette, not Ladybug.
And she wondered, as he kissed her again under the stars—what would happen when he finally knew they were one and the same?
The Eiffel Tower glowed like a sentinel in the distance, casting golden reflections over the quiet Seine. The city below slept, but on a secluded rooftop above Montmartre, two figures stole a moment from the world.
Multimouse sat on a folded picnic blanket, legs tucked under her, surrounded by a modest midnight picnic: a few macarons, thermoses of warm cocoa, and a candle flickering in a glass jar. Beside her, Chat Noir lounged on his side, propped on one elbow, watching her like she was made of starlight.
“This is perfect,” he said softly, smiling in that way that made her forget how to breathe.
Marinette—still in her Multimouse form—took a sip from her mug. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true when I’m with you.”
She looked at him, her heart full and aching at the same time. He knew she was Marinette. He loved her as Marinette. But tonight, she still wore a mask. Just one mask, not two.
And for once, that felt okay.
They watched the stars in silence for a while, the kind of silence that said everything. A breeze rolled past, lifting her braid slightly. Chat leaned closer.
“I used to think love had to be loud,” he said. “Big declarations. Dramatic rescues. Fireworks.”
“And now?” she asked, voice barely louder than the wind.
He took her hand. “Now I know it can be this. Just two people. A rooftop. Cocoa. And the feeling that I never want this night to end.”
Marinette smiled, heart aching with joy. “It’s still dramatic,” she teased. “You just traded explosions for charm.”
Chat grinned. “Don’t worry. I still have a few fireworks left.”
He leaned in, brushing his lips gently against hers in a kiss that was soft, unhurried—nothing like the heated one they’d shared nights ago. This kiss was a promise. A slow burn. A truth wrapped in moonlight.
When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together. His eyes were closed. Hers were full of questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
Not yet.
But she knew this: whatever happened, however many secrets still lingered, this moment was real.
She whispered, “Thank you for seeing me.”
“I always have,” he murmured.
Above them, the moon watched quietly—keeper of one last secret.
That Multimouse was Ladybug, too.
But tonight, she was just a girl in love.
And tonight, that was enough.