Dearly Despised, (I love you)

Glaciator (Part 2)

"So..." he started, grinning sheepishly as he admired the joyful glow of her face he was about to destroy, "this boyfriend of yours. Is he cute?"

Marinette's complexion exploded red.

He didn't know what he wished she'd say. There was some sick desire to hear her badmouth him to his alter-ego (whom she crushed on); perhaps it was the irony, or how painful it looked for her to pretend to not hate "her boyfriend", all while he sat in the superiority of knowing her biggest secret.

She faced the city sharply, the moonlight sliding over her Chat Noir hairpin. Suddenly she appeared like the one who dreaded being there. He could see the fine selection of possible answers ("yes", "very yes", and "he's the most beautiful man I know but I'm too stubborn to admit it") churning behind her blue gaze.

"He's... He's very attractive. In a... textbook way."

A pitched feeling behind his ribs almost made him squeal like a teenage girl.

He rested his cheek on his hand. "Oh do go on."

She crossed her arms and gave him a snide look. "Why are you so curious?"

"Well, he must be insanely good-looking to bail on a date and you still seem head over heels for him."

Her brows pulled together, eyes sharpening. There was the Marinette he had exclusive rights to. "Since when do I seem head over heels for him?"

"You just do."

Marinette's jaw firmed. She couldn't argue. Ha! She couldn't argue!

For someone who was just fifth guessing himself on whether this could possibly be a good idea, Chat Noir magically had the resolve of staying there the whole night. How much could he torture her with questions about Adrien? How did she lie when her friends asked about him?

"Well then... are you in love with your boyfriend?"

He couldn't possibly imagine the explicit cringe wracking through her body at that moment and how her little evening with her celebrity crush was turning into a nightmare. Although most of her body language had walled up—mouth taut, posture stiff, gaze unimpressed—there was a fallible, fleeting moment where the question seemed to strike a fragile chord, and she covered it up with a loud sigh as she lay down on the pillows.

"Honestly... I don't kn—Look out!"

She should've guessed her meltdown earlier would send Andre into his own.

"Marinette! Party pooper! You're looking so sad and surly—"

Ok, harsh.

Now a mega-giant snowman with shooting waffle-cone hands stomped around the city aggravated by the lack of romance, as Chat leapt in front of her to barricade the vanilla artillery. Because being stood up by Adrien and friend-zoned by Chat was not enough to ruin her day!

"I'm Glaciator! The mean ice cream man!" he sang off-key, firing ice cream at anything in the dim-lit streets to turn them into coloured statues.

"The sweethearts' ice cream guy?" Chat said as he took her into his arms bridal style (again!). His mask indented at his eyebrows with feral frustration looking at their evening's disruption. "What does he want with you?"

"Long story."

Chat scoffed as if that didn't surprise him and leapt over buildings back to her balcony. He set her down with the gentleness of fine China and opened her trapdoor.

"Go inside Marinette." He used his claws to push her hair behind her ear where the wind had loosened her hair pin. "I'm going to lead him away from you."