There's a Thin Line Between Love and Hate (Felinette spy au)

Too Close for Comfort

Chapter 7: Too Close for Comfort

The journey to the next gala was as smooth as any meticulously planned mission, but as the train slid into the station in Milan, Marinette couldn't shake the feeling that she and Felix were skating on thinner ice than either cared to admit. After weeks of relentless bickering, forced proximity, and navigating Hawkmoth's ever-tightening web of danger, Marinette had hoped for at least a few hours to decompress before launching back into their undercover act as "Mr. and Mrs. Duval."

Their arrival at the luxury hotel only deepened her sense of foreboding.

As they approached the check-in desk, Felix handed over their fake passports with a confident ease that only served to irritate Marinette further. The receptionist scanned the documents and typed briskly, her manicured fingers clicking across the keyboard before she glanced up at them with an apologetic smile.

"I'm terribly sorry, but there's been a mix-up with your reservation," she said, her tone professionally polite. "It appears we only have one room available for you tonight. All other suites are fully booked due to the gala. Our sincerest apologies."

Marinette's eyes narrowed. "One room? Are you sure?"

The receptionist nodded, her smile unyielding. "Yes, Mrs. Duval. The room is our finest suite, with a beautiful view of the city and every luxury amenity."

Marinette forced a tight-lipped smile, her mind already racing with frustration. She glanced at Felix, who seemed utterly unbothered by the news. If anything, he appeared amused, his green eyes dancing with mischief.

"Oh, don't look so tense, darling," he drawled, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle her ear. "It's only one night."

Marinette's cheeks flushed at the way he lingered, entirely too close for comfort. She stepped back, her expression carefully neutral. "Right. Only one night."

They followed the receptionist to their suite, Marinette trailing just behind Felix, glowering at the back of his head. He was taking this far too well, and the smugness practically radiated from him. But as the receptionist opened the door, Marinette's heart sank further.

The suite was beautiful, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Milan's glittering skyline, a marble-tiled bathroom, and a velvet sofa set beside a fireplace. But the focal point of the room—and the glaring problem—was a single, plush king-sized bed right in the center. Marinette's stomach flipped as she took in the sight.

"Oh, look at that," Felix remarked, his voice laced with mock wonder. "One bed. How convenient."

Marinette shot him a dark look, brushing past him into the room and dumping her suitcase on the armchair by the window. "You can take the couch, dear husband," she said with a saccharine smile. "Or the floor. I don't care."

Felix raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "So quick to claim the bed, Ladybug? That's not very ladylike of you."

She felt the blush creeping up her cheeks again, but she forced herself to ignore it, yanking open her suitcase with a huff. "Trust me, I'm more than capable of being ladylike, Felix. But tonight, I'd prefer to get some sleep."

Unfazed, Felix strolled over to the bed, settling onto it with a casual ease that only seemed to stoke her irritation. He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head as he glanced over at her, an infuriatingly relaxed expression on his face.

"Well," he said, his voice softening just a fraction, "if you get lonely over there, I'm right here."

Marinette's cheeks flamed, but she quickly busied herself with her suitcase, determined not to look at him. "You're impossible, Felix."