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What if...

“Plagg, claws out.”

“Huh? Wait, Adrieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—!”

-

He’s so tired. So dead tired.

He’s so tired that he can barely function.

Still, as the model Agreste son, he has to make sure to uphold his image, just as his father taught him.

So he straightens his back and adjusts the strap of his backpack against his shoulder, and enters the classroom.

His classmates are all quiet but he doesn’t mind. He’s too sleepy to care.

He stifles a yawn and takes his seat next to Nino, giving him a casual, “hey.”

“Uhh?” Nino responds blankly.

Huh, he must be sleepy too. What a true bro.

He turns around to greet Marinette and Alya.

Alya is gaping and has her hand out like she’s texting on her phone. But her phone seems to have fallen on her desk.

Marinette is staring at him like he’d grown fifty-seven heads and laid an egg.

Seems just like usual then.

“Good morning,” he says to them, hoping the smile he offers them doesn’t look too tired.

Marinette’s eyes widen like he just sprouted an additional fifty-eighth head.

He has no energy to contemplate that so he turns around and lays his head on his desk, hoping to catch a few Z’s before roll-call.

And it’s roll-call that wakes him only a few minutes later.

“Adrien Agreste,” the voice of Miss Bustier calls out.

So he raises his hand and says—

And then he is jolted awake when Marinette starts screaming from behind him.


What if… Adrien was so sleepy that he just walks into class as Chat Noir?

Marichat May (What If…)