Gabriel Agreste and the Missing Mousse
"Nathalie!"
The slightly frantic cry from the only slightly panicking designer summoned a slightly panicking assistant to the scene. "Yes, Mr. Agreste?"
"Where is my mousse?"
Gabriel turned away from his mirror to face her. His hair fell in damp strands over his eyes. In his hands he held a bottle of mousse.
Her eyes drifted to the bottle in his hands but Gabriel knew she had enough self-preservation to not point to it.
He shook the bottle to squirt some into his palm.
"It's empty," he said, a bit unnecessarily.
"Yes, sir. I informed you that the manufacturer of this particular product announced the backorder status last week when I went to reorder some for you."
"What am I expected to use instead?"
"I procured some gels and hairspray and another kind of mousse from the same company," Nathalie answered, indicating the row of hair products lined up on the counter.
He harrumphed and turned back around, dismissing her.
He tried the alternate mousse first. Running his hands through his hair, he combed and slicked his hair back to its perfect point. However, no sooner did he place the comb down on the sink than a single strand fell out of place. It tickled his nose. He sneezed.
"This one is out," he sniffed, pushing the tube away. He picked up the gel with a disdainful grimace and with extreme reluctance, rubbed some on his hands.
Five minutes later, he dipped his hair under the sink to wash it away. "Too stiff," he mumbled.
Next, the hairspray.
"Not stiff enough," came the verdict. "Ugh. This is ridiculous. Surely there must be some kind of mousse that I can use?"
A knock on the door interrupted his musings.
"Sir, you have a meeting with your investors in five minutes via teleconference."
"I'll be out in a moment," he snapped. With a long sigh of reluctance, he went back to the original selection of subpar mousse and hastily combed his hair back. Perfect. Maybe the last time was just a fluke. Maybe he didn't use enough mousse to hold it back. Maybe –
The strand of hair popping out and flopping off to one side quelled that line of thought.
He grumbled and combed it back into place.
"Sir?" Another knock.
"Coming, Nathalie," he said. He opened the door and walked out, ignoring yet another strand that he could feel loosening from the inferior hold of the hair product. He sat down at his office chair, brushing one hand back through his ruffled hair to smooth the flyaway strands before flipping on the monitor.
The meeting went well, as he updated the other heads of his company on the company's current status for the quarter. Which was doing much better than his quest to obtain the Miraculouses. He supposed his bad luck only carried over to that side objective and not his primary business. A hair tickled his forehead and he brushed it aside impatiently. Well, Miraculouses and hair mousse.
After the meeting (and several frustrating hair swipes which did not go unnoticed by the amused shareholders, blast them!) Gabriel decided he needed to work off some energy.
By proxy, of course.
He headed over to the lair without informing Nathalie of his intentions, hoping to quickly duck in and akumatize some sad soul real quick. The success of grabbing the Miraculouses would erase any of the lingering embarrassment from his morning.
He transformed, grateful that his costume included a full headpiece that covered his hair, and summoned one of his akuma. He sent it out and smiled as it settled onto his intended victim. That had been an annoying problem lately, with his akumas diverted from their original target. He was happy to see that at least something was going right for him today.
"Enlightener," he intoned, hastily settling upon the name once he got a finger on the pulse of the emotions of his champion. "I am Hawkmoth. I see someone is determined to dim the light in your world. I can give you the power to bring light to the dark corners of your life. In exchange, I must ask you for a small favor. What do you say?"
"Yes, Hawkmoth."
Hawkmoth almost cheered as the darkness spread over the young man. He didn't know what kind of darkness this boy wanted to illuminate, but it didn't matter. He could sit back and watch the show from his own personal stadium. Hmm, he mused, glancing around. Perhaps he should consider bringing a recliner up here. Standing around got old, even if he stood all day in his atelier when he designed.
The familiar whirring noise of the elevator leading to his lair broke through his concentration. He turned to meet the newcomer.
"What is it, Nathalie?" he asked. She wouldn't dare come in unless it was urgent.
"Your late morning appointment, sir. Did you forget about your meeting with Jagged Stone?"
Of course he had. That's why he was standing around in his Hawkmoth suit monologing to butterflies. Not that he would tell her that. "Of course not, Nathalie. I was merely setting up an acceptable alibi. I'll be down momentarily."
Her professional expression didn't crack once as she nodded and noted the change on her tablet. "Of course, sir."
He ignored her deadpan response and dropped his transformation as he headed back to his atelier, sinking into the floor, the akuma he just created slipping from his mind the further he floated back to his house.
Seconds later, he had the eccentric singer pulled up on his screen and they were in a heated discussion over costume suggestions. Jagged was as animated as ever, gushing about his next concert and how much Gabriel's ideas would make him a wicked success. Gabriel sincerely hoped the singer wouldn't attempt to repay this by incorporating the designer into his next platinum hit. The last thing he needed was some stupid rock song dedicated to him. That honor could be left to his more enthusiastic fans.
But despite his reservations, the back-and-forth between the singer and designer melted the hours of the afternoon away. And it wasn't until Gabriel smelled smoke that he began to think something wasn't right.
He had no idea how true that would end up becoming.
He frowned, his voice trailing off midway through talking with Jagged. He stood.
"Everything okay, man?"
Gabriel ignored him, brushing another hand through his blasted hair (really, Nathalie, this mousse is utter crap! He might as well be using water!) and headed to the window.
Paris was on fire.
Not figuratively, the way Jagged Stone tended to gush about his songs and concerts.
Quite literally, on fire.
"Mr. Stone, I apologize, there appears to be an emergency outside of my home."
He cut the feed in the middle of Jagged's concerned reply, silencing the annoying singer once and for all. He headed back over to the window.
"What is going on?" he mused aloud. Nooroo flew out of his jacket.
"Oh. Oooh," the kwami breathed.
"What is this, Nooroo?"
"If I had to take a guess, Master, I would say it's Enlightener."
"What?!" He whirled around to stare at his kwami, more strands of hair falling into his eyes.
"You told him to bring light to the dark corners of his life."
"By setting things on fire? That's not what I intended at all! How does that soothe away his sadness?"
"I don't know, Master. But what else could cause this much devastation?"
He grumbled and headed back to push his wife's buttons and descend (and then somehow ascend) into his lair to get a grasp on the situation when a loud explosion ripped through the mansion.
Gabriel stumbled, almost losing his footing on the slick tile. "What was that?" he exclaimed. A trail of smoke rose from the hidden elevator.
"Uhm, it looks like you're now one lair short of a supervillain life," Nooroo said.
Gabriel grumbled. He swiped his hair back out of his face (really, should he even bother at this point?) and rushed from the room. "Adrien?"
He almost ran into Nathalie as he exited his atelier. Thankfully, Nooroo had flown back into his jacket before he pulled open the doors.
"Where's Adrien?" he asked.
"He's at school, at..." she consulted her tablet, "practice. Or at least he should be."
"What does that mean?" Gabriel demanded.
"Well, sir, the akuma appears to be running havoc over Paris. I think the school was evacuated a while ago, but the kids scattered, so Adrien's bodyguard wasn't able to find him in the crowd."
"What?!"
"Sir, we really should evacuate as well. The akuma is getting closer to here."
Gabriel ran over to the front doors and threw them open. The sight of the streets of Paris burning and in ruins shocked him. "Where's Ladybug and Chat Noir?" he wondered aloud.
"Delayed, apparently. Or dead. Maybe."
He shot his assistant a dirty look. "Don't say such things," he admonished.
"Isn't that your goal?"
"No!"
"Really? Could have fooled me," she replied. She tapped on her tablet as she headed down the stairs, ignoring the gobsmacked expression that followed her.
"I just want their Miraculouses!" he called after her. Then, realizing he shouted his secretive evil plans to all of Paris, he flushed and clamped a hand over his mouth.
"No one heard you, sir," she assured him. A distant explosion rocked the streets, as if agreeing with Nathalie's assessment. "I'll go seek shelter in the Metro with the other civilians. I suggest you figure out a way to get your akuma under control." She eyed him up and down. "Well, if you can," she added before turning on her heels and headed across the street to the park. The sounds of mayhem drowned out the clicking of her shoes as she disappeared from view.
Muttering curses under his breath at everything from the heroes not appearing, to his akuma for getting out of control, to Jagged Stone for interrupting his evil henching time, and – with another frustrated swipe at his hair – to his favorite brand of mousse for not being in stock, Gabriel stalked into the street hoping to find someplace secretive to transform now that his lair was inaccessible. "Nooroo," he mumbled in a break between his tirade of curses, of which none were aimed at the purple sprite, oddly enough, "what can I do?"
Nooroo peeked out from his resting place in Gabriel's jacket. "I don't know, Master. I've never had a champion get this out of control." The distraught tone of the little kwami told Gabriel that the magical being wasn't trying to point fingers at Gabriel or throw shade upon his actions – he honestly had never been placed in this situation before. Gabriel groaned, now realizing that his one hope of assistance was dashed. He would have to figure this out himself.
Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared.
But considering the current state of the city, he wasn't going to place his hopes and dreams upon their arrival (unlike most of Paris). He would have to fix his... misjudgment. He refused to call it a mistake or error.
He hadn't taken but a dozen steps in the direction of the school, his immediate thoughts on securing the safety of Adrien, when a deafening boom sounded right behind him. Before he could even turn to see what had happened, a shockwave slammed into him. He blasted forward, tumbling end over end over debris and scraping along the asphalt of the road. When he finally rolled to a stop, he lay on his back, staring up at the smoky sky, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of him.
His ears rang. His body ached. His lungs burned.
He rolled over and pushed himself to his knees, not even caring that his hair had finally given up all pretense of order and flopped into his eyes as he hunched over. He propped himself up on his elbows, heaving giant gulps of air, coughing in the dust that settled around him.
He looked up at last.
A giant crater where his home one stood.
He gulped.
Had he been a few minutes too slow...
He shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. He had to find Adrien and get him to safety. Then, deal with this akuma himself. The ringing gradually subsided and he pushed himself to his feet. His ascot unwound itself from his neck, exposing his Miraculous. He snatched it off and stuffed it into his pocket as he ran in an erratic path to the school. The charred remains of his home burned behind him. He refused to look.
A whirring noise caught his attention halfway through the park.
He hated himself for the sudden hope that blossomed in his chest. His eyes scanned the horizon.
There!
A familiar red and black figure swung toward the park. He couldn't even bring himself to hate her right now. Anything to restore the city and fix his... miscalculation.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, swinging to a stop beside him. "All civilians are being evacuated to the Metro."
The dull thunk of a pole sinking into the ground made Ladybug pause. Chat Noir landed nimbly beside her.
"What was that latest explosion, my lady?" he asked.
"My house," Gabriel answered, trying and failing to keep the misery from his voice.
Both heroes swiveled their heads to stare at him.
"Mr. Agreste?" Ladybug got her wits about her first. "Are you okay?"
"I'll live."
"Where is everyone else?"
"Nathalie headed for the Metro. Adrien and his bodyguard were at the school last I checked. I was headed over there to see for myself."
"Adrien is fine," Chat Noir said. "He went into the Metro station with everyone else. I saw his bodyguard go down there, too. You should get somewhere safe."
He felt Nooroo buzzing against his chest. He didn't know why, but a sudden feeling of dread overtook him.
"Get down!" he shouted, acting on a gut feeling.
Ladybug and Chat Noir readied their shields as Gabriel crouched.
And not a moment too soon. For Enlightener floated into view, his hands aglow with flame and his eyes shining with manic glee. The fireball he launched at them deflected harmlessly off of Chat Noir's baton.
Gabriel ducked behind a tree – one of the only ones remaining in the park. Seeing that he was relatively safe for the time being, the heroes left him alone. They darted on opposite sides of the akuma, drawing its attention away from Gabriel.
He turned back around and closed his eyes. Another close call. Too close. This time, his kwami's instincts had saved him.
He heard the cry of Lucky Charm and the shuffling around as the heroes regrouped. Quiet muttering from nearby, then Chat's shout of Cataclysm and in a burst of noise the heroes darted away to enact their plan.
A few blessed minutes later, a swarm of ladybugs cleansed the city and Gabriel had never been so grateful to have lost an akuma to his enemies. He peeked out from behind the tree and saw Ladybug and Chat Noir swap their usual fist bump. He stood up, dusted himself off, swiped his hair out of his eyes once more, and approached the heroes.
"Mr. Agreste!" Ladybug noticed him arrive first. "Are you okay?"
He nodded. "Thank you. I am fine."
Another piece of hair fell into his eyes yet again and he blew it away with an exasperated puff of air.
"You look different," she explained, "I hardly recognized you."
Chat smiled at him. "I think that's to be expected of everything he's been through."
"Yeah." She tilted her head at him. "Your hair though, that's the key. It makes you look more... approachable."
Approachable? Approachable? He didn't want to look approachable. He wanted to look fearsome and intimidating and in control of everything around him.
Chat nodded his head. "You kind of look like a normal dad now."
He positively scowled at the two of them.
Ladybug nodded in agreement. "I think it suits you," she complimented. He ground his teeth in frustration. "But I can tell you don't like it?" she amended, catching sight of his expression.
"The mousse I normally use is currently on backorder from the manufacturer. I attempted to use alternate products today." He brushed his hand through his ruffled hair. "As you can see, they happen to be vastly inferior to what I am used to."
"Oh," Ladybug said. Her earrings beeped her final warning and she grasped her earlobes in shock. "Ah! I'm so terribly sorry, I have to cut this short. Take care, Mr. Agreste. Bug out!"
Chat saluted him as the pawprint on his ring flashed its final warning as well. "Good luck with the hair dilemma, Mr. Agreste. But for the record, LB and I approve of this new look of yours."
Oh that settled it. He definitely had to acquire new hair products ASAP. Chat catapulted out of sight as Gabriel turned toward his newly rebuilt home with a sigh. He took his Miraculous out of his pocket and adjusted it back on his shirt, folding his ascot neatly around it and tucking the ends into the vest.
Recalling the words of the heroes, he attempted one last vain swipe of his hair to get it to settle into place before heading back to his home, determined to bury himself in his office until he forgot about this horrible day.
The next morning, a tiny knock sounded on his bathroom door.
"Come in," he said, frowning at the mirror as he attempted to style his hair without mousse once more.
The door opened and Adrien peeked in.
"Hello, Father," he said.
"Adrien." Gabriel set the comb on the counter and turned to his son. "What can I do for you?"
The boy stepped in fully, his hands behind his back. "I heard you ran out of your mousse," he said. "And well, I have an extra bottle." He brought his hands around to the front and held out the bottle to Gabriel, who had to hold in his shriek of joyous delight at seeing his beloved brand resting in his son's hands. "Here you are. I hope this holds you over until you can get some more."
Gabriel took the bottle from his son and set it on the countertop. Then, he gripped Adrien's shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Adrien," he managed to get out, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea what this means to me."
"Uhm, you're welcome, Father." Clearly, the boy was confused by the outpouring of uncharacteristic emotion from his normally stoic father, and over a bottle of mousse of all things. But Adrien wouldn't understand the horror that had stemmed from that tiny insignificant bottle.
Gabriel blinked away tears as he released Adrien. "Thank you," he repeated. "I hope you enjoy your day at school. I'll see you tonight, okay?"
Adrien brightened as he beamed at Gabriel. "Okay, Father! I hope you have a great day today, too!"
And as he darted out of the bathroom, Gabriel smiled as he massaged the mousse into his hair and combed it back to perfection. He sighed in relief.
One strand popped loose and dangled over his forehead. He frowned. Not this again.
He hurried to comb it back into place before the mousse dried. Then, he sprayed a liberal amount of hairspray on it just to be safe. He refused to have a repeat of yesterday.
The End
Author's Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PERDITA! :D I hope this is a lovely wake-up present for you, since you're six hours ahead of me!
To everyone else reading: Perdita shared with you on my birthday one of our inside jokes of how I complain she always kills Gabriel off. So, this is another of our inside jokes. In pretty much every single one of my stories, I make a point of writing about Gabe's "ruffled hair". Specifically that phrase. It started out as kind of a joke, as we both think this dude would look utterly adorable with his longish hair settling over his face, and it went from there. I think in my grandparents story, I started out joking that his ruffled hair was a metaphor for his sanity, and the more ruffled it got, the more he was losing grip on his emotions. Since then, I've made sure to add it into like 90% of my stories – even just a small comment about his "ruffled hair". A small Easter Egg to watch out for now ;)
I hope you all enjoy and especially Perdita!
The icon was drawn and colored by SinfulPapillon, and you can find her work on Tumblr or on this story on AO3 in a bigger form since I can embed images within that story! Thank you all for reading!