Marinette scurried around her room, gathering up remnants of fabric and loose bobbins that lay scattered haphazardly across her desk and floor and dumping them in a handy corner. She glanced at her mostly-bare walls; she'd removed all the photos of Adrien several minutes before, but then began to question her decision – he'd seen her room as Chat already, would he notice the pictures were missing? Or would he wonder why there were photos of her other friends but not him?
She groaned. We are meeting to talk about how to fight his father, who also happens to be our literal archenemy. My room is not the important part here.
Still… she considered the stretch of blank space over her computer, before carefully pinning her favorite image, a fall shoot of Adrien reclining in a casual suit, back into its usual spot. She also removed the Chat Noir puppet from her desk drawer and settled it on top of her sewing machine. There. That wasn't enough to be creepy or stalker-ish, and his absence relative to Alya, Nino and their other classmates was no longer conspicuous.
Tikki, who had curled up in the loft to avoid the… er, exuberant bought of cleaning, chirped "Marinette! Time to go back to school!"
Marinette collapsed onto her pink chaise and considered napping the rest of the afternoon instead of returning to class. She wasn't quite ready to face Alya and Nino again, whose questioning had been cut short by Marinette's panicked impulse to tidy her bedroom.
As if alerted to her thoughts, her phone beeped with a new text.
From ADRIEN 3 3: Alya and Nino cornered me in the gym HELP what did you tell them
Shit. She quickly typed back, using one hand and pulling her shoes back on with the other, 'On my way, I didn't tell them anything!'
…
Adrien and Marinette climbed the stairs leading up to her bedroom. Adrien was hauling a stack of his old Chinese texts and workbooks, while Marinette struggled to balance several plates of pastries and assorted snacks that had been thrust upon them by Sabine. He caught the scent of fresh bread, tripped on a step and nearly fell flat on his face, distracted by the sudden rush of demands from his stomach. Marinette glanced back, concerned, as he stumbled into the wall and quickly righted himself, pretending that nothing had happened. He suppressed the urge to lick his paw – hand, his hand - nonchalantly. Even without the miraculous, old habits die hard. Then again, Ladybug never seemed to suffer any side effects, so maybe it was just a result of homeschooling, limited social contact and watching too many cat videos in his formative years.
Marinette shifted a stack of cookies and used her elbow to push open the wooden trapdoor that led to her room. Adrien followed her up, marveling once again at how Marinette the space was – soft and pink, scattered with half-finished projects and mementos. He spotted a photo of himself hanging above her desk, between a shockingly lifelike pencil sketch of Alya and one of the school portraits taken in the park after the Reflekta incident. Normally he hated pictures of himself – they papered the walls of his mansion, cold and empty – but this time he felt a bright blush fizz through his cheeks.
Marinette plopped into her desk chair and spun around to face him, but overestimated her momentum and made an extra full circle before squeaking to a halt. Her ears were tinged pink. She practically threw a cookie at him, which bounced off his reflexively outstretched hand and onto the wooden floorboards. She froze, her huge blue eyes fixed momentarily on the ceiling hatch that must lead to her balcony, before meeting his bemused stare.
Adrien was used to seeing Marinette flustered; for whatever reason, she never seemed comfortable around him. But now, knowing that she was Ladybug… the experience was disconcerting and wrong. The part of his brain that usually remained locked in a little box labeled Chat Noir scrambled for control of his motor functions, and he flashed her a toothy grin before snatching the cookie off the floor and stuffing the entire thing into his mouth. He immediately regretted his decision, eyes watering as he choked on what felt like an avalanche of crumbs, until Marinette started to giggle. No, not giggle.
She cackled.
"So then. Teach me some Chinese, white boy."
…
Lila buried her face in her hands. "I don't want to go back to that school, mamma."
"Honey, I know your first week was difficult, but your father and I agree that it's important for you to acclimate to the new culture, and school is a big part of that." Her mother's Italian had a gentle French lilt. Lila grimaced; mamma just wanted her out of the way to make time to meet up with her childhood friends. Because she had friends here, having grown up in Paris – it didn't matter that her daughter was probably the laughingstock of her peers by now.
"Can't you just hire a tutor? It's not like we'll be staying in France for more than a few months, anyway. We never do."
Her mother's face was sympathetic but stern. They'd had this conversation nearly every day over the past week and a half, and Lila hated herself every time she heard the whine in her voice, but forcing herself through the door every morning was more than she could bear. At least she wasn't in the same class as Adrien, whom she hadn't been able to face since Ladybug had interrupted them in the park.
Why does it have to be Paris, with its stupid superheroes and its stupid language and… it's just awful. Why does anyone live here?
She stormed out of the room and slammed the door loudly to drown out the teary gasp she hadn't been able to stifle.
I wanted people to like me and I messed it up, and now I have another city of kids who hate me.
An inhuman voice – no, an all too human voice, she felt its anger and pain – echoed in her mind, cutting through the harsh sobs.
"Lila… I would like to make you another offer. After all, I believe we have some mutual desires."
She wanted to laugh. "You again? You made everything worse. Why should I be your pawn again?"
"Clever, my sly little fox. However, I would like to propose something different – a partnership, if you will."