Friday.
Marinette wakes to the sound of rain on sheet metal, her back freezing, but her front pressed against a warmth that smells distinctly like Chat Noir despite the fact that her nose is tucked under fabric, not leather. Under the quiet wash of falling water, the city hums with activity. Traffic easing through the streets. The indistinct chatter of people. Pigeons and other small animals cursing the rain. No one is screaming. The air is clean, full of the scent of safety and trust. Her body, heavy and aching and desperate, urges her back into sleep.
Adrien wakes to a numb arm and cold cement leeching heat from his body, but he's curled around something warm and soft, and he can't resist wrapping tighter around it, basking in the scent of safe-warm-home-Ladybug. There's rain, but it's not falling on him. Unimportant. A soothing background noise that drowns out the normal sounds of the city. It's calm and quiet. It reminds him of nights spent on the highest peaks of the city even if the light filtering through his eyelids suggests daytime. Plagg is a comforting, familiar weight tucked up under his chin. No one is screaming. He follows the darkness when it beckons him to sleep.
They fell asleep still in costume, in some tiny rooftop garden that hasn't seen human hands in years, dawn a glimmer of dirty grays on the horizon. They fell asleep without meaning to. They put down the fifth akuma, fixed the city, and barely managed to crawl out of the rain before their bodies rebelled and crashed into the endless dark of unconsciousness. The fell asleep on top of each other, still dirtied and bloodied and bruised. They wake the same way, too tired to have moved much during sleep, limbs awkward and painful and heavy.
Adrien wakes for a second time when Plagg rolls off his shoulder and hits the ground with a whine, still asleep himself, but uncomfortable now and cold. He uncurls just enough to scoot back and fumble Plagg off the tile. Cold air immediately sinks to fill the gap where bodies used to touch. Adrien shivers, awake enough now for his muscles to complain both the over use and the cold. He squints at the dreary mist outside of their shelter and rubs at his eyes with the leaden hand not cradling an exhausted kwami.
"Chat?" Ladybug groans, voice hoarse. She makes a grumbly sound at the intrusion of cold, damp air. "S'happening?"
"Nothing."
They spend a few moments awkwardly shuffling limbs and ineffectually pushing at the ground until they are both upright, mostly propped up against each other, but it is vaguely better than laying in a tangled heap on the ground. At some point during the last few days, Marinette's hair came out of the pigtails and now resembles an octopus, which is only slightly better than Adrien's combination of bedhead, product, and bird's nest. Neither of them have seen a shower in far too long, and their clothes have seen better days, liberally splattered with mud and other bits of akuma fights that just have not been taken care of when Ladybug cleanses the city.
"I smell like a trashcan," Marinette grouses. Adrien manages a few giggles before laughter takes up too much energy and he is left with a lopsided smile tucked against her shoulder. She pokes his side. "Could be worse. Could smell like you."
Chat Noir is very good at snappy comebacks, even when his Lady says the truth. He did, after all, fall in something that smelled like dead fish a while back and even with several days, or maybe that was just several fights, between then and now, the stench sort of lingers. As previous stated, however, even laughter took up too much energy and words are not forthcoming with the snappy replies. So, like the mature cat he is, he levers himself slightly more upright, scoops up Plagg, and deposits the sleepy kwami on her head.
Ladybug gives him a halfhearted 'You are a special kind of idiot, aren't you,' look that receives an equally halfhearted smirk.
As one, their stomaches growl, gnawing on their spines and cramping in an effort to demand food. It puts a definitive halt to what would most likely have resulting in a shoving match and another nap of frigid tile. Two tiny growls echo their own. Marinette ducks her head, catching the tiny destruction kitten and picking up her shivering red bug. Neither kwami have really woken up, unlike their chosen, which is worrying.
"We should prob'ly feed them," Adrien murmurs, propping his chin on her shoulder to get a better view of the little magical beings. "Feed us."
Marinette nods. The view from the grimy, cracked window is that of gray-washed buildings in varying states of disrepair. It is not one of the areas they typically patrol for akuma victims, as Hawkmoth seems to pick victims of sudden misfortune, rather than the more long-term kinds brought by poverty. Chat and Ladybig have spoken a few times about patrolling in high crime neighborhoods, but they honestly have their hands full with the city proper between school and akuma attacks. Therefore, she does not immediately recognize the area they are in. Adrien looks more lost than she is, considering how often he is not allowed to wander around.
"Think we'll be able to find something if we walk around?" Adrien sounds more than a bit skeptical, so Marinette gives a Ladybug nod and tries to force her legs into something resembling standing. The two kwami wind up in her pockets as she needs both hands and Adrien's help to achieve the position. Once she's upright, the pair reevaluates the situation and they somehow manage to drag Adrien up as well.
Together, propped up with shoulders and hands clutching too thin jackets, the step into the drizzling rain. Chat makes a grumpy cat noise at the water that makes quick work of sapping away any remaining warmth they had. Ladybug glares at the sky in agreement.
They peer over the edge of the building. It is several stories to the ground with plenty of reasonable handholds and window ledges. They take stock of civilian clothing and sleeping kwami and share a matching look of trepidation.
Marinette gives a weak smile. "Maybe the door is open?"
To be honest, neither de-powered superhero expects much when they manage to stumble to the rooftop door, but, in a stroke of luck, it opens with a rattling creak a little too reminiscent of a horror movie. They manage stairs with about as much grace as a puppy and maybe an eighth the energy between them. It probably takes half an hour just to reach the ground floor, which is just slightly ridiculous considering the building has maybe five stories.
Once on the street, Ladybug chooses the direction she thinks home might be in and they start the awkward shuffle down the road.
It is just past two in the afternoon when a couple of kids stumble into Abella's cafe. They are not kids she has ever seen before, meaning, they aren't the local brats who wander in trying to look tough and mostly end up quailing under her disapproving raised eyebrow and comments about telling their parents. No, these two look like they've come out on the wrong side of an akuma attack, both too pale to be healthy with dark bags under their eyes. Their clothes are filthy, torn, and soaked through. She is fairly certain those are bruises under the dirt.
Peter, Abella's little brother and part time waiter, cautiously steers the two towards a table. He casts her a concerned, mostly helpless look. "I'll get you two something hot to drink, yeah?" he offers softly. The boy nods. The girl looks close to crying. Peter gives them a gentle smile and backs away.
Abella is already preparing two of her largest mugs for hot chocolate. Technically, there isn't anything other than sandwiches to feed them, the lunch crowd having mostly cleaned out the kitchen, but there might still be some soup, or the means to make some, and there is always bread. She shoves the bread and hot chocolate in Peter's hands when he makes it to her, shooing him back to the kids while she goes about fixing them a simple soup.
Then she freezes.
With only the two kids, herself, and Peter in the cafe, it is easy enough to pick up a muttered conversation.
"What are we going to do if Hawkmoth attacks?" the boy says, dread lingering beneath the dead tired tone. "We can't fight like this, Bug. Don't think we could even hold a transformation."
The girl nods despondently. Peter quietly slips the drinks and bread onto the table and retreats back to the kitchen. The siblings share a wide-eyed, horrified glance.
"He's got to be as tired as we are, Chaton," the girl replies into her hot chocolate. She sighs into the drink, nudging the boy's towards him. He, too, takes a sip and winces at the difference in temperatures. "His kwami, at least. Poor thing's probably just as overworked as ours are."
The thing is, no one in Paris, no one who knows about the superhero duo, really think of the two as people. Humans. Kids. Abella and Peter have been hearing grumbles about the damage done to the city, about how Ladybug hasn't been cleaning up as she should have, how there are people who remain hurt and injured after an attack. It strikes the siblings now that Ladybug and Chat Noir have been running about Paris all week, fighting monster after created monster, while taking damage and hits themselves. These kids have been fighting monsters day in and day out. They have been getting hurt, likely have not had the time to sleep let alone eat, while the people of Paris do nothing but complain about the inconvenience.
Abella stirs the soup she made mostly on autopilot. It would be best left to simmer for a while more, but it is good enough to eat now. She ladles some into large bowls and hands them to Peter. Her bother takes them over with the same gentle care as before, quietly warning the kids that it is hot, and leaves them again. Neither listens to the warning, shoveling rich broth and vegetables into their mouths as fast as possible, hardly taking the time to chew.
The girl hisses around a mouthful. She swallows and sticks out her burnt tongue, frowning at it. The boy looks up, concerned, and asks, "Mari?" and takes another bite before something akin to realization slaps him across the face and he stares at the girl with dawning recognition. "Marinette?" he says, and promptly chokes on the forgotten mouthful.
Abella and Peter watch as the girl looks up, tongue still sticking out. The confusion morphs into a fond smile and she reaches across the table to, without a doubt, flick the bell that typically resides at Chat Noir's throat. "Chew your food, you're an animal," she says. Only, her fingers brush skin and t-shit, rather than metal and that same look of recognition and realization flutters across her face. "Adrien?"
Which is when it occurs to Abella and Peter that the superhero duo do not even allow themselves the luxury of seeing the human side of their partner and this is probably the first time they have met face to face. Which is also when it occurs to them that Marinette and Adrien, Ladybug and Chat Noir, are probably Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste, two of the kids reported missing a couple days ago, their faces plastered across every news station and the Ladyblog as parents and friends frantically search the city for them.