I Would Key Your Car if We Were Both Old Enough to Drive
We met each other on the worst of terms, she and I.
Two people hiding away in towers, one with the means to run about, the other content to pull her strings and determined to snap mine.
It was a different kind of love. The thrill of a chase, a fox and her moth.
"You need to get out of bed eventually."
…
"It's almost noon- you've missed half the day."
…
"Chloé!"
She's aware of something very small, and very annoying pressing against her side. It tugs on her blankets, and pulls on her pillows, but Chloé has built herself a fort of solitude and she refused to leave. It's safe in here. Ladybug doesn't hate her here.
"You can't stay in there forever." Says Zeezle, and Chloé rolls over. Blocks her off with her sheets.
"I can't go to school today." She mumbles and fakes a cough. It's unbelievable even to her. "I'm calling in sick."
She turns over and pulls her blanket tighter, sending Zeezle tumbling until she hits the ground with a soft oomf.
"It's been three days." Says Zeezle. "You can't keep doing this. You have a responsibility to Paris!"
"Please." She says, but finds herself sitting up anyways. "I don't have a responsibility to anyone." She rolls out of bed and onto the floor. It hurts a little and makes her bones ache a bit when she actually gets around to standing, but it's a good kind of pain. Like ripping off a band aide.
She stumbles over to the balcony and almost has an aneurysm right then and there. There are dark circles smudged under her eyes and her hair looks like it's been attacked by a rabid dog. She gives her breath a quick sniff and recoils.
She smells like sweat and salt and dead fish. It's not a pretty combination. Almost as imperfect as Ladybug sees her.
No.
She's not getting into that right now. She doesn't need that kind of negativity. Not when she just woke up.
"I'm going to go take a shower." She mumbles. "What day is it?"
"Monday." Says Zeezle, being surprisingly helpful for once. "Ish."
Great. She's always hated mondays. Well the day's halfway over. She might as well get some shopping done. She gives another look in the mirror at her disappointingly less than stellar reflection. Or maybe a spa appointment. Or five.
She sighs and calls someone to draw her a bath.
This is going to take some work.
Chloé can't remember her dreams.
She's never been able to. Not all the way. Just snippets and feelings and the vague notion of being superior to everyone one else, which isn't usually new but always sort of true. Or it used to. She's not so sure if it's true anymore.
She thinks about this when she steps into her bath. Thinks about the last dream she had, thinks it had something to do with crying and running and being told she's worthless. Thinks it involved Ladybug too, but most of her dreams usually involve her.
Just thinking about it all makes her blood boil and she sinks into her bath to stew a little bit and avoid throwing things. Her daddy still hasn't replaced her phone from when she threw it against her wall, and she's a little afraid he'll buy her generic shampoo if she breaks her good stuff. It makes her even angrier than before. She crumples a bath bomb in her hands instead. It turns the bath water pink and glittery.
"Now's probably not the time to say this…" Says Zeezle, who has made herself comfy on one of Chloé's towels. " But I refuse to coddle you anymore then I have!"
Coddle? Thinks Chloé and snorts. The only thing close to coddling, Zeezle has ever done is letting her mope around these past few days. And she's pretty sure she would have done that with or without Zeezle's constant need to nag.
"Now, I'm sorry Ladybug hates your guts or whatever, but you really should apologize."
Chloé slinks lower into the bath. "Why?" She says, although it comes out as a bunch of bubbles instead. "Why?" She says again, sitting up this time. "Why should I?"
She's had this conversation before and it's not something she's in the mood for now, so she reaches over and fumbles around for a remote and blasts some XY instead. She closes her eyes, and lets it wash over her. Usually she's found his mindless techno relaxing, but she's still in a bad mood and it makes her skin itch. So she turns it off instead.
She presses a button and a screen slides out. She turns on some reality tv instead.
"You can't keep ignoring me." Says Zeezle. (God, why does her voice have to be so shrill?)
She turns the volume up. Mouth's 'watch me.'
Stares intently at the pair of middle aged women slapping each other on screen, one of them dripping in wine.
Gotta love American television, she thinks, and smiles thinly.
"Fine." Says Zeezle, softer this time (or maybe the tv's just loud). "Call me when you're done pouting."
Her show finishes and she rinses the last of the conditioner from her hair, before wrapping a towel around her waist and flopping headfirst onto her bed. She sort of stares at her sheets for a bit, until it hits her what they are of, and she sits up all of a sudden and pushes herself away. She'd forgotten.
A few months ago, she'd bought ladybug sheets and matching pillowcases, bright, bright red with the hero's signature black spots. Before they made her feel safe and powerful. Now she wishes she had a knife so she can tear them to shreds. She'll tell someone to burn them later. Maybe buy something better. Yellow and black and fuzzy. Like Queen Bee. Like the colors a hero should be.
That's it. She thinks. That'll show her. That'll prove her wrong.
"Zeezle?" She asks, twisting her still-wet hair into a bun and sticking her comb into place. "Transform me."
Either she's too confused, or maybe doesn't feel like arguing, but Zeezle says nothing. Just lets herself get swept away, without a complaint. Gee. Sure would be nice if every transformation was like this. (She's feeling a little better already. It must be working.)
One way or another, she's Queen Bee in seconds, and it feels fantastic.
She must have forgotten how great it feels to be her.
Either Ladybug's the world's biggest coward, or she's in class, because Queen Bee doesn't see her at all. It's kind of nice, actually.
Really nice.
Maybe she's admiring from afar or whatever. Maybe she just can't face the fact that Queen Bee's so much better than her. That she took down Chat, she could take down her too, no problem.
What makes her a hero anyways? Because she runs around in red and black spandex?
Because she saves people? Queen Bee does that a thousand times better, and her color scheme is twice as fashionable. Stripes always were better than spots. Shame it's taking the world forever to realize this.
Next chance she gets she'll have to shoot her. What's the point of having darts strapped to her hip if she can't use them-huh? Akumas be damned and all that.
Maybe it's the height, or maybe it's the fact that she hasn't actually done much these past few days, but she can't exactly feel her legs right now.
Or maybe, it's the rage. Rage and humiliation.
She lands on a balcony and slumps painfully against it's door. Stupid Ladybug. She thinks. Stupid, stupid Ladybug, refusing to listen, acting like it's her fault. Like she meant to hit Chat.
Queen Bee picks up a piece of brick and bounces it in her hand. Then she throws it at a building. It chips the wall a little there. She must be stronger.
So what if I did? She thinks. Putting it into words makes her stomach twist a little bit. She's so high up… must be the fear. Has she always been this weird about hights? It's not like he doesn't deserve it. Always following around, getting in the way.
"Besides." She says, feeling a lot like her old self again. "That was forever ago. Not my fault she can't get over it."
She stands up and kicks another bit of brick. It hits a car and dings the paint job. Not enough to be noticed- unless you're really looking for it, but there's definitely a scratch. It's some kind of luxury sports car too, bright candy red and almost as shiny as her comb, the kind very old men use to overcompensate. She would know- her father has ten, all nice and pretty as this one and she's almost certain he would die if anything happened to any of them. It makes her feel pretty powerful too, staring down at that imperfect paint job.
She should key Ladybug's car… Or slash her tires… Or even steal her stereo… Or really all three.
Because nothing says I hate you like destroying your sports car.
Does Ladybug even drive? Can Ladybug even drive? How old is Ladybug anyways? 16? 17?
There was an episode of the Ladyblog where Alya found a textbook so she can't be much older than Queen Bee is. And she might not pay a whole lotta attention in class, but she could have sworn that textbook was specific to their school and their school alone. Something about a textbook test run? Their teacher practically fainted when they first came out, raving on and on about history and future generations and shit. The specifics are fairly unclear. She had other more glamorous things to worry about than some stupid new textbook.
Still…
Lila had been going on and on about exposing her identity to the world… would it really be so wrong to do the same? And doesn't the world deserve to know who's been saving it this entire time? She'd be doing the world a social service really. Providing her heroly duties and all that.
And it's only fair. Ladybug knows her identity, why shouldn't she know hers? Not to mention both members of the lucky duo have probably already exchanged their information, plus facts and addresses and phone numbers. Why shouldn't their beloved former teammate slash best hero ever be given the same information.
Help a fellow hero out or whatever.
Queen Bee gives a long sigh and starts to stand.
There's only one other person besides her who could ever even consider knowing the identity of Ladybug, and she's not even sure if she likes Queen Bee enough to bother helping her out.
Hell, it might even be easier to give up on revenge altogether.
Queen Bee leans against the side of the school and waits for class to end, pulling on her hair and fiddling on her thumbs and all that.
Chloé has never really had to be patient before, everything handed on a silver platter mere minutes before she could even ask for that has guaranteed that for her, and as fantastic as Queen Bee is there's no way for it to be any different.
It would be nice if it was a half day, or an akuma attacked or something equally as fantastic as that, but there's no way she's that lucky. Not when Ladybug's gone and stolen all of her luck away, good or bad. Or maybe that was her miraculous's doing. She hadn't considered it could ever be a curse.
Wow. She must really be bored if this is what she comes to. She gets bored so easily these days. Who knew being a superhero was so… dull…
Maybe she should transform and come back later.
Maybe. But then she would never come back now would she?
The world actually decides to cooperate for once, and the doors are flung open and out comes a hoard of kids running like there's shoes on sale or the demons of hell are after them or something equally urgent. Like she should be terrified or something. She watches them lazily, and waits for the crowd to thin. Their class has always been the last to leave. Why should today be any different?
She sees a few familiar faces, sees Lila who sees her and manages to both flinch in terror and shoot her the dirtiest look Queen Bee's ever had the displeasure of seeing, while daintily lifting up her middle finger to flip her off.
Queen Bee scowls at her. She's tempted to shoot her the bird back, but sees Lila pull out her smartphone and point the camera at her, so she gives a small little wave instead and smiles sarcastic. She'd give a little giggle to if the idea didn't make her sick. They stay that way for a good five minutes, Lila with that dumb camera, and Queen Bee with that fake smile and batting eyelashes until that klutz Marinette trips on air and almost falls on Lila. There's some talking and some gesturing and it looks like Marinette is apologizing and Lila's pointing and suddenly Marinette's looking up and they're staring each other in the eye.
God what's her problem?
She freezes. She's not sure why, she just does. Meanwhile Marinette's eyes have grown wide and her mouth has grown tight, and the way her hands have already curled into fists it looks like she wants to fight. There's something about it that's painfully familiar too. She can't quite put her finger on it. It just seems so wrong.
She's actually sort of thankful to see Alya, because it forces Marinette to tear away and gives Queen Bee time to duck out of sight and catch up her breath because holy shit that was intense. It's like she forgot how to function there.
She peeks over, ready to flatten from her vantage point on the roof if Marinette so much as looks at her, but is a little frustrated to see that the three of them are now walking away.
How could she forget Alya and Marinette were friends? The two are practically inseparable.
This really puts a damper on things. Especially with Lila there, poisoning their minds with lies about Queen Bee, probably getting them to subscribe to her hate site, makes her sick just thinking about it.
Clearly they're going to walk home together and do their homework together and talk about oh- she doesn't know, boys or fashion or something. Maybe they'll fangirl over Ladybug together. That's what poor girls like Marinette do. It's not like she has super powers or can drive herself around or something.
There's really only one thing to do and that's follow them home. Because it's not like she has any other plans or better things to do like go shopping or something.
She takes a deep breath and slips off the side of the side of the building, practically giving some woman walking her poodle a heart attack. Then, being as stealthy as she can, runs after them.
She catches up in minutes. Apparently for someone who's constantly moving and trembling and foot tapping, Marinette is a slow af walker. She almost considers going back, and maybe trying again tomorrow.
Except she doesn't. Because she refuses to bow down to Ladybug's ridiculous reign over something as stupid as being impatient.
And besides. They're already at Marinette's stupid bakery.
She watches from the sidelines and with barely contained rage as Marinette and Alya go inside, as Marinette and Alya say hi to Marinette's mom, as Marinette and Alya eat macaroons,and finally as Marinette and Alya wave good bye to each other. And then to Marinette's mom. Because apparently neither of them can get enough of that maternal action. It repulses her just watching.
Alya waves again, and Queen Bee almost dies a little inside, but then Alya tosses her backpack over her shoulder and grabs another box of macarons for like the road or something, (seriously is that all those two eat or what? There's gotta be a million calories in just one alone.) before finally just leaving that time vortex of a bakery.
Even then, Queen Bee has to wait an eternity again, for Alya to leave eyesight from Marinette, because she's not sure if she can handle two of them let alone one.
And then it's just the two of them. And Queen Bee swears she'll stab a bitch if she so much as sees another girl look at Alya again.
Queen Bee adjusts her comb and checks her breath, before dropping down into an alley and slipping behind Alya. She wonders if she's supposed to say something, or if she should wait until she's noticed. And should she cut straight to the point or build up to it?
She's never done this. And it's not like she can't buy it off with money.
She takes a deep breath, her blood pounding in her ears from rage or whatever, then smacks on a smile so she doesn't look like she's disgusted to be stopping so low. Then she steps back into the shadows. Dramatics are everything.
"Hey you're the girl who runs the Ladyblog aren't you?" She asks, thankful that her voice doesn't sound as angry as she feels. She's had years of experience sucking up with people. Just because it's Alya doesn't mean it's any different.
Alya whips around, sending her red dipped curls spinning. (How would Chloé look with barrel curls like that? She's always been fond of her straight hair, but she'd look extremely cute either way.) "Who's asking?" She says, her eyes narrowing, in suspicion or sass or anger or something equally unreadable.
It's frustratingly cute. Even if they are hiding behind those dumb hipster glasses.
She's actually a little nervous now, but the emotion is so not-Queen Bee, she pushes it down and buries it nice and tight where it will never be found. The way things are supposed to be.
"Queen Bee." She says, slipping out of the shadows all stealth-like. She feels like she's suffocating. Why is this so difficult? So embarrassing? She's asked for things all her life- there's no reason why this can't be the same. "You wanna find out who Ladybug is- right? We should-" Here she tries to swallow a gulp-"work together."
Alya raises an eyebrow and slides her hand on her hip. Sizes her up and down, her eyes hesitating on the stinger strapped to her hip. "Why?" She asks, a small smile tugging rebelliously on the side of her mouth. "Why should I help you?"
She hesitates. Stares at Alya, stares at her stinger. If she doesn't agree, I'll threaten her. She thinks and mentally nods.
Except it's Alya. And the only thing she likes more than superheros and calling people out, is a good story.
Her hands go to her comb and she smiles and cocks her head. "Don't you want to know about the miraculouses?" She says, and Alya's eyes grow wide.
She's not even sure if it was worth getting all worked up.
A/N the driving age for France is 18. :/