Marinette didn't want to wake up.
Drawing her blanket over her head as the alarm went off next to it, she tried very hard to keep reality from intruding on her dream state. One where Chat Noir was still the fun and energetic boy of her memories and not the cold, unfriendly man she'd met last night.
He'd been so distant, rebuffing her every attempt at camaraderie, entirely focused on interrogating her about the fiery creature and how she and Carapace had defeated it. After a few cursory questions about the new addition to their team, he'd wished her a good night and promised her he'd be there the next time Paris was under attack, should this be morethan a one-off occurrence.
And that had been that.
Of all the hundreds of ways she'd pictured her reunion with Chat, this had not been one of them. Sometimes there had been tears and laughter and hugs, sometimes there had been anger and accusations, but never had she imagined this… this nothing.
He hadn't even made a single pun.
"What the hell happened to you, chaton?" she murmured, low under her breath. His cat ears twitched, giving away that he had heard her, and he turned to look back at her over his shoulder.
"I grew up."
If this was what a grown up Chat Noir looked like, she wanted no part of it.
"Tikki," she whispered. "What do you think happened to him?"
Her kwami hummed, looking troubled as well. "Taking a life can change people forever, Marinette."
Master Fu had told her something similar once. Anger surged within her at the man – why hadn't he let her seek Chat out when she'd wanted to? Maybe she could have prevented this! But the fury dissipated as quickly as it came, and her eyes grew wet when she realized she would never get to ask him that because the kind old man was gone, gone forever, and had taken his reasons to the grave.
Adrien woke up feeling amazing.
He purred as he stretched, sitting back on his haunches and pushing down his spine as far as it would go while lifting his face to greet the warm sun. His claws – his fingers dug into the mattress, kneading and savoring the texture. Restless energy had him practically jumping out of bed when he normally needed at least thirty minutes and two snooze alarms to face the day.
His enthusiasm roused Plagg, who'd been napping on his pillow, and Adrien didn't think twice before rubbing his cheek against the kwami's in apology.
"Ack! Gross!"
Adrien laughed, evading the swipe of tiny claws by jumping backward, and ducked into the luxurious hotel bathroom. He inspected himself in the mirror, running a thumb over the golden stubble dusting his jaw – hadn't he shaved yesterday? It shouldn't be so far along. Deciding that his facial hair hadn't yet reached the critical unkempt stage, he let it be for now and hopped in the shower. Adrien Agreste, the brand, had made an art of looking sinfully disheveled anyway.
As the warm water hit his skin, the sensation sizzled in a way he couldn't remember experiencing in a long time. Adrien decided he'd made a great choice in putting the ring back on. This, this was what he'd been missing.
He'd missed being Chat Noir. The boundless freedom, the energy, the enhanced senses. All of it. Putting up with those silly instincts was more than worth it.
Last night couldn't have gone better.
There had been that rather undignified impulse when he'd first caught sight of Ladybug and been hit with her scent, but he had recovered well. Yes, for a moment he'd wanted to drop to his knees, rub himself up against her and purr up a storm, but the insanity had passed as quickly as it came. He'd been calm and professional, firmly drawing new boundaries in their relationship.
No longer would he be begging her for scraps of her affection.
They were partners. Not friends, certainly not lovers, just glorified colleagues. Two random people fate had decided to pair up in the fight against Evil.
Well, three people now.
"So how's our new partner?"
"Our partner?" she asked, seeming in a daze. "Oh. Carapace. Yes, he's… nice. Inexperienced, but a good team player. He'll make a great Guardian."
He tilted his head. "Guardian?"
"Yes, like Master Fu."
"Who?"
His expression soured when he remembered that particular exchange. He'd clearly been kept out of the loop of something, and Ladybug had refused to elaborate. Very well, let her have her secrets, he wasn't going to chase after them.
"Plagg, who's Master Fu?" he called out from the shower to the living room while massaging shampoo into his hair.
"None of your business!" the kwami yelled back.
"You're always so helpful!"
"I aim to please!"
Ah well. No matter. While he'd declined to join Ladybug and Carapace – he flexed his fingers, briefly curling them into the shape of claws – on their next patrol, he'd meet the new guy soon enough.
And would hopefully resist punching him in the face.
Until then…
Adrien reviewed his mental checklist of what his next steps would be. His To-Do-List was woefully empty, thanks to deciding to throw his old life into the wind in favor of returning to Paris.
#1. Repair friendship with Plagg.
More bribes would be needed for this one.
#2. Find an apartment.
Simple enough. Then he'd figure out the logistics of transporting the bulk of his belongings from London to Paris. He should probably give Nathalie a call so she could come bring him Princess.
#3. Find some work.
He'd ask Chloe. For all her flaws, she really did know where the best parties in Paris were held, and nothing greased palms and secured him gigs as efficiently as that.
#4. Schedule lunch or something with Nino.
Easy, provided Nino had forgiven him for his drunken escapades. Which he would. Probably. Nino was easy-going, he'd never started a fight with Adrien before, and Adrien had in some ways been a rather poor friend over the years. So this would be fine.
#5. No more alcohol.
He glanced down at his ring, twisting it around his finger. If he wished to master it, he couldn't afford to indulge in substances that lowered his inhibitions. Resisting his instincts was hard enough already, and That Incident at Nino's had proven that the two just didn't mix.
Which brought him to one more priority, perhaps the most urgent one.
#6. Find and apologize to Marinette.
Alya woke up in a terrible mood.
Well, that was not quite true. She woke up warm and safely wrapped in her boyfriend's strong arms, and for that one moment, all was right with the world. But then she spotted the smartphone next to her pillow, and her mood instantly soured.
Alya had missed it. She'd missed Chat Noir's grand and theatrical return, had failed to capture footage of him dissolving the remains of the dragon and clearing the Seine to the cheers of the gathered crowd. Swiping to open her Ladyblog, she pursed her lips and stared at the compilation blogpost she'd had to fall back on, gathering up all the external links to news reports who'd not failed to be there.
Still, there were several thousand comments and rising, so it was not a total loss. She listlessly scrolled through the thread, evaluating her viewers' overall consensus of these latest developments.
Opinion on Chat Noir had been mixed after Hawkmoth's death, but over the years, perhaps because absence made the heart grow fonder, most people had come to view him with nostalgic affection. It helped that Ladybug, whenever questioned on her former partner's actions, would always emphasize that the villain's death had been an unintended accident, and one in self-defense besides. An attempt to bring criminal charges against Chat Noir had been quickly abandoned after the people of Paris had angrily risen in protest.
A Parisian protest was nothing to sneeze at. The French prided themselves on having perfected the art of strategic strikes and civil disobedience.
So it was no surprise that the reception in her comment section had, at first, been cautiously optimistic, only to quickly snowball into a celebration of his return. And then it got… weird.
TrueShipsNeverSink: After all this time… once thought lost to the depths of the ocean… the SS LadyNoir sets sail once more! #toldyouso
PolkaSpots: I always knew he'd come back to his Lady
LadyBlanc: Oh shut it, I remember you from another thread. Don't try to act like you stayed true! It is only we faithful few who never lost hope, so don't you go hopping on this bandwagon now
Mirage-oulous: Guys, what's the consensus on the new ship name? Chatapace?
PolkaSpots: Obviously it's Tortoiseshell Cat, Tortie for short. Keep up, would you?
TrueShipsNeverSink: Though this could be the start of a beautiful new OT3. What shall we call it?
LadyBlanc: how about the TRAITORSHIP!
Catnipped: Guys, would you stop getting sidetracked by stupid shit and focus on what really matters: I can't be the only who thinks chat looks like sex on legs now, right? I mean, HOT DAMN
Alya sighed and closed the page.
Nino made a sleepy sound, and then pressed a gentle kiss to her back, hooking one leg over her hip to grind against her.
She pushed him off and he let her go, rolling over to bury himself deeper into the blankets. "Morning," he said, voice muffled against the pillow, and she reached to ruffle his dark hair.
"Good morning."
He cracked open one eye, and fixed his golden gaze on her. "What's got you in a bad mood?"
"Oh, you know, nothing." She pursed her lips, pouting. "Just the biggest blunder of my Ladyblog career."
He laughed softly, reaching to hold her hand and squeezing it. "You still have that exclusive interview, right? The one with the new hero?"
Damn her boyfriend and his Chill. He never let her just rage at the world for a while. "If he shows up, anyway," she muttered darkly. So far he'd made no efforts to contact her and follow up on his promise. If he failed to deliver, she would write the most scathing article!
Well, no, she wouldn't. She wasn't about to sabotage a hero's reputation just because she was salty.
But, oh, she'd be salty, alright. Alya could hold a grudge for a long time.
"I'm sure he will," Nino said and, with effort, rolled out of bed and headed to the door. "Ladybug would probably kick his ass if he didn't."
"True." Ladybug always kept her promises to Alya.
When she moved to follow, he vaguely gestured at her to stay. "I'll make breakfast, babe, you can lie back down."
What had she done to deserve this sweet man? She grinned at him. "Have I mentioned that you're the best?"
He glanced back at her with amusement in his tired smile. "You could stand to mention it a little more. And also listen to me when I tell you not to run into fire. Because fire is bad, Alya."
"Mmm, I'm going to have to see some research backing you up on that point to believe it."
She giggled as he rolled his eyes at her and left the room to head to the kitchen, then snuggled back into the blankets. Okay, so maybe this day was not entirely lost.
Deciding to make the best of a bad situation, she pulled her laptop onto the bed and opened up the Ladyblog, scrolling through her private messages. Sometimes her readers sent her useful clips and info, and scanning through them now, she did spot a few messages that had attached amateur footage of Chat Noir's Cataclysm, so that was something. She refreshed, and blinked at a new message in her inbox. She didn't recognize the username, so it wasn't one of her regulars.
JadeShield: name a time and place for that interview I owe you ;)
Alya sat up, her mind fully awake now. Pulling up her site statistics to check the user's IP address, she then traced it back, revealing that the network this message had been sent from was in –
Her own home.
A grin spread across Alya's face.
Well played, turtle boy.
Of course he was too clever not to cover his tracks. And now the game was on.
Marinette rubbed her eyes before pulling the latest batch of pastries out of the oven. Her mother had taken one look at her bloodshot eyes and miserable expression, and graciously taken over the counter this morning to spare her daughter customer service. She was in no state to be dealing with people, and she enjoyed working with her dad behind the scenes anyway.
Since Alya had moved out of their shared apartment, Marinette had decided to move back with her parents for the last stretch of university, not wanting to deal with finding another roommate she'd have to hide Tikki from.
The empty nest had hit her parents hard, and they had been overjoyed to take her back in, had refused all of Marinette's attempts to pay them rent. So she'd settled on working part-time at the bakery to feel like less of a mooch, although her parents would have been aghast to hear her refer to herself as such. They loved to dote on her.
"Would you take these out front, Marinette?"
"Will do," she said, trading the tray of fresh croissants for a kiss on her dad's cheek.
As she made her way to the counter, Marinette froze on the threshold that lead to the front section. Her mother was beaming at her, interrupting her conversation with a young man to turn to her.
"Sweetie, look, one of your old classmates!"
Adrien's eyes lit up at the sight of her. "Hello, Marinette."
Maybe if she'd seen him before last night, she'd have freaked out. But her heart was occupied with other matters, so it didn't have the energy to somersault into apoplectic spasms at the mere sight of him. It just gave a sad little lurch and she managed to not drop the tray. Mumbling a greeting, she restocked the croissants.
"Marinette?"
She glanced up. Adrien was looking at her with concern creasing his brows.
"Are you alright?"
"Uh, yeah, fine, just…" She made a gesture so vague even she didn't know what it was supposed to express.
"Right. Well, I wasn't sure you'd be here, so please don't take this as stalking. I'm here for the pastries. Not that I'm not glad to see you as well, I was hoping to run into you. Christ, this is coming out bad. Look, I wanted to apologize. For, y'know." He paused, glancing at her mother who immediately had the good sense to pretend to be busy and move out of earshot.
Marinette blinked at the unexpected swell of words. "Oh!" At the memory, her hand started tingling. "It's – it's fine, don't worry about it. Nino said you were, uh…"
"Drunk. Really, really drunk." He nodded, a faint hint of color on his cheeks. Had she ever seen Adrien blush before? "It smelled good and my brain just short-circuited, I don't know." A nervous smile. "I told you. Your parents' baked goods are my weakness."
Marinette smiled, feeling a strange light-headedness. Or maybe it was the foreign sensation of having her wits about her. Apparently, her heart being all out of fucks to give lead to her being a normal human being around Adrien Agreste. How novel.
"Consider yourself forgiven. God knows I've done some stupidly impulsive things, and I wasn't even drunk for them." His answering smile was so bright it should have surely sent her into palpitations. Instead, in the spirit of reconciliation and pretending The Lick never happened, she gestured to the magnificent display behind the counter. "Feel free to pick something. On the house."
"Marinette, no." His smile waned, his expression growing mournful. "I can't in good faith accept that. You can't offer me free stuff, free food least of all. I'm like a stray, I'll come back for more."
"Well," she said, and picked up the empty tray. "Maybe that's exactly what I'm aiming for."
She headed into the back room before her newly functional mind could desert her again, privately high-fiving herself for the smooth line.
Adrien came back the next morning.
Author's Note:
Y'all. There's fluff ahead. Stupid amounts of fluff.
Thank you for all your amazing comments, the reaction to the most recent chapter really made my day.
