A/N: It's been so long, guys! I'm sorry. Time to write still eludes me, but I'm getting there. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Happy five month anniversary of the fic, by the way!

Next chapter (30 already!?) will be a special one, so stay tuned! ;) Oh, and see if you can spot the hidden puns in this story - there are quite a few...

Until next time, everyone!


Fashion Faux Paw: When Adrien and Marinette find themselves targeted by an akumatized villain, Chat and Ladybug take their places at a fashion show to protect them and act as bait. But what happens when the two heroes notice that the other acts a lot like the person they are impersonating? Idea by Wai-Jing Waraugh.


On a dreary Saturday morning, Marinette eagerly sat at the table eating breakfast, watching Adrien Agreste's first on-camera TV interview. She'd been looking forward to it for a whole six months, ever since she'd first been invited to help the Agrestes design the new fall clothing line as part of her fashion design internship.

"I'm pretty excited, but I'm afraid I'll say something stupid on live television," Adrien had confessed one day when they'd both been at the office. Marinette had been hemming his Chat Noir-inspired suit with nervous, shaky fingers. She'd also been holding several small pins between her lips, so she'd been unable to anything encouraging in response.

But she absolutely understood his nerves. Adrien had been in the modeling industry for years, but his father had kept him away from the interview spotlight until now. Mr. Agreste had only allowed Channel Five the rights to interview because Adrien had garnered quite a fan base after he'd modeled Marinette's superhero-themed fall collection pieces in the first magazine ad last month. The popularity of the fashion line was going to skyrocket even higher as soon as people watched his first interview. And, as far as publicity went, this was probably a safer option than letting desperate magazines publish some fake, far-fetched scandal like "Adrien Agreste Actually Is Chat Noir!" or something equally ridiculous.

Marinette couldn't help but notice that as he walked onto the stage now, Adrien looked extremely nervous. She knew he was rather uncomfortable in these situations – he withdrew and seemed almost aloof. She couldn't exactly blame him – having to put up with screaming girls yelling at him all the time was probably exhausting and irritating.

"It's Adrien-freaking-Agreste!" cried out one girl as the camera panned across the front row. She had runny mascara marring her powdered cheeks as she cried. "He's so hot!" yelled another teen, waving a giant poster with his face on it. "He looked at me!" shouted yet another girl, who was clutching a poster of Adrien and wearing a sweat-suit from the Agrestes' newest line of feline-themed athletic wear, called Noir.

Marinette had to admit that capitalizing on the superhero craze in Paris was doing wonders for the fashion world. And the designs was pretty realistic – she'd been sure to even get the Chat Ear headbands just right. And it had been announced yesterday that the Agreste empire was about to start selling Ladybug merchandise under the label Bugaboo as well. While she was admittedly a little pleased at how the designs had turned out, Marinette still thought the cutesy, pet name of the clothing line was a little questionable. It sounded like something Chat would have suggested in an offhand attempt to flirt with her, but Marinette knew the name had actually been Adrien's idea.

The camera slowly turned back on the stage, where Adrien was now sitting stiffly in an ugly yellow armchair and wincing at the catcalls from his fans. Mascara Girl could be heard reciting her phone number at top volume – "Hey! Adrien freaking Agreste! Call me, my love!"

Thankfully, Madame Mystique of the Channel Five Fashion Forward Team seemed to sense things were getting out of hand and began the interview with a warm introduction, obviously trying to make him feel more at ease. It was very clear that while Adrien was accustomed to the spotlight, he was not accustomed to so much of one. The audience shut up at once, held in rapture by Paris' beloved teen model.

"Well, Adrien, we already know a lot about your fabulous work in the fashion world. You've held us in rapture for years," said Mystique in a voice like smooth honey. "But we want to learn more about you – things we've all been dying to ask. Let's start with the first question – something simple to get you warmed up. What's your middle name?"

Adrien seemed to relax a little at the easy question. "Uh…freaking. Apparently." He shot an uncomfortable yet amused look at Mascara Girl and she swooned. The rest of the audience laughed. "But in all seriousness, it's George."

Marinette gagged on her toast. "His middle name is not George," she said aloud, even though she knew she was home alone. It was Jean; he'd told her that once a long time ago. Was he lying then? Or was he lying now? Perhaps everything he was going to say in this interview was false. Come to think of it, that would be a good way to protect his privacy. Marinette shuddered to think what his fans would do to him if they found out anything remotely true.

"What's your favorite food?" Mystique continued.

Adrien paused, probably aware that his fans would probably send him millions of whatever he said. With an almost imperceptible flinch, he said, "I love peanuts."

Marinette rolled her eyes. Adrien hated peanuts. She'd caught him once at the bakery scraping the peanut butter off the top of one of her father's Nutella Checkerboard Delights, which was an obscenity to a girl who'd grown up eating those whenever she'd had a bad day.

"How can you not like peanuts?" she'd demanded, shoving him out the door before her parents saw the defaced pastry.

"I just don't," he'd shrugged, looking sheepish and slightly amused at her flash of temper. "I'm sorry."

Marinette turned back to the interview now with her hand on her forehead, admonishing him aloud. "Why, Adrien? Why would you tell them you love something you hate? Why would you do that to yourself?" No doubt, Mascara Girl was going to try to bury him in trail mix or something. Yuck.

"And what about your personal life? Is there anyone you are seeing? Anyone you'd share those peanuts with?" Mystique raised her eyebrow as if anticipating scandal.

The audience went wild and Adrien flushed scarlet. Disgusted, Marinette shoved away her plate and made to turn off the TV. But then Mystique cooed, "Oooohhh," and edged onto the front of her seat. "He's blushing, ladies! So who is the lucky lady? Is it the breakout designer of Noir and Bugaboo, Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

There was a horrible pause, and Marinette froze in mortified terror.

Thankfully, Adrien was spared from answering. "No! He loves ME," shrieked a familiar voice from the audience, cutting through the obvious tension like lightning through the dark. Marinette already knew it was Mascara Girl.

Adrien looked simultaneously relieved and affronted. "Uhhh," he stammered, edging backward in his chair as if he could melt into the mint-green wallpaper behind it. "Sorry, but no. I don't even know you."

The rejection hit the poor girl hard, and she swayed on the spot. "I won't forget this cruel refusal," she said, sounding hurt and angry. "You have made a mortal enemy of me. You and Marinette will pay!"

There was a collective, dramatized gasp from the audience that Marinette actually shared, but for more than the obvious reason. She abruptly turned off the TV and jumped to her feet. Although she was scared of being targeted by Mascara Girl, she also knew what those words meant – she'd become rather good at recognizing akuma victims even before Hawkmoth got to them. And picturing Mascara Girl akumatized was far scarier than Marinette's personal problems at the moment.

Typically, the thought of fighting akumas in the rain irritated Marinette. It usually ended up being slippery and dangerous, and her hair was always a mess afterward. In fact, there were very few people for whom Marinette would actually be excited to seek out in such a storm as this. Adrien was one of them. Chat was another. If it had been anyone else today, she'd probably have begrudged them a little.

"Tikki," she said, squaring her shoulders in preparation for the battle, "Spots on!"


Three hours later, Ladybug felt like a total failure. The rescue had been a disaster. Chat hadn't even shown up to help. And, to make matters worse, she'd been unable to isolate and purify the akuma without her partner. The villain, called "Fangirl" had gotten away with a swipe of her Cosplay Mascara, which allowed her to disguise herself as anyone. She'd slipped away with the crowd, and Ladybug had been left to work alone to clear up the damage.

Ladybug ended up having to retrieve Adrien, who had been unceremoniously locked in his dressing room by some incompetent yet well-meaning guards. She escorted him back to safety at his house, taking the private roof route to avoid the public eye.

"I don't know where Chat Noir has been for all of this. It isn't like him to be missing in action," she told a sopping wet Adrien as they said goodbye in the massive front foyer of his mansion. "I'm sorry – but you should probably get some extra protection in case Fangirl decides to show up here."

Adrien gave her a slightly indignant look, as if to say I can take care of myself, but he seemed to think better of it and did not protest. Then a vaguely panicked Natalie burst through the front door, completely soaked by the rain.

"Oh good," she gasped. "You're back. I was worried you'd been lost in the crowd. Hans couldn't find you anywhere. Ladybug, thank you for rescuing him."

"Who is Hans?" Adrien asked, bewildered.

"Your bodyguard. He's been looking after you for five years now."

Adrien looked at her with dawning comprehension. He gave a little "Oh."

"Your father is right after all – you're completely oblivious. No observational skills whatsoever," Natalie sighed, putting a hand to the bridge of her nose.

"It was no trouble to rescue Adrien, ma'am. He just got locked in his dressing room, which is why no one could find him," offered Ladybug, trying to divert the conversation. But Natalie was already checking her phone, looking frazzled.

"You know, I'd always just called Hans 'Gorilla.' He even responded to it and everything," Adrien muttered, solely for Ladybug's benefit. She fought to divert her snort of laughter into something more like a professional cough.

"Well, I'd better go," she said, turning away and waving goodbye to the two of them. "Glad you're safe, Adrien."

"Thanks for your help!" he smiled. Natalie jerked her head up again and waved distractedly.

"Anytime," said Ladybug. And then she was gone.


After Ladybug left, Adrien put a hand to his temple, thinking hard. "If I lost Gorilla in the chaos back there, that's not good," he told Natalie. "Fangirl is probably going to show up at the fashion show tomorrow when we reveal all the Noir and Bugaboo clothes. And if that's true, you're right, I do need extra protection. I can't exactly blend in with the other models - she'll come straight for me."

Natalie stared at him for a moment, evidently thinking hard about what Adrien had said. But then she broke into a grin. "Perhaps you can get some help. You're friends with Chat Noir, right?"

Adrien nodded mutely.

"Well, what if you convinced Chat Noir to model in the fashion show tomorrow and pretend to be you? You both have similar features, and if Chat wears his costume under your clothes, everyone will think it is part of the new clothing line. No one would guess he's the real Chat, and everyone will think he's you. Then we'll have bait for Fangirl, and the superheroes can take her down without you being in put in danger."

Adrien thought for a moment, tapping his fingers against his lips. "So you're saying we use Chat as bait?"

Natalie nodded.

"I'll have to ask him, but for now I'm in, at least. Oh, and Chat will probably want to bring Ladybug along."

"That would actually work well. She could disguise herself as Marinette and model too, just in case Fangirl goes for her instead. That might actually be for the best – Ladybug and our little designer do look very much alike."

Adrien blinked, never having noticed this before. "Oh," he said, echoing his previous realization that his bodyguard had a name. Perhaps he really was as oblivious as his father thought. This unsettled him.

"Right. Well, I'll have Chat talk to her, then. I think this could work." He stripped off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the coat rack before beginning to climb the stairs to his room.

"Where is your umbrella?" Natalie called after him, having finally noticed he was dripping all over the floor. "The black one?"

"Oh, I gave it to Marinette. That's how I got her to be my friend when we first met."

"What kind of friend?" Natalie asked, and Adrien stopped halfway up the stairs. She always seemed to know the exact question to make him pause. After he'd narrowly avoided the questions about his love life during his disastrous interview, Adrien didn't know what to say.

After some thought, he smiled and started walking again. "The best kind," he said without turning around. He didn't want Natalie to see him blush again.


The night of the annual Agreste Autumn Fashion Premiere was clear and breezy. Paris was nestled under a chalkboard sky studded with tiny, silent stars. In other words, the atmosphere outside was the perfect juxtaposition of peace against the chaos Ladybug was currently experiencing backstage.

She was wearing her "Marinette" costume: her normal clothes over her Ladybug suit. It was hard not to feel ridiculous wearing a normal shirt over polka-dot spandex as she stood in line, waiting to go in for makeup. It was one thing to design daring outfits; it was quite another to wear them confidently. But Marinette had already agreed months ago that she'd model and couldn't back out now – it was part of her internship contract, and she had to fulfill it. Besides, she was not dressed out of place. Everyone was wearing a hodgepodge of Chat Noir and Ladybug costuming with normal street clothes. It was all part of the mood of the show.

Ladybug sighed as the queue shifted forward slowly. She eventually found herself staring at the food on the nearby snack cart again. She was tantalizingly close to the platter of warm, flaky mini croissants, but she was forbidden to eat anything. One of the attendants kept slapping her hand away every time she tried to reach for one.

"No food until after you go on," she scolded. "It will ruin your clothes if you spill. You have to wait."

Ladybug knew she was right, but she still inwardly groaned. She was so hungry and uncomfortable and nervous. She tried to pass the time observing the models as they dressed in clothes she'd created. It was fascinating to see her ideas come to life, but she couldn't seem to enjoy it the way she normally would. Right now, she was Ladybug pretending to be Marinette. Being two people at once made it hard to feel justly proud of her accomplishments.

She risked another outstretched hand for a bunch of grapes, and received another slap on her knuckles. How did Adrien put up with this all the time? She felt a new kind of sympathy for models – her view of the fashion world had always been in design. She'd had no idea how much work (and caloric sacrifice) went into the show itself until now.

Luckily, Chat Noir was somewhere nearby. She'd finally gotten in touch with him, and he'd said he was going to pose as Adrien for the show. He even asked that she take Marinetee's place tonight. He also apologized for missing the battle with Fangirl. Apparently he'd been unable to get out of some obligation as his alter-ego. We've both been there before, she thought, understanding completely.

And then, as if he'd known she was thinking about him, Chat appeared from behind a cloud of hairspray to Ladybug's left. He approached her in line and nodded, adjusting his Chat Noir/street clothes ensemble. "Hi, Marinette," he said loudly, going with the act. When he was close enough, he addressed her properly. "Haven't seen any sign of Fangirl yet. You look great, by the way. And you smell good - but I don't know if it's your perfume or the hairspray I just got attacked with. But anyway. Dressing like Marinette suits you, my lady."

"Thanks. And same for you – if it wasn't for the eyemask, I'd say you were Adrien."

"These are some outfits," he agreed, looking around at the other models. "Marinette did a great job making them all perfect."

"Tha-Uh…right," she stuttered, catching herself and avoiding saying thank you. It would have been a stupid mistake to reveal her identity that way.

"I wonder how she knew so much about our costumes. It's uncanny. She even knew exactly how fluffy to make the ears." He touched them affectionately.

"Maybe she is just observant," Ladybug said somewhat pointedly, remembering what Natalie had said about Adrien's inability to observe. He and Chat had that in common, it seemed. The Noir and Bugaboo designer only knew that much because she was half of that superhero team, but neither boy would ever know it.

Chat gave her a strange look. "Yeah," he said. His green eyes were scanning her face as if he was trying to read a book in an unfamiliar language.

Ladybug broke his gaze and turned her head to look at a group of passing models wearing matching Bugaboo yoyo purses at their hips. They were lining up to go onstage, the camera flashes from beyond the curtain creating a strobe effect as they walked along. But one of the purse straps was loose – it needed another stitch or it was going to fall off.

"Wait," Ladybug yelped, forgetting all about pretenses and identities. Right now, she needed to be Marinette, pure and simple. She ran up to the models, brandishing the needle and thread she kept inside her front pocket just in case. With a few expert stitches in record time, the purse was repaired and she sent them off to the runway, feeling relieved. When she returned to where Chat was holding her spot in line, he gave her a disbelieving look.

"I didn't realize you knew so much about fashion or sewing. Did Marinette give you a crash course?"

Her frightened look seemed to convince him of something. "You know, you're a lot more like Marinette than I thought, Ladybug," he said softly.

"Maybe I've always been, and you're just now noticing," she said, feeling harassed and angry at herself for almost exposing herself. But, then again, if she hadn't saved that purse, the runway would have seen a failure of an outfit. She, as Marinette, cared too much about the work she'd put into the designs and clothes to let that happen. What else could she have done?

"You're right," Chat sighed as they walked forward a little more. As they moved, he snuck a croissant off the snack table with such grace and ease that it was obvious he'd had practice. "It's just now starting to catch my eye." He split the croissant in half and offered her some. She took it gratefully. She kept sending furtive glances over her shoulder, but by some miracle, the admonitory snack attendant hadn't yet noticed they were eating.

"How did you do that?" she asked, staring at her half of the fluffy bread.

Chat blinked, reminding her so much of Adrien it was startling. She'd seen her friend make that same mildly surprised face often, but when Chat was dressed like him, it was almost creepy how similar the expression became. "Do what?"

"Steal food without her seeing. I've been trying for over half an hour!"

"Oh, it's all about stealth. You don't make eye contact, and you never stop walking – you just skim by and take it smoothly, then turn so your body hides it," he said, grinning wickedly.

"It sounds like you've done this before," she frowned. "Did Adrien teach you that? He'd know – he spends a lot of time doing this modeling stuff."

"Oh. Yeah. Um, sure," Chat said, but it wasn't convincing.

"You know, you're a lot more like him than I thought," Ladybug countered, adjusting her 'Marinette' outfit.

"Maybe you're not the only one who's been oblivious," was his quiet reply. They stared at each other for a moment, and in a flash, the lights and color and pressure of backstage was gone – it was just the two of them, seeing something they'd been neglecting for a long time.

"So. You're actually…Adrien..." she said in a delicate whisper, as if uttering it any louder would end the world.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Marinette," he replied, his lips barely moving but his eyes glimmering merrily.

"I am Ladybug, not Marinette. I don't know what would ever lead you to that ludicrous conclusion," she scoffed airily, taking a bite of the croissant.

"Glad we're on the same page," he chuckled, looking around the room. He seemed to relax even more now that he knew he was in the company of an old friend. The best kind of friend.

"Don't look now," Ladybug muttered, touching his shoulder, "but I do believe we have a Fangirl in our midst at two o'clock."

"Fantastic. Let's make her run away from this runway," Chat said, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Ready, Bugaboo?"

"Anytime, Peanut," she replied cheekily, gripping her yoyo.

"Aw, now that's just mean..."