There were only a handful of all-night diners in that section of Paris; most were little more than small hole-in-the-wall establishments, catering to the late-night bar crowd attempting to sober up for the coming morning. One was more old-fashioned, with stainless steel appointments and pastel colors that harkened back to a time when coffee was cheap enough a small coin could pay for it and the conversation was free. Nino favored it mostly for the former, especially after a grueling night of pounding out the beats for his fans; normally, he was too keyed up after a performance to sleep himself, so the caffeine would keep him going through his day job as the Senior Sound Engineer at a local music label. Café Midnight served a secondary purpose, though, since it was also far enough removed from the beaten path, he was unlikely to be recognized and yet was still warmly received by the waitstaff each time he visited.

As he pushed his way through the door with the odd oval window, he pulled his hat down a bit more, smiling slightly at the dual life he was leading. It wasn't all that different from the one the bracelet on his wrist represented, he supposed, but if word got out that the Oscar-winning artist was moonlighting as an electronica dance deejay, filling nightclubs to capacity three or four nights a week, his employer was likely to get a tad annoyed. Nodding to Francois in the open kitchen, Nino caught the eye of Grace on the far side of the long Formica-topped counter and smiled as he slid onto his usual round barstool.

Attired in a classic dress-and-apron combo, Grace detoured to the coffee pot on the counter behind her prior to effortlessly crossing the distance to him without spilling a drop. Placing the white ceramic mug before him atop the square jade napkin matching the trim, she pulled a pencil from her bun and smiled as she flipped up her order pad. "I don't know why I ask," she started, "since you always have the same thing."

Nino pulled the mug toward him, watching the steam as it lifted from the dark surface. "I don't like messing with what works," he half smiled at her, something he knew had created quite the effect on his lady fans back when he'd been younger. Now, at thirty-five, he was starting to wonder if the right woman would ever come along.

"All right, hon," Grace smiled wider. "Francois will have it up in a few."

"Thanks," Nino replied as he blew on the coffee before raising it to his lips for a sip.

He was just closing his eyes to appreciate the particular blend the Café served when the bell on the door sounded behind him; it was unusual enough to have two people at that hour, and as frequent a visitor as he was, Nino turned to see who the new arrival might be. To his surprise, the raven hair and blue eyes scanning for an open seat belonged to someone he'd not seen in quite a while.

"Marinette?" he asked before realizing he'd broken the silence.

Those deep blue eyes turned and locked on his, then widened in some amazement. "Nino?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng!" he said warmly as he stood and pushed his hat up a bit. "How the hell are you?"

"Well," she replied as she moved toward him, and accepted his traditional French air kiss on one cheek and then the other. "What on Earth are you doing here at this hour?"

Flushing slightly, Nino waved her to one of the many empty stools beside him. "I was working," he said quasi-honestly, leaving his response open ended enough that Marinette might read into it just enough.

She didn't. "Isn't your office on the other side of the city?" she asked pointedly as Grace appeared.

"Yes," Nino hedged, "but every so often, I need a break. This is a nice, quiet place to think."

He could tell Marinette still wasn't buying what he was selling, especially when she arched a beautiful eyebrow at him. "Coffee," she said to Grace, and then turned to Nino. "Indeed."

"Are you working late, too?" he asked, hoping to shift the attention away from him a bit.

"Yes," Marinette replied with just a trace of hesitation. "I've got some designs in the show next week, and, well," she smiled tiredly, "you know how it goes. Changes are made right up until they walk onto the catwalk."

Nino nodded, well aware that Marinette had become one of the top designers in Paris; she was second only to their other mutual friend, who had continued to dominate the industry long after his father had retired from the public eye a decade earlier. Much like Marinette, it had been some time since he'd seen Adrien – hell, it had been years since he'd seen anyone from the old gang, if he were truly being honest – so the absence of communication felt all the more acute given how easily he could fire off a text. And yet, none of them had. Life had sent them all in opposite directions, including the woman he thought he would grow old with.

Almost as if she had sensed his thoughts, Marinette asked: "How's Alya? I've not talked to her in ages."

"I have no idea," he replied.

Trying to be nonchalant, Nino smiled to mask the ache he still felt and the heat of the lie on his face. In truth, he continued to see Alya in her superhero guise regularly. He'd once thought Ladybug's forced reveal of their superhero alter-egos had simply cemented the white-hot love they'd had for each other; in the end, though, trying to balance the endless late nights required to become that Oscar-winning sound editor, dating Alya and continuing as a core member of Team Miraculous had doomed his relationship. Nino had been forced to pick something to give up, and foolishly, it had been Alya. Once the flame of passion had been doused, he'd been reduced to swapping empty pleasantries with Rena, wondering at the life he'd traded for the one he'd chosen.

And, of course, there was no way he could share any of that with Marinette.

"Oh!" Marinette said, and she had the good nature to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry…"

"It's not your fault," Nino replied. "I let her get away from me."

"I always thought the two of you were going to be together forever," Marinette said as Grace returned with her coffee. Stirring in an obscene amount of sugar from the clear glass container, she took a sip before continuing. "She got so busy with her career, and me with mine, we sort of fell out of regular contact." Looking away from Nino, Marinette added so softly, he nearly missed it "Or any kind of contact, for that matter."

Nino nodded, recognizing the undercurrent of loss and regret in Marinette's words. "I was thinking the same thing about us. I'm sorry I've not called or, well, anything."

Marinette turned back, put her hand to his arm, and smiled. "Same," she said softly. "How are you?"

Of all the carefully prepared things he could have said – hell, would probably have told anyone other than Marinette – what popped out of his mouth surprised him. "Lonely."

She nodded, almost as if she'd expected the answer. "Yeah," she said softly. "This life we lead doesn't give us much time to make friends, does it? I mean, I know plenty of people at work and outside of it, but I don't hang out with anyone." She sighed as she looked away from him for a moment. "I have the success I always dreamed of, am in demand in more ways than I can explain, but at thirty-four, I go home to an empty apartment." Looking back at Nino, she smiled slightly. "On the nights I go home."

"You don't even have a cat?"

Something passed across Marinette's face for a moment. "Not at home, no," she chuckled as she sipped her coffee.

Nino found himself reaching a hand to hers on the counter. "What happened to us?" he asked. "Where did time go?"

"If I had the answer to that…" Marinette chuckled again, a warm sound that he'd forgotten how much he'd enjoyed hearing.

Nino found the resonance of her laughter transported him back to a time when the four of them would gather around something her father had just pulled out of the brick oven of the bakery and laugh over the latest fiasco Chloe Bourgeois had gotten herself into, or endlessly tease each other over secret crushes. A few arguments over who the best member of Team Miraculous had been in there, too. It was a lifetime ago, now, and until that moment, Nino hadn't realized how badly he missed it. All of it - even the petty things they used to get upset over.

Marinette paused, and looked at him slyly. "I suppose you're gonna deny you were the deejay at the club over on Boulevard de la Rivière."

He watched her smile grow wider as his color deepened. "Mari – you can't tell anyone you recognized me," he said quietly. "I'm kinda doing it under the radar."

"Your secret is safe with me, Nino," she said softly. "But you should know: it was awesome. And… I can't believe I'm saying this… but I have a confession. I've actually been stalking you for a while now."

Nino's eyes bulged. "You're a groupie? Of mine?"

"Don't act so surprised," she laughed. "I know a good thing when I hear it." She waited a beat. "And see it. I came across you by accident a few weeks ago. I was passing that dive on Cour d'Orléans and saw the crowd waiting to get in; it took me half an hour just work my way into the room." She sighed. "But it was worth it."

Nino narrowed his eyes at Marinette. "You're out late, frequently?"

Marinette nodded. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

"You don't look much like a creature of the night."

"Like I said, I have an empty apartment. Anything is a better option than going home and surfing Netflix."

He started to reply when he realized he'd been doing the same thing – filling his nights to avoid being alone in his studio apartment overlooking the Seine. Twelve hours days at the office morphed into long club gigs in the evening, with the express goal of staying just busy enough to not notice how empty his life had become. Nino wondered if the more-than-occasional call from Ladybug had been the only thing keeping his existence from becoming tedious.

When had that happened?

"I hear you," Nino said instead, squeezing the hand of his friend that he still seemed to be holding. The warmth of her fingers reached into his soul, and he found himself smiling genuinely for the first time in a long while. "I'm glad you were stalking me, then," he continued. "It's nice to have a fan."

"To have a friend," Marinette corrected. "I'd forgotten that part myself."

Grace appeared once more and placed Nino's order in front of him, refilled their coffee mugs and then vanished, giving Marinette a moment to frown. "What?" Nino asked as he freed the utensils from their cocoon of paper napkin.

"Chocolate chip pancakes?" she asked, smiling. "Aren't you a little old for that?"

"Madame, I am only thirty-five," he intoned with as much dignity as one could muster at two o'clock in the morning. "Still young enough to ignore the rules about nutrition."

It wasn't lost on him that Marinette's eyes darted to his well-defined abs, a gift of his regular outings as his superhero alter ego and barely hidden by the snug t-shirt that was his stage outfit. "Clearly middle age hasn't caught up with you yet," she observed.

For his part, he couldn't help but notice how toned Marinette was; the sleeveless dress she was wearing – likely her own design, he was certain – exposed extremely well-defined biceps that were uniquely feminine. "As much as it has avoided you," he replied with a warm smile. "What's your secret?"

"Magic," Marinette laughed without missing a beat. "You?"

"Good genetics?" he asked, knowing her answer was probably closer to his truth than anything else.

As Nino dug into his treat, the two of them continued to talk as if a gap of years hadn't taken place in their friendship. Stories were swapped, tears flowed at a few points, and time passed so fast that both of them were startled to see the sun appear through the tall plate glass windows fronting the avenue. Grace, ever patient as her name implied, appeared at the right moment, allowing Nino to settle the check for both of them. To his surprise, he then found himself on the sidewalk with Marinette's arm comfortably looped through his. Slowly, they started to walk toward the Metro stop a few blocks away.

Reluctant to part with the warm glow that had developed between them, Nino paused at an intersection. "I'd like to do this again. If you are free," he added hastily, not wanting to pressure her.

"My schedule is insanely full," Marinette said with mock seriousness. "As you know."

"Well, if you can tear yourself away from that empty apartment—"

"Tonight? At seven?" she asked quickly.

Nino blinked. "Yeah. That will work," he replied. "Where do you want—"

At that moment, both of their cell phones chirped out the Paris-wide akuma alert, and nearly in unison they pulled them out to read the emergency text message. "Damn," Marinette said. "That's a hell of a way to start the morning."

Nino nodded, eyebrows going up as he noted the attack was just a short distance from them. "Look, I think I left my notebook back there in the diner," he said lamely, knowing he had to find someplace quiet to transform and find Ladybug. "Can you get home on your own…?"

"I'm a big girl," Marinette said, and oddly, he thought she looked relieved that he was ditching her. "But I'll see you tonight?"

"Yes!" Nino said as he started to trot back in the general direction of the diner. "Trocadero?"

"See you there!" Marinette waved as she hurried across the street and toward the relative safety of the Metro.

Nino waited until she was out of sight before ducking into a dark alley to transform into Carapace; in short order, he was atop the rooftops of the city, running full-tilt toward the screams and billowing smoke. To his surprise, Ladybug swung down out of the early morning blue sky to land beside him. "You're up awfully early this morning," she observed as she matched his pace.

"I never went to bed," he replied honestly. "I ran into an old friend last night and we talked until dawn."

She surprised him again by laughing. "That sounds like the beginning of a romance novel."

Carapace started to object to her characterization, and then thought better of it; no small part of him had actually come to the same conclusion the moment he'd found himself strolling along the sidewalk, arm-in-arm with Marinette. Then another thought had occurred to him, one that reminded him that everyone deserved someone in their lives, even lonely Oscar-winning artists. And, perhaps, world renowned designers. For the longest time, he'd assumed he'd struck out at his only chance in love.

After spending a few hours with his old friend, his heart told him it was open for business again.

"Maybe it was," he laughed. "I'd like to think it could be."

Ladybug surprised him for a third time when she replied: "Yeah. Me, too."