Thirty-Four: Candid Candor

Author's Note: Making use of a discarded costume, Chat sneaks into the bar at the Grand Hotel to eavesdrop on Marinette's conversation with Alya.

The bar was just in front of me, and I tacked toward it until my arm was arrested.

Turning, I could see a kid of no more than seven. "I want a balloon!" he yelled, his red face tear-stained and speaking to what had to have been a trying afternoon for the parent who was sitting with him.

"Stay peachy!" I replied as I tried to move away.

"I! Want! Balloon!" he screamed. To my genuine surprise, he started to smack the outside of the banana costume, immediately bringing to mind those reports of Disney characters getting pummeled by tourists.

"Can we get one?" the mother pleaded with me, her own hand on my arm now. "Please?"

Growling under my breath, I nodded (as best as I could in a banana costume) and turned to face the intimate tableau. The mother sank back into the couch where she'd been sitting, a small cocktail on the sidearm with a damp napkin; her child was on the cushion next to her, with a coloring book and crayons scattered everywhere.

"And what kind of balloon do you want?" I said as I pulled out the pump, hoping no one would realize it was Chat Noir's voice coming out of the banana.

"I want a pirate's hat!"

My feline eyes fell to the coloring book and groaned as I saw he was, indeed, coloring a buccaneer's vessel. "Seriously? Don't you want a giraffe? Or a frog? How about a cat—"

"Pirate! Hat!" he screamed.

Sighing, I pulled out several balloons and started to work, unsure of exactly what I was doing but furrvently hoping the kid wouldn't know any different. Another quick glance at the mother confirmed that she was grateful for a few moments to herself and was quite fortunately paying little attention to my efforts. Through the hazy film of the eyes of the banana costume, I could see Alya and Marinette were waiting by the hostess at the entrance to the small bar just a few meters away from me; from their body language, neither appeared interested in chatting until they'd had at least one shot of something, preferably strong.

I hadn't noticed when Marinette was dressing to leave that morning she'd put on one of her handmade scarves; it was of the same soft fabric as the outfit she'd gifted me a few months earlier – the one allowing me to pad around the apartment without my transformation so Plagg could enjoy some much-needed downtime. It had been such a kind gesture, allowing me to shed the costume for nearly an entire weekend at a time—

My feline ears snapped straight up, smashing into the top of the costume; grimacing at the discomfort, I tried to process the connection my fur brain had just made while keeping the balloon in my paws intact. The day she'd given the outfit to me, she'd also been wearing that extremely form-fitting Lady Noir costume, hadn't she? And what had I said?

Should I be worried about anything you did to me while I was sleeping? I'd asked.

Most definitely, she had replied.

I squeezed my masked eyes shut in frustration. All these months, she'd been carefully letting me know she was ready – even before the reveal; crafting the mask and outfit had just been another waypoint on the journey, one I had been a tad oblivious to. Again.

It took an amazing amount not to do a facepaw. I could really be dense at times, couldn't I? And yet, true to form, Milady had patiently waited for me to catch up. It made me wonder now if the very event that she was even now just sitting down to talk to Alya about had been borne out of a tiny bit of frustration that I'd not been on the same page with my girlfriend.

I had to admit, I was all caught up now; my eyes narrowed a bit, anticipating just how I would… explain to her that I was not only caught up, I was ready to read the next chapter together, too. The mask and outfit would be making an appearance, that much I was sure. Not that I needed it any longer: just long enough for me to let her know in my own way I finally understood.

Turning slightly, I discovered I had a reasonably clear line of sight the table across the way where Alya and Marinette had just settled in and were ordering their first round. I focused my feline ears in their direction while I wrestled with the balloon arts-and-crafts project in my paws.

"You wanted to talk?" Alya said. I could pick up the barest trace of an undercurrent.

"Yeah," Marinette replied. "I'm just going to cut to the chase. Clearly you already know I'm dating Chat."

"Yes."

"Would you mind explaining yourself, then?"

"About what?"

"Are those claws?" the kid suddenly cried out, forcing me to turn my attention back to the balloon in my gloved paws.

"No," I said curtly as I attempted to twist the long cylinder I'd created without popping it with… my claws.

"Those look like claws," he said suspiciously as he slid off the couch and stood next to me.

Thinking fast, I knelt down to his height and whispered. "They are claws. Can you keep a secret?"

The kid looked at me with that sincere seriousness they can sometimes get, and nodded.

I made a show of looking around me (quite a task in a banana, I might add), then whispered: "I'm actually Chat Noir, and I'm on a secret mission. I could use some help, if only I could find someone."

His eyes went wide. "You're… Chat Noir?" he whispered back.

"In the fur," I said. "But this has to be between us. Do you know anyone who might be able to help me?"

"I'll do it!" he said excitedly. "What do you need?"

Grinning, though he couldn't see it, I said: "Well, it requires some acting. Can you do that?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, then." I leaned further. "I need you to pretend that I am crafting you the most amazing balloon hat ever. And then I'm going to make you a giraffe."

"Okay!" he said, then he lowered his voice to a confidential level (which, for seven-year-old was really just a loud stage whisper). "Then… will you Cataclysm it for me?"

I blinked. "If this works, sure," I said hesitantly. "Now you know my name – what's yours?"

"Sam," he smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Sam," I said.

Sam slid back up on his couch and suddenly was on his best behavior; I had no idea something as darkly negative as Cataclysm could be used as a pawsitive tool in that way. As I started back in on the muddle that was supposed to be his pirate hat, I twisted my feline ears back toward Marinette, and frowned.

"…protecting you," Alya was saying. "Chat was stepping out on you!"

"That's not exactly what he did," Marinette replied. "What you captured in those photos—"

"Girl, your boyfriend was getting it on with Miss Pearl Pureheart. There's no other way to look at it."

I could hear Marinette sighing. "Alya, you're my best friend. I can't believe you're not listening to me. I'm not upset with Chat; he explained to me what happened. He and Ladybug go back further than he and I do; did you know he had an insane crush on her?"

"It was kind of obvious." Alya had to have rolled her eyes. "He's been googly-eyed over her since they first appeared."

Marinette paused. "I didn't know that, Alya. That's my point. And what's more, Ladybug is the one that pushed Chat."

"He willingly went where she was leading him."

I blinked. It wasn't exactly untrue; I'd follow Ladybug anywhere. Especially these days, now that I knew who she was. I felt my face warm a bit thinking how willingly I'd followed her into my bed just that morning. There was no question she had me wrapped around her little finger… and I couldn't be happier.

"Of course he did," Marinette replied. "Why wouldn't he? It was Ladybug, the woman he was in love with before me. Now there she is, suddenly all over him. Doing things to him that he'd probably only fantasized about."

I blinked again, wondering if she was speaking more to me than Alya. My face heated up again. As Marinette appeared to take a sip of her cocktail, I handed Sam his "hat" and started on his giraffe. Per our agreement, he fawned all over it, despite it being nothing more than a tangled mess of half-inflated balloons. Twisted my ears again, I caught Marinette starting.

"How long were you there?"

"Long enough."

"Your pictures only show the two of them entangled. Did you see what transpired five minutes earlier? The day before?"

"Well, no, but I saw—"

"What you wanted to see." I heard Mari put her glass down on the glass surface of her table, the ice cubes jangling. "Look, here's the thing. I am actually rather pissed at you."

"You—what?"

"Chat and I had been keeping our relationship off the radar for just this kind of reason. You exposed us with those photos you took at the train station; that forced us to keep even further out sight. Do you have any idea how hard it is to date someone that you can't even take out? It's not like we can go to a restaurant, anyway, but after you pulled that stunt, we didn't feel all that comfortable with him even getting takeout for a rooftop."

"I don't understand—"

"Paparazzi, Alya. They followed me everywhere for weeks afterward. Just for a chance to get a shot of me with Chat." Marinette paused again. "It had finally died out. But this has thrown me back into the spotlight again. I saw the headline on the paper yesterday – 'Ladybug Steals Boyfriend from Local Designer' – how do I explain that to my boss, exactly? Who until today didn't know I was dating a Hero of Paris?"

I tried not to laugh. Her boss actually did know about me, but the point was well made.

"So, not to put too fine a point on it – you've outed my relationship to the city, twice now; and the second time around, you accused Ladybug of, what, exactly?"

"Sleeping with your boyfriend," Alya said, somewhat subdued.

"And did she?"

"Well, it looked like—"

"What?" Marinette paused again, and this time I knew she was about to go in for the kill. "Did you see anything along those lines? For your photos didn't capture that particular moment."

"It was in progress."

"Was it? For I was rather under the impression that those costumes don't come off, Alya. And knowing Chat as well as I do, I highly doubt he would have let it go beyond the kissing you so vibrantly did capture. Whatever you might think of my feline boyfriend, he is and continues to be the purrfect gentleman."

Alya was silent.

"You're my friend, right? Because I'm having a seriously hard time understanding why my friend did this to me." Marinette dropped her voice a little. "And I also don't know how you managed to get those photos in the first place. Unless you were, like, a Miraculous holder?" Another pause. "You aren't, are you?"

"Uh—no, I'm not," Alya said hastily.

"That's good. I'm reasonably sure Ladybug would frown on any holder who used their Miraculous for personal reasons." She paused. "Were you actually a holder."

"She would," Alya concurred quietly. "Thank goodness I'm not," Alya laughed nervously.

"I don't know what's happened to you, Alya," Marinette continued. "This is not the budding journalist I once knew. You seem to have thrown your ethics out the window in pursuit of the big story."

"It's a tough industry."

"Really. You had been doing quite well for yourself – what changed?"

"Nothing has changed. I'm just getting better at my job."

"That's debatable. Look, if you still value our relationship – lay off the Heroes of Paris, would you? Or, if that is too much of an ask, leave Chat and I out of it for a bit? Until the buzz wears down again?"

"No," Alya said. "The public have a right to know-"

"Everything about my private life?" Marinette said, her voice barely controlled. "And Chat's? Where's the public good served in either of us being put on display?"

"You chose to be in the public eye when you started dating him, Mari. Don't blame me for what your own actions caused."

My claw popped the balloon I was working on, betraying my anger; fortunately, no one really noticed, save Sam. I pulled a new one out and started over.

"You can't seriously be putting this on me, Alya," Marinette whispered.

"I am."

There was a long, long moment before Marinette started again. "Wow." I heard her rustling around in her purse. "Just. Wow." Another pause. "I think I need to take a step back for a bit, then."

"From what?"

"From… us." She took a breath, and I could hear the strain in her voice. "I need to consider what this means with respect to our friendship."

"Fine with me."

"Really," Marinette said, a bit of shock coming out. "After everything? And as long as we've known each other?"

"Yes."

I heard Mari toss her money on the table. "Goodbye, Alya."

That was my cue, and I handed Sam his giraffe (which was more like two balloons tied together). "Stand back," I whispered.

"Okay!" he smiled.

I snuck a peek to ensure the coast was clear and kneeled down, peeling off the glove from my ring hand. "Cataclysm!" I whispered, then brushed his balloons with a clawtip.

Sam's eyes went wide as they crumbled to ash and wafted away. "Wow…!"

"Gotta scat," I said as I pulled the glove back on. "Nice to meet you, Sam."

"Same, Ch—Banana!"

I scurried back to the stairwell, shedding the costume as soon as I was through the door. Ignoring the chirping from my ring, I leapt upwards and caught the railing to pull myself even higher. Bursting through the rooftop door, I ran full tilt to the edge of the roof and dove off, using the baton to hook the side of the building enough to do a giant one-arm roll into a double-barrel twist that landed me back on the original lamppost from before. A fraction of a moment later, Marinette pushed out through the door to the hotel, head down and walking deliberately toward me.

Vaulting, I soared up into the air and arced down to her, scooped her up into my paws and used the baton to press us upwards toward the rooftops and anonymity. I could feel she was sobbing against my shoulder as she wrapped her arms around me, tightly.

"It's okay," I said, ignoring the second chirp from my ring as I headed toward home. "I've got you."

"Good," she said. "'Cause I could really use a friend tonight, some purring therapy… and a drink." She paused again. "A very, very, stiff drink."

I laughed in an attempt to lighten her mood. "I think I can accommodate all of your requests, Milady."