Chapter 9

Saturday, Four week anniversary of the fire

Emile was beginning to think Marinette was on to something with disasters.

Because this certainly was one.

Why, oh why did he so easily agree to go to Chloe's parent's anniversary party? This could easily be the biggest mistake of his life.

Yes, there are all the obvious concerns, of outing himself, and acting too familiar, and not being Adrien; this was a rich social event after all. There were so many people, and he had met every one of them at least once. Enough for them to have such a basic idea about him that even the smallest gesture could out him, especially if he seems too aware of etiquette. Was etiquette even necessary for a friend of Chloe's? Emile didn't know.

But if what Chloe said before was to be believed, then Gabriel Agreste was going to be there. In person. And in that case, he could absolutely not afford to be recognized.

Emile pulled up his phone, about to cancel, when he realized Marinette had sent him a text.

Marinette: Thank you so much for agreeing to come to the anniversary today! I'm really worried about Chloe. She puts on a strong face, but her relationship with her mom is not the best. The two of us being there for her could really help.

Well, now there was not a chance he could cancel either.

"Plagg, what am I going to do?"

Said Kwami did not respond, as the little glutton was napping in a sunbeam. At another time, he would have been amused at what a cat the god was.

Right now, however, he was nothing but annoyed. He needed to talk to someone about this, and only he and Uncle knew-

Oh, that's right! Uncle Fu! Emile scrambled from the floor, calling out, "Hey Uncle!" He dashed out to the main room, only to find the old man staring sadly at something in his hands. A paper of sorts.

"Uncle?"

Uncle Fu jumped, turning to face him. "Ah, Emile. What is it you need?"

Emile's thoughts vanished for a moment as he saw the photograph. A black and white image of a woman with large eyes. "...What is that?" She looked familiar somehow….

"This? This is…" he hesitated. "This is someone I care about very much."

Emile blinked, then took a seat beside him. "Was she… your sweetheart?"

Fu sighed softly, a sad smile on his face. "Yes. She is. The most beautiful woman I know, in body and mind."

Emile didn't say anything for a moment, unsure of what to say. He found it hard to imagine Fu with anyone. "Can… can I ask what happened?"

Fu glanced over to him, and back to the image. "I… I am the guardian of the miraculous. I can't be with her, not while danger surrounds me still."

Emile hesitated. It seemed somewhat drastic, the level of caution he was taking. It was one thing to go through the sewers each day to leave home, and another to be cut off from the person he loves. "That… that doesn't seem fair."

Sighing, Fu returned the image to his pocket. "I'm sorry, Emile. I'm sorry this is a burden you have to bear." With that he stood and made his way to the door.

Emile blinked. "Huh?"

"Unfortunately, this is part of being the Miraculous Guardian. You have to give up a lot," Fu said mournfully, and he left the building.

Bewildered, Emile sat, wondering why in the world Uncle was apologizing to him for his own misfortune. But then he realized, one day, he would have to be the guardian.

Would he be that old man, staring sadly at the photo of a woman he never was able to love?

Emile shook the thought away as his phone buzzed.

Cornflower: Don't forget about the party losers

ElectricGre: If I'm a loser, then why did you invite me?

Cornflower: To emphasize how stunning I am in every way in comparison to you, duh.

Bluebelle: Don't worry! I'm making macarons with my parents right now

Oh Kwamis. Oh Kwamis, in his curiosity about Uncle Fu, he managed to completely forget to ask for advice. He still had to go. By himself.

No way. There was not a chance in hell he was walking in that hotel alone.

Marinette was making macarons right now? If it was for the catering order, she could easily need a hand with that. Besides, he could hardly pass up an opportunity to spend time with her.

Maybe, just maybe, he would survive the day, if he stuck to her side like glue. No one would be suspicious of him for knowing too much, he's just a random friend. Yes, just a friend.

Emile found himself hesitating at the Miracle Box. Ever since he had become a Guardian in training, he liked to keep the Bee on him, just in case something happened. He didn't have the lucky charm that Ladybug did, so knowing when to get to the box was a lot trickier, as was finding a moment to leave battle.

He had a bad feeling about taking it today, but he just shook his head. That was the whole point of having it on him, to be safer. It wasn't like he was going to drop it or anything.

Emile transformed into Chat Noir under the excuse of practicing transitioning from one eye to two and back again. His vision still hadn't fully adjusted by the time he arrived at the closed bakery, but perhaps luck was on his side because he hadn't run into anything. It was only once he was standing before the door that he realized he probably should have sent a text, warning her that he was coming. Unfortunately, now it was a little late for that.

He knocked on the locked door. Marinette popped her head out. "I'm afraid we're clos- Emile?!" She had one hand on the door, and another balancing a tray of pastries, only for them all to come crashing to the ground.

Emile attempted to catch them, and although his reflexes were quick, his hand-eye coordination was sadly lacking. He was still adjusting to the lack of depth perception he had because of his damaged eye. Instead of saving the food, he crashed into the door, knocking it into Marinette. Emile fell onto the treats, and before he had a chance to grimace at the gross squishing wet that was all over his jacket, Marinette toppled on top of him with a scream.

"Marinette? Are you alright?" Sabine called from the back.

"Fust Jine!" Marinette squeaked. "I mean, grey-mzing! Amate! Everything's wrong! Nothing's alright! I mean- ughhh…"

Emile burst into laughter in spite of himself. Kwamis, she was adorable.

Sadly, Marinette did not seem to think so. She practically leapt off of him, her face as red as a tomato. As Emile sat up himself, she let out a strangled sound. "Your jacket-"

Emile looked down. Yeah, it was something of a helpless case. "Ah, don't worry about it, I can get it washed."

"But we have to go to the party soon!"

"Sooner than you think, we need to leave right now to get set up," Sabine said, now walking into the room. "Tom's loading the truck right now; you two get yourselves sorted out, and join us later."

Emile didn't think it was possible for Marinette to turn any redder, but apparently it was. "Er-"

Sabine smiled. "The macarons are almost done baking. Can I trust the two of you to take them out, package them, and bring them to the hotel?"

Emile found himself saluting. "Yes ma'am!" Wait no, not the salute again- But Sabine simply laughed and returned to the back.

"I'm so sorry about your jacket," Marinette apologized again.

Emile waved it off. "Really, it's fine. I have another shirt underneath," he explained, removing it to prove it. It was just a plain black T-shirt, nothing interesting.

Marinette made a strangled noise and turned around. "Room in have I thing my sewed! I mean sew my room have. Mean I -agghhh."

Emile laughed, resisting the urge to call her cute. He had a feeling that would make her even more uncomfortable. "Wait, you have a different jacket that would fit me…? I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't think we have the same clothing size. I may be just a little bit bigger than you."

She squeaked out, "your arms are really nice - I mean your arms would look really nice in the jacket," and sprinted up the stairs.

Emile followed her up at a more reasonable pace, but by the time he got to the landing, she was already thrusting something into his arms. It was a dark green leather jacket, with bands of differing lighter greens striped over the chest, that seemed somewhat familiar. There were little black paw prints on the buttons, as well as embroidered onto some edges.

Emile could not keep the grin off his face. "Is this inspired by Chat Noir?"

Marinette froze. "Huh?"

He pointed out the paws, and she squinted at them, before the color drained from her face. "How did- I didn't think- wait I just kind of-" she spluttered.

"You enough of a fan that cats just find their way into your work then, huh?" Emile smirked.

Marinette's mouth flopped like a fish, and no sounds came out. "AlL-right, I think the macarons are done, they smell done, do you think they are done? I mean, we should pull them out of the oven. Are you ready to pull them out of the oven, haha?"

"Alright," Emile acknowledged, pulling the jacket on. It was really light and comfortable.

"Here, I'll wear your jacket," she reached for his splattered jacket then froze. "To- to wash it! Not to wear it or anything!"

Emile tilted his head but smiled. Ah classic Marinette, confusing her words.

They found their way back to the bakery, and miraculously no macarons were harmed in the process of their packaging. Or maybe it was because Emile was the one taking them out of the oven.

Actually no, that was still miraculous, because after having toppled over earlier, he no longer trusted his lack of depth perception.

But even walking with Marinette to the hotel was not as lovely as it could have been, with the rodent of anxiety clawing through his stomach. There it was, decorated by long curtains striped with gold.

Here we go.

Chloe was not having a good time.

After her mother fired the sixth decorator, she went up to her balcony to breathe.

At first, she had been firing them right alongside her mother. But when it became clear that she was only making the process slower, and with every sneer Mom made at the sound of her voice, Chloe simply found herself needing air.

Leaning on her bee beacon, she prayed for an akuma, for an excuse to allow Ladybug to give her the Bee Miraculous. The only thing she ever seemed to be good at, being Queen Bee. Without that, what even was she?

A worthless copy of her mother?

Chloe whipped out her phone to fight the too familiar feeling in her stomach.

Cornflower: Don't forget about the party losers

She took a deep breath. She couldn't wait to watch Marinette fall on her face, and Emile saying something disgustingly sweet to her. It would be so fun to put them in their place.

ElectricGre: If I'm a loser, then why did you invite me?

Cornflower: To emphasize how stunning I am in every way in comparison to you, duh.

She was absolutely gorgeous, after all. Yes, Chloe is gorgeous! She is beautiful in every way, there is nothing that can put her down.

Ignoring the baker girl's cheery text, Chloe looked out over the city. Paris, safe little Paris, without any akumas to plague it. No doubt thanks to her efforts as Queen Bee. Hawkmoth knew better than to mess with her, she thought with a smirk.

She pulled open the Ladyblog on her phone in spite of herself. As much of a snake was the loser who ran it, Chloe was forced to admit that there was a modicum of truth in it every so often.

She wondered if the reporter girl was onto something with her article, Has Hawkmoth Given Up? But then she rolled her eyes. No, it was far more likely that he was planning something.

And Chloe dearly wished that something could be today. Then she would be the one to shine. In a test, she flicked the bee beacon on and off, just to make sure that it would work. With satisfaction, she noted that it was perfectly functional. Wonderful. She would be ready when Ladybug finally gave her miraculous back.

AN: Screw cannon, let's goooo