I honestly never thought this fic would see the light of day. There's so much I can say about this fic and how it came about. The original draft for this was written for NaNoWriMo 2016. Then I scrapped it all and outlined the whole thing from the beginning. It's been my favorite project since then.

This will be a long ride. There's 100K of this already written, and I suspect it might end up at around 160K? Guess we'll see!

This fic takes place immediately after Season 1, so it's going to be AU after that. This means a lot of my own Miraculous lore.

Enjoy and feel free to comment!

Chapter 1

"You know I've got your back, right?"

Adrien scoffed. He held his controller tight, the bumpers almost against his chest, as he navigated the narrow hallways of the game. Behind him Nino dutifully followed, gun drawn. In the low light of the in-game mansion, the character models were indistinguishable: bulging muscles, ripped clothing, buzz cuts that could slice through butter.

Adrien leaned at the edge of his seat. Despite the tenseness in his shoulders he was zeroed in on the mess left by the zombies and were-creatures that plagued the sleepy town. They've been at it for the past two hours, but it seemed the mansion was not done with them quite yet.

"You say you have my back," he said as he rounded into a hallway that may or may not have have been looping, "so why do you have the lowest impact round on you?"

Nino shoved him playfully in the shoulder before putting both hands back on his controller. They hadn't gamed in two weeks, and on this Saturday he was going to take full advantage of either being the best team member Adrien could have been blessed with or getting a controller thrown at his head.

"What? You want me to waste the good rounds on hallway crawlers? Dude, that's suicide."

"Ahh, so we're hoarding ammo now." Adrien hummed and gave him a sidelong smirk that Nino rarely saw outside of their hang times. It really suited him.

Nino maneuvered the hallway as stealthily as the joysticks allowed him and proceeded to track Adrien just in front of him. He was on the edge of the sofa's cushions, his knees brushing the coffee table. If jumping on it meant he and Adrien could pass onto the next area then he would do it, mahogany be damned.

Making sure the table didn't get scuffed, of course.

"Did you pick up the key?" Nino asked as he swept the camera behind his character. Good. No monsters. Yet. Nino continued onward and held his breath for the inevitable jump scare. They always got him, no matter how predictable these games were.

"Did I pick up the key? You're asking me if I picked up the key." Adrien rolled his eyes and continued to approach an obviously locked door. As per horror game mechanics the shadows grew darker behind them and light above the door became the only hope in the room.

Maybe strangling Adrien instead would get him farther in the game. He shot him a soft glare as his character finally reached the door. "Dude, did you?"

"Of course I did."

Sure enough the door clicked open, and after the text box disappeared they shuffled inside. Nino leaned further out of his seat. His palms, already clammy with nerves, were having a hard time maintaining their grip on the controller. The hallway was lit again, if only enough to give their characters a split second to shoot.

A carpet of grimy red stretched onward, muffling their footsteps. Every other window was either cracked or boarded up with rotting slabs of 2x4. Shelves and books littered the ground. Even though they were the same game assets again and again, Nino jumped whenever the same textbook spawned on the far left.

He didn't know what were shadows and what was splattered blood. Probably both.

"If we continue on this path," Nino started, a finger hovering over the R1 bumper, "then we should—oh my God, what the Hell is that?!"

What he had thought was another downed bookshelf began to run up at them on all fours. Wood, teeth, and screams charged with the speed of an incoming truck. Nino jerked his character back, suddenly forgetting all the controls, while Adrien surged on with guns blazing. When the hallway's distorted lullaby crescendoed into the battle music Nino regained his bearings and entered the fray.

It was pure, unadulterated chaos. Cables and arms weaved in and out of Nino's field of vision. They bumped shoulders and elbows in their mad dash to salvage their progress.

"Nino, go right!"

"There's no room! Take out your grenade launcher!"

Adrien made a strangled noise between a whine and groan. "I used it on the last boss."

There he was. Nino was officially on the coffee table. "Now who's wasting ammo?"

The screen went black. Nino turned to his partner in crime and waved his controller. "Was that it? Did we…" At the sound of the Game Over bell toll he deflated, hanging his head. "Damn it."

Adrien sunk back into the couch cushions. He huffed his unruly bangs out of the way. "Let's load up that last save file then."

Nino toyed with his controller. There were smears where his sweaty fingers gripped the hardest. "Sorry about that. I don't do well in fights."

Adrien smiled that mischievous smile he only let out in private. It made his eyes glitter with untold secrets. "You'll get used to it."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"That you'll be my gaming partner forever and ever and there's nothing you can do about it." And then smarmy Adrien had the audacity to stick his tongue out.

"Well.. Well good! Someone needs to keep you in line." Nino raised his chin even as the game loaded them back to their last save point.

In Adrien's mammoth room, the faint main menu music of their game echoed almost as eerily as it had done in the dilapidated hallways on screen. Nino let the tension in his shoulders go. His eyes wandered around the room, still not quite used to it all. There was the steep, rock climbing wall Nino would one day conquer. To the left were the basketball hoops they nearly busted on their last meet up. (If he squinted he could make out the dent on the backboard.)

Adrien chilled on the couch, shifting through the pile of games they had picked out from the shelves on the second level. Nino had to make an effort to tear his eyes away from the arcade machines in the corner.

So much to do. If only their meet ups were more often.

A knock on the door startled them to full attention. Nino scrambled off the coffee table as Adrien turned around and called, "Come in."

Nino settled on the couch just in time to offer a timid smile to the impeccably dressed man strolling in and the assistant clicking after him. Gabriel Agreste elicited a number of emotions in Nino, but currently all he could squeak out was, "Hello, Mr. Agreste."

Gabriel tilted his chin down to take a good look at him, like one might observe a particularly vexing ant. Everything from his frown to his shoulders were controlled, cold, and Nino unconsciously squirmed so that he was nowhere near the coffee table and the embarrassing display Gabriel had almost walked into.

Nino received the barest of nods. "Good afternoon."

"Father," Adrien acknowledged. Gone was his smile and the laughter in his eyes. He abandoned the unplayed games on the coffee table.

Gabriel regarded Adrien, his creased frown turning into something less sharp. "There's a going to be a change in your schedule," he announced, clasping his hands behind his back. "You're fencing lessons on Monday will be moved from six to four. Only for tomorrow and next week."

Nathalie, business stiff and as lively as the paintings in the hallways, made the appropriate changes on her tablet. She came closer, eyes still on the screen and only addressing Adrien through raised eyebrows. "Your bodyguard has been informed. This also means that your piano lessons will have to be later in the afternoon to accommodate." Nathalie glanced up at Gabriel for confirmation, and with a nod from him she finalized the changes.

Adrien watched it all like a tennis match. "Any particular reason why?"

Or better yet, any particular reason why Gabriel Agreste himself came to address his son?

Nino bit the inside of his cheek to prevent a frown of displeasure. After being let back into the Agreste Mansion through serious advocation on Adrien's part, Nino had realized that the man himself rarely perused the halls of his home. Nathalie was the communicator between the two, the link that kept the tentative father and son relationship existing.

And now here he was, making a public appearance.

Gabriel's mouth thinned into a line. "I am having a charity auction on Monday evening, and I wish for you to attend. I am making room in the mansion for my personal collections and auctioning off pieces I no longer see the need for."

"Personal collections." Adrien averted his eyes to the headrest of the couch. His brows furrowed with some internal conflict. Nino pursed his own lips and wondered if it was something he should ask about in private.

"Something was stolen from me." The statement was a slap to their faces, Adrien and Nino snapping their heads to him. Gabriel regarded them, taking a second longer on Nino. Nino hoped his face wasn't guilty because he had never so much as touched a dust mote in the mansion.

But Gabriel's coldness was enough to make him question every single step he had taken in the Agreste Mansion.

So this was the real reason he had made a public appearance. It was working, and Nino fought to contain the panic in—

"I'm sorry." Adrien flinched and stammered out the rest of his thought. "I'm sorry to hear that, Father. What was stolen?"

Gabriel let out a calculated breath of air through his nose. "A book." He left the statement hang between them, and Adrien squirmed, his fingers digging into the headrest with an audible squeak of leather.

There was tangible pause, and it ate up the remaining joy from their video game session. Nino squashed down the little hope that maybe this was going to pass. "I should go," he announced a bit too loudly. Nino cleared his throat when all pairs of eyes snapped to him. "I have a date to get ready for and all."

His apparent love life elicited the smallest raise of Gabriel's brows. The flicker of emotion was gone a second later, and he turned on his heel, strolling past Nathalie, who followed obediently. "Adrien, please see your friend out. After that make the appropriate changes to your schedule on your phone."

Adrien, still rooted in place, murmured, "Yes, Father."

They let the adults have their head start. Nino didn't want to get near either of them. When Adrien stood up it felt way too soon. Still he followed, past the threshold and onto a hallway of depressing grays and blues. With no windows, Nino swore it was at least ten degrees colder and a season darker.

"Sorry about that," Adrien muttered. The bedroom door closed and succinctly ended their time for the day. "I didn't know he was home, let alone wanting to talk."

"It's alright, man," Nino automatically said.

Sorry for you being kicked out, Nino. Sorry that Nathalie scheduled a last minute photo shoot, Nino.

He was used to it, and the irritation had long ago melted into begrudging understanding.

Out of their own volition, Nino's feet began to steer him through the hallway. The paintings on the walls blurred, from flowers to maidens to rocky cliffs overlooking the sea. Their colors were muted, lost in the shadows cast by the hanging chandeliers, their candle holders devoid of light. Underneath, the Persian carpet muffled even the heaviest of his footsteps.

The hallway bore no zombies, but the effect was the same. Nino eyed the corners, nervous without being able to pinpoint the why.

Adrien spoke, and his voice, even at a whisper, was too loud in the silence. "No, man, it's not alright. You came all the way here, and we didn't even get to play all the games on our list."

Nino shrugged, too busy keeping his breathing even. He wasn't scared per say, just cautious. Everything was still, too pristine, and reminded him too much of Gabriel's disapproving gaze.

Back in the foyer it wasn't much better. There was light, and Nino readily adjusted his pace so that he was basked in it, but it never quite reached the giant family portrait of the Agrestes or the tapestries that lined the twin staircases. It was all reflected by the marble columns and floors.

His anger at Gabriel Agreste.

The high of DJing in front of a huge crowd, mind too far gone.

The mansion didn't cause the Bubbler, and neither did Gabriel Agreste. There was no reason this place should make him feel like he was on the precipice of a cliff.

Warmth slammed into his face: the front doors were opened. Nino clambered down the front steps and waited for Adrien to join him. He eventually did, after Nino stole some calming breaths to settle his heart.

Even under the pitiful light this cloudy day bestowed upon them, the myriad of emotions on Adrien's face became clear. Nino waited to ask until they were on the other side of the mansion's front gate (which Nino suspected had been opened by Nathalie's tablet the moment Gabriel had noticed his presence).

"Do you know anything about the book that was stolen?"

Adrien's head shot up, and there it was, the guilt he had picked out earlier. "No, I—" He cut himself off with a quick glance over his shoulder. The monitor and camera remained blank and off.

"I mean," Adrien finally volunteered. He leaned in and dropped his voice until Nino had to strain to hear him."I borrowed a book from my father's collection and brought it to school." It sounded like every word was ripped from the very reaches of his heart. "I brought it to school," he repeated, grounding himself in the admission and screwing his eyes to finish the rest, "and I lost it. I've been trying to find it ever since."

"Whoa, dude, you brought it to school?" Nino tried to wrap his mind around Adrien Agreste, responsible and level-headed Adrien Agreste, doing something as irresponsible as bringing a personal collector's item into a building full of teenagers.

The realization solidified when Adrien hunched his shoulders up, looking very much like wanted the world to swallow him whole.

"Were you crazy?"

"I know. I was an idiot." Adrien shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched.

Nino bumped shoulders with him in hopes of dispelling some of the doom and gloom. "Dude, but what was so important that you had to take it to school?"

The guilt faded. Adrien's face grew guarded. He glanced up between his bangs, spine stiffening as thought he was talking to his father again. "It was just," he started, looking for the right words, "just a book about historical jewelry that my Father uses for some of his fashion lines."

"Jewelry," Nino repeated blandly. "Really?"

"Just thought it would be cool." Adrien dismissed it with a shrug. "But I can't even find the stupid book, so it doesn't even matter."

Nino bit the inside of his cheek. Gabriel Agreste already suspected him. If the book was truly lost he would have to live with Gabriel's judging stare until his dying day.

"Well don't tell your dad," he settled for saying. It was lame but sound advice. Adrien needed to see the light of day once in a while, after all.

"I don't plan on it." Adrien scowled down at his shoes. "I'll keep looking for the book and then just replace it."

It was obvious Adrien just wanted to drop the subject. Nino suspected the only reason Adrien had said anything about it was because it was eating him alive. Still he probed, keeping his tone even. "If you tell me what it looks like I can help you out."

Shoulders went up again. Adrien continued to avert his eyes. "No, that's fine. I don't want you somehow involved in this and have my Father ban you from the mansion again."

"Point taken."

Point not taken, yet Nino let it go with a wave and a promise to come back once they planned something through text messaging.

"Enjoy your date with Alya," Adrien said.

Nino chuckled. "Actually date night was last night. I just wanted to escape the awkward stare down."

Nino turned, only for Adrien to grab his arm. When Nino actually did stop, Adrien erupted in a hot flush. It wasn't a usual look on him. The last time he was blushing up to his ears was when Chloé mentioned he would look cute in a cat costume.

"I, uhh, I wanted to give you something. I know it's not your birthday soon or anything but well, you deserve it."

The words "deserve what?" were on the tip of his tongue when Adrien pulled out a lanyard from his pocket.

It was colorful, obnoxiously so, with reds, greens, and blues splattered haphazardly along its length like a child's art project. Among the neon were the words Club République.

"What?" Nino took it, eying the laminated badge.

He caught Adrien squirming before he cleared his throat and began to explain with far too many gesticulations. "It's one of the only clubs in Paris that allows minors, and it's the most famous one."

Guest DJ. Bold and there. Nino's mouth opened, but nothing but a faint squeak came out.

Now Adrien looked distressed. His eyes flitted from the badge to Nino with a slow widening of his eyes. "Crap, I should've asked you first. Sorry, Nino I—"

"Dude." Nino's voice wobbled, not quite close to crying and not quite close to laughing. His mind was a radio trying to decide on a station. Finally, he settled on, "This is where XY had his first performance."

Adrien's shoulders dropped in relief. He smiled. "Yep."

"And where Jagged Stone promoted his second album."

Adrien's smile was very close to a smirk. "This is also known to me."

The world narrowed to the words on the badge and the feeling of smooth plastic on his fingers. Nino leaned back on the mansion's gate. If Nathalie saw through her tablet then he could at least die happy. "I'm going to DJ at Club République."

"Yeah you are."

Adrien clapped him on the shoulder. That was a definitely a smirk, just like earlier. In that instant, Adrien's sour mood vanished, replaced with the strongest side hug Nino had ever been stuck in.

Nino hoped one couldn't explode from sheer excitement because then he wouldn't actually step foot in Club République. He managed to curb it long enough to walk into the door of his apartment and face his parents. Curbing turned into a stinging disappointment when he realized, once again, he would have to lie to them about his DJing.

He loved his parents. They were his rocks, even if they were rough around the edges. The sheer fact they uprooted their lives back in Morocco to give him a better life here in France was proof enough that they loved him back.

They didn't understand what DJing meant to him, though. When he heard melodies, they heard noise. Where he saw potential, they saw uselessness. There was no fruitful future in music in their minds— not when France offered so much more— , and that was something Nino had to come to terms with.

Which meant that spending a Saturday night DJing was not going to fly with them.

"I'm home," he called out in Arabic, already shouldering off his backpack.

"Dinner will be ready in a bit!" his mom, Saliha, called out.

While French was friends and school, Arabic meant home, dinner, and talks over the snacks in the pantry. There was nothing quite like it.

Nino had enough time rip off his lanyard and stuff it into his pocket before Saliha popped her head out of the kitchen. Brown curls framed her face. Hazel eyes beamed when they saw him. "Did you have fun?"

Nino shrugged away the memories of a cold, never ending hallway. "It was good, but Adrien had to get ready for something else."

He left the small foyer behind and walked into the living room, where his dad, Faziel, glanced at him from his place on their well-worn sofa. Tall, lanky, and sporting the same beard from the photo albums of their pre-Nino days, he was the stark opposite to the plump wife that was always trying something new with her hair. Opposite did, indeed, attract, and Nino had to wonder if that had something to do with how well he and Alya meshed.

"Any leftover homework you need to finish up?" his father asked.

As if on cue, his lanyard burned in his pocket. Nino shifted in place.

Might as well get it over with.

"Is it okay if Alya and I have a study date next Saturday?"

Saliha hummed above the clatter of pans. "I don't see why not. Are you sure you're not getting too distracted when you're with her?"

The blush invaded his face. Nino cleared his throat, but it did nothing for the heat. "We just study, and that's all. Her mom checks on us anyway."

Faziel nodded in apparent approval. "They're good people."

Despite the lie he had to tell, Nino found himself smiling. Alya's parents were good people. They made them feel at home and didn't mind Nino translating for his parents from time to time during dinner. No wonder Alya was such an awesome girlfriend.

"So that's a yes?" he ventured.

Saliha leaned over the counter that divided the kitchen and the living room. There might have been more flour in her hair since the last time she popped her head out. "Yes, but curfew is still eleven."

Nino's hand lingered on his pocket well through dinner. It wasn't until he was alone in his room that he took out his golden ticket and marveled it with all the reverence of a dying man faced with his cure. He held it up to the light, ran his fingers against the laminated edge, and even strutted around his room with it on prominent display against his chest.

After spending an afternoon in Adrien's room, his own felt cramped. His desk and TV stand took up an entire half of the room while his bed and DJ setup took up the rest. (Nino had to convince his parents that he really needed two turntables and a DJ mixer in addition to his laptop.) So his little victory dance didn't have all the flourishes he would have liked.

His run on the catwalk ended rather quickly when he twisted to avoid the turntable stand and ended up falling on his bed.

"Club République," he told the fan above his head.

If Nino wore the lanyard when he fell asleep there was no one around to see him.

"Hey, lover boy!" his girlfriend called from her spot the next morning. She was hard to miss in her maroon coat and hat.

Alya was already waiting for him at their usual street corner, thumb pressed on the screen of her phone in the universal "pause" gesture of their generation. Nino scrubbed his face because he didn't think he ate enough breakfast to last through Alya's play by play of Ladybug and Chat Noir's latest battle.

He had caught something on the news last night, thanks to his parents insistence that they keep up to date on anything potentially dangerous in Paris. Akumas? Check. A potential stray with rabies? They were on it.

Nino wondered if they ever thought of sending him to school with a helmet and bubble wrap. The winter coat would have to do.

Alya beamed when he caught up. "First of all," she declared, and enveloped him in a hug that made him almost buckle at the knees, "so glad that Adrien finally gave you his surprise! I told him you would love it, but he was still being his nervous self."

Of course Alya was in on it. That sly fox.

They parted, and Nino took in the sight of his lovely girlfriend. He adored seeing her so lit up. Her dimples framed her smile, not perfectly symmetrical but endearing all the same. She did that cute thing where she danced in place on her tip toes and made her curls bounce.

"You're coming, right?" he asked because he couldn't imagine being on stage without one of his biggest supporters there.

Alya playfully slapped his arm. She miraculously still had the video paused with her thumb. "You're kidding? Marinette and I cleared it with our parents a week ago. We'll definitely be there."

"So sure I was going to accept?"

"If you hadn't, I would have personally dragged you there myself. Sometimes you don't know what's good for you."

Nino pouted, but graciously allowed Alya to chuckle and draw him close. They synced their steps and continued down the sidewalk. They past by the rush of white-collar Parisians rushing to the metro stop at the corner and deftly avoided the cyclists whizzing by with their morning groceries. As any boyfriend should, Nino wrapped an around her waist to ward off any potential creeps.

"Get this," Alya said, hiding them with her curtain of hair. "so this was the battle from yesterday."

Alya played a clip recorded by Nadja Chamack.

Ladybug and Chat Noir had been up against Slip-N-Slide, a water-balloon wielding fiend with a painted face and a costume stolen from a retired clown. Bright, flashy, and obnoxious he taunted the heroes while hurtling water balloons that melted the concrete off the sidewalk and buildings.

While Alya focused on Slip-N-Slide's powers (she still had an article to write, of course), Nino tried his best to focus on the acrobatics that kept the heroes from plummeting to their deaths. There weren't a lot of things he remembered from being the Bubbler, but the sheer joy of using magic to cause damage had always stayed imprinted. Slip-N-Slide had the same smirk, the same laugh, like he had, once upon a time.

The real world didn't need magic.

Frankly, Nino zoned off sometime between crossing the street and avoiding the dog dragging its owner to the café. Then Alya nudged him in the ribs. "Look, look, Ladybug and Chat Noir are having a conversation."

Nadja crouched on the rusted steps of a fire escape, her heels one step away from getting stuck in the metal grates. Her prim, two-piece suit clashed with the faded bricks. She mouthed something, and the camera drew up enough for viewers to see Ladybug and Chat Noir on the rooftop. Chat Noir was sitting down, one leg tentatively stretched out.

Ladybug fussed around him. "Why are you still hurting?" The audio was crappy at best, but understandable, drawing Alya in.

Chat Noir vaguely waved his hand around. "The Cure fixed it up." He bent his stretched leg and winced. "Mostly."

Ladybug continued to check him. She brushed her hands against his arms (another flinch), shoulders, and chest. While Alya soaked it all in with something between a grin and a gasp, Nino had to look away. It was too private, too intimate, even if it was Ladybug checking for injuries. Nadja was a creep for filming this.

"You're bleeding."

Nino looked back to see Ladybug tilting Chat Noir's head by the chin. They caught a bruise on his cheek and blood trickling from a cut at his hairline.

Nino had never seen the heroes bleed. They shouldn't bleed, just like parents and teachers shouldn't cry. The sight churned his stomach, leaving him too nauseous to speak.

Chat Noir said something too quiet for the microphone to pick up, but it caused Ladybug to playfully slap him on the shoulder. There was a moment where they just stared at each other, two partners lost in banter, when Chat Noir's ears perked up. He turned to where Nadja and her camera man were hiding. "Hey, what are you doing?"

The view distorted as the cameraman tried to hide, or run away. There was a brief glance of Nadja unfolding from her crouch before the view was nothing but blurs of stairs and concrete. An alleyway settled into view, along with Nadja's smiling face. A cat with its cream.

Straitening her frazzled hair, she told the camera, "You saw it here, folks. The heroes injured after a battle. A first? Or have they just hidden such flaws until now? Until next time!"

The video abruptly ended. An empty, black screen reflected back Alya and Nino's slack-jawed expressions.

"What could this mean?" Alya asked in the shared air between them.

Nino shook his head, at a loss for words and frankly, too uncomfortable to honestly share his thoughts. Had he hurt Ladybug and Chat Noir like that when he was turned into the Bubbler? Did they just hide their injuries until, eventually, they got better?

Somehow they arrived at school. Alya tucked her phone away, mumbling half-baked theories to herself while Nino busied himself with trying to shove his only, and worst, encounter with magic to the most desolate part his mind.

They entered Ms. Mendeleiev's classroom, and Nino continued to his seat as casually as someone facing a midlife crisis could. When he got there he lingered near the edge, not quite ready to sit down and learn.

"It doesn't bite, trust me," Kim piped up from his seat. His cheeks were flushed with the lingering cold of March. Beside him a small mountain of used tissues threatened to topple.

"You got that right," Nino returned, a bit too robotic for his liking. He continued to loiter, eyes on the clock and willing the hands to slow down, or stop all together. Chemistry, however, would come whether he liked it or not.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the familiar, perfectly-combed head of hair of Adrien. Nino shouldered his backpack and hopped down the steps to greet him. He would take any distraction.

Balancing on his heels Nino looped an arm around Adrien's neck, bringing him close. Adrien stumbled but caught himself.

Weird, they weren't even on the steps yet.

"And how are you this fine day?" Nino asked with morning joy he did not possess.

Adrien flashed him a small smile, then shrugged in response. "Alright, I guess. I'm glad I didn't have to walk in the cold." He furrowed his brow and shoved Nino away. "And you have morning breath, so you shouldn't be sidling up next to me."

Nino tipped the brim of his hat back. There was a sparkle of mischievous humor in Adrien's eyes. Nino fought back a grin, then eventually gave in with a chuckle. "We can't all afford fancy shmancy mints."

When Adrien sat down he was the perfect height to stare Nino down with incredulous eyebrows. "Then keep yourself and your dog breath far away from me." And he playfully slid his tablet and textbooks to the very edge of his desk.

"You," Nino started, emphasizing every word with a step up to his desk, "Are. Ridiculous." Plopping down he slammed his backpack on his desk and fished for his tablet. He also took out his own pack of tissues because teenagers were vectors of disease and he was not going to get caught off guard.

Nino took off his headphones, started winding the cord, then notice a white splotch on the band. His eyes followed it until he caught the same whiteness on his fingers. "What?" he muttered, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. The powder was creamy with fine grains rubbing against the pads of his fingers. Nino turned in his seat and searched for more of it on his clothes.

There, on his right arm.

The right sleeve of his shirt.

Nino picked at it, turning his sleeve this way and that, until the tell-tale groan of Adrien shifting in his seat forced his eyes up.

"Are you wearing makeup?" The question fell from his lips and landed between them with a hollow echo of awkwardness.

Adrien gawked, open-mouthed, and stilled in his seat. Adrien finally met Nino in the eye and offered a half-hearted shrug. "Maybe it's Alya's?"

Nino held up his white-streaked fingers, ready to slap Adrien upside the head to see how much sense there actually was in that pretty little skull of his. "Adrien, she's black." As Adrien spluttered for a politically-correct response to that, Nino sighed and continued. "Beside, this feels like it cost a fortune. Other than Chloé— and let's not even think about an alternative universe where I actually hug her— who else in this class can afford makeup like this?"

Adrien, tight-lipped and ram-rod straight in his seat, rubbed his arm. He inspected his fingers and let his elbows hit the desk with a wordless breath. It was like watching a photogenic golden retriever having a tantrum. Nino waited, fingers running over the sample of makeup, until Adrien peeked at him from beneath his bangs and admitted, "I have a photo shoot directly after school. Father advised me to come as prepared as possible."

There was something about the way Adrien said it that he didn't like: slow, deliberate. Nino bit back a rude remark and instead inspected the sleeve of his shirt. "I guess you're no longer as prepared as before?"

Chuckling Adrien laid his head on his arms. "Guess not."

Students continued to trickle in, each more sluggish than the last. Deep sighs of relief swelled when the warmth allowed the coats and scarves to come off. Marinette dragged her feet in through the doorway with Ms. Mendeleiev at their heels.

"Cold," was the only word Marinette offered between her bouts of sniffling.

Nino passed on some of his precious stash of tissues as a silent agreement. It wouldn't be long until he succumbed to the demon, too.

When she saw down and shrugged off her coat, Marinette gave him a bright smile that not even the red nose could dim. "Heard you got a gift."

Nino beamed. "Cant wait for it."

Marinette sniffled and replied, "I'll be there, tissues and all."

Class plodded on as slowly as the gray clouds over the streets of Paris. Nino dutifully kept up with his notes for the first half. His mind wandered and eventually careened into full distraction-mode. Nino caught himself wiping the last remains of makeup on his fingers on the edge of the desk.

Photo shoot. Nino sneaked a glance Adrien's way. Like the model student he was, Adrien's stylus tapped away on the screen, his notes scrolling with added footnotes. Why didn't Adrien just right out say it the first time? Why try to pin it on Alya?

A blink later and he was being pulled by the arm. Nino stumbled after Alya. "What are we doing?"

"The demonstration."

The rest of the class circled in front of Ms. Mendeleiev. Alya dropped Nino off at the foot of the stairs and went to join Marinette. Patting the sides of his pants awkwardly, Nino stepped away to find Adrien. Despite Chloé's obvious latching Nino still asked, "Come on, partner."

"Adriikins," Chloé whined, bending at the knees to fix him with imploring eyes. "You need to be my partner."

"Sorry, Chlo, but Nino doesn't know what to do. He wasn't listening." Again that glitter of humor that lit up his face.

Adrien peeled himself away, Chloé huffing all the while. "I don't know what to do either!"

"And that's supposed to be a good thing?" Nino muttered lowly, but Adrien lightly punched him on the shoulder.

"Hey, be nice."

Nino shoved him back. Adrien's punches always stung a bit. "I'll be when she is."

"If we're all done with side chatter." Ms. Mendeleiev's clipped tone shuffled them all into silent compliance. "You may begin."

Seeing half of the class turn their backs Nino scratched his cheek. "So what are we doing?"

Adrien gripped him by the shoulders and promptly turned him around so that he was in full view of Alya crossing her arms in front of her chest like a mummy about to be entombed. "It's a trust exercise," Adrien explained from behind, guiding him forward and into place. "You need to relax, cross your arms, and fall back so I can catch you."

Nino jerked to shoot him a wide-eyed stare over his shoulder. "With what?"

"Just my good ol' arms."

Nino harumphed. He turned his back completely and hesitantly crossed his arms. "But why me first?"

"You weren't listening."

In front of him, Alya fell back straight into Marinette's waiting arms. It was over before he knew it, but Nino still nursed a worry in his stomach.

Adrien huffed. "You can trust me, Nino."

So he let himself fall.

Adrien caught him a split second later. Nino bobbed in his arms, heels the only thing left that touched the ground. Adrien pushed him up to his feet before he could start cartwheeling. "That wasn't horrible, was it?"

Heart sliding its way back to his chest Nino grunted. "What does this have to do with Chemistry anyway?"

Adrien turned his back to him. "We need to be able to trust our work partners. Chemistry is dangerous, and we shouldn't be paired with someone who will mess around."

Knowing he was the only thing between Adrien's head and the concrete Nino suddenly felt his hands become clammy. He rubbed them against his jeans and let out a nervous chuckle. "You trust me, though, right?"

"Of course I do."

Prompt and immediate it took Nino a second to gather his words. "So why do we have to do this?"

"Oh for Pete's sake, I'm falling already."

Adrien dropped like a rock. Panicking Nino took a step forward and spread his arms. Nino got clipped in the chin by Adrien's head. Their groans were simultaneous. Adrien stumbled to his feet. Nino stepped back and rubbed the forming bruise.

That was his fault. Totally his fault. Crucify him for never doing a trust exercise before.

Ms. Mendeliev's shrill reprimand sounded off somewhere in the front of the class. Still Nino mumbled and groused through the pain. "Geez, is your skull made out of stone or something?"

No smart quip. Nino looked up and saw Adrien doubled over, one hand bracing his forehead, the other braced on the floor, steadying him. "Dude, you okay?"

Adrien gave a weak nod. His knuckles grew white as he pressed harder on his head. "Yeah, a-okay."

There was lull in the activity. Chloé strained against Sabrina's grip. Nino ignored the concerned murmurs, tilted his head, and tried to meet Adrien's eyes. "You're not okay. Ms. Mendeliev, Adrien here is going to the nurse."

Ms. Mendeliev looked on from her desk and nodded.

Adrien slowly straightened, hand stubbornly glued to his forehead, one leg oddly stiff. "I'm f—"

Nino was already dragging him by the wrist. Adrien stumbled after him. "Of course you are. I'll believe that once you get checked over."

They made it halfway through the hall before Adrien wrenched his wrist from his grasp. "Nino, I'm fine. It's just a bit of blood. Head wounds just tend to bleed." He gave a small smile, his own inside joke.

How could Adrien be so calm? How could he be so blasé about it? Nino fisted his hands, leveling his voice through sheer will alone. "Okay, that's it. Show me how bad it is."

Adrien's smile slid off and, reluctant, he slowly removed his hand. Blood smeared in white stuck to his fingers. As an afterthought he pushed back his bangs to display the cut along his hairline.

"Dude, that's…" Nino pursed his lips. Adrien squirmed, but it did nothing to lessen the hollowing pain in Nino's stomach. "You hit the back of your head."

"This happened during fencing," Adrien was quick to point out with two of his bloodied fingers.

The picture came together with a sickening click. Nino fought down the flare of anger. "There's no photo shoot."

Adrien shrugged, but this time it seemed he wanted to retreat into himself. His eyes flickered to the tops of his shoes. "I just got clumsy. I didn't want people to worry about this."

Adrien dropped his hands down, the two-inch gash on his forehead out for the world to see. Against the pale light of the morning Nino could trace its jaggedness. He crossed his arms. The shiver still came. "Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me the real story?"

Adrien evenly met his eyes. The shift from insecure to icy was almost too jarring for Nino to keep up with. Walls were up in the blink of an eye. "That is the real story."

"Does that story include the bruises on your arm?" The anger stubbornly locked his jaw. He couldn't help but grab onto it, steeling his shoulders. "Since when do you wear makeup on your arms?" Adrien snapped his eyes down. By this point, Nino was rigid, feet planted and as heavy as stone. "You should have told me something."

"Just leave it alone, Nino. It's not a big deal." Adrien turned on his heel to hurry down the hall, towards the nurse. Silent and purposeful he left Nino to follow.

Nino stared long and hard. Guilt shoved anger out of the way. Why hadn't he seen it earlier? He was Adrien's best friend, for God's sake.

He followed with laden steps. Adrien did not say a word until they returned to class.

Fun fact: In my original draft of this fic, I actually wrote out the whole battle between Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Slip-N-Slide. Maybe I'll post that sometime.

Also, for the longest time, I just couldn't decide on a first chapter. This one is actually from my first draft with some tweaks. The second version had Alya and Marinette at the Agreste Mansion, too.