Work Text:
“I'm really sorry about this, Marinette...”
“There's nothing to be sorry for, Juleka! I just hope you get to feeling better soon.”
Juleka gives Marinette a small smile before coughing into her hand as her mother steers her toward the school entrance where Principal Damocles is waiting to see them out.
“Some rest and a bit of Luka's tea will fix you right up in no time, love, you'll see.”
Marinette waves them out stiffly, her shoulders falling once the heavy door closes behind them.
“What am I going to do now?!” she cries, dropping to her knees.
“Easy, girl! Can't you just find another model? The charity show isn't until Sunday,” Alya says, crouching down to rest a hand on her friend's back. Taking a deep breath, Marinette digs into the garment bag beside her before pulling out a severe looking black shoe.
“Can you walk in these?” she asks. Alya leans back with a grimace.
“Sure, if I wanted to sprain an ankle.”
Marinette deflates again, defeat clear in the slump of her shoulders even as she stands.
“The event organizers gave us accessories to build our designs off of, but they were given at random. I wasn't worried when I got stuck with these shoes because Juleka agreed to help me. She's, like, one of only two people I know who can actually walk more than five feet in them!” Marinette glares at the intimidating heel of the shoe as if it were the cause of all of her life's troubles.
“Really? Well, who's the other person? Maybe they can fill in,” Alya suggests.
Marinette flinches as thoughts of an akuma-cursed Cat Noir fill her imagination, posing in increasingly embarrassing ways while wearing platform heels.
“They're... not available,” Marinette stiltedly explains, shoving the shoe back into the garment bag.
“For the best, really,” Chloe snidely comments as she and Sabrina walk by. “Anything you make, Dupain-Cheng, would be better off on a department store sales rack, not on a runway.”
“I'd like to see you do better,” Alya fires back.
“Ugh, as if! Me, sew my own clothes like a commoner? Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”
Across the courtyard of the school, Adrien watches as the two girls stare each other down and Marinette looks dejectedly at the long bag in her arms.
“Poor Marinette. She's worked so hard on this project...”
“No joke, dude. It's all she's been able to focus on for a week. Hope she can find a replacement in time,” Nino says beside him before walking over to calm tensions between Chloe and Alya. Now relatively alone, Plagg pokes his head out of Adrien's shirt.
“Sounds like a lot of work for nothing. She should take this as a sign to have a relaxing weekend with no responsibilities.”
“It's a lot of work she put her whole heart into. It wouldn't be right for it to go to waste,” Adrien whispers to him. The look on Marinette's face is enough to cause Adrien's own heart to ache for her. As much of a flurry of panic and stress that she's been these past few days, witnessing someone get lost in the thing they're passionate about so completely has been fascinating. If anyone deserves the satisfaction and pride from a job well done, it's Marinette.
“Too bad there isn't anyone else who can walk in those death traps,” Plagg says. Adrien hums in thought, tapping his chin.
“I could.”
Plagg blinks up at him before narrowing his eyes.
“You have been practicing ever since you and Ladybug fought Reflekta...” he recalls flatly.
“And I'm a model by trade. It's perfect! I can be Juleka's replacement for Marinette's design,” Adrien says with a smile.
“Have you forgotten the part where said design is a dress?” Plagg asks.
“No, why?” Adrien asks in return, cocking his head.
“Well... your dad wouldn't care much for it, would he? I can see the headlines now: Son of Gabriel Agreste – Gorgeous in Glamorous Charity Gown.”
Adrien pouts for a moment before a brilliant idea comes to mind.
“Who said it had to be me? This job would be a catwalk for a certain someone else,” he says slyly. Plagg sinks back into his shirt.
“You can't be serious!”
-
Marinette tosses the garment bag on her chaise lounge before throwing herself into her computer chair, pulling up her legs to rest her chin on her knees.
“Don't be so down, Marinette,” Tikki says, flying out of her purse. “Surely you can find someone else to wear your dress for the show.”
“It's hopeless, Tikki. I'm not even finished with the final alterations yet. Without Juleka, I don't have a model or a dress.” Marinette hugs her knees and sighs. “I really do hope she gets to feeling better soon. That cough sounded bad.”
“Her mom and brother will take good care of her. You'll probably see her at school Monday.”
“Probably,” Marinette replies, sadly opening the sketchbook on her desk.
She traces a finger along the image of her dream dress, following the lines of the fabric as they flow into shape. The strapless evening gown is meant to accent the inspiration item the organizers gave to her, shorter in the front with the wide tail of the dress acting as a backdrop in rippling waves of pink and black. Mournfully, Marinette closes the book.
“Guess I'll just have to withdraw my entry.”
-
Saying something and doing something are two very different things. Saturday morning finds Marinette standing in front of the bustling workshop with dread in her stomach and garment bag in hand. Knowing that all of the other amateur designers are hard at work around their models, agonizing over minute details and finishing touches, fills her with a longing to do the same that's borderline overwhelming. She furiously shakes her head and sets her shoulders in a hard line.
“I'm here to apologize and return the shoes. Then I can go hide under a rock for the rest of the weekend.”
“Oh, Marinette...” she hears Tikki say from her purse, but Marinette forces her head down and begins marching stiffly to the offices. Her blind determination sends her crashing bodily into someone she hadn't noticed in her path. Pinwheeling her arms, she over-corrects when she jumps back, falling heavily on her bottom.
“Sorry!” she shouts, hands out. “I'm so so-”
Words fail entirely when she finally glances up.
In front of her stands what has to be the prettiest girl she's ever seen. Full, long blond hair falls in gentle waves around a delicate jawline and onto peacoat covered shoulders. Not even the designer sunglasses can hide such perfectly maintained eyebrows or high cheekbones, clear of any sort of blemish. Marinette is so captivated by the glowing aura surrounding this stranger that she startles when a beautifully manicured hand reaches out to help her up.
“You alright there, Princess?”
The radiant background shatters the second Marinette hears Cat Noir's amused voice.
“Eh?!”
Marinette crabwalks backwards into a wall, flailing a moment before she uses it to pick herself up.
“C-c-c-c-!!!” She can't get the words out as she points accusingly, her face bright red.
This couldn't be happening!
“C-c-cat got your tongue?”
It is happening!
“What-! How... Why?!” is all Marinette can manage to string together.
“Well,” Cat Noir starts, shifting the expensive looking bag hanging off of his shoulder. “It's a hero's job to save the day, isn't it? I heard you were in a pretty big bind, so I came to lend a helping paw.”
“Heard? Heard from who?!” Marinette asks in a panic.
She still can't process the bizarre scene before her. Cat Noir is standing there, right there, sans mask and in cute ankle boots she would kill for. Nothing about the situation is making sense except for the resolute knowledge that the next time they're in costume together, she's going to hit him upside the head with her yo-yo so hard for this act of idiocy.
“You could say a little red bug told me,” Cat tells her. Marinette stops shaking and blinks at him. Panic settles as quickly as it began, and she approaches him with arms crossed.
“Ladybug. Ladybug told you about my problem?” she asks, skepticism clear in her voice.
“You and M'lady are friends, aren't you? How else would I know?”
Marinette feels cornered. Her partner is obviously lying and that agitates her in a way she doesn't fully understand. But if he firmly believes her to be a friend of Ladybug's, it's an alibi she can't afford to just throw away by calling him out, no matter how much she wants to.
“But why are you...? What's with the...?” She still can't get the words out, so she gestures to his whole person.
“Haven't figured it out yet? I'm your new model!” Cat says. Marinette's jaw drops when he moves seamlessly from feline hero to posing in such a way that it looks like he jumped out of a magazine for the latest fashionable casual wear for women.
“No. No, no, no, no! This is such a bad idea!” Marinette insists, both to him and herself. She grabs him by the arms and gives him a few good shakes. “You can't just be here untransformed! This is not okay!”
“No one is going to recognize me, I promise.”
“You can't know that!”
Cat Noir breaks from her grasp and takes her hands into his. Marinette squeaks when she comes in contact with warm bare skin instead of the cool leather of his catsuit that she's used to.
“Marinette, do you trust me?” he asks her. Only now does Marinette notice that he's leaned in, so close that she can almost make out his eyes behind the opaque lenses of his shades. Heat rises to her cheeks once more as she tries to hold back the instinctive affirmation she can feel resting on her tongue.
“Just say yes before he does something else wildly foolish today,” a tiny voice says between them. Marinette jumps back as Plagg floats up in front of her face. Just as Marinette opens her mouth to greet him, Cat Noir's hands leave hers to capture Plagg, quickly shoving him into the bag at his side.
“Just pretend you didn't see that, okay!” he says with a nervous grin. She suddenly remembers that, as far as Cat Noir is concerned, Marinette Dupain-Cheng has never met Plagg before, and shouldn't even have knowledge of kwamis to begin with. The convoluted web of identity is beginning to give her a headache.
“W-what was that?” she asks, doing her best to come off as confused and bewildered.
“It was nothing!”
“Oh, so I'm an it now, huh?”
Plagg escapes from between Cat Noir's hands to fly angrily up into his face.
“Plagg,” Cat says through his teeth. “Not now!”
The tiny black cat merely turns his back on his owner with a huff, facing Marinette to roll his eyes.
“I am the awesomely powerful kwami of the Ring of the Black Cat. I give this knucklehead his powers of Transformation and Destruction, blah, blah, blah,” Plagg recites in an incredibly bored tone. Marinette gives him a small smile to show she's thankful for him playing along.
“Plagg-!”
“Well,” Marinette cuts Cat Noir off. “Aren't you a cute little guy?” she says, gently poking Plagg's ticklish tummy.
“Haha! Hey, cut that out!”
Plagg takes a few harmless swipes at her finger before diving quickly back into Cat Noir's bag. The boy himself looks nervously between it and Marinette, but when it becomes obvious that she isn't freaking out, he let's out a relieved sigh.
“Maybe... don't tell Ladybug about this part,” he says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Think this is such a good idea now?” Marinette asks, hands on her hips. Cat Noir shrugs.
“It's not ideal, but... I trust you,” he says, easy as anything in a way that startles Marinette. Sure, she's heard that plenty of times as Ladybug, but right now she's just herself.
“You don't even know me,” she says.
“Sure I do,” Cat tells her with that crooked smile, which has no right being so assuring to her as it is now.
Marinette is tempted to say a few run-ins and a disastrous brunch don't count for much in getting to know someone, but the fact is... she's learned so much about Cat Noir in those moments, when it's him and... and just her. The lonely night on her balcony, the reluctant rejection in her kitchen. Both times she had seen a side of Cat Noir that he never let her see as Ladybug. So sure, she knows him a little better now.
But she's afraid to ask what he thinks he's learned of her.
“Cat, I appreciate what you're trying to do, really. But-”
“What? Don't think I can pull it off?” Cat asks and then proceeds to speak in the worst falsetto she's ever heard. “But I was born for the runway!”
Marinette leaps forwards, both hands covering his mouth to make the ear assaulting sound stop.
“No more talking!” she pleads.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”
Marinette nearly jumps into Cat Noir's arms when a well dressed woman with a clipboard walks up to them both.
“You're late checking in,” she says as she reads from her list.
“I'm so sorry!” Marinette responds automatically. The organizer simply marks something on her clipboard before turning to Cat Noir.
“Juleka Couffaine?”
Before he can open his mouth, Marinette jumps in.
“My original model can't make it!” she nervously explains with a wide and uneasy smile. “This is my replacement model, Ca-Caaaaaa... Katerina! Katerina Sombre!”
Marinette buries her face in her hands as soon as the name falls from her lips, shame washing over her as she hears the organizer's pen writes down the change. She tries to ignore the fact that she can practically feel the large ear-to-ear grin on Cat Noir's face.
“Katerina Sombre,” the organizer repeats as she writes, not noticing anything out of place. “I'll update your information with the board. Ladies, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your designated station.”
“This is going to be a disaster,” Marinette weeps into her fingers as Cat merely bends down to pick up the garment bag she'd forgotten on the ground since they'd bumped into each other.
“That was some quick thinking, Purrincess. I'm impressed,” he says, holding the bag out to her. She quickly grabs it out of his hands, refusing to look him in the eye as she follows the woman who has already moved on.
-
Focusing on the absurdity of her life is difficult once she begins walking through a sea of creativity. Everywhere she looks on their way to her area is filled with fabrics, accessories, and people darting left and right with needles in hand and pins in mouth. One designer is cutting two lengths of animal print at the same time with scissors in both hands while another wields measuring tape around her model with lightening speed. A girl about her age is on her knees next to her model, bunching up dark gray fabric to cinch it in such a way that it causes alluring ripples along the side. Yet another young lady is holding up different pattern swaths to the sleeves of her gown, a look of deep concentration on her face as she compares. The frenetic energy of each station fills Marinette with an excitement that reaches all the way down to her bones.
“Wow, it's like a war zone in here,” Cat whispers next to her ear. Reality crashes back into her just as they reach their designated station.
“Here you are,” the organizer says. “Supplies are to your right, extra fabric can be found along that wall, and if there's anything else you might need, please don't hesitate to ask.” The woman walks away then, leaving Marinette and “Katerina” to themselves. Oblivious to the awkward tension, Cat Noir begins looking around eagerly.
“Wow, they're really providing you all with a lot of stuff. Most of this was donated by the Agreste label, right?” he asks, sounding as if he already knows the answer. Marinette glances at him suspiciously before her eyes dart to the bag in her arms.
“Yeah. They have an event like this every year. I was invited because I won Gabriel Agreste's bowler hat competition a few months ago. After the runway showing, the dresses will be sold at auction for charity. The designer of the dress that sells for the most will win a special prize.”
“You mean when your dress sells for the most, you'll win a special prize,” Cat says cheekily, moving to stand in front of her, hands clasped behind his back and an expectant look on his face. When Marinette just blinks at him, he looks pointedly at the bag and then back to her. “Sooo?”
“So what?”
“So can I see it now? Your dress?”
Marinette hugs the bag to her chest for a moment, looking away in embarrassment before taking a deep breath and pushing past Cat Noir to hang it on a standing rack. She unzips the front, letting the bag fall away to reveal what is inside. She looks away again as Cat Noir walks up behind her, not ready to hear his criticism.
“It's beautiful,” he says instead.
Shocked, she whips her head around to look at him. The sunglasses still hide his eyes, but his mouth is parted, as if awed. Standing quietly as his is, it's almost possible for her to envision some pretty supermodel admiring her work. Bashfully, she plays with her hands.
“You don't think it's a little...?”
“A little what?”
“Childish, I guess?” Marinette sighs, wrapping her arms around herself. “See that flower motif? I made it when I was little. I was so proud of it that I started working it into most of my clothes and designs. Looking around at everyone else's work, I don't know...” she trails off.
“Marinette,” Cat says. “The best designers in the world always have one thing in common: a signature. Some common thread in their work that, no matter how experimental they get, makes it obvious that they were the one to create it. But more than that, those personal touches are what make a genius design all the more powerful. They show that what's been made is something you love.”
There's an odd sort of reverence in Cat Noir's voice and words that Marinette can't even begin to parse through.
“It's not even finished,” she admits.
“Then that means it's going to be gorgeous!” Cat proclaims, a smile on his lips as he runs his hand along a length of sheer fabric that drapes off one side. Excitedly, he turns toward the privacy screen in the corner. “Give me just a second and then we can get started!”
He grabs the slip hanging over the top and disappears from sight. Marinette turns red yet again when she hears the sound of clothes rustling, turning sharply away from the screen when the peacoat is thrown over it.
“Are you sure you're really okay with doing this?” she asks over her shoulder.
“Positive!” Cat assures her. “My only friend growing up was a girl who made me play dress-up with her a lot, so just between you and me, I'm actually kinda used to it.”
The loud sound of a zipper propels Marinette to the other side of the workstation.
“Tikki, please tell me this is just a nightmare!” she whispers in panic. Tikki flies up from her purse.
“I think it's sweet that he volunteered to help you,” she says.
“Volunteered? If he's to be believed, Ladybug herself asked him to be here. How am I supposed to trust anything about this!”
“I guess you could always model your own dress on the runway.”
“I can barely walk without tripping over my own two feet on a good day, Tikki. I wouldn't make it out of the dressing room in these things!” Marinette says, holding up one of the black shoes by its impossibly high heel. Frustrated, she tosses it onto the work table.
“Maybe Cat Noir just wants to spend time with you. The two of you did agree to be friends, right?” Tikki's calm voice makes it sounds so reasonable, but Marinette shakes her head.
“Spend time? With me? Like this? You cannot be serious!”
“Something wrong, Princess?”
Tikki flies out of sight as Marinette's shoulders tense. She grabs a few random supplies on the table in front of her.
“Nope! No problem! Just couldn't get this silly needle threaded, hahaha!”
She regrets turning the second she does. The neutral toned slip and satin undershirt reveal so much more of Cat Noir than she ever thought she would see in her life. And despite his unfairly nice legs and the slim outline of his body, his broad shoulders and complete lack of any curves are impossible to ignore outside of the peacoat. Making a strangled sound, she pushes him back behind the screen before anyone can see him, nearly knocking his shades off in her rush.
“This isn't going to work!”
“Sure it will! There's got to be a girdle or corset somewhere in this place,” he says with certainty.
“My dress is strapless. How are you going to hide these?” Marinette asks, shaking his shoulders. Patiently, Cat Noir takes her hands again to keep her from strangling him.
“I know they're impressively defined-” he says, flexing as he does and causing Marinette to make a face. “-but it's nothing a shawl or tasteful wrap can't fix.”
Marinette opens her mouth to argue, but his words actually manage to get the wheels in her head turning.
“A shawl...” she mutters to herself as she taps her chin. “It would take some time, but that could actually work.” Marinette pulls away from him, marching toward the table and grabbing the complementary sketch pad. “It would have to be wide but unobtrusive... and he can't just walk out with sunglasses like some kind of super spy... Maybe if I- Oh! And if we add a little of this here and-”
Back near the privacy screen, Adrien smiles.
“Looks like she's finally back in her groove,” he says, his voice full of softness. Plagg floats up, unamused.
“You're such a sap, you know that? We could be in the comfort of home right now and instead we're here.”
“Father said I wasn't allowed to spend the night at Nino's. Ever. And I don't feel like being cooped up alone in my room for yet another weekend. Besides, I like hanging out with Marinette. You must like her a little bit, too, if you're so willing to introduce yourself.”
“Whaaaatever,” Plagg grouses. “At least let me go find the refreshments table. There had better be a cheese platter or two, or I'm declaring this day a lost cause.”
-
“Instead of trying to match the pattern of the lace in the collar, I've tried complementing it with lace that's less intricate,” a young woman says as she works.
“That's a great idea, Eleonora,” her model says positively. The young woman smiles shyly back.
“I was so happy when they gave me this accessory,” she says, holding the delicate faded white choker in her hands. “I love working lace into my designs. But Paris is such a fashion forward city, so fast moving with its trends and styles. Do you think my dress will stand a chance at auction?”
“Lace never goes out of style, El,” her model assures her. Eleonora looks fondly down at the choker one last time, then moves to secure it around the model's neck. Before she can do so, someone speaks up behind her.
“The era of lace has long since passed.”
Flinching, Eleonora turns to see a chic looking woman standing a station over, holding a measuring tape in her hands like a length of rope.
“Excuse me?” Eleonora asks.
“Lace has no place in the modern world of fashion. How unfortunate for you that you must build your entire design around it,” the woman says without an ounce of real sympathy in her voice. Eleonora looks down, ashamed, but her model speaks up for her.
“And just who are you to say what's fashionable or not?”
“I am Josephine Brodeur, two time winner of this event.” She gives Eleonora's dress a scathing look before turning back to the sleek lines and dark fabric of her own. With an elegant hand, she lifts the hanging jewels of her model's earrings, pretending to admire them. “A decent designer can work with just about any medium; satin, leather, silk, or, yes, even lace. A pity that choker fell into your hands.”
“As if your dress is any better! I'm pretty sure I saw one just like it in the last issue of Audrey Bourgeois's magazine.”
“This is one-hundred-percent a Brodeur original!”
“Originally tacky is what it is!”
“Stop,” Eleonora begs, tearfully clutching the choker to her chest. “She's right, Léonie. My design is just too old fashioned. It'll never sell at auction... It has no business even being on the runway!”
“Eleonora!”
Léonie reaches out for her friend as she bolts from the workstation, but is stopped when the pins still in the dress hinder her movement. Eleonora doesn't even notice, running toward the bathrooms. She slams the door closed behind her and sinks to her knees, crying into the lace material of the choker. All of her self-doubt bubbles over into her sobs, Josephine's abrasive words wearing away at what confidence she had. So despondent and upset is Eleonora that she doesn't notice the purple butterfly as it lands on the choker.
She does notice, however, when a calming balm of apathy spreads over her emotions and a voice fills her mind.
“Madame Snare, I am Hawkmoth. That woman has no business telling you what is or is not in fashion; she barely knows the meaning of the word. I am giving you the power to punish her for her arrogance and judgment, and to show the world what real talent looks like. All I ask in return is for you to bring me Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous.”
“With a lovely bow on top, Hawkmoth.”
-
“This isn't your real hair, is it?” Marinette can't help but ask as she gently tightens the laces of the corset. Cat Noir laughs.
“No, it's just a really well made wig. I know a lady,” he says, holding the unsecured top of the dress while Marinette works behind him.
“A wig lady?”
“Something like that.”
Marinette finishes tying and proceeds to pull the top of the dress in place, securing the back with pins and making sure it fits comfortably. As she works, she can't help but notice how Cat Noir studies with great concentration as the other models do practice walks.
“Your rib cage is a bit larger than Juleka's, so I'll have to add a some material here. Oh, and I need to let the front out a bit to hang further down your legs since you're taller, too.” She bounces from one side to another, pincushion on her wrist and measuring tape in hand.
“It's not going to be too much trouble, is it?”
“Not really. The rest of the dress is fitting nicely. Here, wrap this around your shoulders,” Marinette says, handing him a length of sheer black material. He readily does so, tying the ends in an attractive knot in the front. “Great! Now wait just a second. We can't have you walking around in those sunglasses all weekend.” She grabs something from the worktable and holds it up to his face. Cat Noir takes hold of the embellished black carnevale mask that matches the accents of the dress.
“Ooooh, fancy,” he says.
“Well, put it on,” Marinette says, dutifully closing her eyes tight. There's still a rush of nervousness when she hears him move to comply, the knowledge that even just a single peak could ruin the whole secret identity thing. Cat wasn't lying before; he must really trust her.
“There we go,” she hears him say. Hesitantly, she opens her eyes, one after the other.
And stares into bright green ones framed by swaths of black.
There's a breathless moment then when she feels something, the dizzying vertigo that comes with being perched on the very edge of knowing that leaves her feeling unbalanced and unsure, wanting to take the plunge but being afraid all the same.
She's pulled back onto solid ground when that cocky half-slant smile comes into play, the image of a transformed Cat Noir imposing itself on the boy in front of her, erasing anything else that might have been there.
“Getting lost in my eyes, Princess? And people call me cliché,” he teases. Huffing, Marinette pushes him away and points to the open area in front of their station.
“Oh please! Just walk around a bit for me so I can see the dress move before I make any more adjustments.”
Cat Noir salutes her without another word before turning to begin his walk. It's weirdly impressive to Marinette how well he mimics the other models, his movements becoming feminine and refined in the blink of an eye. The skillful balance he carries himself with despite the cumbersome shoes strapped to his feet is nothing short of amazing.
Marinette has to shake herself a bit to focus on the way the fabric moves rather than her partner. She's almost glaring with the intensity of her concentration when Plagg appears from the side, a brie smeared cracker held in his tiny paws.
“I'm so glad those hours of practicing in platform shoes has finally paid off,” he says sardonically.
“Walking in heels is an important life skill,” Marinette says, biting the end of her pencil before jotting down a few notes.
“It's certainly come in handy a few times already,” Tikki agrees from her other side. Marinette hears Plagg grumble in reluctant agreement.
“I guess...”
Marinette sighs, lowering the pencil.
“I just can't believe he'd go this far just to help me.”
“It never fails,” Plagg laments, sniffing at his cracker. “The lonely ones are always the most eager of people pleasers. And they're the ones I always end up with.”
“Lonely?” Marinette asks, finally looking to him. Plagg pauses, mouth open wide as he's about to take a huge bite of his snack. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tikki frantically wave her arms, pretending to be innocently looking off elsewhere when Marinette turns to her.
“Uh, forget I said anything! He just likes helping pretty girls, is all! Quite the Casanova, that kid!” Plagg laughs nervously. But it's too late. The word is already echoing through Marinette's mind.
Lonely? Cat Noir?
She's never given much thought to who he is behind the mask, but now she can't help wondering. Cat Noir is clearly very outgoing and full of energy, friendly and helpful to all the Parisians they've saved, always quick with a pun or flirtation. When she tries to conjure up a civilian life for him, it's impossible not to imagine a carefree boy surrounded with friends, maybe even a cute girl or two at his arm. Laughing, joking, enjoying life... How could someone like that possibly be lonely?
“My only friend growing up was a girl who made me play dress-up with her a lot.”
“I also don't feel like being alone tonight. Would you mind if I hang out here for a while?”
“You're really nice people, and this meal is delicious; by far the friendliest I've had in a long time...”
“The times I have the most fun, my favorite moments, are when I'm with you, M'lady. And I would give up everything just for that.”
“Oh...” she says softly to herself.
Plagg looks helplessly at his cracker, then Marinette, and then to Tikki who just shakes her head.
“Maybe I should-”
A woman screaming cuts Marinettte off, echoing loudly above all the hustle and bustle of the workshop. She jumps to her feet, instinctively taking a fighting stance. Over the partitions of the work stations, she can see a mismatched colored web of sorts begin to form above and around everything. She watches as people are somehow dragged up into the web, struggling against some unseen force.
“Josephine Brodeur,” a light yet cold voice rings out. “Show yourself, you fraud.”
Marinette's about to duck into a relatively hidden spot when a hand grabs her wrist, pulling her as far away from the commotion as possible.
“Cat!” she protests. “Walking in those shoes is one thing, how are you running?” But Cat Noir ignores her, his grip loosening on her wrist until his hand slips into hers and tightens again.
“I need to get you somewhere safe, Marinette!” he insists, glancing around frantically. Spotting something, he swerves to the right and barrels them into the empty makeup room before slamming the door shut. “Stay here, okay? I'm gonna go say hi to the the new villain in town and keep her attention until Ladybug shows up.”
“Y-yeah, okay...” Marinette stammers as she watches him stand up straight, looking oddly battle ready and strong in her half-finished pink dress.
“Plagg? Claws Out!”
In a flash of green light, Katerina Sombre is stripped away to reveal the far more familiar visage of Cat Noir; belt-tail, clip ears, and all. He bends down to place an assuring glove-covered hand on Marinette's shoulder.
“Don't worry, this won't take long. Then maybe we can talk about adding some more frills to the back of your dress,” Cat says with a smirk. He stands then, rushing out of the door and into the fray. Marinette blinks after him before standing irritably.
“More frills, can you believe this boy? It already has just the right amount of frill, thank you very much!”
“Marinette,” Tikki sighs.
“Hehe, right, sorry. Tikki! Spots On!”
-
Cat Noir jumps up onto one of the partitions to glance out over the chaos. Everywhere he looks, people appear to be cocooned in the threads of their own clothing, hanging from the tapestry of fabric forming the layered web around the workshop. In the center of it all is a terrified looking woman hung out like a marionette by the unraveled threads of her sleeves and jacket.
From the ground, a ghostly figure in white raises a hand, several strings shooting out to the ceiling, pulling the figure up gracefully to look into the scared woman's face.
“How do you like my style now, Josephine Brodeur? Unlike you, I put the class in classic.”
“Are you kidding? Her jacket is so fire, you could call it a blazer!”
The figure tenses before turning sharply toward him. The young lady is dressed in an embellished white gown made entirely of cutwork, the more intricate embroidery at the bottom slowly solidifying at the top into an elegantly fanned collar, accenting the lace choker around her neck.
“Get it?” Cat Noir asks, resting his staff on his shoulders. “Blaze, blazer? No?” He sighs. “Why do I always get the tough crowds? I'm apparel of laughs!”
Ignoring his jokes, the villain waves a hand and the other woman is whisked away up into the web, screaming as the threads secure her to it.
“Eleonora!” someone calls from the ground. One of the models struggles to pull herself up onto a worktable, desperately trying to get the akumatized victim's attention. “Eleonora, stop this, please! This isn't you!”
“Eleonora is no longer here!” the figure tells her sternly. “I am Madame Snare from here on out!” She lifts her hand again and the loose bits of fabric from the model's unfinished dress wrap tightly around her, forcing her legs and arms together, causing her to lose her balance. Before she can hit the ground, Cat Noir agilely slides beneath her for a perfect catch, cradling her to his chest as they skid to a halt along the floor. Carefully, he sets her down.
“Easy does it,” he says, both the poor struggling girl and to himself. Once she's settled, Cat Noir jumps up onto the table, crouched and ready to pounce. The second he's in sight again, Madame Snare throws her hand out to him, causing him to flinch.
After a second or two, he relaxes, glancing around himself curiously. Madame Snare looks bewildered, waving her hand again with no apparent effect.
“Sorry, Miss,” Cat Noir says smugly. “This cat's suit is bespoke. And magical. Magically bespoke. You've got no power over these sweet threads!”
“Who says I need to?” Madame Snare snipes back, bringing both arms above her head. Lengths of fabric roll out from bolts along one wall at breakneck speed. Cat Noir's eyes go wide before he springs into action, putting all of his acrobatic prowess to work in dodging the makeshift restraints aimed at him. A string of ribbon catches him off guard the second he lands from a handspring, wrapping around his ankle and pulling. He leaves scratch marks in the floor before it snaps up to fling him at the ceiling.
“Whoa there, Kitty!”
A bright red yo-yo wraps itself around his wrist, keeping him held taut above the ground, pulled in two different directions.
“Nice of you to swing by, M'lady!” Cat says, his voice strained as the ribbon tugs harder.
With a burst of strength, he draws his trapped ankle up, taking a swipe at his shackle with the claws of his free hand. It snaps, two forces no longer opposing each other as he's yanked back toward the workshop. Embarrassingly, he yelps at the sudden stop, blinking when he lands in strong arms rather than the cold hard ground. Composing himself, he wraps his own arms around Ladybug's neck and flutters his eyes at her.
“You always know how to sweep me off my feet.”
Unamused, Ladybug drops him.
“Ladybug. About time you showed up. Hawkmoth wants those pretty jewels of yours, and I promised him a complete set,” Madame Snare says from up in her web.
“Sorry,” Ladybug says, spinning her yo-yo. “Ours aren't for sell, but be sure to let him know that he can turn his over any time!” She sends her yo-yo out, deflecting a piece of accent rope sent to capture her.
“Her powers can't affect our suits and I'm pretty sure the akuma is in that choker she's wearing. We just need to get in close to her!” Cat Noir calls out, trying to tug his staff out of the grip of a length of satin.
“Easier said than done!” Ladybug says as she flips back out of the way of several spools of ribbon that fly toward her legs and arms.
“Might be the perfect time to conjure up a miracle then!”
“Not a bad idea.” Ladybug throws up her yo-yo. “Lucky Charm!”
In a bright flash of light, a hook the size of her forearm drops into her open hands. Quickly, she and Cat Noir duck behind one of the partitions out of sight from Madame Snare, if just for a moment.
“Going fishing, LB?” Cat asks beside her. Ladybug focuses on the charm before peaking around the thin wall.
The hook... Madame Snare... a load-bearing column... Cat Noir...
“You could say that,” she says with a smile. “But I'm going to need a line she can't control. Cat Noir, lend me your belt.”
“All yours, M'lady,” he says, immediately setting to work loosening and handing it to her. Quickly she ties one of the ends around the hoop at the bottom of the hook.
“Think you could grab her attention for me?”
“Well, I am pretty eye catching.” Cat winks to her, then rolls out from behind the partition, leaping into the center of the room with catlike grace. Ladybug allows herself a small chuckle and fond eye roll.
While Cat Noir makes a spectacle of himself directly under Madame Snare, Ladybug does her best to stay out of the villain's periphery. Spinning the hook much like her yo-yo, she waits for the perfect moment. Once she's positioned just on the other side of the column, she calls out.
“Now, Cat!”
When Cat Noir drops to all fours and springs forward toward her, Ladybug releases the hook, catching Madame Snare by one of the holes in her embroidered dress.
“Cataclysm!”
Dark energy spreads out over the column, causing it to crack and crumble in places. With all the magical strength she can muster, Ladybug pulls at her line, dragging Madame Snare from her web.
Panicked, Madame Snare reaches out to influence the belt but realizes too late that she cannot. Instead, she lands heavily into the column, her body sinking deeply into the crumbling structure. Dazed, she shakes her head and then tries to struggle, her arms caught firmly at her side. Calmly, Ladybug walks up to her, reaching out for the choker. Madame Snare struggles harder, trying to back away from her hands.
“No, let me go!” she cries. With one tug, Ladybug pulls the accessory off, tearing it in two between her hands. As the lace pieces fall, a purple butterfly emerges from one end.
“No more evil doing for you, little akuma.”
With practiced ease, it's swept up into the light of the yo-yo. With a tap of her finger, Ladybug releases the purified creature into the air.
“Bye-bye, little butterfly.” With a sense of peace and accomplishment, Ladybug throws her Lucky Charm into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”
In a swirl of magic, the terror from the afternoon is erased. People are brought back to the ground, the web of fabric is wiped away, and Madame Snare becomes Eleonore once more. Hand to her head, Eleonora is confused for a moment before realization hits her.
“Léonie! Josephine! Are they alright?” she asks. Ladybug crouches down next to her.
“I promise you, they're both just fine.”
When Eleonora's fearful expression doesn't fade, Cat Noir steps up.
“I'll go check on them for you, just to be sure, okay?” He turns and bounds away to where he'd left Léonie.
“The real question,” Ladybug says, handing the mended lace choker back to Eleonora, “is whether or not you're okay.”
Tearfully, Eleonora takes the choker and holds it to her heart.
“Vintage lace is a signature part of my designs; I've loved it since I was a little girl. But it's so old fashioned... I'll never get anywhere in this industry with tastes like that.” Tears fall freely when she hangs her head. Gently, Ladybug lifts her chin and offers her a warm smile.
“A dear friend told me recently that it's those small details, the personal and heartfelt ones, that are the most important part of anything you create. You shouldn't ever feel ashamed of them. They're what make your work unique!”
Ladybug takes Eleonore's hands and helps her stand. Eleonora sniff for a moment before shakily returning Ladybug's smile.
“Sounds like you have a friend who really cares about you,” she says.
“El!”
“You've got one too, you know,” Ladybug says happily as Eleonora turns to her friend.
“Léonie!”
The two hug each other tightly as Cat Noir walks up with an abashed looking Josephine Brodeur. She looks to him with uncertainty, but he just nods. Taking a deep breath, the woman steels herself.
“Eleonora,” she begins. The two friends break from their hug to look at her. “I... apologize. For the things I said to you. They were uncalled for. I only attacked you that way because I... I felt threatened.”
“Threatened?” Eleonora asks.
“Your design is fantastic, blending old ideas with new and creating something harmonious as a result. I was just jealous... that I hadn't thought of it first. So. I'm sorry.”
Eleonora steps away from Léonie and approaches Josephine, a small smile at her lips.
“Apology accepted.”
“It's nice that they've made up,” Cat Noir whispers next to Ladybug. She nods in agreement, flinching when her earrings begin to flash out a warning.
“That's my cue, Kitty Cat.”
She holds out her hand for their celebratory fist bump, but Cat is looking off toward the back of the workshop.
“Cat?” she asks.
“Oh, sorry!” he says, startled. He gives her fist a solid bump with his own before becoming distracted again.
“Something wrong?”
“No, I just... I think a friend of mine was supposed to be here today so I should-”
“-Should go make sure the other designers aren't too shaken up! You have a little more time than I do. Do you mind?” Ladybug asks nervously. Cat Noir frowns and she worries that he might actually reject her proposal, but instead he nods.
“Sure, I'll handle the after-akuma rounds. You take off.”
“Thanks, Cat.”
-
Ladybug throws herself into the makeup room, slamming the door closed with her body just as the transformation falls away. Marinette catches a tired Tikki as she floats down, digging into her purse for an emergency macaroon.
“Well, that was an exciting way to end a Saturday afternoon,” Tikki says before taking a bite. Marinette groans, walking over to one of the chairs and sitting down heavily.
“We've lost so much time now. And I still have so many more little touches to do. Not to mention I still need to resize the back, and we have to figure out how to do the hair up, and I was hoping to have enough time to add more detail to the shawl, and-”
Suddenly the door slams open again and Tikki flies behind Marinette as Cat Noir skids in. Shutting the door, he breathes a sigh of relief as he ring beeps out its last warning chime.
“Wait-!” Marinette shouts, covering her eyes just as the room fills with a flash of green light. She presses the heels of her hands harder against them when she hears him move closer to her.
“Marinette? Are you okay?” Warm hands gently grasp hers, urging her arms away. She squeaks when she lets them fall, still refusing to look. “Princess, what's wrong?”
“What's wrong? What's wrong? How can you-” In her anger she forgets not to look, opening her eyes to give him a good yelling but seeing a lovely masked young lady wearing Marinette's dress in his place. “Oh...” she says, feeling light headed. “Right. I forgot.”
He's still watching her with such clear and open worry in his eyes, and she would give anything in the world to never make him look so troubled ever again.
“Oh, my aching everything!” Plagg floats up between them, plastering himself to the side of Cat Noir's face. “Camembert! My kingdom for just one crumb of Camembert!”
“Plagg, now's really not the time to-”
“Hehe!”
Both Cat Noir and Plagg turn to Marinette in surprise when she laughs. Giggles fall from her lovely smile so freely that the tension in the room all but evaporates.
Cat Noir grins back at her, eyes full of fondness.
-
“We only have a few hours left to make something salvageable out of this mess!”
“Marinette, it's not a mess. It's going to look amazi-”
“I don't need your pretty words, Cat,” Marinette says resolutely, standing with the air of a general going to war. “I need your poise!”
“My poise?”
“I need your charm!”
“Oh, I've got charm aplenty.”
“I need you to stand statue still for the next ninety minutes without so much as breathing!”
“That one feels a tad unreasonable.”
The rest of Saturday passes in a flurry of fabric and pins.
-
Marinette can't remember a time in her life when she's been this nervous. It sounds like an exaggeration, but she feels it sitting so heavy in her stomach that she swears she's almost been sick at least three time tonight. The showroom floor is full of people, people that Marinette would never otherwise be in the same room with. Fashion models, magazine editors, photographers. The glitter and flashing lights make her dizzy, which in turn does nothing to settle her stomach. It's said that, while not attending tonight personally, Gabriel Agreste himself will be watching live footage of the show from his own studio.
It's all really too much for someone like her.
She worries the hem of her blue dress between her fingers, trying to figure out where she's meant to sit. Timidly, she motions to one of the ushers.
“Um, excuse me. I'm one of the designers for the event and I-”
“Right this way, mademoiselle,” the man says, leading her down to the first few rows. There she sees Josephine and Eleonora sitting together, chatting amiably amongst themselves. Seeing them eases something in Marinette, making her smile. Carefully, she makes her way to the empty seat beside Eleonora who nods politely to her as she sits. Opening her clutch, Marinette makes sure Tikki has a view from her lap.
The lights go down and Marinette's anxiety climbs back up.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for attending tonight's charity event! There is much to take in before the auction, so without further ado, let's see what our guest designers have prepared for us!”
There's a polite applause before the spotlight shines on the runway.
First out is Josephine's model. The sleek, elegant lines and dark colors of the dress bring out the lovely sapphire stones of the model's earrings. Camera flashes are blinding as she poses at the end of the stage.
Second is Léonie. She walks out confidently in the Eleonora's carefully embroidered dress, the patterns flowing subtly, bringing out the more intricate detail of the lace choker. Léonie gives Eleonora a cheeky grin as she passes, and Marinette delights when Eleonora giggles quietly beside her.
And then... her dress is illuminated for all to see.
Of the first entries, hers definitely has the more vibrant colors, popping out instantly against the dark gray backdrop of the runway. The ripples of the short pink front, accented by black frills underneath and the flower-embellished tail in the back, all leave a perfect opening for the impossibly tall back heels and the the jeweled fishnet stockings.
Katerina Sombra walks out with the force of a storm. Golden tresses are done up beautifully, strategic strands falling perfectly out of place, barely grazing the sheer black shawl. Marinette wonders what inspires the the excited muttering in the audience more, the mystery of the mask or the impeccable way Katerina effortlessly commences the walk, never once stumbling or hesitating.
As if knowing Marinette is on the cusp of a heart attack, her model has the audacity to throw her a conspiratorial wink before stopping at the edge of the stage and posing as one typically would for photos. Then, instead of simply turning, Katerina enters the 1st position and proceeds to step into a series of pique turns down the runway in shoes that would kill someone of lesser skill. The tail of the dress flows beautifully with the movement.
Marinette covers her mouth as surprised gasps rise from the audience, preceding an uproarious applause.
Katerina ends the turns halfway down the catwalk falling back into a fashion step without missing a beat.
-
“Are you completely insane?!” Marinette says, cornering Cat Noir backstage after the show. Even as she beats against his peacoat covered chest, the smile he gives her is decidedly cavalier.
“Relax, Marinette! They loved it!”
“What if you had fallen! You could have broken something! And then we would have had to call an ambulance, and then they'd take you to the hospital, and they'd find out you're not really a model-”
“Well-”
“And then! And then... I don't know, but it probably wouldn't be good!” Marinette drops her arms then, planting her forehead on his sternum in defeat. Patiently, Cat Noir brings his arms up around her, giving her a few calming pats.
“You're overthinking things, Princess. And underestimating me. You really think I'd try to do something like that if I thought there was even a possibility that I might ruin your chances at winning?”
“No...” Marinette mournfully admits into the wool of his coat.
“Come on now. Your dress is stunning, I was delightful; all in all, I'd say this was a successful night for both of us,” Cat says, giving her a squeeze. Marinette can't help but laugh a little before pulling back and looking up at him.
“I guess you were pretty charming.”
“You did ask for it. For that, and... my poise!”
He moves into 5th position and the laughter comes out of Marinette full force. By the time she composes herself again, Cat has already relaxed out of stance, smiling quietly at her in a way that fills her chest with a happy warmth.
“Feeling better?” he asks, genuine and wonderful. Marinatte nods appreciatively.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Auction is probably almost over. Want to go watch?”
“No. I feel like I'll jinx it if I even look at that dress again.”
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”
Marinette turns to see an organizer leaning halfway out of the stage door.
“Yes?” she asks.
“The man who just bought your dress would like to speak with you.”
“Someone actually bought it?!” Marinette brings her hands up to the sides of her face, excitement and nerves at war in her expression. “It... it wasn't on the low end, was it?”
The organizer blinks at her, confused.
“You don't know? It was the highest. Gabriel Agreste himself bought it.”
“What?!”
The organizer winces at her shriek, before ducking back into the show room.
“Cat! Cat, did you hear that? Gabriel Agreste him-”
But when she turns, Cat Noir is nowhere in sight.
-
Anxiety growing, Marinette steps into the showroom, momentarily paralyzed by the flashing lights of cameras and bombardment of questions. Before she can even think of something to say, Nathalie Sancoeur pushes through them calmly and effortlessly, placing a guiding hand on Marinette's back before steering her away from the crowd. At her side is a touchpad that she holds up once they've achieved a small level of privacy.
Gabriel Agreste's face looks back, as if he can see straight into Marinette's soul.
It does nothing for the rabbit pace of her poor heart.
“G-g-g-good evening, Mr. Agreste. Thank you so much for buying my dress!”
“You've quite the budding talent, Ms. Dupain-Cheng. This is not the first time you've managed to impress me.”
This is easily the best night of Marinette's life.
“I do have one question for you, however,” he says.
“Yes! Of course! Anything!” Marinette babbles.
“The model for your dress. Who was she?”
She can feel the color drain from her face.
“M-m-my model? Well, you see! Um, my first model got sick halfway through the project and, uh... the event organizers! Yeah, the event organizers were so kind in finding me a replacement! And at the last minute, too! They really are on top of things here!” She hopes the smile she gives him is pleasant rather than manic.
“Hmm. And what was her name?”
“Her name? Uh, I believe it was Katerina Sombre,” she tells him, hating how dry her mouth has suddenly become. Can he see her sweating through that camera? Can Nathalie? “May I... ask why you'd like to know?” she tries.
“She reminded me so much of...” Gabriel seems to say without thinking, trailing off and looking unusually melancholy.
“Pardon?” Marinette asks. Gabriel shakes his head.
“She appeared exceptionally talented. My label could use another model of that caliber. At any rate, I thank you for helping to make tonight such an overwhelming success, Ms. Dupain-Cheng. As the winner of this event, I intend to offer you an internship next summer. I'm intrigued to see what else you have to offer the world of fashion. Please enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Without further comment, Nathalie shuts off the touchpad, gives Marinette a polite nod, and leaves. Alone in the corner, Marinette does her best to calm herself.
“You did it, Marinette! Your dress brought in the most money for the charity and you're getting an internship with your idol!” Tikki says from the opening of her clutch.
“I know! I can barely believe it, but...” Marinette looks to the showroom exit. “Where did Cat Noir run off to? I thought for sure that he'd want to celebrate with me.”
“He probably just wanted to give you your moment to shine! I'm sure he's still around somewhere.”
-
Her intuition rarely steers her wrong, so Marinette isn't surprised to find him in the empty makeup room again. He's sitting in one of the chairs, arms wrapped around a leg that's been pulled up, fingers picking at a loose thread in his leggings.
“You'll make it worse if you do that,” Marinette says softly. “Would you... like for me to fix it for you?”
Cat shakes his head, letting the leg fall before standing up. His earlier joviality has been snuffed out, leaving behind a terribly sad looking boy in its place. Despite this, he still gives her a grin.
“Congratulations, Princess. I'm really happy for you,” he says, and she knows that it's true, but she can't ignore the way he seems to be hurting.
“What's the matter, Cat?” she asks, tentatively stepping forward.
“Nothing, Marinette.”
“It's not nothing,” she tells him. “I wanted us to share this, but obviously something upset you when they said that my dress was bought by-”
“That has nothing to do with it!” Cat says, almost too insistently. Noticing his own overreaction, he rubs the back of his neck. “It just... hit me, you know? That the weekend is officially over. That I don't have to be your model anymore.” There's a slight blush to his cheeks that she can see even around the sunglasses. “Not that I want to model dresses all the time or anything...”
“You sure?” Marinette can't help but tease. “Looked to me like you were having fun.” She means it to be light-hearted, but realizes her mistake when his shoulders fall.
“Yeah. I did have fun. Most fun I've had in a while, Princess. Thank you.”
And there it is again. That open admission of loneliness that she's been blind to this whole time. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but words fail her and she closes it again. Cat moves around her then, heading to the door. She turns with him helplessly.
“Maybe next time you and I can hang out without it being an emergency-”
“Who are you, really?”
Marinette slaps a hand over her mouth the second the words slip out, but it's too late. Cat Noir looks back at her, stunned.
“It's just that-! It's just... you and I could, you know, spend time with each other that way. Without the disguise o-or the mask. Like... like normal people and just... We could just... be ourselves and-”
She forces herself to stop rambling when Cat steps closer to her.
“I'm sorry,” she says, shaking her head and closing her eyes. “I shouldn't have asked you that. It was dumb.”
Dumb and hypocritical and unfair, she thinks angrily to herself. How many times had she scolded Cat Noir for asking the very same thing? She'd never really even cared to know before now and...
“Marinette...” Cat says, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I'm sorry!”
“Marinette, look at me.”
She doesn't right away, embarrassed by the prickling of tears she feels at the corner of her eyes. After a moment, however, she does. The wig and sunglasses are still there, the illusion of Katerina Sombre is in place, but there's a sad, understanding smile on Cat's lips that is so him that it makes the tears well up even more.
“Ladybug is right,” he says, and the guilt is almost too much for her to bear. “It's too dangerous for anyone to know our true identities. But...”
Marinette holds her breath.
“But just knowing that you want to know who I really am, want to know me, makes me really happy, Marinette. More than you could ever know.”
He hugs her then, so gently that she swears he might be afraid of hurting her. She breathes out in a rush, wrapping her own arms tightly around his middle. She feels him startle slightly at first but then squeeze in return. When they pull apart, Marinette does her best to wipe away the tears that have escaped before smiling up at him. In a moment of courage, she rises up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek.
“Thank you for being my friend, Cat Noir. And for your help. You really saved the day.”
The smile he gives her back is blinding.
“That's what heroes do, Princess.” He takes her hand and bends to place a return kiss on top of it, the long hair of his wig tickling her skin. “Heroes and good friends. I'll be seeing you around, Marinette, so keep looking up!”
She laughs.
“I will!”