Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even before becoming a superhero Nino was no stranger to protecting those around him. Since the birth of his baby brother Chris, he understood the importance of watching over those precious to him and keeping a steady vigilance over his family whether they needed his protection or not. Over time, it became less of a need and more of a want, longing to support those close to him as it spilled into his daily life.

Marinette had been a childhood friend for as long as he could remember, stretching back to diapers and nap times when they’d frequently swap blankets or snatch toys from one another. In the time it took them to mature enough into students at Collège Françoise Dupont together, he still couldn’t shake the fond memories of her pouting when she was rudely awakened or the small freckle by her right ankle that he’d discovered was ticklish at age 10.

Sure, they’d long grown past the age of pulling pigtails or hiding caps from one another but the adoration he had for said girl still remained. Now, instead of sticking his tongue out at her, he made her laugh in other ways. His affinity for calling her “dudette” coupled with his outdated phrases and shameless optimism were just the cure for late night projects and bad days.

Yet, some days even his corniest lines weren’t enough to erase the bags beneath her eyes or the slump in her steps. He offered his encouragement where he could, busting out his latest Nino-approved music selections and giving her a copy of his messy scrawlings of that day’s lecture notes. It didn’t reduce the fatigue evident in her stare or improve her ability to beat the morning bell but if it made her relax a bit more at his presence with a quirk of her lips, it was well worth it.

Upon first meeting Adrien, Nino considered him an enigma, an oddity that automatically put him at odds. For even an individual with little care for fashion like himself knew the name Adrien Agreste and understood the empire his father had in its industry. He’d seen the model’s face in magazine covers and billboards plastered around town, proudly advertising clothing, perfume, you name it.

Coupled with the headache that was Chloé Bourgeois who kept her nose buried in her cellphone singing his praises, it wasn’t any wonder that the blonde was likened to that of another pompous rich daddy’s boy before he even arrived. Yet, once he did, the boy was more nervous and hesitant than the DJ’d thought. Instead of demanding popularity on a silver platter, the model was quiet, reserved almost, as he stammered through his pleasantries and fumbled with his attendance. It was the skittish eyes that seemed to simultaneously search for danger and take in the unfamiliar sights that drew Nino in. Through a variety of secret handshakes, inside jokes, and hours of late night chatting, the two became thick as thieves.

Gradually, his hunched shoulders started to relax and the model soon began lifting his head with confidence, growing in volume as he laughed more boisterously than before. He gravitated towards physical touch and soon Nino began slinging an arm over his shoulder on the way to class, slapping a hand across his back in passing, and initiating a strong bear hug on days the poor kid looked ready to drop. Of course, it didn’t magically fix the issues he had going with his controlling father or ease the heartache that his mother left behind but it did give him an escape from his empty house for at least a few hours. And if Adrien started to personify Alya’s nickname of sunshine, well he was always willing to help his bro out.

There was never any doubt that Alya was fiery, determined, and brave. In fact, it was part of the reason he fell in love with her in the first place. Resourceful, cunning, and creative, the big-time journalist to be was always hot on the scoop and eager to uncover the truth. But this highly focused search often left her with blinders on to the world around her and could often dig her into more trouble than it was worth. For the safety of her and the unsuspecting world around them, Nino soon found it his responsibility to tail said redhead after one story had her running into traffic without missing a beat.

He also began keeping dry foods alongside his equipment and school supplies, sometimes hand feeding her as she scoured articles and texts for confirmation on her many theories (it also helped that Marinette often left her lunch at home and Adrien was subject to a very strict diet so he found more opportunity to spoil the group). Being her boyfriend also meant he spent many nights digging through trash cans and wearing suspicious disguises in public, but it also came with hand holding and cheek pecks that made his toes curl.

She bounced ideas off of him, even if sometimes they were entirely one-sided with her ramblings giving no time for interjection, but it came with the connections clicking in her mind and spreading across her face before she began writing on any available surface. He treasured the strange array of disjointed notes on his bedroom wall and if she signed it the next day with her loopy signature and a heart, he was the first to check her blog when the article was posted.

The non-stop grind of journalism and school kept his beloved busy and left little for relaxation and sleep. If it wasn’t the update of the Ladyblog, Alya was tending to her own two sisters or checking in on Marinette when she dropped off the face of the earth. Rather than add to her already stressful workload, Nino brought movies over on Tuesdays for “date night” so she could fall asleep against his shoulder. They played Super Penguino on nights she couldn’t and if she whispered words of affection into the crook of his neck after their game had long shut off, he loved her all the more for it.

Chapter Text

Something about the bodysuit, how it clings to his sweat-soaked skin, makes him feel confident. Maybe it’s the physical pressure that steadies him, or the anonymity that comes from his hood and goggles which make him feel like someone stronger, more bold and righteous. Whether it's the miraculous powers that flow through him or some sort of placebo effect spurring him into battle, Nino wears the suit like a badge of pride.

It feels like a luxury to be chosen for this position, to know that of all of France’s Parisians, Ladybug selected him for the mantle of the Turtle. Other days it is a blessing and a curse to wield such power, knowing that people’s lives are altered by his actions be it for better or worse. The crushing weight of responsibility mingles with the fit of his suit as he swings his shield in the midst of combat. Whether to disarm an enemy or protect a comrade, his abilities are expected to do both as a protector and a warrior. The fate of the city is stifling under his padding and the duality of his mission keeps him up at night either locked in the heat of battle or staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. It isn’t until after a grueling, time-laden showdown that Carapace recognizes the same tentative eyes staring back at him and resolves to do something about it.

Their dealings with one another are erratic and often spontaneous, although Chat Noir and Ladybug are constants amongst the chaos. The offerings of their respective Miraculous’ are done on a case-by-case basis so the times that all of them are assembled are seldom and usually mean that the situation is dire. Regardless, Nino takes it upon himself to get to know each of the frequent members of their team (a term that still takes getting used to).

Though informal and easygoing at times, Nino finds he can also be observant and thoughtful as he takes in the easily missed signs or the absentminded comments thrown back and forth between their group. Already used to feeding his classmates through pre-packed snacks, he begins stashing an array of treats in the nooks of their meeting places. He offers them when they regroup, dishing out an array of trail mix and crackers as the butterfly disappears into the setting sky. It’s useful for a recharge so soon after using their abilities and Ladybug makes it a point to thank him on behalf of her Kwami.

A suggestion from Rena has him bring assorted macaroons along with a cured meat and cheese tray once a month, which earns him both sincere smiles and polite nods of, “Thanks man,” and “Way to go, Turtle-boy” that end the night with satisfied Miraculous holders and a barrage of compliments from peckish Kwamis (all mentioned upon their next meet-up). The small spark of surprise and joy that comes from simply bringing leftovers soon develops into an annual event as he watches his teammates tentatively indulge in the treats, wolfing down a few handfuls of food before promising to save the rest for their partners. After the second night of “feasting” (if you can call mowing down junk food that), Chat Noir is the first to pull Carapace to the side with the intention of paying for the lot.

“Bro, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.” is the same response he repeats to Rena, Ladybug, and even Queen Bee when they try to toss money at him. He doesn’t mention that he’s actually close friends with the family of the best pâtisserie in town and that their daughter has been slipping him extra pastries while she rings up his order. It’s all worth it to watch them nibble on éclairs and canelés even on nights they favor one side or curl a forearm close to their bodies with only the slightest twitch of discomfort. Those nights are his favorites because even though their bodies ache and the war is far from over, in those moments, the night is quiet except for the sounds of idle chatter, an occasional laugh, and the munches of hungry heroes.

The repetition of their meetups slowly eases their discomfort with one another, as there’s only so many times they can take down brightly colored enemies with alliterative names and personas before they start making jokes of their own and fall into predictive battle patterns to defeat their akumatized foes. Puns were there from the get-go, especially with one cocky kitty-cat mixed in the bunch, but soon somewhat affectionate nicknames and sly comments are thrown into the mix that even have their serious team leader cracking a smile as she swings her yo-yo.

The most grilling of monikers is dished out by Queen Bee though they’re belied by the snort she muffles into her hand. Rena isn’t one to roll over though as she often fires back just as good as she’s given, only to be left mystified by the innocence of their resident cat-boy when most fly leagues over his head. Ladybug is the wildcard in these scenarios where she diffuses the situation by drawing them back into focus or offers her own dry wit into the conversation that either lands right on the mark or is so off the others scratch their heads in confusion.

For the majority of it though, Carapace finds himself more on the receiving end of their scathing remarks due to his abundance of “bros,” “dudes,” and the periodic outdated reference that they love to pick apart. All of them are taken in stride, adapting the surface-level teasing into catchphrases or shouts of exclamation as he vaults across rooftops. The turtle jokes and jabs are said a plenty to the point Rena and Bee find them as more endearing things to call the green-clad hero and only roll their eyes at him when he grins in return.

When they don’t have to leave immediately, either due to Rena’s curfew or Ladybug’s forgotten errand, the group lingers longer on their secluded rooftops, sometimes returning after a quick Kwami recharge, where they settle in for a few hours of stargazing and vague stories. It had originally been for team bonding, organizing approximate schedules and strategies but eventually fell into comfortable silences and sprawling after days where combat was the last thing on anyone’s mind.

It was how they found out about Chat’s isolation and abandonment issues, Queenie’s fear of being forgotten and neglected, Rena’s struggle to fight injustice and prejudice, even Ladybug’s insecurities about not being enough for both the city and herself. Nino regaled them with the time he’d been mocked for his immaturity and how he often worried that his friends and family deserved better than him. That particular night, they each sat clustered together with hugged knees and clenched fists, trying to find solace in the fact they weren’t alone.

Nino dreaded the following day, worried the team would be back to walking on eggshells around one another after they’d dug too deep into their psyches. He wore his lip thin thinking about how he’d finally won a compliment from Bee after a ricocheted toss that had simultaneously knocked the microphone from Scream Queen’s hand and blocked her sonic screech from hitting her. How Rena had grabbed his hand and hauled him up after he’d tumbled through a wall only to land atop him moments later from a second strike that had his heart beating through his chest and her only giving a knowing smile in return. How Chat had started to babble with him over favorite music artists and soundtracks, exchanging beat-up CD’s and suggestions with plans to marvel over them later. How Ladybug had begun swapping her favorite places in the city with him, citing hidden pearls lost in the throes of the hustle of people which were often small restaurants or secluded spots that weren’t easy to spot.

He didn’t know if he could stand the uneasy glances or stiff postures that had once made them a hesitant rag-tag bunch of strangers forced to work together under strict circumstances. His stress skyrocketed as they converged upon their meeting place via their various weapons and all gazed silently at one another. However, the tension finally broke when the first words out of Rena’s mouth were, “What’s happening, Michelangelo? You look a little green.”