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“Just a little more Plagg, just a little more please….”
The more his ring beeped, the greater his tension became.
This was all the fault of Hawk Moth’s purple painted butt-erfly behind. Pun highly intended.
Why did Hawk Moth need to give teleportation powers to his akumas? And okay, even if the villainous grandpa had been generous enough, why did the stupid akuma, on getting those powers, need to act like a child on sugar rush?! Seriously, superheroing was becoming frustrating now!!
Or maybe his anger was mostly due to the fact that he had been in the middle of a nice, hot shower when the akuma alert on his phone beeped, and given the adrenaline that pumped through him on the prospect of seeing his Lady again, Chat had transformed in a bit of a hurry.
In other words, he transformed without putting anything on.
And now, given the frantic beeping of his ring, it was clear he was about to detransform soon.
…
…
…
Either he would reach home with his modesty intact or Paris would never see him again, for no way in hell was he going to survive ( both from shame and his Father’s wrath) any paparazzi photos of Adrien Agreste spotted roaming the streets of the city, stark naked.
The last pawprint on his ring flashing rapidly, Adrien knew his time was up.
Better find a hidden and decent place to spend the night away from prying eyes.
But again, given his luck, there was a problem.
The problem?
…
…
The decent place, the Dupain-Cheng bakery, was two blocks away from where he was. And where he was right now, there was a hidden place, but it was certainly not decent for spending the night.
With only a few seconds left before he was bound to die either way, Chat made a steel-hearted (maybe iron-willed?) decision.
Damn the discomfort, I would be lucky to survive the night safe!
Bracing himself, he leaped off the rooftop, landing in the trash can just as his transformation faded.
“CHEEEEEEEEEEESE!!!!”
Out of the 19 kwamis of the miraculous box, why did he have to get the one who demands the most unachievable food items at desperate times like THESE!?
“Plagg, seriously? I am sitting here, in a trash can , trying to think of some plan to get out of here and instead of helping me, all you can think of is cheese ?!”
“Well, I did give you an idea a few minutes ago..”
“I need to get out of here WITH my modesty preserved, Plagg. Period.”
“Well kid, you and I both know what Paris would do to get that one pho-”
“PLAAAAAAGG!”
The mischievous being chuckled at his chosen’s expense, as the flustered boy buried his face in his hands.
“Well, I must say, you chose quite a good place for the impromptu camping, kid.”
The boy stared with shock at his kwami.
“C-C-Camping?! This looks like-like camping to you?? Must I remind you that YOU are the only one who lives in a trash can out of the two of us? Oh goodnes- OUCH!! ”
His hands had hit something hard. Hard like metal. Or more accurately, like-
“A helmet? And goodness, is that a bundle of clothes in there?” Excited, he started unravelling the bundle. “Oh, I feel so blessed! I can at least reach Marinette’s place now and-”
His voice trailed off as he noticed the clothes in the bundle.
“Guess somehow my reputation is going to be at stake today,” he sighed, putting the clothes on and desperately ignoring the mad cackling in the background.
With the day nearly coming to an end, Marinette didn’t expect any more customers and started putting away the extra pastries from today.
Today’s akuma had been tough, but thanks to her and Chat’s coordination, the day had been saved. She had felt bad for leaving her parents all alone during the peak time of the bakery, and to make up for that, Marinette was manning the counter for the night while her parents watched a movie together upstairs.
She had been taking out the pastries from the front display when the bakery bell chimed. Putting on her best smile, she pulled the tray out and straightened to greet the rare late-night customer, “Welcome to Tom and Sabine Boula-”
Okay. This customer was a bit too rare.
Their clothing was, in very simple and gentle words , awkward . Red sweat-shirt with a football print in the front and half of its right sleeve torn off. Add to that faded blue denims that were ripped in too many places. Black helmet on their head, with the screen splintered , just so that a part of their green sunglasses was visible.
Had that been all, Marinette would have assumed that said customer had been involved in some freak accident ( or murder? WHO KNOWS??) .
But there was one thing, just one damned thing that made the fashion designer in her want to puke, scream and stab the person with a sewing needle until some fashion sense was knocked into them.
Taking a deep breath, Marinette repeated the mantra her Papa had taught her for the most obnoxious customers.
The customer knows best. Be polite to them as much as possible .
…
…
…
“Uhm, kind sir or ma’am, may I know why you are wearing…. Uhm that?” she asked in a terse voice.
“Sir. And well, trust me, I am not out to murder fashion, I swear, Purrincess.”
Marinette blinked once, then twice, and the plate fell from her hands. The no-longer-strange stranger caught it in time, saving the pastries.
“Ch-ch-ch-Chat Noir?!” she squeaked, pointing a shaking finger at the boy, who merely shrugged.
“The one and only, and HEY NO FLYING ROLLING PINS, PUT THAT DOWN!”
“Then tell me,” a murderous glint came in the baker girl’s eyes, making the boy gulp, “ Why? For the sake of Gabriel Agreste’s butt . Are YOU wearing. A Banana Leaf skirt . Over jeans??!!”
“Gab-Gabriel Agreste’s WHAT??!!” the hero squeaked.
“THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT!! WHY DID YOU JUST DOWNRIGHT SHAME FASHION LIKE THAT?? HOW CAN YOU FREAKING WALK IN THE DAMN CITY OF FASHION WEARING THAT??!!”
“Hey!! FYI, that akuma decided to attack when I was in the shower! And then this stupid kwami of mine, COME OUT, DON’T YOU DARE HIDE YOU GLUTTON! ” a frustrated Cha-no, Banana-Skirt-Noir fished out a cackling kwami from one of the jeans pockets, before continuing, “He decided to detransform me two blocks away! On a rooftop! Had I not jumped into a trashcan, damn my identity, firstly my modesty would have been highly compromised!”
The girl looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth forming a small “o” as the hero continued his rant, “I found this,” he gestured to his attire, “this, whatever this is, in the trash can. Turns out, the jeans are way too ripped up here!” He pointed above his knees, and Marinette blushed, letting out a squeak.
“Now tell me, should I care for my modesty, or roam around Paris in-in, ugh, without any covering over here” another squeak from the girl, but the ranting disguised hero didn’t care, “just for the sake of saving fashion and Gabriel Agreste’s butt??! ”
“I-I-me-you-Agreste-fashion-butt,” the girl started stammering and muttering incomprehensible statements as Banana Skirt Noir tried to calm himself down and Plagg’s cackling definitely wasn’t helping anyone’s case!!
….
….
…
“Chat Noir?” The boy in question turned to the source of the voice, immediately blushing on seeing the Dupain-Chengs staring at the teens with amused smiles on their faces
“How about you go upstairs, take a shower and get some of Marinette’s designed outfits while we get that little being of yours some food and try to fix our clearly frazzled daughter?” Sabine said, smiling.
Next time he saw Hawk Moth, Chat Noir was surely going to yeet that Grandpa Butt-erfly across France.