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The situation had been building up for months.
And frankly, the tension was becoming intolerable.
One the one hand, subtle yet polite flirtation and suggested innuendo. On the other, overt acts verging on extreme foolhardiness to gain her attention, risk-taking for the sake of praise.
It didn’t help that the two sets of actions frequently made all of their jobs as protectors of Paris that much more difficult. So she was going to settle this once and for all.
For once, Papillion hadn’t sent out an akuma, and Mayura hadn’t unleashed any new senti-monsters, so the afternoon's patrol of the city had gone quickly and mostly quietly. Now, standing on the wide rooftop that enclosed the courtyard of the Françoise Dupont Collège, the darling of Paris, it’s savior on multitudinous occasions, the heroine known as Ladybug stood, arms crossed, silently regarding her two fellow costumed vigilantes, Chat Noir and Queen Bee.
“We have a problem”, Ladybug announced without preamble. “Both of your behaviors are distracting during a mission, making it harder to capture villains created by Papillion and his akumas, because I can’t focus on the objective while you two are busy trying to impress me. Or seduce me.”
The two blonde heroes watched as Ladybug paced three steps back and forth in front of them while she explained the situation in detail, both of them appreciating and distracted by the lithe figure in the skin-tight scarlet costume, for the same reason.
Because both Chat Noir and Queen Bee were absolutely head over heels in love with the blue-nette leader of their little scooby gang.
“Are listening to me, or are both of you staring at my butt again?!”, Ladybug demanded, snapping Chat and Bee out of their respective distractedly romantic reveries.
Hand on the back of his neck, Chat glanced away nervously, lengthened canine teeth exposed in an embarrassed grin.
Queen Bee stood there, hands clasped behind her back, head bowed, looking at the gravel rooftop, a fierce blush climbing up from her collar to her hairline.
“Honestly!”, Ladybug exclaimed, glaring at the costumed pair, thoroughly annoyed. “The way you two act around me is getting embarrassing. It’s like you're competing over who is going to date me!”
The guilty glances, looking anywhere but at the subject of their matching infatuations, or at each other, confirmed Ladybug’s suspicions. Her rising, teeth-clenched, hands-in-her-hair scream of frustration startled both of them.
“Fine!”, Ladybug barked. “I had a feeling that was the case. So I came prepared! Stick out your arms!”
Chat glanced at Bee hesitantly. The look in her eyes matched his apprehension. The both extended their right arms, expecting a well-earned literal slap on the wrist.
Ladybug merely glared at them. “Bee, switch arms”, she instructed dispassionately.
Queen Bee complied, lifting her left arm.
It was over in a heartbeat, the police grade hand-cuffs ratcheting into place on their wrists, locking them together with links of tempered and hardened chrome-vanadium steel.
Ladybug set the double lock feature on the bracelets so they wouldn’t close any further, then glared at Chat Noir.
“You will not, for any reason or under any circumstances use your Cataclysm on the hand-cuffs. Do I make myself clear?” Ladybug’s tone left no room for misinterpretation or doubt.
The mischievous black-leather clad hero meekly bobbed his head affirmative. “As crystal, Milady.”
A blue-eyed gaze transfixed the gold and sable clad thrill-seeker, freezing her in place. “You will not, under any circumstances or for any reason, use your Venom power on Chat Noir to escape the restraints. Do you understand?”
Queen Bee's long blonde ponytail bobbed as she nodded her head, silent.
Ladybug stepped back, holding up a set of tiny gleaming silver keys.
“I’ll be waiting on the observation deck of Tour Montparnasse”, Ladybug explained. “First person there gets to buy me ice cream.”
Three running steps, a flick of her wrist to throw the yo-yo in a practiced cast, and Ladybug launched herself into a long looping swing, heading in the rough direction of the notable Paris landmark.
“Well, shit”, Queen Bee quietly summarised their predicament.
Chat Noir nodded. “Eloquently expressed.”
An unattractive frown creased the sun-kissed features of Queen Bee, tugging Chat Noir’s arm, testing the restraints. “This is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, chew-toy!”
“I could have swarm it was your fault this time. You never bee-hive around Ladybug", Chat quipped.
Queen Bee stared at her rival, open-mouthed in astonishment. “Did…did you just make a bee pun?”
“Why? Did it sting a bit, honey?”, Chat grinned, insufferably pleased with his own wit.
“I’m gonna strangle you with your own tail", Bee promised darkly, scowling.
“Well, while you’re droning on, I’ve been thinking about how to get off this roof”, Chat pointed out smugly.
“Chat!”, Queen Bee snapped. “Less punning, more running! How do we get down so I can lose a hundred pounds of dead weight?!”
The ebony-clad young man reached for the back of his belt, arm jerking short, yanking Queen Bee off balance, stumbling into the hapless Chat, toppling both of them onto the roof surface.
“Ow…”, groaned Chat, from the bottom of the tangle.
“Brilliant…”, the slender young woman atop the cat-themed hero deadpanned. “I think you managed to sprain my wrist.”
Chat chuckled nervously. “Yeah…sorry about that…”
It took several tries for both of them to get up without bumping heads or yanking on the other's arm, finally doing something resembling a synchronised push-up, then standing, Chat retrieving his Cat Staff baton with his left hand this time.
“Now what?”, Queen Bee demanded.
By way of reply, Chat led Bee to the edge of the school roof, pointing at the rooftop patio of the residence above a very popular neighborhood patisserie.
“What—?” Bee was terribly confused.
“A baker is sure to have some oil or shortening on hand", Chat grinned, pointing with the Cat Staff.
“There is no way I’m doing a Grand Jeté across a street with you holding me back!”, Bee protested, pulling back from the edge.
“No worries, no worries", Chat smugged, making patting motions to calm his unwilling partner. “I’ll extend my staff, and we flying fox over using the hand-cuffs. Easy-peasy.”
Queen Bee stared at the cat-themed hero for a long, silent moment.
“You're an idiot", she finally said.
“Got a better idea?”
“”Ugh!”, Queen Bee huffed, looking long-suffering askance at the sky. “Fine. But if it goes wrong, I get to say ‘I told you so!’”
Chat snapped his staff out to the required distance, passing the near end under the hand-cuff chain as the mismatched pair perched on the edge of the school roof, resting the butt on the short parapet. “Ready?”, he grinned.
“No—waaaagh!!”, Queen Bee screeched as Chat launched himself off the roof edge, dragging her with him, the hardened chain slamming down over the elongated Cat Staff, jerking her arm in its socket painfully, trying to support her weight with both arms as the narrow metal of the hardened steel bracelet cut cruelly into her wrist, even through the near invulnerable material of her costume, the chain shrieking, shedding sparks as it slid the length of the narrow metal shaft.
The verdigris-blackened copper-sheet metal roof below the wrought iron railing of the building opposite was coming towards them awfully fast…
With no practical way to brake, random flailing prior to a vain attempt to brace for impact was all they could do. It was almost not completely unsuccessful.
Dangling from opposite wrists, clinging desperately to the minimal wrought iron railing, the pair took a moment to assess their condition prior to scrambling over the railing onto the rooftop patio itself. The only way things could get worse was if their abrupt stop jarred the Cat Staff loose from the far end.
A sudden lurching short drop as the Cat Staff rattled loosely between them with a distinctly un-musical clanging, the free end rebounding, whipping up to snap both of them soundly.
Tender parts of her anatomy stinging intolerably, Queen Bee glared at Chat who hung beside her. “I hate you so much right now…”
“Climb now, homicide later", Chat groaned.
Of course the Cat Staff dropped to street level as Chat fumbled with his feet trying to retrieve it. Hopefully it wouldn’t be run over by street traffic too many times before he could collect it. And of course climbing onto the roof was complicated by both of them moving at cross purposes.
“A casual acquaintance of mine lives here", Chat offered by way of explanation at Bee's expression of honest if annoyed curiosity.
While trying to decide if the rooftop oasis was kitschy or creatively eclectic, Queen Bee was once again abruptly jerked off balance by Chat kneeling to tap on the skylight cum trapdoor access to the room below.
Sounds of someone moving below, then the hatch popped up, a familiar and unwelcome face framed in the yawning gap.
“DuPain-Cheng?!”, Queen Bee yelped, stepping back, yanking on Chat's arm.
“Awp!!”, Chat explained.
“ACK!!”, the startled schoolgirl replied, flailing in utter lack of coordination, stepping backward onto support that wasn't there, plummeting out of sight to land with an audible thud on something hopefully cushioned below.
Two blonde heads were framed by the rim of the skylight as Marinette glared up at both of them.
“A-heh-heh", Chat chuckled in weak apology, waving with his right hand, fingers waggling, still handcuffed to Queen Bee’s left wrist.
Climbing down into Marinette's room was as much of a disaster as attaining the roof had been, to much the same effect, resulting in a tangled heap of three bodies on the bed, this time with Chat uppermost.
Outside, tires screeching impotently just before the sound of metal colliding and crumpling, glass shattering.
“Would it be possible to get off me?”, Marinette gasped from the bottom of the impromptu puppy pile.
Chat Noir moved carefully, only unintentionally elbowing Bee in the breast once, and she in turn only accidentally bumped heads with Marinette twice.
Two headache tablets later, Marinette DuPain-Cheng glared at her not entirely unwelcome unannounced guests, legs crossed under herself as she perched on her red office chair. Queen Bee seemed to be distracted by the small tastefully understated fangirl shrine to teen male model Adrien Agreste that Chat was doing his level best to pretend didn’t exist, then two costumed adventurers sitting on the edge of her black and white striped chaise lounge.
“So, umm, why are you here?”, Marinette inquired.
Queen Bee lifted their arms, displaying the reason for the visit. “We need lubricant.”
Marinette fell out of her chair, limbs flailing.
“Geez, Bee!”, Chat Noir blurted out, blushing beneath his mask. “Phrasing!”
“What?!”
Getting up off the floor from where she’d dropped her jaw, Marinette facepalmed, groaning. “C'mon. This should only get me grounded for a month…”
Marinette led the two teen hero’s down through the trapdoor from her room to the living room and kitchen, her mother standing there in mute judgement as Marinette rummaged through the cupboards and refrigerator for oil or shortening.
“Try the bakery pantry", Madame DuPain-Cheng offered, expressionless.
“Thanks, mom", Marinette nodded, leading her guests down to the ground floor and the bakery kitchen where her father was punching down dough for the mornings order of buns.
“Oil or shortening?”, Marinette asked her father while he worked.
Barrel chested Tom DuPain nodded at the commercial refrigerator. “There’s some lard. Don’t take too much, I’m making mince tarts tomorrow and shortening makes the crusts too heavy. Oh, and when it warms up it stinks”, he replied offhand. “Sounded like a bad accident a couple of minutes ago.”
All three teens blushed.
Moments later, Marinette had unlocked the front door to the patisserie, shoving Chat and Queen Bee firmly out onto the street, shutting it firmly behind them.
“That went better than expected”, Chat deadpanned.
Queen Bee was already frantically applying the slippery gunk to both their wrists, mortified she could be seen like this in public, tugging in vain to escape the confining restraints, merely screaming at the offending cold metal when her efforts failed.
Leading the struggling Queen Bee over to where his Cat Staff had landed in the street, Chat Noir offered embarrassed apology to the two drivers who immediately stopped trying to blame each other for the collision, and instead took several selfies with the two heroes for posterity, knowing their stories would net either free drinks or a decent payday.
Glaring at her unwelcome companion, Queen Bee huffed. “Any other brilliant ideas, litter brain?”
A gleam in his eye, Chat smirked at the pony-tailed blonde heroine, tipping his head at a parked green Vespa. “Actually, yeah. How are you at driving a scooter?”
*-*-*
Wind whipping her ponytail in Chat Noir’s face, his right arm wrapped around her belly as he rode pillion behind her, Queen Bee twisted the throttle, sending them rattling and buzzing through Paris rush hour traffic toward their destination.
“This has got to be your worst plan ever!", Queen Bee screamed to be heard over the traffic. “Left! Lane change left!!”, she ordered at volume as he helped her steer through the crowded streets.
*-*-*
“What do you mean, ‘Closed for the night’?”, Queen Bee gaped at the Tour Montparnasse security guard.
“Exactly what I said. Closed for the night. Come back tomorrow for your cosplay if it’s so important”, the uniformed man said, unconcerned.
Queen Bee stung him with her Venom, relieving him of his keys, unlocking the doors and letting both of them into the building, tossing the keyring back to the prone unconscious guard.
“Bee!”, Chat protested, scandalized. “Ladybug said you couldn’t use your Venom!”
Ice blue eyes glared at emerald green. “No, she specifically said I couldn’t use my Venom on you", Bee grinned hastily. “Let’s go, idiot.”
“That means you’ve only got five minutes before you power out and change back into…whoever you are", Chat exclaimed.
Hands on her hips, his right hand on the curve of her left hip, Queen Bee pouted at her now partner in crime. “Then you’d better get us to the roof as fast as you can!”
“Express elevator", Chat grumbled.
Which was, as expected, locked down for the night. Chat groaned in frustration.
Queen Bee shrugged. “Cataclysm the lock", she suggested.
Running out of time and options, Chat complied. “This is such a bad idea", he muttered. “Cataclysm.”
The lock crumbled to dust at his touch, the elevator doors pinging open an eternity later. The ride up was a leg-twitching, foot tapping interminable wait.
Dual groans of doomed resignation as the elevator stopped and opened five floors short of their destination.
“Stairs!”, Queen Bee suggested, the artificially conjoined pair running for the fire door, crashing against the push bar.
Two floors short of their goal, Queen Bee timed out.
A flaring flash or rippling golden energy. “Don’t look!”, blonde heiress Chloé Bourgeois commanded.
Thirty seconds later an answering green flash.
“I told you this was a bad idea”, Adrien Agreste said calmly, staring pointedly at the wall.
“She’s gonna kill us…”, Chloé lamented.
“I didn’t know you were…umm…into girls…”, Adrien offered apologetically.
“Yeah, well, six months ago, I didn’t know either.”
“What now?”
“We’re screwed either way”, Chloé nodded. “Facing a mad Ladybug is a quicker death than being exposed by the press.”
“True”, Adrien agreed. “I’d rather face a disappointed Ladybug than my Father.”
The door to the rooftop swung open, Ladybug turning, smiling smugly, eyes closed. “Lets see who’s buying me ice—”
Silence.
The sigh was unexpected. The facepalm wasn’t.
“I should have known…”
Adrien laughed, embarrassed, right hand on the back of his neck, chagrined.
Chloé was also facepalming.
“Wait!”, Ladybug exclaimed. “Chloé?! What—?!”
A long moment as the situation and circumstances worked through realization.
“Well, I hope you two idiots have a long, happy relationship, because I lost the keys!", Ladybug grumbled.
Tiny silver keys jingled from Chloé’s fingertips.
“Chloé!!”, Ladybug exclaimed.
“Where did—? Ohhhhh…”, the penny dropped for Adrien as realization dawned on him.
Ladybug plucked the keys out of Chloé’s hand, releasing both of them.
A flash of red energy.
“Fine. You're both buying me ice cream.”
“You’re not mad at us?”, Chloé gasped.
“Livid.”
“And now…?”, Adrien inquired, sheepish.
“Now, ice cream”, Marinette nodded. “We’ll talk dating and schedules tomorrow. And some goddamned ground rules!”