Archive of Our Own ^beta

Her phone woke her in the morning, the buzzing unstopping. She checked it blearily, hearing Tikki’s quiet question and batting the sound away.

“What’s going on?” She mumbled to herself, opening it to texts from Alya, all in capital letters.

THE NEWS IS SAYING ITS SOULMATES, the most recent screamed up at her, and then as she read, GIRL, MY SOULMATE IS NINO!!!!!!

She blinked at that, and then scrolled up to the previous messages, until she reached a wall of text links. She clicked one at random, to find an article saying, “Names Appear Overnight, With Little Explanation to be Found!”

She backed out of it, clicked the next with bewilderment.

“No Claim to Origin of Name Phenomenon.” Next.

“Jagged Stone Name Appearance! Could “P” Be Penny Rolling?” Next.

“‘Soulmate’ Sites Pop Up as Speculation on Names Reaches Boiling Point.” 

She stared, uncomprehending. Tikki flew in front of her, looking at the phone screen. 

“Oh, Marinette, wow!” Tikki buzzed around her head. “This means you’re a true Ladybug!”

“What?” Her own voice was strangled, a squeaky gasp that barely made it out. She dropped her phone back to the pillow and sat up, holding her hand out and letting Tikki alight on her palm. “What do you mean?”

“Some people are just better suited for Miraculous,” or Tikki told her, beaming, “and some people are better suited for specific Miraculous- but sometimes, there are perfect matches- and they always affect the world somehow! I’ve never seen anything like this happen, and nothing on such a worldwide scale. No matter what you think, you’re a perfect Ladybug!” The Kwami latched herself around Marinette’s neck, nuzzling in for a hug. Marinette blinked, and then reopened her phone.

She searched ‘name phenomenon’ and clicked the first result.

“Since the early hours of this morning, reports from every populace on Earth are claiming that tattooed names have showed up on people’s skin with no identified source or cause- and leading experts are baffled as to how, or perhaps more interestingly, why.”

“Through the research and early study of surveys that have been started online, the names seem to match up people up through romantic and platonic compatibility- in a poll of adults ages 17-45, almost 62% of the names were found to be people the surveyed reported to be either already in a relationship with them, close friends, or other positions in their life where they expected to, or would not mind becoming romantically or platonically involved with the name recipient. Online registries have already begun taking off, reporting that these names are an indication of your ‘soulmate’.”

There was more, but Marinette closed her phone again. Numbly, she stumbled out of her bed, down the ladder to where her mirror was, before taking off her pajamas, looking for-

She twisted, searching. Nothing on her chest or stomach, her arms were clear, and her legs didn’t have anything either, but she finally saw, in the mirror- the trailing words, stretching across her upper back, from the edge of one shoulder blade to the next.

Damian Wayne.

She stretched her arms back, to feel the words, almost expecting it to feel different, but it was just smooth. Her fingers traced as clumsily over the words as she could in the mirror, and she almost didn’t hear the telltale sounds of her father’s steps, approaching the loft. She wrestled her shirt back on as he knocked on the hatch. 

“Mari?” His voice was muted through the wood. “Mari, are you up?”

“Yes, Papa,” She shouted, face turning bright red and she scrambled for the trapdoor to see him. “Good morning.”

He looked up at her, with her rumpled shirt and her red face and he sighed , a fond smile on his face. “I bet you’ve heard all about it by now, then. Why don’t you come on down for breakfast and we’ll see what we can figure out?”

She nodded, gathering herself. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

He shut the door and Marinette relaxed, looking back at her bed to see Tikki, just peeking her head above the covers. “He didn’t see me,” she said brightly. “So, do you know who it is?”

Marinette covered her face, trying desperately not to let the blush peek out. She wasn’t even sure why she was blushing! It was just a name, and yet, she wasn’t sure she wanted to think about it. Tikki had said not even Chat Noir could know who she was, and he was her partner! She didn’t even know any Damians, or any Waynes, and if she was going to be Ladybug, should she really seek them out, if she’d have to hide part of herself from them?

“No,” she said instead of letting that cloud of worries deluge out of her mouth. “No, I don’t know who he is.”

And I don’t want to, her brain finished for her. I don’t want to find out yet.

She got dressed instead of confronting that thought, treating her choice of shirt as if it were the only thing that mattered in her mind, drowning out the occasional buzz of her phone from Alya, and then grabbing it and turning it to silent as she slipped it in her pocket.

And then she turned back to Tikki. “Will my purse work again?”

“Just make sure you sneak me some cookies,” Tikki teased, and as small as it was, and as much as her life had turned into some ridiculous fantastical dream, it made Marinette feel a bit better to have the Kwami of creation on her side, smiling and teasing her.

*****

Damian woke up to the feeling of being watched. It was not unfamiliar, given both how he had been raised with his mother and also the unfortunate abilities trained into the group his father had inadvertently and advertently tethered together. The unfamiliar part, even now, was that in this room, with this particular presence, Damian had felt safe enough that he hadn’t woken up alarmed and ready to fight. 

“Is there a reason you chose to stand and watch me sleep, or are you just here for the thrill of my company this morning,” He let himself grumble. Dick leaned over him with a grin and poked his forehead. Damian swatted his hand away, and never one to censor his thoughts, said, “Are you stupider this morning or simply resisting the stupidity less?”

“You’ll never guess what happened last night.” Dick said, as if that answered any of his questions. 

“You are correct,” Damian pushed him back further, sitting up and getting out of bed. “I’m not guessing.”

He made it halfway out of his room before Dick stopped making affronted noises and followed. “The whole world woke up with tattoos. Bruce’s already heading to confer with the League on why or how this happened.”

The answer actually threw Damian. “Tattoos?” He looked down at his hands, checking the exposed skin and seeing nothing. 

“Names.” Dick said, hand idly moving to the neck of his shirt, before dropping. “Bruce and I both have one, at least, and I figured I should probably warn you so you wouldn’t have to figure out what was happening on your own.”

It was a fair bet to guess that whatever name Grayson had, it was hiding near his collarbone, Damian thought. “And what do we know already?”

“The news is running stories on it like it’s a matching system for dating,” Dick grimaced. “Which, to be fair, it kind of seems like it is.”

“Stop rubbing it, it’s a dead giveaway,” Damian finally said, rolling his eyes. “I couldn't care less about what it is or why it happened until we figure out how someone managed it, or what their intentions are.”

He refused to acknowledge the sudden bright question in his mind of where or what the name on his skin somewhere was. It was much more concerning that some sort of magic had affected the whole world, without any immediate cause to be found. 

“You sound just like Bruce,” Dick rolled his eyes in return, stepping around him and out of the room. “Well, you can rest easy at least for now. We’re pretty sure there's nothing wrong with the tattoos themselves, it’s just how they showed up that’s stumping everyone.”

“I’ll evaluate the situation myself, thanks,” Damian said wryly, and then he closed the door, leaving Dick out in the hall, making more affronted noises.

He told himself it was reasonable to need to see what had happened to him, and not just unbridled curiosity that had him changing immediately, eyes scanning his mirror for anything out of place. It wasn’t difficult to spot- the second he’d lifted his shirt he could see the delicate black lines scrawling across the left side of his ribs, just below his heart. 

Marinette Regina Dupain-Cheng.

He memorized it quickly and covered it up the second he could force himself to, the name echoing in his mind. Marinette Regina Dupain-Cheng. Marinette.

He’d wait to hear what Father discovered before he did anything about it. For the moment, knowing the name that had been stuck to his skin was enough to soothe the uncertainties this situation had forced upon him.

*****

Marinette groaned as her parent’s muffled whispers reached her. “Maman, Papa? What’s for breakfast?”

“Come here, Baobei,” Maman called, and Marinette gave her a kiss on the cheek as she came into the kitchen. “We wanted to let you sleep in a bit longer, but it’s just truly bewildering, isn’t it?”

Of course, her parents had been up since five, to start the bake and open the storefront. They’d known for hours now, and it had apparently lessened the shock a bit.

“I just don’t get it,” Marinette said, honestly, her mind swimming. “It has to be magic, right?”

She didn’t want to lie to them. But she couldn’t tell them she was Ladybug and that it was her fault! If she watched her words, she wouldn’t have to be dishonest… technically.

“Nadja posited that it was Ladybug in her morning show,” Papa said, and Marinette shrunk further into her seat.

“I don’t particularly care why right now,” Maman gave Marinette an affectionate kiss on her forehead as she set a plate down in front of her, and Marinette couldn’t help but lean into the gesture. “We wanted to be the first to let you know, but I suppose your friends must have texted you.”

“It was Alya,” Marinette admitted, fingers tearing nervously into a croissant. 

“We want you to know that nothing’s going to change,” Papa said, and Marinette felt her heart jump.

“Why would they?” She asked, aware of how her voice rose higher. “What’s gonna change?”

“Nothing!” Maman assured her, smacking Papa on the shoulder. “Your father said it oddly, but we really do mean that. Whatever the world decides to do with whatever knowledge this is, we want you to know that we have your back. We’ve already seen some of the arguments that have started over whether people should show their names or hide them, or give them out-“

“I had to kick out that couple at seven,” Papa grumbled, crossing his arms. 

“-but we wanted you to be able to make your own decision, and to know that we’d stick by you.” Maman finished.

It made sense, and the sweetness of her parents made her tear up, her fingers finally pausing in their annihilation of the croissant. “I don’t know if I want to do anything about the name right now. Alya seems so excited, but it’s just so sudden and new-“

“Then you wait, and you make your decision when you feel comfortable,” Papa said softly, grabbing her hand, letting her drum her fingers nervously against the inside of his palm. “Nobody is going to make you feel uncomfortable, whether they want to know about the name or whether they’re the person with that name. We love you, honey.”

“I love you too,” She smiled gratefully at them. “I’ll take my time with it, and I’ll let you know when I decide.” 

She felt a soft, comforting nudge against her side, and rested her hand lightly on her purse, as if trying to say the same to Tikki.

wait actually no,,,

but not today!! you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on for you!!!

Her fingers hovered, hesitant but she wrote what she wanted with only a little bit of guilt over being so closed off. 

Mari:

Actually, I’m not sure I want to share my name.

NOT RIGHT NOW AT LEAST

It’s just so weird and unexpected right?? I want to figure out how I feel about it before I make any decisions 

She bit her lip again, watching as Alya typed and then stopped, and then started again.

Alya:

That’s cool girl, as long as can talk to you about mine!! I barely even know Nino, I just met him!!

Marinette grinned in response to that, checking her other unopened messages, most from her classmates, and found Nino’s immediately. She’d have to talk to him after Alya.

Mari:

Nino was one of my best friends!

She hits send before she realizes how that sounds.

Alya:

WAS????? 

Alya’s reply makes her laugh again, but she’s already typing. 

Mari:

ITS NOT BAD!!! We just got moved to different classes the last two years, so we drifted apart a bit

Im sure you’ll get to know him soon!!

She switched back to Nino’s messages, a smirk on her face.

Nino:

Mari you’ve seen the news right

The soulmate stuff? I need your help

I have the new girls name. Alya Cesaire??

Mari wake up

Mariiiiiiii

Answer me what do I doooooooo

Mari:

You talk to her silly!!!!

She stifled giggles at his immediate answer.

Nino:

NOOOOOOOO

You sat with her yesterday right? What’s she like?

Marinette almost typed out a short description of Alya’s fierceness and kindness, but then she had an idea. With a few clicks, she copied Alya’s number and sent it to Nino, before doing the same thing and sending Nino’s to Alya. Then she sent them each a little winking face and went to check on her other classmates.

Rose and Juleka had both asked her what she thought, but neither had told her their name, and Marinette just sent an agreeing text to each of them, saying that she wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this either, and that she was going to wait before deciding anything about the name. Ivan had sent her a thankful note that she almost squealed over when he revealed that Mylene had his name and he had hers, though after the situation with Stoneheart and how it resolved she wasn’t surprised. It was when she reached Alix’s text that she had to stop and re-read the message.

Alix:

Marinette you’re good with problems 

What if I hypothetically have two names

And then half an hour later:

Marinette are you awake yet

Nope ok

And then ten minutes ago, which would have come in as she texted Alya:

Alix:

How bout now

Mari:

I’m up

Marinette sent that text immediately, and then started typing more.

Mari:

What do you mean two names??

She moved from messaging to the internet, where she searched ‘two names’, and then ‘two names name tattoo’, and then ‘name phenomenon two names on skin’.

And found to her surprise a list of forums detailing other people dealing with this, too. By the time she’d finished the first post about a man who’d found he had two names and one was his girlfriend and the other his girlfriend’s ex boyfriend, Alix responded.

Alix:

Like. I’ve got two names not one and I don’t know what to do

Marinette scrolled through the reply to the post, where the original poster had already responded again and said he’d talked to his girlfriend, who also had both names, and apparently lingering feelings for the ex, and then they’d called the ex together and he had booked a flight for that day to come talk with them in person and figure it out. 

Mari:

It doesn’t seem like a bad thing

I searched it up and there are stories and people online already talking about it

You’re not the only one, and it seems likely that the two people you have might also have each other as names!!

She based that conclusion off of the next two responses, where someone had detailed how they’d ended up having both of their roommates names and after revealing it, they’d all confessed that they liked each other. The person after that wrote that they had two names but was already married to someone entirely different, and how they’d chosen not to seek out their name because they were already happy with their spouse.

Alix finally texted back.

Alix:

That’s… good

I guess I just got scared because I hadn’t heard of anyone else who had this

And I thought I might have to choose

Mari:

Some people are choosing to ignore the names entirely, Alix

Marinette forced down her own insecurities with that one. 

Mari:

You don’t have to choose between them, and you might not have to choose either of them anyway! And whatever you do I’m here for you and I’ll support you!

The line was silent for a while, and Marinette checked her other messages. Alya and Nino had been oddly silent since she’d given them each other’s numbers. And no one else from school had texted her yet. She went back to the message boards she’d found, clicking another answer where someone said that they had woken up and they didn’t have a name at all- that they’d searched every inch of themselves and come up blank. The replies to that one ranged from downright mean to very nice messages about the asexual and aromantic communities.

Alix:

Thanks 

It’s umm. My names are both in our class. 

What do I do at school 

Marinette froze at those replies. And then she frowned.

Mari:

You’ll have to talk to them I guess

But it they are who I think they are then I don’t think you’ll need to worry

Just let them know that you’re still unsure of what to do and how to react! They’ll give you the space you need to process, I know it.

Aix didn’t text her back, and neither did anyone else, but Marinette was absolutely certain she didn’t want to meddle in Alix’s name business the way she did with Alya and Nino. And with the only people left being Nathaniel, Chloé, and Sabrina, she put her phone down and opened up a sketchbook, intending to make full use of her day.

*****

Damian was absolutely certain that he’d end up strangling someone.

Whether it would end up being Grayson, whose hand still hovered anxiously over his collarbone as he hovered anxiously over Damian, Brown, who seemed intent on heckling him for his name, or Drake, who wouldn’t stop trying to hypothesize and was driving them all insane with his theories, he wasn’t sure, but he truly felt about three wrong words away from murder.

“And this is when we all stop bothering each other and go to our rooms, or go catch bad guys,” Todd said from the doorway, and Damian couldn’t stop himself from raising one derisive eyebrow. “Whatever sounds more therapeutic to you.”

Todd had been his staunch ally in the past few days, in that while no one seemed to be willing to share the names now branded on their skin, everyone still wanted to discuss them- except for himself and Todd, who had stated from day one that whoever tried to ask him for his name first would be getting shot somewhere non-lethal but very painful.

Father had looked very disappointed in his threat, but had completely backed up his refusal to acknowledge the names. Of course, Father had his name branded very visibly on his hand, stretching from the side of his left wrist and down the edge of his forefinger. Damian had harboured no doubts that the tidy cursive ‘Selina Kyle’ he had seen was directly related to the fact that Catwoman had been at large the past few nights, drawing out her game with Batman with a few meaningless robberies where she would simply break in and then not steal anything. Which would make them simply breaking and entering, but Damian rather thought that she’d not appreciate the downgrade in severity that would bring to her reputation.

“I’ll take the docks tonight,” Damian submitted his claim before standing up, setting aside the sketchbook he’d been working in. 

“Not without one of us you won’t,” Grayson snapped, and Damian suppressed his irritation. He’d only been alive again for two months, and he was tired of the coddling that didn’t truly do anything except annoy him- what did it matter if he took the docks or another section to patrol? He was as likely to be injured on his own as he was with Dick, or, god forbid, one of the others watching his back, and he wasn’t stupid enough to not call them in if he needed assistance. The time frame for the overprotective streak that his death seemed to evoke in them was fast coming to an end, but there wasn’t an end in sight from how they acted.

“I’ll go with,” Todd shrugged, and Damian watched as Grayson bristled. “Should be pretty quiet after those busts yesterday.”

“Let’s just go,” Damian muttered, the slight anticipation of going out and doing something immediately quashed by the thought that they were just babysitting him. He suited up in record time, waiting for Todd to catch up.

“Did you steal the keys?” He found himself asking as Todd drove one of the Batmobiles to a squealing halt in front of him.

“I have copies,” Todd bragged. “Haven’t had to steal the keys since I was shorter than you.”

Which didn’t warrant the dignity of a comeback, but Damian obliged anyway. “You’re deluding yourself again. I caught you swiping them two days ago.”

“Fuck, how’d you see that?” Todd complained as Damian got in. “Swear I checked to make sure no one was home.”

“I was bluffing, but thanks for confessing anyway.” Damian managed to keep a straight face until the moment Todd punched him, but after that he was snickering to himself and punching back. The easy camaraderie was new on him, but it settled in his chest softly. They all seemed to be- so affected by him dying. He wondered why they hadn’t seemed to care when he was alive the first time.

And of course, he reminded himself again that he had taken the idea of his father for granted, up until the moment he was gone. 

“About the names,” Todd said finally, splitting the silence that had fallen over them. “I’m not exactly chasing down anyone based on a scribble that randomly appeared on my body.”

“Seems more Drake’s way,” Damian sniffed.

“Exactly,” Todd said, grip relaxing against the steering wheel. “Replacement’s just happy to believe someone out there wants him.”

“Something you and I have no need of, clearly,” he drawled sarcastically, “Seeing as how we both know no one would ever want you.”

He did get punched again, but he considered it worth it.

Even if he was being babysat.

He could do without the name on his chest, when the price for it was the life he lived with his father and… siblings.

*****

It wasn’t until the next week that Damian realized that he might care, just a bit more than he thought, about the name. He was in class, sitting through another boring lecture on strictly American history that was not only wrong but blatantly racist, and as he lazily corralled his thoughts to decide whether he should raise his hand and correct Mr. Bishop again he saw the girl two seats in front of him stiffen. It was the only warning he got before she screamed, the sound tortured and ear-splitting, and he was the first one by her side to see what happened.

There was no blood, she wasn't injured, but she clutched her arm tightly, still screaming, and he froze as he saw the black spidery writing of a name mark, the color seeping out and almost withering until all that remained of the dark writing was a slight shining like scar tissue, immortalizing the name. 

He was still holding her, he realized, one arm steadying her as she sobbed, and clutched her arm, and the faces of his classmates were wide and terrified. He glanced at the teacher and then helped her up, grabbing her stuff and taking her to the door.

“I’ll escort her to the offices,” he said, and he didn’t realize until they were halfway down the hall that his hand that wasn’t helping her stand up straight was resting protectively over the name on his chest. He ripped it away and continued down, mind swirling and the classmate still openly weeping. 

“Are you hurt?” He said, for lack of anything else.

She shook her head, the cries dipping down to sniffling, and he wasn’t sure what to do but he patted her shoulder in a half sure supportive motion. 

“It didn’t hurt,” She whispered past the hiccups in her voice, disbelieving and grieving. “I feel like it should have hurt.”

He couldn’t answer her, the idea making him sick to his stomach. He had died before- he was dead not even two months before the names appeared, and though he had black ink on his ribs, his chest felt too tight at the thought that his name might have appeared on someone else, not black and dark, but in silvery scar tissue.

He left her at the nurses office, and returned to class, to find it empty except for the teacher. 

“I sent everyone else out early,” Mr. Bishop sighed, gathering up his own papers. “There were only twenty minutes left anyway.”

Damian nodded, throat tight. “Thank you.”

He isn’t sure why he says it but he can’t deny the relief at the thought of going straight home after that. So he says thank you, and he gathers his books and bag, and as he moves to leave, Mr. Bishop stops him.

“Thank you, Damian,” He says, hand on his shoulder. Damian struggles not to shrug it off. “For helping Anna. Maybe it doesn’t speak well of me as a teacher, but it took me too long to collect myself, and I’m not sure…” he trailed off, looking shaken.

Damian waited, because as much as he would usually say something dismissive, his teacher seemed ready to fall over.

“Thank you,” he said finally, repeating himself and meeting Damian’s eyes. “I’m glad you were here to help her.”

“It needed to be done.” Damian said, because that really was all he could say.

“But you’re the one who did it,” Mr. Bishop said. “I won’t keep you. Head home.”

Damian did. And when Brown started in about names again that night, he snapped.

“It’s none of your business,” He said viciously as she teased once again that he should share his name. “And if you don’t stop asking, I’m going to run you through non-lethally and leave you pinned to the wall until Alfred can get you.”

“And that’s our cue,” Todd said, watching from the corner. “Steph, knock it off.”

His threats had grown less frequent as he’d actually found himself growing here, and he felt a twinge of regret when he saw her face fall, her guilt at having actually upset him.

“I’ll stop.” She said, voice too soft, sounding almost like Mr. Bishop in his confusion and shock. “Sorry, kiddo. Didn’t realize I was taking it too far.”

Damian took a deep breath, letting the boiling angry heat in his chest lower, stopping himself from spitting out something nasty. “Don’t ask me about it again. Please tell everyone to stop asking.”

He saw Todd’s look of- some mix of pride, surprise, and a warmth that settled his anger the rest of the way. He didn’t want to deal with that, so he nodded to Brown again and walked back to his own room, locking the door before lifting his shirt, staring at the name on his skin.

Still black and fresh and boldly there, vibrant even against his darker skin. He swallowed down nausea at the thought that his own name might not look the same, on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, whoever or wherever she was. 

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed his phone, finding his most secure app and searching for her. Just her last name, just in case, but he finds her very quickly anyway. 

The Dupain-Cheng bakery in Paris is the first result, and most after that are articles about the business, but in the blurb below one of the links he sees the mention of the owners, and their one daughter, Mari-

The blurb cuts off there but its enough. He closes it out, almost guiltily, his hands not shaking but his heart heavy.

Which was good, because once Papa and Maman found out how many night-time Akumas she had to deal with, they’d reached a conclusion that Marinette had never considered, but that had eased her life immeasurably. 

Maman took on the role of Wugui, the newest Turtle. And Papa occasionally moonlighted as Hellhound, using the dog Miraculous. Where before, Marinette and her team had been overworked trying to reach Akumas and fight Hawkmoth in between school and homework and healthy sleeping habits, Maman and Papa had simply hired an extra hand at the bakery and decided that one of them would always be able to help at any moment. With the new support and more sleep (the sleep was absolutely essential, Marinette had found out after the first week of at least seven parent-mandated hours a night) they’d actually stopped feeling as if the world would end with every akuma. Being able to show up in larger numbers, and having more range and versatility was making it so fights that might have taken Ladybug and Ryuko and maybe Chat- if he could make it- almost an hour were easily solved when Hellhound managed to be on scene before Marinette could sneak out of class, corralling the akuma into one area and already having an idea of what they were up against when she arrived to the disaster zone. 

And then, they’d suggested that none of them be allowed to fight two Akumas in a row, with the exception of Marinette, who was required to cleanse every akuma. It was sometimes necessary to call someone in for a specific akuma, but it usually worked out that nobody had to give up more than a few hours a week anymore. 

And now, to let her truly enjoy the first break she would truly have from Paris and Hawkmoth since the attacks had started over three years ago, her Mother was taking on the Ladybug Miraculous and protecting Paris in her stead.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her purse as the voices she’d been half listening to spiked, and she tuned back in as Lila started fake crying.

“Please, Lila!” Mme. Bustier finally swept in. “Listen, Mme.” She urged the woman behind the desk, “There can’t be that many groups of seventeen that try to check in together. Surely you can find us based on that?”

The woman behind the counter smiled thinly, veiled distaste in her tone. “I’m sorry, that is against airline policy. You must have either the correct name under which the reservations are placed, or the confirming account number from when the reservations were placed. If you do not have them, perhaps confer with your group.”

Marinette stepped forward then, from where she’d been watching. Lila’s eyes narrowed. “Mme. Bustier, you gave me the dossier packets, remember? Perhaps you slipped the papers in there?”

“But why wouldn’t the reservations be under Lila’s name?” Alya asked, wrapping an arm around the still sniffling girl. “She’s the one who won the trip, right Mme.?”

Caline Bustier was nothing if not adept at avoiding conflict. “Let’s check the papers, shall we? That ought to clear it up.”

Whether she meant the tickets or Lila’s distress, Marinette didn’t care. She unzipped her bag and pulled out the folders and the specific group of papers that detailed the reservations, plans, and resources for the trip, which she’d managed to put together with the nice Wayne Enterprises representative, Tim, despite her teacher’s unnecessary input and attempts at flirting with the younger man.

“Here,” she said, and Mme. Bustier opened it and flipped through to the section labeled ‘flights info’.

“This should do,” she said brightly, taking the paper with the confirmation and shoving it towards the poor lady. Marinette checked her name tag and frowned in sympathy for Rebekah.

“It should,” Rebekah sighed, catching Marinette’s eyes and half smiling at their apparent understanding that the two people at the counter were being ridiculous.

“I just don’t know why it wouldn’t work,” Lila whispered loudly to Alya and Rose, throwing Rebekah an uncared about tearful glance.

“I’ll look into it,” Alya consoled her. “It’s just not right that they’d treat you like that with all this hard work you’ve done.”

Marinette was starting to consider her self control truly impressive as she reined in her initial response of dying with laughter as Lila sniffled again. It seemed so- inconsequential, suddenly, Lila’s histrionics, when within the week Marinette would have her torn down from the pedestal she’d raised herself up on for their classmates to worship.

“Here’s the tickets, everyone,” Mme. Bustier fanned around, handing people their tickets and luggage checks. Marinette accepted hers gratefully, hiding the fact that hers and Chloe’s seats were not with everyone else’s. Despite arguing with Tim over it, he had booked her and one person from her class in first, because she was the competition winner. And she’d planned out the rest accordingly, keeping her class grouped together in six rows. Mr. Lacour and Mme. Bustier sat in the first row, with Mylene and Ivan, who would sleep the whole flight, behind them. After that was Sabrina, Lila, and Alya, with Nino and Adrien in the seat after. Ivan, Max, and Alix, and then Nathaniel, Rose and Juleka in the last row.

But of course, Lila immediately started talking as they made their way to the gate. 

“Mme. Bustier?” Lila squeezed past Marinette, narrowly avoiding knocking into her. “I’m not sure if my claustrophobia can handle this middle seat! Surely I could switch with someone else?”

“I’ll take the middle, girl, don’t worry,” Alya chimed in helpfully, and Marinette hid a smile as Lila’s teeth clenched.

“I don’t know,” Lila tried again. “Maybe I could switch with someone like Nino, who doesn’t have a three person row?”

“But Lila,” Adrien said worriedly. Only Marinette and Chloé bothered to see the mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Nino’s in the corner! I think I’d better switch with you, so you can be less crowded but still near the aisle.”

After the indignity of being denied the tickets in the first place, Marinette rather thought that Lila wasn’t having a very good trip so far. “Actually, Lila, I think there’s been a misprint. I’m not sure why, but they gave me a first class ticket! If you need the room for your claustrophobia, I’m sure you’d be better off up there.”

And suddenly Lila’s full attention was back on her, in a way that it hadn’t been for almost a year, since they settled into the uneasy truce over Adrien. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and then she smiled. “Oh, Marinette! I guess this means you’re finally being less mean to me!”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Lila,” Marinette said plainly. She was already pulling out her ticket and holding it out. “I still don’t like you. But I’m not going to let you have a panic attack on a plain because your… claustrophobia kicked in.”

She heard two sudden coughs and smiled coldly at Lila before sending her friends warning glances. Chloé was glaring deeply at her.

“That’s very good of you, Marinette,” Mme. Bustier smiled graciously, her eyes bright and happy, like she thought this meant Marinette was finally coming around to the idea of being a good example. Lila’s smile hardened and she held her ticket out and offered it as she took Marinette’s. 

“Thanks.” She said, eyes icy.

Marinette took the ticket with a tight smile right back, and then moved back to where Adrien and Chloé were. 

“If my parents ever hear that I gave up first class for coach, they’ll kill me,” Chloé pointed out immediately.

“Put in your headphones and sleep?” Marinette shrugged. “Sorry, but I saw the opportunity to get her away from people and I took it.”

“Oh Mme. Bustier!” Chloé raised her voice. “I think there’s a second mistake. I got first class, too.”

The whole class murmured, and Lila’s glare moved to Chloé, new understanding lighting her with fury.

“That certainly is odd,” Mme. Bustier said awkwardly. 

“Since I don’t like Lila and she doesn’t like me either, can I trade with someone?”

“Adrien can come with me!” Lila said immediately. “He’s probably more comfortable up there, anyway.”

“Actually, I was kind of excited to sit with Nino,” Adrien said chirpily. “Maybe Alya?” 

“First class! This is so cool,” Alya said, grabbing Lila’s shoulder. 

“As long as it’s settled,” Mme. Bustier said. “No more changing, alright?”

Marinette exchanged a gleeful glance with Adrien. Sending Lila away from the whole class, while keeping Adrien with Nino, and actually managing to get Chloé out of first class!

She didn’t even regret it when she passed Lila and Alya in the first class seats, while she headed towards their seats. Chloé certainly did, if the way she ran her suitcase into Marinette’s heels was any indication.

But they would have first class on the way home. Marinette was sure of it.

*****

There had been remarkably little that went right, once they landed. Lila had tried to leave her at the airport, but had only succeeded in making them miss the hotel’s shuttle which had made a special trip specifically for their arrival time, and they’d had to wait until the top of the hour for the next one, as Mme. Bustier grew more frazzled, Mr. Lacour more apathetic, and the students far crankier.

When they finally made it to the hotel, Alya had marched Lila to the front and demanded for the reservations in her name, and that had been the ticket debacle all over again. Marinette resolved it the same way, with a quiet word in Mme. Bustier’s ear and the same folder as earlier.

As they marched to the elevators, having been assigned their rooms without much debate- though Marinette was sure that was only because even Lila was too tired to argue- Chloé pulled her aside. 

“So why have you been falling over yourself to stop people from finding that all the plans are in your name?”

“Maximum impact,” Marinette pushed her suitcases forward. “Lila can’t fool these people, but she can still fool the class when the only people arguing with her are random strangers. But when we meet Bruce Wayne in a week-“

That was what the itinerary said, anyway. They’d be there for two weeks, and they’d get to meet Bruce Wayne himself twice- once at the tour of Wayne Enterprises on Saturday, and then again at the gala a week later, two days before they left.

In the meantime, they’d be spending the first three days touring the museums, parks, and gardens of the city, and then three days observing classes at Gotham Academy. Wayne Enterprises would be that next Saturday, and the Sunday after the tour would be a free day. They would have two days of touring at GU,and finally two days to explore the shopping centers and entertainment options in the city, and a half free day and an opera in the evening, before the gala that next day. Their last Sunday would be a free day, and they would leave on Monday, around noon.

She’d like to see Lila even try to mess it up without things falling apart.

“Well,” Marinette trailed off, pensively. “I think it’ll be a little bit harder for her to twist his words around, especially when he’s leading the entire morning tour and eating lunch with us.”

“She’ll be demolished,” Chloé said, half warningly and half admiring.

“I regret that it’s come to this,” Marinette said softly. “But she’s already started holding the others back from their dreams and goals. With graduation a year out-“

“They aren’t your responsibility, Mari,” Chloé lowered her voice dangerously. “You don’t owe them.”

“I know!” She insisted, glaring back. “But I want to, Chloé. And it’s not like it doesn’t solve a huge problem for me. So yeah, I’m going to try to reveal her in a way where, hopefully, no one else gets too hurt. Especially since I can do it here, where she can’t be akumatized and the class might have a week or so to come to grips with it.”

“I just want to make sure you know what your reasons are,” Chloé said softly, and Marinette stopped, looking her in the eyes.

“Chloé, I’m not going to be their friend again. Ever. I wouldn’t be able to trust them. You’ve proved yourself to me in every way that they disappointed me, and in the end I’m much happier having you by my side than all of them. But I won’t let them fall for Lila’s crap anymore. I don’t want her to have that power over them for the rest of their lives. Okay?”

Chloé very distinctly did not sniff, and her eyes were definitely not misty, but she pulled her into a hug. They sat there for a second, before Chloé pulled away.

“The class is leaving us,” she said thickly, surreptitiously wiping where her mascara had started to run. 

“I’ve got it,” Marinette said, steering them to the elevator bank, just catching sight of the last of the class behind closing doors. She sighed, pushing the button.

It didn’t take long, and she pressed the button for seventeen. Luckily, Adrien kept the class waiting until they arrived.

“Alright, this way,” Mme. Bustier beckoned and Marinette almost broke down again, this time from tired giggles.

“Actually, it’ll be to the left, Mme.,” she corrected, and the class looked at her again, confused as to why she knew that. She didn’t answer, but followed as Mme. Bustier turned around with a sigh and led them down the correct hallway. 

“Alright, children,” Mme. Bustier said, gathering them in front of her. “We’re jumping right to it in the morning, so please remember to be up for breakfast downstairs at eight. We’ll be meeting with the chaperones in one of the meeting rooms on the third floor at nine, and we’ll hopefully be on our bus by nine thirty. Marinette?”

Marinette stepped forward. “It’ll be meeting room D, on the third floor. And here are the itineraries for the trip, so you’ll be able to plan what you wear accordingly.”

She unzipped her backpack again, and this time she saw Lila zero in on the folder. She tried not to grin as she handed them each the paper packet.

“If you require us for anything, Mme. Bustier will be on the end here, and I on the other end, there,” Mr. Lacour contributed, pointing roughly to the correct doors. “Goodnight, everybody.”

The whole class scattered to their doors as one, all tired and ready to fall into the hotel beds. Marinette let Chloé open the door of their double, following her in with a yawn.

“I can’t believe you made me fly coach,” Chloé said, dropping her bags and throwing herself onto the first bed. “I’m never doing that again, Mari, it was so cramped, my legs still hurt.”

“Welcome to the life of the average person,” Mari shot back sleepily, pulling out her outfit for the next day and setting it on the end of the bed, and then finding her pajamas and toiletries. “Do you mind if I shower first?”

Chloé didn’t even sit up, just raised a hand and waved it in general acquiescence.

Marinette was tired, yes, but it was that buzzy kind of tired that happened when she stayed up too long, the restless kind of tired that left her tossing and turning on her bed long after they both finally turned the lights off and went to sleep. She finally got back up and crept over to the window, slipping around the curtain so she wouldn’t let in light and bother Chloé. It wasn’t quite a full moon over Gotham, but it would be in a few days. As it was, the moon still lit everything up despite the thin cloud cover, the whole world of unfamiliar cityscape turning hazy and washed out under it.

Then she saw them. Two figures, bounding over the rooftops, the glint on their clothes implying something more than normal fabrics. She smiled, the tenseness leaving her just enough that she figured she should try to get back in bed and fall asleep. She stole one last look out at the skyline, watching as the two figures bounded and leapt over the edge of a building to a shorter one below, dropping out of her sight.

With a sigh, she crept back into bed, softly petting Kaalki and Trixx where they curled up on her pillow. She would feel better tomorrow, after some sleep. 

She’d wanted to wear something that would work for wandering both museums and parks, and she’d finally settled on a rotation of sundresses for the first three days. She had back up clothes for worse weather and emergencies, of course, but between the weather forecast and her own good luck she was sure it would be fine. Today’s museums were the Gotham History Museum and two historical houses they’d be able to visit, one preserved from the American Civil War era, another from the early 1930’s. The 1930’s house had a room dedicated to preserved clothing from the era, and Marinette expected it to be the highlight of her day.

Gotham’s largest park would be their middle stop, and where they’d have lunch. She’d made sure that there’d be a wonderful variety of options in the area.

She pulled on the dress Chloe had thrown at her, thinking about the zipper that still pinched her side a bit from where she’d messed up the smallest section, and the boots she was supposed to pair it with- the ones that she’d gotten right before her feet had grown half a size. They’d stretched enough that they were still wearable- she wouldn’t have kept them otherwise, but she pulled them on grimacing at the thought of their first day of walking tours. 

If she’d taken a little inspiration from the place they’d be visiting, nobody could be all that upset.Unless she ran into Harley Quinn, of course, and Harley Quinn didn’t enjoy her attempt at a fashionable homage. But the chances of that happening, especially since the woman had turned over… well, not quite a new leaf, but since she’d left the Joker and most of the criminal underbelly of Gotham, she’d been seen as a facet of Gotham’s eccentric people, not one of its more terrifying factors.

She followed Chloé into the bathroom, barely putting on any makeup as Chloé preened and fixed her hair, styling a braided crown that still wound back into her normal ponytail.

Chloe’s outfit was simple black skinny jeans with a shirt that Marinette had loosely based around Wonder Woman. While not strictly from Gotham, she interacted enough with Batman that Marinette had let it pass, since Chloe would only allow Mari to dress her up as heroes she’d specifically chosen. She could see that they were supposed to be matching- they were both wearing striking blues and reds, and the sleeves on Chloe’s shirt were a shorter style of the flowing gauzy sleeves on her dress. They looked stunning together in the mirror, and she took a moment to appreciate her work before they actually had to start their day.

They did in fact make it down to breakfast before Lila- but Marinette still felt jittery with some tense feeling, the same way she had last night. The breakfast was large- Marinette could see the way the hotel’s buffet table stretched, but she’d ended up just grabbing toast and jam, with fresh fruit and a bowl of yogurt on the side. Chloé had darted for the pancakes, before dousing them in syrup.

She couldn’t ignore the restlessness creeping back into her mind. Still tired and shaking off the last of their sleep, they finished quickly and then headed back up to their room, almost a full hour before they were supposed to head to the meeting room. 

“I’m changing,” she announced, and Chloé gave her a curious look.

“The dress just doesn’t feel right for the day,” Marinette shrugged in explanation, already opening her suitcase again. “And I definitely forgot to fix the seam that was bothering me.” She could pull out another of the sundresses...

“Fine, but you’d better still pick a Gotham outfit, or I’ll look out of place.” Chloé told her, rolling her eyes as she gracefully fell back on her bed, getting her phone out and holding it up over her face. “You’ve got thirty minutes, because I still think we should make sure to reach the meeting early.”

Marinette set the other two dresses aside and dug through the rest of her packed clothes, checking the weather for the day on her phone again. Overcast, but no chance of rain, highs in the seventies, because the Gotham weather forecast came in Fahrenheit. She did some quick math in her head and finally grabbed an ensemble, rushing to the bathroom and feeling glad she’d only done light make up. This outfit wasn’t meant to be as sophisticated as most of her projects ended up being.

It was her Red Robin outfit, with light charcoal colored capris that had red stitching, a short sleeved red shirt in a slinky soft material, and a half cut jacket, stitched with dark grey and maroons, which ended rolled up at her elbow. The jacket was a few shades darker than the capris, but was lined on the inside with yellow, like the hero’s cape. It was only truly visible at the rolled up cuffs and the collar, but she was proud of the way the outfit blended together, looking chic, sporty, and relatively faithful to the original inspiration. With a grin, she kicked off the slightly pinchy fashion boots and put on heavier boots, the kind made for hiking, or possible city crawling. Custom boot cut socks with the ‘R’ stitched in above her ankle  just peeked out of the boots.

“It’s a bit more casual,” Chloé noted as she walked back out. 

“I’m just feeling a little off,” Marinette shrugged, uncomfortable. “It’s gonna make me feel better to wear something more practical.” Plus the color scheme wouldn’t leave Chloe entirely in the lurch. Where before they had matched, now Chloe’s blue accents contrasted the bright yellow in her own clothing.

“Well, if you’re settled on it, we should head down.”

Grumbling at feeling rushed but not actually annoyed, she grabbed her purse and followed Chloé out of their room, both kwamis tucked away in her purse. 

Arriving early was necessary, because she didn’t know the representative from Wayne Enterprises, but they would definitely know her- as the winner. And Marinette didn’t want anything to happen that would tip the game too early- the point was to use the week to subtly poke holes - if not in Lila’s stories, than at least her composure, and hopefully it might get the class to be more accepting of the truth when the cards came crashing down. So she would ask them to keep any allusion to the contest winner at a minimum. Most people would just assume she was humble, or particularly shy- which would have been true years ago, but now was just the easiest way to explain why she didn’t have friends who weren’t already deeply embroiled in her superheroic lifestyle and the quirks that came with it.

They reached the door twenty minutes before nine, and found it locked. 

“Figures,” Chloé muttered. “I guess whoever is chaperoning probably doesn’t want to hang out with the teenagers until they absolutely have to.”

“Don’t worry,” A voice said behind them. “You weren’t pawned off on me. I was pawned off on you.”

Marinette and Chloé spun around, shoulders tensing reflexively until she saw the new face. “Tim!” Marinette cried happily, seeing the familiar eyebags and dark hair of the representative that had helped her set up most of the trip over the last six months. 

“Should I be worried?” Chloé asked flatly, eyes watching Tim warily at his pronouncement.

“No!” Marinette denied, as Tim said, “Maybe.”

They looked at each other. Marinette wasn’t sure why he would put himself down like that- she’d spent hours working together with him and he was great! She’d considered him a friend, even if she hadn’t really expected to see him again after their last call. 

Tim gave her a grin though. “Don’t worry- it’s just that I’m a bit of a workaholic, usually. I get told to do this every year to make sure I actually take a break and stop, you know, working. Of course, it made a bit more sense when I was actually you guys’ age and just being forced to interact with other kids my age, but it’s a bit of a tradition at this point.”

“You didn’t mention that when we were planning,” Marinette said accusingly. Tim pulled out a key card and opened the door for them, propping it open afterwards.

“It just didn’t come up?” Tim said, finally looking a bit awkward. “Honestly, I just didn’t think to mention it at all.”

Chloé snorted. “Alright, so this is Tim who you planned the trip with?”

“That’s me,” He said, sitting down at one of the circular tables throughout the room. They slipped into the next two chairs. “Though I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Chloé Bourgeois,” Chloé offered her hand with a haughty smile. Tim shook it with good grace. “I’m Marinette’s best friend.” 

“One of them,” Marinette said warningly, but she couldn’t stop the smile from slipping onto her own face. “I wouldn’t want to have to tell Adrien you were claiming that again.”

“Or Kagami,” Chloe checked her nails. “Or Luka.” 

“Alright,” Marinette stopped her, exasperated.

“Can I ask- are you guys wearing Wonder Woman and Red Robin outfits?” Tim asked as they stopped, looking at Marinette with something bordering bewildered glee. 

“Yes?” Chloé said, eyebrow raised.

“I figured we’d have fun and dress up a bit while we were here,” Marinette found herself shrugging.

He shook off whatever he’d been thinking, losing that odd look in his eyes that she found herself wanting to figure out. “So, is there a reason you showed up twenty minutes early?” He leaned forward, looking between the two of them. “Unless you’re very good actors, you weren’t waiting to see me, and usually I don’t see the students on the first day until they're five minutes late.”

Marinette snorted. “Expect that from the rest of them.” But she sobered as she remembered why they had shown up early. 

Yeah, the shy and humble act wasn’t going to work on Tim. Not only did he already know her, he had at every step of the planning tried to give her special treatment for being the winner of the contest. Which- she supposed was how things were usually done, but in her very specific circumstances was not quite what she wanted or needed.

“Actually,” She said, finding her voice. “I need you to not say anything about me winning the contest.”

She watched as Tim opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again tightly, frowning at her. It took him another second to try again. “I know you said you didn’t want any preferential treatment, Marinette, but-“

“This isn’t because of her modesty or some weirdly distorted sense of fairness,” Chloé cut across him, eyes rolling. “Though we’ve dealt with those more times than I care to count.”

“Then-?” Tim prompted, brows furrowing. Marinette couldn’t help but think that he looked at her the way people looked at Rubix cubes.

She sighed. “One of the girls in my class is a horrible liar, who despite having no skill or subtlety has my entire class and our teacher wrapped around her finger. We’ve tried exposing her in the past, but she always manages to turn it back on us.”

Tim sat up a bit straighter, some of his confusion clearing as anger took over. “And you want me to let her pretend she won the contest?”

“Yes,” Marinette said evenly, staring him in the eyes until he leaned back a bit, cowed. “I’ve seen how she does it, the ways she makes people believe her, and I’ve got a plan. I haven’t contradicted her once about winning the contest, and I’ve managed to stop anyone else from announcing it to the rest of the class, but things are very quickly going to stop adding up for her. I just need the class to start thinking that things aren’t adding up, and then, when we meet Mr. Wayne on Saturday…”

Tim’s eyes lit up. “Oh. You’re planting the seeds for doubt, and then throwing her at someone she has no hope of lying to or about without being immediately proved wrong.” 

“It will help that she keeps insisting that he won’t be here,” Chloé looked gleeful at the thought of the confrontation. “She’s been spouting off for weeks that she knows the Waynes personally, but they’d be off on a business trip, and so unfortunately unable to meet everyone.”

If Marinette weren’t so observant, she might have focused on the way Tim’s head tilted thoughtfully, and not on the way his hands clenched for a split second, or how his eyes flashed with- anger?

“It sounds like you’ve got the perfect setup,” He finally said. “So you’d like me to help lay out the trap?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Marinette said honestly, hoping he would recognize her sincerity. “I know it might be too much to ask, since you’d basically be lying for me-“

“No, no,” Tim waved her words away. “Trust me, at Wayne Enterprises we take slander against Mr. Wayne and his family very seriously. In fact, if you’d allow me- I could even bring some other people in, to ensure this all goes to plan.”

Marinette opened her mouth to agree and found Chloé’s hand covering it immediately. Caught between annoyance and indignance, she licked it. 

It tasted like Chloé’s pear and honey hand lotion, because of course it did.

“Delightful, Mari,” Chloé said dryly, not even flinching. “Not to be rude-“

“She’s about to be rude,” Marinette tried to tell Tim helpfully, but under Chloé’s hand it mostly came out as a muffled string of noise.

“-but how do we know we can trust your… people.”

Marinette threw Chloé’s hand off, giving her a nasty look, which Chloé winked in reply to. “Rude, Chloé. But she’s not wrong,” She added softly, looking back to Tim, who seemed highly amused. “If you think it will help, then I’ll agree, but I’d prefer as few people as possible.”

“Trust me,” Tim said, a strange smile on his face. “These people aren’t just trustworthy, they might be the key to your success.”

“Fine,” Chloé huffed, relaxing back into her chair. “But if this goes wrong somehow-“

“You’ll say I told you so and we’ll move on,” Marinette rolled her eyes. “One way or another, I’m exposing that lying harpy before we head home, even if I have to do it in front of the whole gala.”

“Now that would make them more entertaining,” Tim laughed, and Marinette narrowed her eyes in thought, because no random employee would end up at the Wayne gala. 

“Do you go every year with the winning class?”

“I’ve been enough times,” Tim waved her off. She opened her mouth to ask something else, but Mme. Bustier and Mr. Lacour stepped in at that moment, bringing the conversation to a grinding halt.

“Timothy!” Bustier said out loud, shock on her face, and Marinette desperately tried to rein in her giggles. 

“Mme. Bustier,” Tim said, standing to greet her, before turning to the other teacher. “And you must be Mr. Lacour, correct?” 

“Charmed,” Mr. Lacour said gruffly, shaking his hand perfunctorily and then taking a seat. Bustier looked upset when she realized it had been the other seat beside Tim as he sat back down as well.

“I hope you’ve settled in well?” Tim asked, smiling charmingly. Marinette almost broke from trying not to laugh when she saw the slight blush on Bustier’s face. “We’ve had a class come from London before, and I remember the time difference really played havoc on them for a few days.”

“It’s fine,” Mr. Lacour said, completely missing the way Mme. Bustier had leaned forward to speak. “Nothing those soft hotel beds can’t fix.”

“It was disconcerting,” Their teacher chimed in. “But with their parents permission, the students were allowed to stay up later a few days before we left, to offset the difference as much as possible.”

This had been Marinette’s suggestion, and judging from the way Tim’s eyes met hers for a split second he at least had guessed as much.

“Not a bad idea,” He offered. “If we get another European class for the contest, I’ll have to mention it when we plan.”

Bustier beamed under the misinterpreted praise, and Mr. Lacour rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. “Well, I also-“

She was interrupted by the class, or at least half of them, walking in. Lila was leading, of course, Alya at her right and Rose and Sabrina trailing behind her. Max, Kim, and Alix were on their heels, their hands connected and swinging lightly between them.

Tim stood again, watching them file in and take seats. “Alright, it looks like we’re still missing a few of you…”

Marinette checked her phone. 9:04. 

The rest of them rushed in all together, and Marinette guessed they’d probably taken the same elevator from their floor. Adrien was frowning distractedly as Nino led him in, and Marinette made a mental note to ask him later what was wrong.

Tim counted heads. “Okay, that’s more like it! Now, I would like to first welcome and congratulate you all as the sixth class to win this outstanding opportunity, provided for you by Wayne Enterprises on behalf of Gotham Academy and Gotham University. My name  is Tim, and I am your chaperone representative from Wayne Enterprises. It’s not only an honor to have you here, but a privilege. The application essay had much to say not only on all of your personal accomplishments, but on the time and effort you spend giving back to your communities. I look forward to getting to know each of you as we spend the next two weeks together.”

He clapped his hands together, and Marinette realized suddenly, guiltily, that he may have had another speech practiced and ready that she had essentially forced him to throw out because of her plan. 

“Today is day one, and our contest winner chose a nice, easy start to the trip- a three day walkabout of different museums, parks, and historical spots in Gotham. We will be separating into groups of five at each stop- pre-assigned by me- each accompanied by myself, Mme. Bustier, or Mr. Lacour. Lunch will be during a park visit each day, so you’ll be able to find nearby restaurants, food carts, or small vendors to eat at, with your chaperone. We plan on having you back here by four each day, which allows for some downtime here at the hotel before dinner. Any outings that you would like to go on past our set plans need to be okayed and supervised by one of your teachers. Does anyone have any questions?”

Hands waved in the air, and Marinette tuned out a bit, catching Adrien’s eye and grinning as he sent her a questioning look and a thumbs up before a thumbs down. 

She gave him a thumbs up and he nodded, the grin breaking across his face too.

“Pardon me, but I have a disability and I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk around Gotham like this!” Lila cried out, and Marinette winced. 

“Any disabilities should have been discussed with your teachers and planned around accordingly,” Tim frowned. “I don’t remember anything coming up when I planned these days with Mme. Bustier and the contest winner.”

“I- don’t like to publicize it…” Lila trailed off pitifully. “I didn’t realize until this morning that we’d be doing so much walking, or I would have told Mme. Bustier.”

Tim seemed genuinely upset, which meant Marinette would either have to tell him Lila was the liar later, or he was a phenomenal actor. “I suppose we’ll either have to find a way to accommodate you, or you may have to spend the next three days in the hotel by yourself. I wish you had thought further ahead, Miss…”

“Rossi,” Lila batted her eyelashes. “Lila Rossi.”

“Miss Rossi. Are you comfortable sharing what the disability is so I can see if there’s anything I can do?”

“I sprained my ankle as a child, pushing someone out of the way of a car,” She said dramatically, eyes wide and wistful as if revealing some great misfortune that the world had cursed her to bear. “It didn’t heal properly, so it still bothers me when I have to stand for too long. Maybe if I had someone to lean on throughout the day while we walk?”

Her eyes went straight to Adrien, and Marinette had to control her glare. The restless feeling had returned with vigor, and she ended up tapping her foot against the carpeted floor to ease some of the energy.

“Actually,” Tim resolutely did not look at Marinette, but she saw the small smile struggling to burst free. “I could probably find a walking cane for you on short notice, though it might not make it to you until after our first stop. As someone who’s dealt with similar injuries, I can attest to their usefulness.”

“That… would be fine, thank you,” Lila’s smile had gone flat, though not entirely gone. She couldn’t exactly refuse it, unless she wanted to recant on the severity of her “ankle sprain”. Marinette wished she could have taken a picture. She’d have to thank Tim later. Perhaps something Red Robin themed, since he had seemed so excited about her outfit?

His eyes were as wide with shock, bright green turning brighter against the rising red in his cheeks, and she thought she must be blushing brilliantly too, she must be, and she was about to open her mouth when Chloé’s hands grabbed her wrist and yanked her back upright, out of his arms and straight onto the bus, where she was pushed, speechless,  into the window seat on the wrong side of the bus, and she leaned back, trying to see around Kim in the opposite seat and out the window, but Chloé sat down first, hissing and spitting as badly as any angered cat. 

“That little witch thinks she can do whatever she wants!” Chloé spat, and Marinette looked up at her, eyes filling with tears as her emotions tumbled around like clothes in a dryer. 

“Mari?” Chloé stopped, brows drawing together, the wrath dropping from her voice as she realized Marinette was not listening. 

She worked her mouth open, and froze. What was that? The electric feeling, the way she felt safe and her body stopped buzzing and she met his eyes, she tried to say something but the bus lurched underneath her and they started drawing away from the curb. She gave up on words to Chloé, spinning to her own window as the bus started turning, and she managed to catch sight of him again, one arm lifting towards her as the bus carried them around a corner and out of view. She sat silently, staring down at the quickly passing sidewalk and the people on it as Chloé’s hand settled gently on her shoulder.

“Mari?”

“I think that was my soulmate,” she whispered softly, and then turned back around to face her friend. “Chloé, I think I just met my soulmate.”

There were a few seconds of silence where Chloé’s eyes met hers, and she knew she still had tears gathering in her own, but they hadn’t spilled over yet.

Chloé lunged forward, pulling her into a bruising hug. “We’ll wait til we get back to the room.”

Marinette checked around the bus to find everyone else still absorbed in their own conversations- only Tim, from the spot in front next to Mme. Bustier was looking back, and she watched him check off all of the students, apparently unhappy with the fact that Bustier hadn’t bothered to check off students as they boarded. He met her eyes and she gave him a small smile, which he returned before checking her off. “Sounds good.”

She stayed silent the whole ride, and when the bus pulled up to the hotel, Chloé pulled her off and then shoved her at Adrien. 

“Get her to our room, I’ll explain once I’ve ordered us room service,” Chloé demanded , and Adrien nodded like she was giving him a battle plan. The tones were similar.

“Everything okay, Bug?” He asked her softly as he steered them to an elevator. Most of the class had followed Lila to check the pool before they headed up to their rooms, so there wasn’t anyone else in there with them.

“Nothing’s wrong,” She managed to say, and it was even the truth. She looked down at her arm in wonder, moving it so she could see the spot he’d touched, looking for any physical differences. It was still just her arm, but she thought she could still feel the rush of it, and she rubbed the spot gently. “Just wait til Chloé’s back.”

It took four minutes of Adrien pacing and trying to ask her questions only to be shot down for Chloé to show back up. She walked in the door with a self satisfied smirk.

Adrien leapt up, pointing dramatically. “Tell me what’s going on!”

“Sit down,” Chloé ordered, throwing herself into an armchair and tossing her feet up on the side table. “I’ve got a cheese platter and a few other snacks on their way.”

Marinette couldn’t help her grin at Adrien’s petulant “Okay, fine,” as he tossed himself onto her bed, pulling her down next to him as they settled. “Now what’s wrong??”

Chloé met her eyes.

“I think I met my soulmate,” She said, out loud, again. The words traded their heavy disbelief for joy. “Lila tripped me as we were getting on the bus, and I fell over but he caught me, and it was- like electricity!”

She stopped, aware of how hard she was beaming, her face feeling like it might split if she smiled any wider. Adrien and Chloé were watching her, confused.

“You just- felt electricity?” Chloé said incredulously. “You didn’t exchange names?” 

“We didn’t exactly have the time,” She sat up, defensive. “You pulled me straight out of his arms and onto the bus.”

“Well excuse me for rescuing you from a random stranger,” Chloé said stiffly. “How do you know it was him if you didn’t get each other’s names?”

“It’s the Miraculous,” Adrien said, watching her from the pillows. “Like with me and Jon, how I could feel his emotions when he’s near.”

“Or you and Kagami and your hive mind,” Marinette rolled her eyes, flopping back. “I felt it, guys, and I saw his face, he had to have felt it too. Like literal electricity between us.” 

“Don’t bring the hive mind into this,” Chloé pointed at her. “So we’ll find him, Mari. If we have to derail this entire trip and blow off Bruce Wayne at the gala, then so be it, but we’re gonna find your fucking soulmate. What’s his name?”

Marinette remembered for a split second the thought she had had when Lila had lied about Damian Wayne, and her face went pale. “Well…”

“Just show us!” Adrien said, pulling her closer.

She rolled her eyes and flopped over onto her stomach, and Adrien practically jumped on her. “Wait, seriously, can I see? Can I?”

“Fine,” She said, struggling to get her arms out of the jacket. When she finally did, she tossed it at Chloé, who screeched. She sat still and let Adrien pull the back of her shirt down until the lettering stood out against her skin.

“Marinette,” Chloé said dangerously. “Dupain-Cheng. Sister of my heart, precipice of my lesbian awakening, my favorite fucking idiot on this planet. Does that say Damian Wayne?”

If her face hadn’t already been pressed into the blankets, she would have hid behind her hands. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t think this was important information to tell your friends as you went on a trip to Gotham funded by Wayne Enterprises, hosted by Bruce Wayne, father of Damian Wayne?” 

“This isn’t about you,” Marinette moved her head to the side and spat out a strand of hair. “I thought it must be a common name.”

Adrien was already pulling up his phone, grinning contagiously. “It’s not. In fact, most Damian Wayne’s in America or otherwise were born… six or seven years ago, when Bruce Wayne told the press he had a ten year old son named Damian Wayne.”

“Marinette,” Chloé hissed again, displeased. “Did you seriously not even consider that he might be your soulmate?”

“He’s a Wayne!” Marinette rolled over to her back, throwing her hands up in angry surrender. “And I’m just some random girl! Sue me, I thought the odds of actually getting to meet my soulmate were much lower than that as long as I didn’t seek them out!” She pushed herself back until she was sitting against the headboard, and Adrien immediately slumped back down to lay across her lap. She let him, hand moving automatically to play with his hair. “Also, we still don’t even know that it is him.” 

Adrien narrowed his eyes and glanced between his phone and her several times, and Marinette sighed, exasperated.

“This him?” 

She looked down, noting that Adrien had literally only had to type Damian Wayne into the search, before her eyes focused on the picture. She recognized the face immediately and instead of answering, turned bright red and grabbed a pillow, immediately hitting Adrien with it.

“Chloé!” He yelled, pleading, and Chloé snatched his phone as Marinette continued beating him. “Hey, no- help!”

“Grab a pillow and help yourself,” she groused, scrolling through photos. There were pretty few, given that Bruce Wayne didn’t enjoy his kids being subjected to the limelight- but enough from official events that Chloé was able to flip through and whistle lowly. “Damn, Nettie, I know you’re Ladybug, but how are you always this lucky?”

“Excuse me?” Marinette stopped whaling on Adrien long enough to look up at Chloé. “What do you-“

In her moment of distraction, Adrien grabbed another pillow, swinging it straight up into her face, cutting her off.  “Take that, you heartless monster!”

Chloé just shook her head, looking back at the screen as they went after each other again. “Hey, wait, listen- After the extended reports of Damian Wayne’s disappearance and subsequent death-“

“Death?” Marinette cried out, their pillow fight halting. 

“-SUBSEQUENT DEATH,” Chloé continued, “We at the Gotham Times are most pleased to report that these reports were invariably false- on the charge of death, at least. Months after the Wayne teen was mourned by both family and city, Bruce Wayne has announced the joyful return of Gotham’s youngest Wayne, with little explanation as to where he had been- leading, of course, to rampant speculation from tabloids. We’d like to keep our hands out of that, and instead offer a sincere welcome back to the newly returned prodigal son.”

“What the fuck,” Adrien said, sputtering out pieces of blanket fuzz and string. “He was kidnapped?”

“Or something, the press never found out,” Chloé called back, as Marinette jumped off the bed and rushed over to look over her shoulder.

“Well, that’s-“ Marinette choked. “Not great.”

“Good thing you can defend yourself,” Chloé grimaced. “Looks like the Wayne’s are pretty big targets for just about any villain with a brain.”

“And him, you’ll be able to defend him too,” Adrien said teasingly, draping himself over their shoulders to look in. “Yet another fragile rich boy to add to your damsel in distress collection.”

“I thought you were a civilian back then,” Marinette pushed him off of her, and then moved so that she could support his weight better, letting him fold himself against her side. “It’s not like you didn’t try to save me a few times.”

“Yes, but I always made plans with you, because I knew you were  able to hold your own, even as Marinette,” Adrien stuck his tongue out. “None of that ‘ooooh, no, not Adrien, he’s too pretty to die so young!’”

“We get it, shut up.” Chloé shoved them both off. “Seriously, this is ridiculous! Simply ridiculous! Marinette goes gallivanting overseas for a contest she didn’t even know she was applying for and still somehow won, and ends up not only meeting her soulmate, but he turns out to be the devastatingly handsome and super rich son of the guy who owns the whole city basically.”

“Are you and Kagami jealous,” Adrien made a kissy face at her. “What, is your origin story not sufficiently cute enough?”

Chloé rolled her eyes. “First of all, I don’t know how Kagami feels, she’s on the other side of the ocean and I can’t hear her. Secondly, yes? Is this not the most insane rom-com sounding bullshit you’ve ever heard? I’d trade a hundred of these over the dumpster fire that was our first meeting. “

“At least you have a story you can share,” Adrien griped. “I’m still not allowed to tell you how Jon and I met.”

“It’s gonna throw off my whole plan with Lila,” Marinette groaned. “There’s no way it’ll work out now.”

“Oh yeah,” Adrien said, turning to her. “Now instead of Bruce Wayne to take her down, you’ve got Bruce Wayne and your soulmate, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s son, who Lila also lied about.”

“It’s a good setup, but only if I can manage to meet my soulmate without him meeting the rest of the class,” Marinette huffed, sitting on the edge of Chloé’s bed and looking out the window. “Which sounds like it would take Shakespearean levels of maneuvering, which I can’t even do when I’m not running around in a city I don’t know with everyone in our class needing supervision, because god knows they don’t get it from our teachers-“

“Then we’ll watch the class,” Adrien rolled his eyes. “You aren’t the only one here who can do things, Mari. You could even let Tim in on it- I’m sure he’d help you. He is already, isn’t he?”

“With exposing a liar who’s slandering the family who own the company he works for.”

“Close enough,” Adrien brushed that away. “He’s your friend, and everyone loves a good soulmate story! I’m sure he’d help you!”

“At the very least,” Chloé looked up again, a cheshire grin more commonly seen on Adrien curling on her lips, “he might be able to get you in to talk to the boss’ son.”

“Exactly,” Adrien nodded in agreement. “There’s no harm in trying.”

“There’s a certain lack of dignity though,” Marinette grumbled, unconsciously flexing her hand yet again, the phantom feeling coursing through her. “I’ll ask him, but I wouldn’t count on it.”