Chapter Text
There were times when Marinette loved her job. There was nothing in the world like what she got to do, and there were only a handful of others that got to do it alongside her. She traveled with all expenses paid to cities and countries she never could have afforded to go with a normal dayjob. She got to schmooze with billionaires, world leaders, stars, just for the sake of getting information. She received any technology, clothes, or other items she wanted so long as she used it for a job. And, most importantly, she got to help people.
There were downsides- she could never be completely honest with her friends and family about what her line of work was. She couldn’t go through with her childhood dream of being a designer- she had to keep a low profile.
And, her employer could call her to a job at any time. Including, it seemed, 2:36 am.
Pulled from her sleep by her ringing phone, Marinette managed to wonder angrily which one of her friends had decided that now was an excellent time to chat. After about ten seconds of letting it ring, however, she realized that it was her work ringtone.
She threw off her sheets and groped at her nightstand for her phone. Finally getting a hold of it, she swiped her finger across the screen, held it up to her ear, and waited.
“Codename?” a voice crackled on the other side of the line.
“Ladybug,” she answered, wincing at how croaky she sounded in the dead of night.
“Meet at the eastern briefing location,” the voice said. “3:15 am. Be discreet.”
“Yes sir,” Marinette responded automatically.
There was a click and the call ended.
Marinette turned on her bedside lamp and rubbed the sleep from her eyes the best she could, setting to work making herself presentable. She made her way to her vanity and combed through her hair quickly, deciding to leave it down. She dusted her cheeks lightly with blush, and painted her lips in a soft red lipstick. Then, she moved to her closet and pulled out a red cocktail dress- not too formal, not too casual.
This was part of the main rules for her job- “be discreet”. She couldn’t go out to a job without doing something to help her blend in a bit. Going out with her hair messy and still in pajama pants was too noticeable- but a girl in a pretty dress, slightly faded makeup, and a tiny bit windswept hair? She was coming home from a party that ran later than expected, a date gone wrong, or a night at the bar.
She added a pair of nude heels- her favorites, the ones that were easy to walk in- quickly swiped on some deodorant, and grabbed her purse, crossing her bedroom to the window. She glanced at her phone. Thirty minutes to arrive, about a twenty-five minute walk. She timed it well.
She opened her window, looked around to ensure that the coast was clear, and climbed down the fire escape as quickly and as gracefully as she could manage- which turned out to not be very graceful. She slid down a few rungs, but managed to catch herself just in time with only a scuff on one of her heels to show for it.
Crap. She liked those heels.
Beginning her trek to the meeting location, Marinette checked her purse quickly. She had her taser, pepper spray, and wallet, which was good. She hated forgetting any of those things, especially when she was called to a briefing. There were times when they had her transition straight into the job, and it was always inconvenient to be without a weapon or the power of a loaded credit card.
She glanced at her phone again. Ten minutes until the scheduled meeting time, and she was already about to turn the corner. She felt a bit pleased with herself- Fu would appreciate not having to wait for her, she knew.
She began to hug the wall of the building she was walking next to, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, and turned down the next alleyway.
She was surprised to see that it wasn’t empty- someone was leaning against the wall of the opposite building. When she saw it, she half expected it to be a homeless person, or a drunk guy, or a teen who snuck out- someone who shouldn’t have been there, but was otherwise harmless.
Then she recognized the golden hair, the angled jaw. The black domino mask.
Chat Noir.
“What are you doing here?” Marinette demanded, crossing her arms as she approached the figure clad in black. He was leaning- practically draped- against the brick wall, arms folded loosely, eyes closed lazily behind his mask, and a contented smile that still managed to look smug.
He blinked one bright green eye open, and it instantly met her gaze. “Well, well, well,” he purred. He straightened, stretching languidly. “I see you’ve finally arrived. I was expecting you.” He took a few steps forward, his arms spread out like he was ready to welcome her into a friendly hug. “It’s about time we worked together again, wouldn’t you say?”
She stopped dead in her tracks. “I’m sorry?”
A grin spread across his face. “Fu didn’t tell you?” he asked. “Am I finally more in-the-know than Miss Bugaboo?”
“Don’t call me that!” she snapped. “Fu didn’t tell me anything. Just that there was trouble and I was to meet here and wait for further instructions.” She looked him up and down, studying his body language, trying to tell if he was trying to pull one on her- that wouldn’t be out of character for him. “What did he tell you?” she asked suspiciously.
His smirk only seemed to widen. “I’m sure he would have told you if it was important for you to know,” he said, gloating evident in his voice. “You’ll just have to wait, I suppose.”
“Perhaps he didn’t tell you everything,” Marinette responded dryly. “We were supposed to dress discreetly.” She eyed his all black ensemble- a long black wrap coat, over a black turtleneck and black pants. “I think you’re leaning too heavily into your codename. You look like you’re about to try and rob a bank.”
“What, think I look too much like a cat burglar?” he asked, chuckling at his own pun. “That’s just the mask. I assure you, without it, I look suave.”
The mask. Something that all their coworkers were provided, but only Chat Noir consistently wore. It certainly made him stick out even more.
“Aren’t you hot?” she asked, looking over his many-layered outfit. It was only the end of September, there was no way that he wasn’t sweating under all of that.
“You have to ask?” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Am I not obviously stunning?”
She had not missed this at all. “You know what I meant,” she snapped. “You have so many layers on. Aren’t you warm?”
“Aren’t you cold?” he shot back.
She looked away. “Fair enough. Now, what did Fu say on your call anyway?”
“Well, he said that I was to meet here, and to keep an eye out for a certain other coworker, because we were going to be working together.” He clapped his hands together. “Won’t this be fun?”
“Wonder why he didn’t tell me that,” Marinette muttered bitterly. She wasn’t one for bragging, but she was definitely Fu’s most trusted employee. She had never failed to complete a job- except for one time, the reason for which was standing before her, smirking. Fu never had to ask her if she would get a job done, he just had to tell her to do it. Chat Noir, on the other hand…
Why should he be trusted with more information before a briefing than herself?
“Because if I had told you he would be here, I don’t know that you would have shown up.”
The pair turned. Walking towards them was a man- old, his hair thin and gray, back hunched slightly. He wore a hawaiian shirt, and seemed to be using a cane, but the confidence of his steps seemed to imply that he didn’t need it to walk. He didn’t wear a mask.
“Of course I would have shown!” Marinette responded indignantly. “This is my job.”
Fu narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing her. “Perhaps,” he said. “Now is not the time to air out resentment, though. You have a job to do.” He pulled a manilla folder out of the messenger bag at his side.
Marinette took the thick folder, her eyes widening as she read the name on the tab. “Hawkmoth?” she gasped. “But I thought-”
Chat Noir pulled the folder from her hands, ignoring her noise of protest. He looked at the label, brows furrowed. “I thought there wasn’t a trace of him since two years ago,” he said.
“There wasn’t,” Fu confirmed. “Evidence of him being active again has just surfaced.”
“Seems like this could be a one person job,” Chat Noir said, passing the folder back to Marinette. She opened the file and thumbed through the papers- most of which were marked with dates several years ago. A few on top were labeled as recently as the last week. “Why not send just one of us?”
“Seeing as the last time this case was assigned, the two of you were unable to complete it together, I doubt just one of you could handle it alone,” Fu said crisply. “You both have very good records aside from that… incident, however, so I expect that this time, you will be able to finish it for good.”
Marinette sent a glare over to Chat Noir. “I’ll do my job. Just like last time.”
“Meowch, Bugaboo,” he responded- it was teasing, a joke he liked to make- but there was an underlying bitterness to the words. “I may not be perfect, but I still-”
“Enough,” Fu interrupted. “Chat Noir is essential to this mission, Ladybug. I’d suggest you start getting along, or at least pretending to, or I’ll pass on the job to Rena Rouge or Carapace instead.”
“Essential?” Marinette asked, frustration flashing through her. Chat Noir had been the reason they hadn’t finished the job the first time. She had the best record of anyone on the team- if anything, she should be considered the essential one. “How can that even be possible?”
“Chat Noir already has connections to some of the people we think may be involved,” Fu said. “We won’t even have to pull strings to place him. And he will already be trusted by them.”
Her coworker gave a pleased grin. “Glad my popularity is finally of use to you, Fu.”
“But won’t he be biased, then?” Marinette demanded. “How is that-”
“Chat Noir, as a part of the new plan, you will be expected to reveal your identity to Ladybug,” Fu cut her off with a glare. “You won’t be able to go by a different name, and you won’t be able to wear your mask.”
Marinette glanced over at her former partner. His lips were pursed, brows furrowed under his mask. She half expected him to deny the case, now- Chat Noir had never shown his face to anyone in their organization besides Fu, claiming that he valued his privacy.
“That’s new,” Chat Noir finally quipped, breaking the few moments of silence that he had to ponder. “Can’t say I care too deeply, though.” He turned to face Marinette. “Don’t go falling in love with me once you see my handsome face sans mask, though.”
“Hush,” Fu hissed, seemingly finally fed up with Chat Noir’s interruptions. He pulled three more folders from his bag. “Here’s a copy of the overview.” He handed the larger of the three to Chat. “And these are your individual instructions.” He handed each of them a second, smaller folder. “In each of these is a page on the other’s real identity. Read it over. You’ll need to know at least a bit about each other.” He turned to leave. “You know how to reach out if you need further information.”
“Yes sir,” Marinette said, watching the old man slip around the corner, listening to his footsteps as he shuffled away. He started whistling.
“So, we’re working together again, huh?” Chat Noir practically purred, tucking the files in the inside of his jacket. “Exciting.”
Marinette scoffed.
“What’s more, we’re going to know each other’s real names.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to know your real name,” she corrected. “Mine isn’t exactly a secret to you. All the other employees know each other. You’re the one who’s so secretive.”
Chat Noir hummed. “I suppose. But there’s a reason I haven’t let any of you see my face before.”
“And why’s that?” Marinette asked.
“Well, you’ll see it in my file.” He turned, his jacket sweeping dramatically after him. He raised a hand in farewell. “See you soon, Ladybug.” He turned out of the alleyway the opposite of the way she had come.
Marinette sighed. There wasn’t much choice right now, she supposed. She was going to have to work with Chat Noir again.
She checked the time on her phone- 3:40. Grumbling, she slipped the files into her purse and started back to her apartment building.
She and Chat had worked together- quite a bit, in fact- before the last Hawkmoth mission. They had been an efficient team. Chat Noir was, for all intents and purposes, a good partner, despite his tendency to add a bit of chaos to any plan.
But then, that night that they were stationed at the last party, so close to closing in on Hawkmoth, or at least one of his partners, and he had gotten drunk.
Marinette didn’t know who he had talked to, or what he had revealed, but after that night any trail of Hawkmoth had vanished.
Two months of investigation, of worming their ways into friendships with suspects, of late night calls exchanging any and all information gained, of bulletin boards and pictures and notes. All to waste. It wasn’t something she was jumping to forgive him for.
Would she have shown up if Fu had told her who she would have to work with Chat on the job? The answer should have been obvious, but she wasn’t entirely sure. She would’ve at least been less willing to come.
They’d hardly seen each other since Hawkmoth disappeared. He had been at the failed Christmas party Fu had attempted to throw, like the rest of their coworkers. They had both been called on for minor help on jobs with Rena Rouge, Carapace, and some of the others- but those didn’t usually require them talking, seeing as Chat Noir preferred to keep his identity from the rest of them.
A new realization hit her- she was about to be the only one besides Fu to know who Chat Noir was as a civilian. None of the others had even seen his face before. He was normally so secretive, and suddenly he was revealing it all?
She may not have really talked to him for two years, but surely someone didn’t change that drastically.
Finally scaling the fire escape and reentering her apartment, Marinette carried her purse to her kitchen and dropped it on the counter, deciding to make herself some coffee before she even attempted to memorize new information about the job- or Chat Noir.
She idly wondered why he was always so secretive as she groped around her cabinet for coffee grounds. When they were hired, or at least when she was, Fu had explained that it was best if those outside the organization were not told about her job, but everyone under his employment could be trusted with her name- or, at the very least, her face. Every other coworker she had done a job with had seen her face. She was even best friends with Rena Rouge, who was actually named Alya Cesaire, outside of jobs.
But Chat had always worked alone when his face was to be visible, or at least from a distance. Partners they may have been, but he had always worn a mask when they met and at every event they had gone to, they worked separately and called about it later.
What was it he had said? That she would see why he hadn’t ever showed his face when she looked at his file?
She poured the coffee into a mug once it had finished brewing and stirred in her milk and sugar. Perhaps he was self-conscious? But that was too ridiculous of an explanation. Chat Noir wouldn’t have made his job harder because he didn’t like how he looked. With how he acted, she would hazard a guess that he very much liked how he looked.
Marinette grabbed her mug and sat down at a barstool to begin looking through the files. She pulled them from her purse.
It was probably best to tackle the smaller one first- the one with her instructions specifically, so that she could look more closely at what she needed to in the larger file full of evidence. She remembered what Fu had mentioned- about there being a paper on Chat Noir’s identity.
Well then, she thought to herself, taking a sip of her coffee, let’s see who it was that screwed up this case in the first place.
She opened the folder and nearly spat out her sip.
In the top corner of the profile sheet sat a full-color picture of a handsome young man. A very familiar face, with a very familiar name under it: Adrien Agreste.