Chapter Text
It had been a closed adoption. Tom had learned that he was infertile, and Sabine hadn’t wanted to bring a new child into the world when there were so many that needed good homes, so they had chosen to adopt after getting married. All they had known is that their child was entitled to an American Passport, and the standard Gotham Infantile Toxin-Screening by virtue of their birth parents, and thus Marinette Daiyu Dupain-Cheng became part of their family.
The entire process took less than two weeks. From what the lawyers told them, the birth mother was rather insistent that the first couple willing to take the child could have it. One two many glasses of wine, a dark night, and a bachelorette party - well, Sabine and Tom could imagine a dozen of scenarios. Not that they’re lawyer told them that explicitly.
“What should we do about the citizenship?” Sabine asked Tom in the quiet of their apartment. Marinette was already fast asleep in her new nursery, swaddled up in a soft pink and black blanket. “It will no doubt be helpful for her, but…”
“Leave that for now, darling. Right now, we don’t have to think about anything other than being her parents. We’ll cross the bridge when we get to it.”
Sabine leaned into her husband's side, soaking up his warmth. “Why do you think that the birth mother was so anxious to surrender Marinette? She’s already such a lovely girl.”
“Who knows.” Tom’s voice rumbled through Sabine’s smaller frame, the vibrations soothing. A warm kiss landed on the top of her head. “All I know is that I’m grateful for this miracle in our home.”
So they continued. Marinette grew up loved and warm, with two parents who doted on her and tried to answer her questions. They would go to Gotham every so often, letting Marinette explore the city that her parents had come from. She learned how to bake and sew, self defense and the quickest way to access emergency services in case something went wrong. Living in France was wonderful, but there was this tiny part of her that always wondered where her blood had come from, and how she had ended up where she was now. Luckily, the internet provides many different options for inquisitive young minds. Especially when the circumstances around you can lead to… impulsive choices.
----
“Have you heard anything yet?” Vivian asked as she slumped down into the lecture hall seat next to her. A truly impressive thermos of coffee followed shortly after.
Marinette shook her head from where it rested on the desk. Whatever optimism and joy that had pushed her to sign up for an 8 AM lecture had long since fizzled out in the crushing face of college life. At this point, she was fairly confident that her ability to turn up to the lectures was based solely on spite and a fifty-fifty mix of energy drink with coffee. A notebook was opened haphazardly near her elbow.
“It’s been a week and you haven’t heard anything from them?”
The yawn that escaped Marinette made her jaw pop. “It’s 23 and me, Vi, not the IT department. Besides, it was a stupid dare that Dick made me do at Shelby’s party.”
“I still can’t believe that you met Dick Grayson and your first words were ‘Do you not have a barber’.” Marinette groaned, dragging her arms to hide her face. Vivian pushed on. “Like, can you imagine saying that to someone like… XY? Or Luka Couffaine?”
“Yes actually. Because I did it to XY.” Marinette pushed herself into an upright position when Professor O’Connely came into the room. “And Luka has decent hair and styles it well.”
Vivian nearly spat out the sip of coffee she was drinking. “You what?”
“Look, can I tell you all the details after class?” Marinette waved her hand forward before grimacing at the taste of Battery-Acid Coffee, as Adrien had dubbed it, “I’m really trying to not fail statistics.”
Vivian fell silent, turning back to O’Connely’s lecture with a passing attempt at attention. Marinette began to scribble into the margins of her notebook, taking down the odd equation here and there. Taking the test had been an impulsive and stuipd dare that she couldn’t back out of thanks to Dick-Freaking-Grayson being stupid rich and pushing her buttons. She knew that her maman and papa loved her fiercely, but it didn’t stop a tiny part of her wondering where the heck she came from. Or really, anything about the people that gave her the genetic material that made her up. Call it a morbid fascination, or just the typical-adoptee angst, but what was a girl to do? Somewhere between her third and fourth shot of tequila, Dick had learned that she was adopted and that she had no idea where or who she had come from, Marinette had lost a bet with him, and he had paid for her to get a 23 and Me test with a shit eating grin.
Well, you only live once and all that jazz. Marinette spat in a tube. Some company that probably would use her DNA to make clones or something promised to tell her about her life. Capitalism at its finest. She had sent Dick an email, just to spite him, with a short video of her shoving the sealed box into the mail and giving it the middle finger.
The bastard had just sent a picture of his face with a shit-eating grin in return. And then he dropped out of the university. Asshole.
Her phone buzzed against her thigh, and before Marinette could glance at the notification, O’Connely concluded the lecture. Vivian pulled her out of the hall in the next second, barely giving her time to finish writing down the notes from the board. Marinette shoved her phone back into her pocket. Just as they were walking out of the back exit to the lecture hall, a young boy poked his head into the room, catching Marinette’s eyes despite Vivian’s enthusiastic gestures. He was no more than 14 at most, but given the lingering roundness of his cheeks, Marinette guessed him to be younger than that. His eyes skipped over her before landing back on her and widening slightly.
A reaction that was, honestly, not uncommon.
Her roommate, Mallory, had convinced her to dye her hair a shocking shade of bright pink after hearing her bemone how boring and plain the black strands were one two many times. Luka and Juleka had both thrown a fit at not being there to dye her hair for the first time. The Couffaine siblings had been pushing her to dye her hair throughout the entirety of collège and lycée. The noise that Luka had made when she had video called them with bubblegum pink hair had made Jagged stop what he had been doing out of concern. The rockstar had then congratulated her on the “rockin’ style”. Luka had cussed her out for about three minutes straight before admitting that he liked the look. Now, most people would do a double take at the bright pink hair overtop of a smart pantsuit and blazer combination. Not to mention the fact that whatever parents she had gotten her looks from had given her the gift of being short.
“Are you even listening to me?” Vivian demanded, hands on her hips.
Marinette snapped back to look at her, blinking owlishly. “What do you think a kid is doing on the campus? You think he’s lost?”
“What kid?”
Going to point, Marinette stopped when the boy was gone. She sighed, taking another sip of her coffee, and turning back to her friend. “Nothing. Coffee-hallucination. What were you saying?”
“Never mind, just give me your phone and I’ll punch in the details to your calendar so that you don’t forget- ohmygod they gave you your results.”
“Who?”
Vivian smacked her on the back of her head. “23 and me, you zombie!”
Marinette took her phone back, thumbing through the results quickly to get the general information. Vivian was crowding over her shoulder, and huffed in disappointment when she realized the results were in French.
“Huh.” Marinette took another sip of her coffee and continued to scroll through the pages and pages of information.
“What? What’s huh mean?”
“It looks like I have a half-brother? I don’t remember selecting the genetic matches option, but I was pretty drunk when I did this.”
When Vivian didn’t reply, Marinette paused her reading and looked at the short Californian, coffee mug inches from her lips. She was standing, jaw slack and face turning an alarming shade of red despite the rich bronze of her tan. Marinette took a reflexive step back in preparation for the signature explosion.
“You have a half brother and you’re not freaking out?” The blonde shrieked. Several other students looked over at them, and Marinette’s cheeks pinked.
“Jesus, Vi, did you have to do that there?” She grabbed Vivian’s arm and yanked her outside of the hallway into the main quad. “Of course I’m freaking out, but right now I’m more concerned about my fucking midterm in microeconomics, a course that is vital to my degree and that I could very well fail based on this test alone. My half-brother isn’t going to vanish before I finish this exam, but my degree might. So i’m going to write this test, cry about how much it sucked, and then you and I are going to get drunk again and start figuring out how the fuck I have a half-brother. Okay?”
Vivian nodded, eyes wide. “Are you still going to POL 221?”
“Fuck no, Viv. What part of ‘I finish this exam and then we get drunk’ had POL 221 in there? I’ll meet you at Daily Toxin, okay?”
Vivian nodded again. Marinette’s phone’s alarm went off, and the Parisian hissed out a curse before sprinting across the quad to get to her midterm.
----
So here’s what she now knew:
She had a younger brother, or half brother, named Jason.
They had the same mother, who was currently unknown but they were working on it.
Jason was also on 23 and me.
There was a younger, about 14 year-old boy, who was lurking around her campus. Conveniently, the 14 year-old boy appeared on the same day that she got her results that told her about a younger brother. Who was also on 23 and me.
Marinette might have been incredibly oblivious during secondary school, but she liked to think that she wasn’t that dense anymore. The likelihood that this was just a coincidence rather than a calculated move was incredibly low. Nobody in Gotham would go places that they didn’t really have to, especially not kids. More often than not, the kids would work together in packs or would be with their parents or guardians. The kid following her on campus was incredibly skittish, dodging out of her sight anytime she glanced back to where he would approximately be, and always looking for quick exits anytime he was in a large crowded space.
Which had left her with no other option.
“Marinette! What a delightful surprise, how are the outcomes of your test?”
Dick.
“So you get me to take this stupid test, and then you drop out?” Marinette took a sip of her triple black espresso and coughed slightly. “You’re a sore loser.”
“I just know when to leave to keep my victory over the Queen of Fear Bomb. How you managed to master a Gotham drinking game so quickly is beyond me.”
“It’s part of the time spent with a bunch of rowdy teenagers that are no longer being controlled by emotional terrorists. You get good at holding your drinks.”
“Right, Hawkmoth.” Dick paused, and there was a clang in the background “Anyway, what can I do for you?”
“I have a half-brother.”
“Okay?”
She narrowed her eyes, walking towards the Student’s Gym. “You sound surprisingly un-shocked.”
“It’s Gotham. You get used to it.”
“Fair enough. Nice hiding place by the way.”
Dick snapped his eyes up from where he was hanging, meeting her gaze through the glass with a look of disbelief. “How did you-”
“It was Paris. You got used to it.”
“Give me five.”
The line clicked shut, and Marinette plopped down onto one of the benches outside. Dick came out a few minutes later, water bottle and jacket in hand. He propped one leg on the bench and began to stretch out. Marinette knocked back the rest of her coffee.
“So, what’s going on?” Dick questioned after a second, twisting himself in half.
Marinette chucked the empty cup into the bin near her. “How do you get a Crime Alley kid to trust you?”
“Woah, what are you doing in Crime Alley?”
“I work at a Soup Kitchen there as part of my volunteering work and want to make sure that they have warm clothes for the upcoming winter.”
He folded into a backbend. Marinette rolled her eyes at his cocky grin. “Well, start by just being open. They can spot liars a mile away. Other than that, it’s just a lot of patience.”
“So basically I just keep doing what I’m doing,” She shoved a finger into his ribs, making him yelp and fall to the ground. “Thanks, Dick.”
“Hey! It’s what you have to do; don’t get angry at me for not giving you what you want to hear!”
“How’s your new brother settling in, by the way?”
His face soured briefly before he pasted a smile over it. “Seems fine, given how quickly B and Alfred took a liking to him.”
She cocked an eyebrow, “Have you even spoken more than a handful of words to him?”
Dick’s silence was damning. Marinette smacked him upside the head.
“Ow! For such a small person you pack a punch, what the hell Nettie?”
“It’s the tiny shoes,” She deadpanned. “Stop being an actual dick and talk with your new brother, idiot. The kid just got yanked out of his home and thrust into the public eye, and the person who also has experience with the change is giving him the cold shoulder. That’s sure to go over well.”
“And who are you to be giving me this advice? It’s not like you know what either of us are going through.”
Marinette crossed her arms and let what he just said sink in. Dick’s olive skin flushed, and his eyes went wide. “Right, the girl who was adopted in France, only knew that her parents were American for 20 years, and just found out that she has a half-brother likely in Gotham would have no idea about how you are feeling.” She stood, slinging her backpack over her shoulder with a flat look. “Get your head out of your ass and talk with him, Dick. Your anger is with Bruce, not him. Figure it out.”
She ignored the small figure that darted off to the side when she walked away from Dick. Looks like she would need to take this on herself.
----
One perk of being in a university partially funded by a billionaire was that the coffee shops on campus didn’t have to charge crazy prices to the already broke students to keep themselves in business. Which was especially important in a city where a third of the infrastructure got rebuilt every year. So, when Marinette decided that she would need to start doubling her coffee budget (which was already enormous for a college student. Sue her, caffeine was her drug of choice), it meant that she wouldn’t have to take out more loans to get things covered.
The inside of The Daily Toxin, despite the name, was warm and cozy. To keep with the self-depreciating theme based around the Rogue Gallery, each of the options was based off of something related to them. Harley Quinn’s Latte was made with espresso and chocolate milk. Ivy’s Blossom’s were vegan friendly date bites that were incredibly popular. Every day, Calendar Man’s special said what food was discounted. It was one of Marinette’s favourite spots on campus to eat, because the food was incredible and the coffee was strong enough to peel paint.
Chris looked up from the espresso machine when she pushed in, grinning at her. “How is the lovely lady today?”
“Under caffeinated and about to fail Econ, Chris. How are you?”
“Still amazed that you regularly drink Joker’s Laugh and aren’t in the emerge.” He quickly set the espresso pucks to brew and pulled out the nitro cold brew. “Anything else with your normal order?”
“Nope, The Laugh and Riddler’s Scone will be enough for me. If a younger kid comes in here, like… 14 or so, give him whatever he wants and let him know that it’s covered okay? I’ll pay for it before I leave.”
Chris shrugged, “You’re the boss, Marinette. I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”
“The pastry’s on your table, Nettie!” A voice shouted out from the back.
“Thanks Paula!” Marinette called in response before flashing a smile at Chris. “Thanks to you too, he who creates the elixir of life.”
Her normal table, tucked in the far back corner with sightlines on all of the various exits and entrances, already had the trial pastry for the upcoming month on a plate. Ever since Paula learned that Marinette grew up in a French patisserie, the head baker had been using her as a guinea pig for all new ideas. In return, Marinette got free sample pastries and helped to tailor the menu. It was during one of those meetings that Chris had let slip that she was the only person who could stomach Joker’s Laugh. Nobody else could hold onto the near caustic brew of espresso and other dark-roasted coffee witchcraft. Marinette had only shrugged, replying that her Battery-Acid coffee had made her puke once before her body surrendered to her need for caffeine.
Five minutes later, the kid that had been her shadow for the past three days crept into the cafe and up to the counter. Marinette barely blinked, still chewing the tip of her pen while she tried to figure out her topic for her essay. Already she had five-dozen tabs open, and about three and a half ideas, so she knew that she wouldn’t be getting very far on this subject. Her drink was lukewarm next to her, which did nothing to improve the flavor of the bitter brew as she knocked it back. Riddler’s scone had been a peach-mango chilli concoction, which was quite good once you got over the initial burn. She glanced back up towards the counter, squinting at the menu to try and pick out what she wanted next. Something sweeter than the Laugh, but not nearly as sweet as a Deadshot Chocolate, which was the double cream-ganache hot chocolate they made. From the corner of her eye she could see the young boy eating one of the bagel sandwiches and drinking something in a large mug. There was one of the daily pastries near his elbow, and a fruit smoothie. Marinette grinned at Chris when she stood to get one of the regular Black Mask drip coffee.
“So, what’s the damage?” She asked after placing her order.
“Well, the total charge for the food and drink was 19.72, but he also said that he’d tip ten dollars on top, which you totally don’t have to-”
“Chris, just trust me okay? Whatever he said, it’s fine. Here, for my food and his.” She shoved 45 dollars at him before picking up her coffee. Marinette ignored the holes that the kid’s eyes were burning into her jacket, grabbed her things and headed out of the cafe. If there was anything that she had learned from being in Gotham and having to walk through the Bowrey to get to her apartment, it was that pressure or direct contact with the skittish kids that the system hadn’t caught would push them away.
Blood was one thing, but trust was infinitely more valuable. Marinette knew this intimately.
Blood had caged Adrien into a life he didn’t want. Blood had adopted her out to her parents. Blood was nothing more than a gossamer thread between each person, and while it could provide the first link in a relationship, blood without trust and love was meaningless. So, if this kid who was most likely her half-brother wanted to watch her from the periphery for a while, she would continue to operate as she normally did to prove that she wouldn’t turn tail and throw his offering back in his face. Marinette knew that the foster system in Gotham was far from perfect, and that the kids that made it out had more wounds and battle scars hidden deep under their skins. The skittishness that her maybe-brother was showing made her heart ache. So she had gotten the better end of a short straw. While he had fought and scraped through the foster system and on the streets, she had been warm and fed in a French bakery. She had had access to money and love and medical care without having to give anything up. What was odd, though, was how clean and neat he appeared. His hair was well trimmed, clothes mostly clean, and the shoes he wore were clearly expensive. Perhaps, she mused, he had also gotten adopted, if a little later in life.
----
“I swear, Milly, I have no idea how I managed to pass that Midterm.”
Her roommate glanced up from her exam, raising an eyebrow, “Really, Mari? You know that you’re smarter than over half the people in this school, and yet you wonder how you passed the midterm?”
“It’s the principle of the thing! I barely had time to study thanks to the commissions I had to finish, and yet somehow I walked out with a B+?” Marinette waved her hand through the air, sucking on her Penguin frappe. “I swear, our TA has a favouritism thing for me.”
“Oh, is the TA cute?” Vivian asked.
Mallory snorted, “God no. He’s the stereotypical Business Major, Economics Minor person. And he’s constantly creeping on the female students. Our Mari, it seems, in particular.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
Midterm season having finished, The Daily Toxin was incredibly busy. Chris had visibly wilted in relief when Marinette had walked in with a short wave and plunked herself down at her normal table with her two girlfriends. Now that reading week was coming up, the number of self-important people who were peacocking through the various cafe’s in search of someone to bring home for Thanksgiving had ticked up. It wouldn’t be a problem, except for the fact that the unpredictability of Gotham attracted a lot of people for less savory reasons.
Marinette had come here because she wanted to learn what living in the birth city of her genetic donors was like. Also because they had a killer economics program and a decent fashion scene.
In the opposite corner of the cafe, her younger shadow was set up with another semi-exorbitant order. Today’s attempt at pushing a button was the lunch special, a Riddler’s Scone, the most expensive and sugary concoction that the cafe had, and a Catwoman’s Claw. The Claw was the double-cream-butter shortbread that they made, served with whipped cream and strawberries. It was also one of the more pricey items, since the double cream butter was an exorbitant amount a pound in Gotham for some reason. Marinette had brought extra cash for this reason.
“So, how are things going in your search for your half brother?” Vivian prodded. “I hear that you chewed out Dick Grayson a few weeks ago.”
“Is that still what’s going around? All I did was remind him that he really needed to actually talk with his new brother. You know, the one that was adopted? Or almost adopted?”
“What about him?” Mallory took a slurp from her Deathstroke Mocha.
Marinette turned to face her, mouth opening to reply when movement from the back corner caught her eye. The kid that had been following her around was slumped further back into his chair, eyes wide as he looked up at one of the seniors peacocking through the cafe. The senior, Aidan something-or-other, was leering over the table, eyes sharp. A couple of other boys were crowding into the table as well, slapping each other on the back and grinning. Chris was in the back helping get some dishes done now that the rush was through. Marinette frowned, her chair scraping as she stood, and walked over to where the group of boys were.
“Do we have a problem?”
The ringleader turned, “It ain’t your problem, Frenchie.”
Marinette crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And somehow a kid who came here to enjoy a meal is your problem?”
The cafe was quiet around them, breaths being held as the tension mounted. Marinette could see Mallory and Vivian gesturing for her to get away, eyes wide and panicked. It wasn’t without good reason; the shortest member of Aidan’s group was already a good three inches taller than her. Marinette had to look up to meet Aidan’s eyes, and she knew that her 5 foot frame and bright pink hair didn’t cut an imposing figure. Anger simmered under the surface of her skin at the joking chuckles and glances from the boys surrounding her.
“He’s just Wayne’s newest play thing, bitch,” Aidan growled out. “We were just asking how much he got for being on his-”
Her knuckles were throbbing suddenly, and Aidan was unconscious on the floor. Marinette cut a look to the other members of the group. They all stumbled a slight step back as six years of living under Hawkmoth's thumb and dealing with Akuma’s pushed its way forward. She shook out her hand, rolled Aidan’s body over with the heel of her boot, and marched over to the one who seemed to be his second in command.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” The seams of his shirt strained as she yanked him down to her level. “You’re going to pay for the kid’s food, appologize, and then take douchebag supreme and get the fuck out of this cafe.”
He glared, “And if I don’t.”
Marinette dropped his shirt and slammed a hand into the boy’s solar plexus. He dropped to his knees, wheezing. Something ripped in the shirt of the third boy when she yanked him down.
“So, what’s it going to be? Are you the next person I need to knock some goddamn respect into, or are you the brains of this group?”
“How- How much?” Red-headed goon three sputtered out.
“The whole bill, plus a generous tip to Chris there who is not going to report your asses for sexual harassment of a minor and get all of you pathetic excuses of space kicked out this university permanantly.”
“Fucking slut-” someone from behind her muttered. Marinette slammed her heel back into something soft, eliciting a grunt of pain. Goon three yanked out his wallet and passed three twenties to Marinette before she dropped his shirt. The group fled quickly, hoisting Aidan-something between two of them. Marinette passed the money to Chris, ignoring the silence around her, and turned back to the kid.
“You okay?” She asked.
The kid tensed up when she addressed him directly, before giving a sharp nod.
“Cool. Do you need someone to come get you, or are you good?”
“I’m good,” The kid snapped, squirming in his seat slightly.
Marinette shot him a thumbs up and returned to her table. Conversation in the cafe kicked up slightly, and Chris swept in towards the kid once Marinette sat down. Mallory and Vivian were staring at her with wide eyes.
“What? I lived in a super city for six years where anyone could be turned into a cartoon villain for feeling the slightest bit angry. You learn how to channel it in other places.”
“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Mari. You’re like a modern freaking Persephone or something,” Mallory muttered.
Marinette rolled her eyes and took another sip of her partially melted frappe.
----
Three days after the cafe-incident, and two and a half weeks since she had learned that she had a half-sibling, Jason finally sat down across from her. It wasn’t in the cafe, oddly enough - no, Marinette was tucked up in one of the far corners of the library trying (and failing) to figure out the newest statistic’s assignment.
“Why’d you do it?”
She glanced up, pen still in her mouth, and closed her textbook. There goes this study session. “Do what?”
“All of it.” His blue eyes were sharp and guarded. “What’s in it for you?”
“Nothing? It’s not why I do it, kid. There’s enough assholes in the world, and if I can fight back against creating a few more, then I’ve done my job.”
Jason was quiet for a minute. She took that time to get a proper look at him and, god, he was so young to be this world-weary and cautious. The sleeves of his hoodie were pushed up, massive bunches giving away that it was several sizes too large. All Marinette wanted to do was scoop him up into a hug and promise that she’d be there for him from now on, that he didn’t have to worry about the things that she had worried about as an adopted kid. It was in her bones, this urge to tell him that he was so wanted and loved.
“So how’d you get out of Gotham? Was it somethin’ ma did?”
That- that was not where she was expecting this to go. “Who?”
“Ma? You know, Catherine?”
“I- I have no idea who that is, Jason. I was a closed adoption. I never knew who my birth parents were.”
“Huh. Maybe that’s why ma always called you ‘the other one’, since she didn’t know your name?”
“Could be,” Marinette shrugged. “Either way, are we done playing this game of cat-and-mouse? I’d really like to get to know my little brother.”
He froze, every inch of him getting ready to run. She kept herself open and calm, letting him control how things would go down.
“No private places, and I can leave whenever.”
She stuck out her hand, “It’s a deal, Jason.”
----
Chris dropped off their usual order with a smile, two trial pastries on a plate. “For Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker.”
Jason rolled his eyes, clutching the Two-Face Chocolate between both hands. Marinette grinned, plucking her drink up from the table and pushing a fork towards Jason. From the corner of her eye she could see Paula watching from the kitchen. Marinette waved, and passed Chris a couple of bills.
“Thanks, Chris.”
The barista smirked, “By the way, that is called Paris’s Revenge.”
She groaned, her head falling back onto the plush chair, and studiously ignored Jason’s snicker. A slight smile creeped onto her face.
----
“Hey, are you actually okay?”
Jason tugged his hood further forward, “I told you that I’m fine.”
“Alright,” Marinette shrugged, stamping down the urge to pull the hood back and check for herself. “Do you want to get chili dogs? I’ve never tried one and my roommate tells me that it’s a right of passage.”
“You’ve never had a chili dog?”
She put her hands in the air in surrender, “Hey, I grew up in a French bakery. If you want croissants, I’m your gal. Anything American? That’s all you, squirt.”
He pulled out his phone, and punched in a quick search. Marinette waited, scanning around the area out of reflex. A minute later, Jason shoved his phone at her.
“You have a metro card?”
Marinette pulled out the blue plastic from her pocket, “Lead the way, kiddo.”
If she saw that he had the exact same bruise pattern that the strikes Robin had taken from some low-life goons, well, they each had their secrets. Besides, it was a miracle that nobody had figured out Bruce Wayne was Batman.
Jason would tell her about the whole thing when he was ready. Marinette’s only job was to prove to him that she wasn’t going anywhere.
----
She spun her pen across her fingers, “Hey Dickhead, have you been talking with Jay?”
“I so regret making you do that test.”
----
Four days before she was supposed to fly back to Paris, her phone rang.
Correction: Three and a half days. Whoever was calling her had decided that 2 AM was a perfectly acceptable time.
Wait, there was only one person who had that ringtone.
Mallory groaned, and Marinette yanked her phone out from it’s charger before slipping outside with a quick apology.
“Jay? Is everything okay?” A yawn threatened to split her face in two.
A shaky breath came through the other side, “I- Mari, B doesn’t-”
Adrenaline shot through her system, and Marinette yanked on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before racing out onto the street. “Where are you, kiddo? I can get to you in 20 minutes if you want?”
“No, no. I- Can I come stay with you? Just- Just for a bit?”
“Of course, squirt. You’re always welcome here.”
His voice was tiny when he next spoke, “Even if I killed someone?”
“Even if you did.” Marinette didn’t hesitate to reassure him. The idea that her Jane Austin loving, tea drinking, tender-hearted brother killed someone didn’t even register. She paused, the mental link between Robin and Jason coming online. “Did you kill someone Jay?”
“No it was an accident, I didn’t mean- He just fell-”
“Okay, Jason. I believe you. I believe you. Do you want me to come get you?”
“I don’t think-”
“Hey,” She softened her voice, flagging down the driver that Jagged Stone had told her to contact if it was ever an emergency. “Don’t worry about that. Do you want me to come get you, kiddo?”
“And I can stay with you?”
“As long as you want, Jay. You could even come to Paris with me if you wanted to hang out and meet my parents for Christmas.”
“Really?”
“One hundred percent.” Marinette covered the microphone and whispered directions to the chauffeur who nodded. “I’m coming to get you, Jason. I’ll be there in 20, okay? You just pack what you think that you need. As much as you need too, okay?”
“Alright.” A pause then- “You promise you’re coming?”
God, he was so young. “I promise, Jay. I’ll share my location with you, so you can see where I am. I’m coming to get you kiddo.”
“Okay. Okay I’ll- I’ll see you soon.”
The line went dead, and she quickly set up location sharing before dropping her head into her hands. It was easy to forget that Jason was just barely 13. Everything about him screamed older and capable, which she knew was the result of trauma and being forced to grow up on the street, but underneath the gravitas that cloaked him like a second skin was a scared 13 year-old who just wanted someone to stick with him and promise they would stay.
She had spent the first twenty years of her life an only child. She would be damned if she spent the next 20 the same way.
When they pulled up to Wayne Manor, five minutes early, the driver promised to wait outside. Marinette didn’t hesitate walking up to the gate and digging her finger into the buzzer. The noise grated on the otherwise quiet night, but she was five finals and sixteen hours past caring. Her phone rang a second later.
“Nettie?”
“Hey squirt, you want to let me in?”
The gate buzzed and clicked open. Marinette jogged up towards the door, only to be nearly bowled over by Jason. His things were piled at the top step, and he clung to her like a koala, shaking from his tears. An elderly man in a crisp night robe was talking quietly with a tall figure that could only be Bruce Wayne. She shifted his weight slightly and raised a hand in acknowledgement. Bruce and Alfred came down the steps to where she was a moment later.
“Marinette, I’m sorry for disturbing you this late.”
Jason flinched against her slightly, so she hoisted him up slightly. He was almost as tall as her, making it awkward, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world. “Literally nothing related to Jason is a disturbance. I’ve got 20 years to make up for.”
“Hm,” Bruce scanned her over. She let a little bit of Ladybug slip through, her eyes steely. “Are you sure that Jason can come with you to Paris for the holidays? We wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Please, my parents are really excited to meet him, not to mention my almost-brother Adrien. I was going to offer tomorrow anyway. My quazi-uncle is flying out from New York in four days and offered to take me with him. He’s got plenty of room, so I refunded my initial ticket and the cost of two tickets to New York is way less than one ticket to Paris.”
The tense lines Jason’s foster-father carried softened at her explanation. “We’ll help cover your costs then.”
“It’s really not needed, Mr. Wayne. What you could do, however, is help bring Jay’s bags to the car at the gate and also justify your belief that Jason killed someone. When you don’t find any information, I’m expecting a proper apology to my little brother.”
“How-”
“A secret for a secret, I suppose.” Jason shimmied down to the ground, still holding her hand tightly. Marinette thrust out her free one. “It’s nice to meet your civilian person, Batman. I’m the current Ladybug of Paris.”
Bruce grunted, about as much of a show of shock that she would get. The bags got quickly loaded into the trunk, a plane ticket booked, and they were heading towards Marinette’s apartment by the time it was 3 in the morning.
Jason huddled closer to her in the back seat, yawning hugely as she carded her fingers through his hair. The stress of the night melted away as he finally lost the tension in his shoulders.
“You-” Another yawn. “You really…”
Whatever he was going to say was replaced with a big hand wave and a squeeze to her hand. Marinette smiled, yawning in response, and pulled him into another hug. She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and squeezed her arms tighter for a minute. “Always, kiddo. Always.”