Chapter Text
Ladybug and her heroes are all adults, and as such, Ladybug has decided they need a professional place to conduct themselves. They’re in it now, a room covered in slick metal and cutting edge technology. There are already decorations going up on the wall, in the same way people might decorate a cubicle. Pictures are taped to metal, chairs have been yarn bombed, there’s a spraypaint tag in the bathroom that no one will confess to having done.
So the professional part isn’t going great.
“Welcome to the Situation Room,” Marinette says cheerfully. Her announcement is met with groans, and she furiously shakes the black bowler hat that she herself has made. She glares at her peers, all of them out of costume, and scolds them. “We followed the French election system. If you didn’t want it to be called the Situation Room, you should have suggested something else.”
“I suggested something else,” Nino mutters.
“The Bugcave is in here fourteen times,” Marinette says, emptying out the bowler hat. She picks up one of the folded pieces of paper and unfolds it, in which someone has written in block letters “Bugcave”. She opens another, also written in block letters which says “Bugcave (nonsexual). There is no point in going through the rest of them. She slams her hands on the table. “There aren’t fourteen people here! The only option left was the democratically chosen Situation Room.”
Ivan raises a finger, arms folded across his broad chest. “Can I vote for authoritarianism?”
“When the United States heroes invade,” she says flatly, and tosses the hat on the long table they’re all sitting around. “Come on! We’re a serious superhero team. We’re in our serious superhero room! It’s time to get serious.”
“About what?” Alya asks, leaning her face on her hand. “You called this meeting so we could name this room and pick our colors for the chore chart. I could have texted you orange, you know.”
“It’s actually tangerine.” The distinction is critical for Marinette. Alya does not seem interested in color specificity. Marinette sighs and puts her fingers to her temples, rubbing at the ache that’s already starting. “It’s also so people can present questions, comments, concerns. It’s a big deal! It’s our first meeting as an official team!”
She looks across the room, waiting for hands, but none go up. Even her pleading look to Adrien has him shrugging with an apologetic wince. In all honesty, it’s probably for the best that he does not raise his hand, because surrounded by his superhero peers the question is far more likely to be something like “Will you be my Valentine, my Lady?” and not “I think that the bathrooms should be cleaned twice daily, not just once per day.”
Finally, Kagami raises her hand and Marinette beams. “Yes! Kagami. Question?”
She lowers her hand. “May we leave now?”
Marinette’s shoulders slump with a sigh, and she tenderly cradles her chore chart in her arms, quietly assuring herself that the afternoon wasn’t a waste. It is a very pretty chore chart. She dismisses her heroes from their poorly named room, and as they shuffle out she hangs the chore chart on the wall. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like she’s doing a good job. Her color-coding looks childish against all the sleek technology. She sighs, turning away from it, and looks for more work to do.
That’s when Alya pokes her head back in. “Marinette - you delegated. That’s your job. You’re done.”
She looks around the room, sure she’ll spot something that needs immediate fixing, and finds none. She looks back to her best friend and checks with an uncertain tone she feels a leader shouldn’t have. “I’m done?”
“The joys of having a competent team.” She holds out her hand and smiles. “Come on, girl. Let’s get a pizza.”
Marinette takes Alya’s hand, and that’s the first real success. That’s the first real moment. Marinette is the leader of a team, not a boss, not a dictator. She’s just a leader in a room full of colleagues, with no secrets heavy on her shoulders. It’s so much better than doing it all alone.