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Tim glanced up when the door slammed open, revealing a brightly grinning petite woman. Several things bounced through his mind quickly, the foremost being how the fuck did she get into his office without–
Security appeared behind her moments later, panting slightly. She ducked out of the man’s grasp when he reached for her, vaulting over the guest chairs with a flourish and slapping a thick envelope down in front of Tim. The creamy manila was covered in carefully chosen pieces of paper and hand drawn doodles. In the top right-hand corner was a stamp from France, and the return address wasn’t quite filled in.
“Surprise!” Shouted the woman before launching at him.
Tim shoved back out of his chair on instinct, fully expecting the woman to fall flat on the floor with a yelp. Rather than doing as he had expected, she tucked and rolled before popping back up on her feet. The security guard behind her went to grab her. Confusion and frustration were beginning to bleed into her face as she continued to weave through the office. Finally, she stopped moving and let the guard grapple her entirely, holding stock still.
“Tim? Did they not tell you?”
A headache was brewing behind his eyes at the absurdity that was his day thus far. “Did who not tell me what, miss?”
“Oh mon dieu.” Blue eyes flew wide. “Tim, I am so sorry. It’s me, Marinette, your penpal?”
His eyes dropped back to the letter, looking at the handwriting and quickly yanking the unsealed envelope open. Tiny packets of French coffee grounds, recipes, and postcards tumbled out onto the desk, followed by a burst of cinnamon and cloves. The sheet of paper inside simply said “Surprise” with a grinning drawing of Marinette next to a big cake.
“–I told them that they needed to let you know, and they promised that they did. No wonder it was so hard to get up to your office! I knew that you were important in the company that your dad owned, but you didn’t mention that you were the CEO with him? Wait, that means that your dad is Bruce Wayne? Like, “the butts match” Bruce? How did that– oh fuck you're THAT Tim Drake! I am so, so, so, sorry Tim, I didn’t realize that–”
He cut off her rambling with a quick handwave. “Thank you, Robert, but this was just a mistake. You can go.”
Marinette was still staring at him with a blank look as Robert nodded silently and slipped out of the room. Tim felt his cheeks heat up, and he scratched the back of his neck out of nervous reflex.
When he had still been with Jack and Janet, Gotham Academy had partnered with a French school to help better the second language skills of the students participating. Tim had signed up to be a penpal, knowing that his parents would be proud of him for both perfecting his fourth language and also working on his networking skills. That was, at least, what he told himself. The truth of the matter was that he had wanted a friend, a true friend that he could tell everything to (or almost everything. Nobody needed to find out that he knew his neighbors were the Vigilante’s of Gotham), without having to fear the potential repercussions from his parents for whatever perceived shortcoming this person had. Well, what was intended to be a two year endeavor had turned into a permanent correspondence, with Marinette keeping him updated on everything that had gone on in Paris during the Miraculous Crisis and the subsequent years. She had mentioned off hand, once, that she wanted to come out and visit him. He had told her that his office/home/room was always open to her whenever, fully expecting that to be the last of it.
Well, he had thoroughly misread the situation.
“Hello Marinette,” Tim hedged after a moment or three of awkward silence.
That seemed to break the spell over her. In a flurry of motion, she was wrapped around him in a crushing hug, words coming out a mile a minute.
“–I knew that you hadn’t had the best childhood, but what happened with the whole Drake Industries made it to Paris–”
Tim kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Marinette hated liars, that much he knew. Still, her arms were so cozy. He couldn’t remember the last hug that he had gotten from his family quite yet.
“–you need so many hugs, oh my god Tim. Also, it now makes so much sense why you were so hesitant to discuss the vigilantes, like no wonder–”
Marinette was his, for all intensive purposes, oldest friend. Yes, he had never met her in the ten years of writing they had shared. But between the Parisian travel-ban and being Robin-turned-Red Robin in the evenings while also juggling the company left little time for anything other than writing. Alfred was quite pleased that Marinette refused to change the medium of their correspondence, forcing Tim to sit down once a month to write out a long letter. It had been very helpful when he had been dealing with his crush with Connor; Marinette had also just been figuring out how to deal with her feelings for her (then) best friend Luka. They had been able to share relationship woes between the two of them without the others getting involved.
“–and I really just wanted to surprise you at home, but your idiot brothers insisted that I do it here, thinking that I was your girlfriend or something which is ridiculous because you and Conner are so cute together and you’re like a brother to me–”
Tim’s arms finally unlocked, and he gripped her back just as tightly. “It’s so good to see you, Marinette. It’s so nice to meet you. You are exactly like I thought that you would be.”
She pulled back, eyes sparkling despite the undercurrent of hesitation. “What is that? A flaming-hot mess who can’t stop rambling and makes a mess out of everything?”
“Kind, funny, and a literal ray of sunshine.” He grinned down at her. “But I must admit I didn’t think that you would be this short…”
“Hey!” She slugged his arm. “That’s no way to talk to your best-friend who flew all the way from France to surprise you only to be accosted by your security– oh my goodness, I need to apologize to him–”
Tim shrugged on his blazer, tucking the letter into the breast pocket. “It’s fine, really. Robert is used to what my family is like.”
“But–”
“Let’s go get some coffee, Miss ‘Caffeination-Queen’. God knows that I could use another cup today, and you can apologize to Robert near the front desk if you think it necessary.”
Marinette brightened, following him out of the hallway. “Anyways, it’s so funny that you and I ended up as penpals! I mean, you are addicted to coffee, battling with the terrors that the Rogues are, and also juggling being a company representative on top of it! Talk about coincidence!”
Her words registered as the elevator doors closed. Tim snapped towards her, heart racing.
“What do you mean, ‘battling the Rogues’?”
Marinette continued on, irreverent. “Like, you and your family! You know… your ‘extracurriculars’ of being Gotham’s Vigilantes? You all need to be more careful with your naming patterns and nicknames, you know. You’re lucky that I– Tim? Tim, are you okay?”
His palms were getting sweaty as he tried to figure out eighteen different contingency plans and new scenarios for Marinette. Her eyes were rapidly getting more alarmed, and she slammed the emergency stop button halfway down the building.
“Tim?”
His throat unlocked. “How do you know?”
She relaxed. “Oh! That’s easy. You kept complaining about the same injuries that the old Robin who is now you-as-Red Robin had, not to mention that I met your brothers Nightwing and Red Hood at the Justice League meeting when they realized that Paris was actually under attack, not just being video-edited. Bruce isn’t the most subtle, you know? And when I finally met you all the rest of the pieces clicked into place! I’m sorry if–”
“Wait, wait.” Tim stared at her. “When did you meet my family at a Justice League meeting?”
“Oh, um…” She flushed, and glanced down at her shoes. “Well, you know. Ladybug asked me to be a civilian aide, and then I was Multimouse for a bit, only to–”
The LED lights caught the black-onyx studs in her ears, the light getting sucked in a little too much to be natural. Marinette’s ease at escaping the security guard, her frustrations with her “group project” team– what group project lasts over three months– and how they were handling the division of responsibility for the ‘largest grade’ of the term, not to mention–
“Oh my god, you’re Ladybug.”
Now Marinette blanched. “What? Me? Ladybug? No, that’s ridiculous!”
Her laugh was shrill and forced, moving back towards the elevator walls. Tim couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him in response to her reaction. The absurdity of the situation, how they had met, and the everything around them finally sunk in. Marinette’s shoulders relaxed as he wheezed, and her laughs dropped into something more humorous than panicked.
“We’re really a pair, aren’t we?” Tim asked once they had collected themselves and gotten the elevator moving.
Marinette shoved him gently. “Like I said, what a coincidence–” a beat, then “ –bird brain.”
Tim’s answering grin was sharp as they headed towards the café. “Whatever you say. I, for one, think that it’s miraculous.”
She groaned at the pun, rolling her eyes, before launching into an explanation on her “Caffeine-Killer” drink that she had refused to share with him in writing because it was, quote, “too powerful for mere mortals to have available to them”. Tim followed after her, true happiness bubbling up as the realization that his best friend was with him in the city.
The barista was horrified when Marinette ordered their drinks. Tim passed over a liability waiver to Marinette that he had gotten prepared when the café had first stopped making his drink the way he liked out of fear of cardiac arrest. Marinette signed it with a flourish, grinning, and promptly added one other thing to the order before pulling two cans of sugar-free energy drink out of her purse. Tim grinned back at her at the challenge in her eyes.
God, it was good to finally meet the Marinette he had started writing to in the eighth grade.