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“Claws out!” Adrien shouted giddily, paying no mind to the rest of Plagg’s lecture. The kwami shrieked in protest as he was involuntarily sucked into his miraculous, and a cool sensation began to spiral from the ring on Adrien’s finger.
Transforming into a superhero was easily the best thing that had ever occurred to him. The magic that spread from the ring across his body was cool and refreshing, like a sip of iced water after a long day of modelling under the sun. The soothing sensation reenergized him, and he almost felt as if he could run a marathon without growing tired.
And then, the cool destruction magic spread to Adrien’s wings.
Adrien felt his navy blue binder disintegrate, his large golden wings springing free from its chains. If he wasn’t caught up in the euphoria of the magic traversing through him, he would’ve worried about Father’s reaction to the very obvious disappearance of his binder. As it was, he was too overwhelmed by the soothing magic brushing over his feathers, destroying the ever-present aches in his wings. Experimentally, Adrien flexed his muscles, amazed to feel his wings flapping unimpeded through the air.
As the last tingle of his magical transformation faded, Adrien eagerly ran to his bathroom, his wings trailing on the floor behind him. Peering into the mirror, he gasped—his Gabriel clothes had been replaced by a tight leather suit, accented by a belt that trailed behind him like a tail. A domino mask laid on his face, and two cat ears were perched on the top of his head. Adrien grinned; he was a catboy superhero!
That wasn’t it, though. His feathers—previously a beautiful, blinding gold, were now pitch black like the night. Wait, no, they weren’t just black. As Adrien experimentally flapped his magically-enhanced wings—and they had to be magically-enhanced, otherwise his wings would be unbearably weak from the years of binding—he found they shimmered iridescent under the light, majestic swirls of colour glinting off the otherwise-unassuming black. Adrien stared, enthralled.
A distant boom echoed in the distance, audible even through the mansion’s thick walls.
Adrien startled back to the present, grimacing as he remembered his current situation. Right. He had been granted this magical superpower to save Paris from a monster created by emotional magic—Plagg called it an akuma, right? He couldn’t stand here and ogle at his makeover all day.
Adrien—no, Chat Noir, he was about to become a superhero and that meant code names—left the bathroom and walked over to the windows in his bedroom. He opened one of them, wondering how exactly he was supposed to get to the scene of the fight. He knew from experience there were no footholds in the side of the mansion. Was the tree on the other side of the courtyard close enough to jump to?
Wait. He could fly now!
Grinning wildly, Adri—Chat Noir spread his wings to take flight. He jumped forward, his feet leaving the floor, and—
Adrien’s wings crashed into the window.
He stumbled back, groaning. What a great way to find out the miraculous’s magic did not stop him from feeling pain.
Adrien glowered at the window. It wasn’t small by any means, but it was evidently not big enough to accommodate his spread wings.
After a moment of hesitation, Adrien hopped onto the window ledge, and then opened his wings. The gentle breeze ruffled his feathers as he glided forwards. Adrien grinned, giddy—
He crashed into the tree in the garden.
Adrien cursed internally, branches digging into his body. Twigs and scratchy leaves entwined themselves with his feathers. He dragged his body to the top of the tree, and glowered at the distance between the tree and the walls that blocked the Agreste mansion from the outside world, trying his best to remember the way people flew in TV shows. Right, he needed to flap his wings if he didn’t want to fall.
He flapped his wings once, the motion sending him soaring above the mansion’s barbed walls into the bright blue Parisian sky.
Yes! He did it! Chat Noir was finally flying off, on his first mission as a superhero—
A sharp gust of wind rushed by, colliding with Chat’s wingspan. Thrown off course by the wind, Chat careened downwards—right into a gleefully waiting chimney.
Chat pouted as he stumbled unsteadily to his feet, rubbing his head. Who knew flying was so hard?
Chat Noir crashed into two more chimneys, and could say with some misplaced confidence he was finally getting the hang of this flying thing—right before colliding face-first into an honest-to-god human.
Some sort of string twisted around their bodies as Chat and his unfortunate victim dropped into a freefall, until the string somehow ended up with them pinned together upside down and hanging from a streetlamp.
Chat blushed in mortification at their predicament—what a way to make his superhero debut! That was, before he took in his victim’s appearance.
The girl had midnight black hair tied up in two pigtails. On her back was a pair of wings with similarly black feathers, marked at the tips with bright crimson spots. She wore a tight bodysuit with the inverted colour scheme of her wings.
The most eye-catching thing about the girl, though, was the domino mask perched on her face, near-identical in shape to Chat’s own.
There was no mistake about it. This was Chat Noir’s to-be partner.
That thought was almost enough to make him flush even brighter—this was even worse than crashing into some random flying citizen—but then, he realised the girl’s face was even redder than his own. She was stammering an intelligible storm—something about an apology and being madly clumsy—and somehow, that made Chat feel a bit better about himself.
“Hello, m’Lady,” Chat interrupted, purring with false bravado, “Chat Noir at your service. I assume you are the partner my kwami told me about?”
“How come you have a magical weapon?” Chat grumbled as Ladybug cautiously lowered the two heroes to the ground, eying the yo-yo in her hand with just a little jealousy. Granted, it was giving his new partner no small amount of trouble, but still. A magical superhero weapon. He almost salivated at the thought. “I want one too.”
“But you do?” Ladybug frowned, glancing at his belt. “Is that…not a magical weapon?”
Chat Noir blinked, glancing down.
Hanging innocently on his belt was a silver baton, decorated by a green paw print. A press of the paw print made the baton extend into a staff, and another press sent it retracting back into a baton. On instinct, Chat slid the side of the baton open, only to find something akin to a smartphone display screen within the weapon.
“…huh.” Chat muttered.
“Wait.” Ladybug stared. “Our weapons can do that?”
“Can I ask you a question?” Ladybug asked as the superheroes finally made their way towards of the akuma.
“Ask away.” Chat grinned, shrinking his baton before extending it again to vault over the buildings. This was so much better than displaying his absolute ineptitude at flight in front of his new partner. He tried not to think about how easily Ladybug kept pace with him by simply gliding.
“Why are you covered in twigs?”
Chat’s shoulders tensed, momentarily forgetting to extend his baton again. He went into freefall, his wings instinctively springing open to turn his fall into a controlled glide.
Hastily, Chat pressed the paw print on the baton, the cylinder lengthening to stop his descent. He refused to look Ladybug in the eye, and forced his mind to stop thinking about embarrassing crash-landings into trees. “…no comment.”
Despite calming down after their initial meeting, Ladybug faltered as they reached the football stadium, where the akuma was rampaging. Chat Noir couldn’t blame her.
The wingless stone monster towered over the stadium, every step seeming to shake the ground. Their only saving grace was that the monster couldn’t fly; otherwise, they would be screwed.
Ladybug didn’t seem any more inclined to leap into action even after a pep talk, so Chat decided to take the lead. He leapt off the roof, his wings flaring open as he heroically rushed at the akuma. Except—
Chat realised too late he didn’t actually know how to halt.
He crashed right into the akuma, who raised a gigantic palm to grab him. A wire wrapped around his midriff, and Chat found himself flying backwards against his will, moments before the akuma’s stone fist closed around where he had been a moment ago.
…his actions seemed to have broken the ice, at least.
“You’re even clumsier than I am!” Ladybug complained as she reeled him back to her side with her yo-yo. “Honestly, it’s like you’ve never flown before.”
Chat Noir laughed nervously.
After Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Stoneheart, they went their separate ways. Chat barely made it through his bedroom window before his transformation timed out.
His miraculous’s cool destruction magic receded from him, leaving Cha—Adrien with a strange emptiness. He felt the fabric of his binders crawl over his wings, forcing them back into what Father deemed to be an ideal position. Almost instantly, Adrien’s back muscles began to cramp.
Adrien sighed, already missing the delightful thrill of being Chat Noir. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know his feathers had already returned to their natural golden hue. He brushed a finger along them with pursed lips, missing Chat Noir’s iridescent black wings with a vengeance despite how little time he had spent as Chat.
Plagg popped up next to him. Adrien braced himself for the kwami to yell at him for running off, but Plagg simply shook his head after a mere glance at him, and demanded camembert of all things.
Adrien promised to buy the cheese the first opportunity he could, still feeling a bit in a daze. Even after that single taste of freedom, he knew he could never happily return to his original sheltered life again. That feeling of wind ruffling his feathers—even with his frustratingly frequent crash-landings, that sensation was addicting. He’d rather die than go without it ever again.
Maybe he should give going to school another shot? Adrien’s heart stuttered at the idea of Nathalie catching him red-handed once more, but…
He had fought a magical monster. Nathalie couldn’t be scarier than that…right?
At least he was now a magical superhero. That was even better than getting to go to school!
Hm…yes, what sort of superhero would he be if he was too much of a scaredy cat—heh—to even go to school? A slight smile blooming on his face, Adrien decided to give school another try, looking forward to a future that seemed much brighter than before.
…up until the stone monsters began to multiply and Plagg complained Ladybug should’ve purified the butterfly, at least.
Chloe’s self-proclaimed best friend and future husband was in Marinette’s class.
Even before she found him sticking gum onto her chair, Marinette decided she didn’t like the new guy.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t handsome—far from it. Marinette could easily recognise him from the front page of several Vogue magazines—the Adrien Agreste, son of the famed designer Gabriel Agreste and star of the Gabriel brand. It wasn’t that Gabriel Agreste was an elitist asshole whom most start-up designers hated with a burning passion. It wasn’t even because Marinette didn’t trust anyone associated with Chloe, let alone her ‘best friend’.
She might’ve given him a chance despite being Chloe’s supposed best friend—she wouldn’t put it past that brat to lie about their relationship for clout—if it weren’t for those dumb binders on Adrien’s back.
Everyone with eyes knew binders were currently the height of fashion among rich people—something about a statement of status and not needing to dirty their wings by flight. At the risk of sounding like Chloe, Marinette would like to declare that pretentious ‘fashion’ trend was utterly ridiculous and a crime against humanity.
Chloe wore baby blue binders on her honey yellow wings with pride. The binders held her wings tight against her back, ensuring there was no way they’d drag against the floor as she walked. The brat liked to tell Marinette her feathers wouldn’t be in constant disarray if she only wore binders like Chloe, before laughing and saying something along the lines of not like a baker girl like you can afford one anyway. It was stupid, because Marinette could tell Chloe’s binders were made of cheap fabric and did absolutely nothing for her complexion. Sabrina’s grey green binders—a gift from Chloe—did a much better job of highlighting her fiery red feathers.
The moment Marinette saw those royal blue binders on Adrien’s needlessly extravagant golden wings, she knew. Adrien Agreste was nothing more than yet another spoiled brat she’d have to put up with for the rest of the school year.
Really, what did she expect from Chloe’s best friend?
Finding him sticking gum onto her bench only solidified Marinette’s suspicions.
But then, Adrien went through the trouble of tracking Marinette down just to apologise, practically begging her to understand it was all a misunderstanding and give him a second chance. He even offered her his umbrella so she could safely get home, preferring to go out into the pouring rain so she could stay dry. Chloe would never have accepted getting soaking wet.
…maybe Adrien Agreste wasn’t such an unbearable brat, after all.
One of Adrien’s new classmates was kind of strange, but in an endearing way.
She wore her raven hair in a pair of pigtails—just like Ladybug—and her fluffy wings had grey feathers fading into pink at the tips. Adrien desperately wanted to touch them, but he didn’t have to be socially adept to know that would be rude.
She didn’t seem to like him much at first, but they seemed to have cleared up the air ever since that conversation after school. She was sweet and cheerful—bringing pastries to class that Adrien secretly indulged in despite his dietarian’s strict instructions not to—but for some reason, Marinette always got a stammer at the strangest times. Not that Adrien minded; he liked to think slight character quirks added flavour to one’s personality. Like adding a hint of spice to cheese, Plagg had agreed.
He’d love to become her friend.
The class was doing gymnastics for PE today. Naturally, Nino sucked at it, but half of the class was just as bad if not worse than him, so he didn’t feel too sorry about himself.
Chloe—and Sabrina by extension—were once again sitting out the lesson due to ‘special circumstances’, such circumstances being born too rich for Chloe’s own good. Most of his classmates were slacking off while the teacher wasn’t looking as well. Marinette and Alya were standing to the side gossiping. Max was typing something on his wristwatch with his back turned to the room and his outstretched wings shielding his body from view, as if that would make everyone unaware of what he was doing. Rose and Juleka had sneaked off entirely, probably to make out in the supply closet—Nino grimaced at the thought, immediately trying to burn the traumatising memory of that one time out of his mind. He was never doing a favour for the janitor again.
With the exception of Alix and Kim, practically no one was taking PE seriously.
Well—with the exception of Alix, Kim and Adrien.
To Nino’s surprise, his new friend excelled at gymnastics, or at least most parts of it. Adrien somersaulted across the mat like he was born for it, and performed a near-perfect handstand that had the teacher almost weeping with joy. Nino saw Kim’s eyes shining, and made a mental note to warn Adrien against accepting any dares—but especially Kim’s—in the future.
That was only the non-airborne parts of the lesson, though.
Adrien didn’t even take off his wing binders for PE—the main reason why Nino was shocked at his enthusiasm for the class. Nino had no idea how Adrien had such impeccable balance while handicapped, and—as Nino faceplanted onto the mat for the third time in a row—he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit jealous.
The forlorn look on Adrien’s face as he watched Alix and Kim fly through the hoops hanging from the ceiling killed any half-formed ideas of begging Adrien for the secrets to his success.
Now, Nino didn’t exactly like PE lessons. But with the look on Adrien’s face, he felt just a bit guilty for not enjoying these classes more.
Nino glanced at the teacher, who was coaxing Mylene into doing an air somersault. Deeming the man distracted enough, he abandoned his flight path and landed next to Adrien on the bleachers.
“Hey, dude.” He greeted Adrien, who was staring blankly into the distance.
Adrien blinked, startling at Nino’s presence. “Nino! Aren’t you supposed to…” Adrien gestured at the obstacle course hanging from the ceiling.
“Just taking a break,” Nino shrugged. “But what about you? I thought—I didn’t expect you to sit this out.”
Adrien smiled—at least, Nino thought that was what his friend was trying to do. It looked more like a grimace. He raised a hand to tug his binder—slightly skewed from the physical exercise—back into place. “I…I’m not supposed to remove my binder in public.” He paused, then added. “Or in private.”
“You—what? Is that a rich people thing?” Nino asked, then winced. “No offence.”
Adrien raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “More like a my father thing. He’s…very concerned about maintaining a poised image.”
“So you’re not allowed to join parts of PE?” Nino asked, incredulous. A lot of people faked being sick to get out of PE—he could still remember the time Marinette proudly announced she faked being on her period to get out of swimming, much to the girls’ delight at the ingenuity of the excuse and the boys’ disappointment that they couldn’t do the same thing—and Nino was no exception, so he couldn’t exactly sing praises about this government-mandated class. But for Adrien’s father to force him to sit out half of the lesson when he clearly liked PE for some unfathomable reason? “Dude. That’s so screwed up.”
Adrien gave him another strained smile, as if to say “what can you do?”
Nino decided right then and there he didn’t like Gabriel Agreste.
“Hey, Nino?” Adrien rubbed his arm sheepishly as he came up to his newly-deakumatised friend.
Nino smiled back, trying to hide his wince. Paris had become accustomed to akuma attacks in the past month—as much as anyone could get used to magical emotional monsters—but Nino never thought it would happen to him. He liked to think he was a level-headed person, and to be targeted for a dumb birthday party of all things…
“I…wanted to thank you,” Adrien said softly, “I’ve never…no one cared to do this much for my birthday in a long time. So even though you got akumatized…” Adrien trailed off, looking down at his feet.
Scratch that. Even with the akumatisation, this was totally worth it. He just wished the Bubbler didn’t give Ladybug and Chat Noir too much trouble.
“Dude, there’s no need to thank me.” Nino knocked a fist against Adrien’s arm, making Adrien glance back up. “Someone should’ve given you a birthday party a long time ago. It’s not your fault your dad’s too much of a jerk for us to have an actual akuma-free party—no offense—but there’s always next year, right? Besides, this is what friends are for.”
To Nino’s alarm, Adrien began to tear up at that. “You…really? You mean…we…we’re friends?”
“Did—dude. Did I not make that clear?” Nino asked in horror. Without even thinking, he reached behind his back to pluck an amber brown feather from his wing. He held it out for Adrien. “Here. This way, you can never doubt our friendship.”
Adrien gaped at Nino’s feather, stunned speechless. He closed his mouth, opened it again, before slamming it shut once more.
“A friendship feather.” Nino elaborated, suddenly and painfully aware of the absence of any feathers other than his own on Adrien’s wings. There wasn’t even a single feather from his parents or Chloe. The realisation made Nino’s chest clench. Was this…the first time anyone offered Adrien a feather? “Marinette has one—we’ve been friends since diapers. And I’d like you to have one as well. But…uh…don’t feel pressured if you think it’s too soon, dude.” He added hastily. Most people were friends for at least a few months before exchanging friendship feathers, but for Adrien, who doesn’t have a single one… “I just—”
“No, it’s not—” Adrien hesitated, biting his lips. He swallowed, looking at Nino’s feather with longing so intense it almost seemed physically painful. “I’d love to, Nino. I—” He brushed a finger along the edge of his wings, before forcing his hand back to his side. “You’re my friend too, and there’s nothing I want more than this. But…Father would never allow me.” Adrien smiled bitterly. “It’s…he thinks it’s unprofessional.”
“He—he what?” Nino choked out.
The exchange of feathers was the most personal and intimate act possible between two people, a physical proof of the love and trust between them. The feathers were hung in different positions on their wings—one area to signify friends, one for family, and one for romantic partners. People romantically in love with each other gave their partner one feather when they became a couple, another when they were engaged, and a third feather during their marriage ceremony. Marinette had an amber brown feather to show the world her friendship with Nino, but some nights he dreamed of his feather hanging somewhere else on her wing—but that was neither here nor there.
Nino knew many public figures preferred to only wear their feathers in private so their loved ones won’t be bombarded by the press, but for Adrien’s father to deprive his son of this completely…
First forbidding Adrien from joining PE, then refusing to let him have even a small birthday party, and now this…
That was it. One of these days Nino was going to kill Gabriel Agreste.
“I can’t believe you thought Chloe Bourgeois is Ladybug!” Marinette complained. “Chloe! Bourgeois! Who is a notorious bully and hates doing PE with us peasants! Running around Paris and getting sweaty playing hero? Leaving her penthouse with her wings unbound?” She scoffed.
Alya flushed, slouching down and burying her face into her hands. “It made sense at the time…”
“Made sense?” Marinette tugged at the ends of her pigtails, more bothered by this than was probably healthy. But even though Chloe had calmed down since the beginning of this school year, the idea of being associated with her—or, kwami forbid, as her—still made Marinette’s skin crawl. “Al, she doesn’t even have the same hair or feather colour as Ladybug!”
Yes, the miraculous changed the colour of Marinette’s feathers, but Alya didn’t know that. Marinette was going to use every weapon in her arsenal to ensure her friend doesn’t figure out Ladybug’s true identity.
“You don’t know that!” Alya’s head sprang up, a fire burning in her eyes. “Akumas lose their wings, don’t they? Ladybug and Chat Noir’s magic might let them change their hair and wing colour—or even their eye colour! We’d never know.”
…Marinette hated it when her friend acted smart.
“Wait up, girl!”
Marinette paused in the school courtyard on her way to class, turning to greet Alya, only to have a phone shoved into her face. “Look!”
Gently, Marinette pushed her friend back until she could actually see the screen, and squinted at the video Alya was playing. “…is that Dark Cupid?”
Alya nodded excitedly. “See? Dark Cupid doesn’t have wings even though he can fly! This proves all akumas lose their wings no matter the circumstances—so either Hawkmoth just has a thing against wings—oh, maybe he’s an amputee—or losing wings is part of the transformation magic. And it also means my theory that the miraculous can change hair, feather or even skin colour is even more likely to be real! Not to mention—”
Marinette sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It’s too early for this. They hadn’t even arrived in the classroom. “How do you even have this footage? I distinctly remember you being hit by Dark Cupid.”
“Oh, Nino took it for me.” Alya preened. “Isn’t he the best boyfriend? Now, as I was saying before you so kindly interrupted me, Ladybug and Chat Noir kissed—”
Marinette was going to kill Nino for making her deal with this.
“Look—look!” Alya slid to a halt in the classroom, brandishing a black feather in front of her like a trophy. “I got Ladybug’s feather!”
Marinette stared at the feather in Alya’s hands, coal black with vermillion spots. She could tell without doubt it was one of Ladybug’s feathers—especially considering she wore the same feathers every akuma attack. But…just how did Alya get her hands on that?
“How did you get that?” Adrien asked before she could, eying the feather with thinly veiled envy.
“Picked it up last akuma attack.” Alya smirked smugly, then addressed to Adrien. “Though I guess you’ll have no trouble buying one online, rich boy.”
“People are selling m—Ladybug’s feathers online!?” Marinette demanded. She knew most celebrities sold their shed feathers to dedicated fans as collectibles, but her feathers? Who would even want her feathers?
A lot of people, apparently.
“And Chat Noir’s,” Alya supplied helpfully. “They’re insanely expensive, though. Much easier to chance by a shed feather when filming akuma attacks.”
Marinette was so shocked she forgot to scold Alya for putting herself in danger chasing akuma fights again. Honestly, some of these days she could swear her friend had a death wish.
…so Ladybug might’ve developed a small crush on Chat Noir.
This was not a big deal at all. It wasn’t like the two of them regularly ran around Paris in form-fitting suits that left little to the imagination. It wasn’t like Ladybug knew Chat’s body better than she knew anyone’s other than her own, after so many vicious akuma attacks which left little opportunity for body shyness. It wasn’t like Chat Noir made her realise she had a leather kink approximately two weeks into their partnership. It wasn’t like she sometimes fantasised about having one—no, three—pale grey and pink feathers hanging against Chat’s iridescent black wings. It wasn’t like she knew Chat had lips too soft for his own good, or that he looked stupid hot in black lip gloss, or that Ladybug desperately wanted a round two kiss where Chat was conscious enough to kiss her back—
You know what? She was going to shut up now.
Why couldn’t she fall in love with someone easier? Nino would’ve been great—who didn’t like a childhood friends-to-lovers relationship? She wouldn’t mind dating Alya—except Alya might drive Marinette insane with her tendency to rush headfirst into danger. Or maybe Adrien—he was sweet, gentle and easy on the eyes—she could easily see herself building a family with him, with three children and a hamster. If she hadn’t met Chat Noir earlier that day—with his too-big heart and too-clumsy wings—she might’ve fallen for Adrien that afternoon when he offered her his umbrella.
Really, anyone except Chat Noir would’ve been ideal. Anyone except that dark, seemingly-mysterious figure who was actually just a huge dork, who was kind and loyal and a presence she could always rely on in times of crises, except she could never know the true shade of his eyes or the genuine hue of his feathers because of Hawkmoth, that thrice-damned asshole—
Marinette buried her face into her pillow, her wings draped across her back like a weighted blanket, and screamed. Tikki patted her head sympathetically. It didn’t help.
There was a time, Adrien remembered, when Chloe longed to fly just as much as him.
“Adrikins,” Chloe had declared firmly as the two were left alone in Chloe’s room for a playdate. “We’re gonna fly today.”
The then six-year-old Adrien had frowned. “But Father said—”
Chloe had sniffed. “Who cares what your daddy says? My daddy said I can do whatever I want, and I want to fly.”
With that, she had—with Adrien’s help—removed her glittery pink binder. That had been back when Chloe thought pink was the colour of princesses, before her mother declared pink to be overrated and Chloe concluded blue and yellow were her favourite colours anyway, so who cared about pink?
The two children had then stacked furniture on top of each other, until they managed to arrange a staircase to the top of Chloe’s closet. Chloe had climbed unsteadily to the top, where she nervously flapped her wings.
“Chlo-bear,” Adrien had said anxiously, glancing at the tall height of the closet. “Are you sure—”
“Of course I am!” Chloe had snapped. With that, she leapt off the top of the closet, stretching out her wings in flight. A blissful expression had appeared on her face, and Adrien had wondered…was it worth it to try a small flight himself?
Of course, that had been when Andre Bourgeois opened the door to Chloe’s room. “La chérie, do you want to eat—Chloe, what are you doing!?”
That had been the one and only time Adrien saw Chloe’s father fly into a protective rage.
As it turned out, Chloe could do anything she wanted—anything, except fly.
“Mon chou,” Adrien remembered Mother gasping in delight as she walked into his room, which was covered in black construction paper painted with stars. “What is this?”
Adrien had shrugged shyly, hiding a bright golden secondary feather behind his back. The seven-year-old had just watched a show where the two protagonist exchanged feathers as a promise of their love and affection, with the stars as their witness, and—it was so beautiful. Adrien knew his fake stars couldn’t replace the real thing, but he had tried his best to recreate that same atmosphere, so it had to count for something, right?
“This is for you, Mother.” He had held out his pre-chosen feather, nervously peering at his mother’s expression.
Surprise flew across Mother’s face, then amusement and exasperation, before Mother kneeled down next to him with a sigh.
“Adrien,” Mother admonished gently, pushing his extended hand back to his chest. “You aren’t supposed to do that. Only people with nothing better to do exchange feathers.”
“…oh.” Adrien looked down, frowning at the feather in his hands. But that scene had been so beautiful…
“I’ll send for the maids to clean up your room, okay?” Mother smiled, “Let’s go practice piano together.”
After that, Adrien didn’t try to gift anyone his feathers again. Still, that movie scene stayed in his mind for years, a reminder of what never was. If only…
“That brat,” Marinette growled under her breath, but loud enough for her friends to hear, “why does she always have to ruin everything?”
It was Careers Day at school, and Chloe had pulled the fire alarm to get out of having to listen to Ivan’s mother’s presentation on being a flight coach. Her stunt had left the entire school punished by mass detention, which Adrien had joined out of solidarity. Besides, he didn’t actually mind that much—it was another excuse to hang out with his friends.
Chloe…probably deserved Marinette’s ire. After all, it was clear to everyone present that she had been the one to pull the fire alarm—they just had no proof. Still, Adrien couldn’t shake off the instinct to defend her.
“She’s jealous,” Adrien muttered, “Chloe likes to pretend not being allowed to fly doesn’t bother her, but it does. We used to dream about flying together, but—to be honest, I don’t know what changed. Maybe she found embracing reality easier than clinging onto an impossible dream.” He shrugged.
If Adrien was given the choice to forget his desire to fly, would he choose that?
Marinette’s eyes softened at that, but Alya just scoffed. “Why can’t she just take her binder off? I know your father’s…strict about this, but the mayor spoils Chloe. He wouldn’t mind.”
Adrien hesitated; on the one hand, what happened when Chloe was six wasn’t any of his friends’ business, but on the other hand…
“He’d mind.” Adrien confessed, lowering his head to scrub at a particularly stubborn stain. “Chloe tried to take off her binder when we were six. M. Bourgeois…that was the only time I saw him get angry.”
“…dude.” Nino said.
Adrien blinked, glancing up. He found his three friends gaping at him.
“That’s so…so…” Marinette frowned, struggling to find the right words.
“That’s so screwed up.” Alya finished Marinette’s sentence. “I can’t believe—I never thought I’d feel sorry for Chloe.”
Adrien smiled, pained.
“…she still shouldn’t have pulled the fire alarm.” Marinette muttered. “Kim and Alix were looking forward to that presentation.”
“I’ll talk to her, okay?” Adrien promised. “I’m sure she’ll listen better if the words come from me.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Chat Noir looked at Ladybug warily. The last time she said that, she had asked why he was covered in branches. It was a question he wasn’t able to answer without dying of mortification. “Um, sure?”
“Why are you always out at night?” Ladybug wondered, leaning back to look at the skyline. With the light pollution, they couldn’t see the stars, but the twinkling city lights made for a pretty good substitute. Chat would never get tired of the sight of the Eiffel Tower at night, especially from the angle of this perch. “Every day, I wake up to news of you patrolling the streets—stopping muggers and escorting drunk students home. Don’t you ever sleep?”
Chat cleared his throat, taking on the dark, brooding voice of Batman. “Evil never sleeps, so neither do I.”
Ladybug snorted, reaching out to flick his bell. “I thought kittens are supposed to be lazy?”
Chat grinned impishly. “I’m not a kitten. I’m a fully grown cat, meow.”
“Sure you are.” Ladybug laughed. Her face turned serious. “But really, Chaton, are you okay? Staying up that late can’t be healthy.”
“I get plenty of catnaps. No, seriously—I do. Pinkie promise.” Chat promised. He wasn’t even lying. He just preferred sleeping out here under the night sky, with his wings unbound and the night wind caressing his face. Getting to help people was just a positive afterthought.
“…if you say so,” Ladybug frowned, unconvinced. “But…you know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Anything except our true identities.” Chat pouted.
Ladybug smiled at him apologetically. Chat shook his head and squeezed her hand. This wasn’t the time to rehash that argument.
“…I’m glad you joined me tonight,” he muttered, leaning against her shoulder. “It gets lonely patrolling by my lonesome.”
“We aren’t really patrolling.” Ladybug pointed out, but she didn’t seem any more inclined to move from their perch than Chat.
Despite the chilling night air, right now—with their wings draped over each other and the wind of freedom ruffling his feathers—Chat Noir had never felt more warm.
Marinette realised the new student, Lila Rossi, was a liar even before she opened her mouth.
No, it wasn’t anything as stereotypical as Lila having a long nose or a fox face. It was the tapestry of feathers hanging on both her wings, smothering her original orange tufts. Marinette could spot Clara Nightingale’s soft cream, both Jagged Stone’s dark purple and XY’s bright magenta, along with a very familiar red-spotted feather hanging in the wing section reserved for close friends.
“—so yeah, I became Ladybug’s best friend ever since. I’m the only one she ever gave a feather to. As I’m sure you know, not even Chat Noir has received one.” The liar preened under the attention of her enraptured audience, raising her wing to show off Ladybug’s alleged friendship feather. “It’s such an honour, being considered Ladybug’s closest friend, even closer than Chat Noir—”
Quietly, Marinette scoffed.
“Marinette!” Alya exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she spotted her. Marinette was displeased to find her at the forefront of the crowd. Lila’s smile turned into a scowl at the interruption, but she quickly readjusted her face back into a pleasant expression. “You’ve got to meet Lila! She’s had the most amazing adventures; she’s best friends with Clara Nightingale, Jagged Stone and XY, not to mention Ladybug. Ladybug! Can you imagine?” Alya sighed enviously at the orange-haired girl.
“I can’t, actually.” Marinette said in a clipped tone before she could think better, scowling at Lila. “Ladybug would never give anyone her feathers. Even Chat Noir doesn’t have her feathers—” as much as she wants to give one to him “—let alone—let alone some civilian!”
“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Lila gave her a false sympathetic smile. “Ladybug trusts me more than Chat Noir. Of course, I feel a bit bad for Chat, but it’s not my decision to make—”
“No.” Marinette interrupted sharply. “You’re pretending to be her best friend by wearing her feather, and that’s disgusting. Ladybug would hate to be associated with the likes of you.”
Lila’s eyes widened in mock hurt, and her olive eyes began to fill with tears. “I—you—” She sniffled, shaking her head. The liar raised a hand to rub at her eyes before giving Marinette a shaky smile, but everyone could see the rapidly reddening whites of her eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me. I don’t—I don’t mind. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? I can understand if you’re jealous. I wouldn’t believe me either, but—I—just—” Lila sniffled again, “I—sorry—” she muttered, her voice getting noticeably choked. “Bathroom.” With that, the girl pushed through the crowd in the direction of the girl’s toilet, now openly bawling.
The crowd muttered, some people chasing after Lila in concern, while others turned to face Marinette with glares on their faces.
Alya turned to her, an uncharacteristic scowl on her face. “Girl, what the hell?”
“You know I’m right,” Marinette bit out. “Aren’t you the one who claims to be Ladybug’s biggest fan? Ladybug would never allow this. I don’t trust this new girl, and frankly,” she raised her voice so the surrounding students could hear her, “no one should.”
Alya’s eyes widened slightly at Marinette’s tone, before narrowing once more. “You don’t know that.” She said sharply. “Marinette, you can’t just accuse someone of something like this without basis! That’s—that’s not like you—I don’t—” She shook her head, angry and confused. “The Marinette I know would never have done this.”
Alya was coming from a place of good intentions, Marinette knew. Claiming someone was wearing another’s feathers without their permission was a heavy accusation, on the level of accusing a person of assault. But Marinette knew for a fact Ladybug hadn’t allowed Lila to wear her feather—because she was Ladybug—and it hurt to be ignored for something as severe as what Lila was doing.
She wasn’t only angry at Lila for pretending to be Ladybug’s best friend for clout—if it had been just that, Marinette might have found it in herself to let this go, but…Lila had worn her feather. She was—this was—Marinette had never felt so violated.
“Then maybe you don’t know me at all, Alya.” Marinette snapped before she could reign in her temper, turning abruptly and storming off in the opposite direction. She blinked, hoping no one could notice the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
Marinette quickly decided she hated Lila Rossi even more than Hawkmoth.
Before lunch, the news of Marinette and Lila’s altercation had already spread throughout the school, and approximately no one was willing to interact with Marinette.
Mlle Bustier looked at her disapprovingly in the hallways, but Marinette fled before the teacher could catch her for a scolding. Adrien gave her a sad and confused frown between lessons, as though he didn’t quite understand what this fuss was about. That, or he didn’t understand how Marinette could do something as cruel and heartless as this. For the sake of her sanity, Marinette desperately believed it was the former. Alya refused to speak with her, though she hadn’t asked for her feather back—so there was that, at least.
That wasn’t the extent of it, though. Marinette found Lila cornering Adrien in the library, stealing and throwing Adrien’s book—that turned out to be the miraculous Grimoire—into the trash, which got Adrien withdrawn from school. Immediately after, Lila claimed to be a miraculous hero and then became akumatized, right before pretending that a meteor was about to crash into the city.
Marinette was just about ready to punch Lila into oblivion by the time school came to an end, which could easily be counted as a goddamn miracle—she could count on one hand how many times she had gotten this angry. Even dealing with Chloe during the height of her bullying days had been easier than this.
Thankfully, just because Marinette couldn’t actually punch Lila didn’t mean she didn’t have an ace card up her sleeve.
Tikki didn’t even protest when Marinette made it explicitly clear what she was about to do, which spoke volumes about how annoyed the kwami was as well.
Fifteen minutes after the final bell had rung, Lila had once again gathered an audience in the school courtyard, enthralled by her tales of grandeur. That was when Ladybug made her entrance, flying off the roof and gliding to a halt next to Lila.
“Ladybug!” Lila said, lighting up at the sight of her. If Ladybug didn’t know to look for it, she never would’ve noticed the nervousness hidden behind Lila’s bright smile. The orange-haired girl folded her wings—previously flared out for the admiration of her fellow students—behind her, a clear effort to hide the spotted feather on her wing. “What are you doing here? I thought you were busy with—with patrol today.”
“Lila Rossi.” Ladybug greeted with a smile, an expression that held no warmth. Her spotted wings flared out behind her in intimidation, an obvious sign of her displeasure. “When were you going to tell me you are my civilian best friend? And that I gave you permission to wear my feather?”
Lila’s eyes widened slightly, a clear oh shit she knew running through the girl’s mind. Stammering, Lila asked, “What are you talking about, Ladybug?” Her brows furrowed, and she asked in concern, “Did you…forget…? LB, are you okay? Did you get hit by an amnesia akuma? Gods, what are we gonna do?”
…okay. Wow. Was she seriously trying to gaslight one of Paris’s superheroes?
“…you realise no one actually calls me LB, right?” Ladybug asked dryly.
“I do.” Lila pointed out, “Seriously, are you okay? You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Really? Does that include telling you to stop wearing my feather, because I did not give you permission? And stop trying to gaslight me, Rossi. You’re not going to succeed.”
Lila’s face did some sort of complicated somersault, before coming to the rightful conclusion she wasn’t going to successfully gaslight Ladybug. Warmth leeched out of the girl’s expression. “I think we’re done here.”
“We are.” Ladybug agreed, looking pointedly at the murmuring crowd that surrounded them. She could spot at least a dozen phones recording this confrontation. Judging by the way Lila’s face paled, she could as well.
“You can get sued for this, you know.” Ladybug added softly, pitying the girl in spite of herself. “I won’t sue you, but you might want to take the feathers off before those celebrities find out what you’ve been doing.” She glanced pointedly at the collage of feathers clipped onto Lila’s wings. “I’ve heard XY is particularly vicious about this sort of thing.”
The next day, it was announced that Lila was withdrawing from Françoise Dupont Collège.
Good riddance, Marinette thought viciously. She had enough on her plate without adding a liar to the menu.
Lila’s mother even contacted Ladybug and apologised on behalf of her daughter, going as far as to offer compensation for what Lila did. Ladybug turned down her offer, of course, but it had been a touching gesture.
Still, Alya refused to make eye contact with her throughout the first five periods. Marinette tried not to let the disappointment show on her face.
When the lunch bell finally rang, Marinette made to stand, only to find a hand latching onto her wrist. “Um.” Alya said, uncharacteristically quiet. “Can we…can we talk?”
Tilting her head, Marinette sat back down. The two waited in silence as their classmates left the room, Adrien giving them a confused frown before Nino pulled him away gently.
Finally, Alya turned to Marinette, not quite daring to meet her friend’s eyes. Alya swallowed. “I’m so sorry—I should’ve trusted you—I can’t believe Lila would do that—” Alya’s face twisted in genuine anger. “I just—she—there’s no excuse for not believing you, I know…but…”
With those few simple words, an invisible weight fell off Marinette’s chest.
“It’s…it’s okay,” Marinette interrupted, a small, relieved smile blooming on her face. Alya didn’t hate her, she had just been working up the nerve to apologise. “You were just doing what you thought is right. And…” She hesitated. “I’m glad you stand for justice. Besides, I might’ve been…a little impulsive in confronting Lila.”
She should’ve made a plan for that. Ladybug always had a plan.
Part of her was glad her classmates hadn’t believed hearsay so easily, even though it had been inconvenient and downright frustrating. Kwamis knew there were already too many toxic fans who accused people genuinely close with celebrities of faking their relationship.
“Can I…can I hug you?” Alya asked softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
In lieu of an answer, Marinette spread her arms in invitation. Alya quickly reciprocated, burying her face in the crook of Marinette’s shoulders. Their wings rose around them, wrapping the two girls in a soft and safe cocoon.
“I’m sorry,” Alya whispered again. Marinette graciously didn’t mention the wet spot on her shirt.
By the time the two finally made it to the cafeteria, lunch period was almost over. Nino smiled at them as they made their way to the table he and Adrien were occupy, his shoulders slumping in relief. Wordlessly, he offered the remaining cookie in his lunchbox to Alya and Marinette.
Alya broke the cookie into two halves, offering one half to Marinette. Smiling, Marinette accepted the peace offering.
It tasted even better than the cookies Maman and Papa baked.
“Chaton!” Ladybug giggled at the state of Chat Noir. “Took a dip in a swamp?”
“…shut up.” Chat grumbled, his leather ears flat against his skull. He plopped down next to Ladybug on the roof. Chat flicked his fingers, some of the mud encasing him flying onto Ladybug, and grinned at Ladybug’s shriek of protest. “This akuma sucks.”
Ladybug grimaced in agreement. Mudborn was an akuma who could teleport, leaving behind mud as the only evidence of her presence. Apparently, she had been a janitor fed up with the mud that seemed to appear every time she turned around. If this was half of what the janitor had to deal with, Ladybug couldn’t blame her for being akumatized.
She hated teleporting akumas. They were always such a pain.
Ladybug sighed, leaning back to stare at the cloudy sky. They’d have to move soon, hopefully luring Mudborn to an area she couldn’t easily teleport away from. The akuma had to have some sort of weakness, but she couldn’t remember seeing any.
She turned her head to look at her partner. Hopefully Chat saw something she missed. “Hey, Chat, do you—what…what are you doing?”
Chat was roughly carding his clawed fingers through his feathers, dislodging clumps of mud from his wings—and his feathers along with it.
He blinked, flicking his wrists to shake off the feather caught between his claws. Ladybug watched as the downy feather fluttered down, landing in a pile of mud.
“Um,” Chat wrinkled his nose in confusion, an expression that Ladybug would’ve thought was cute if not for the circumstances. “Cleaning my wings?”
“That—you—this—what—” Ladybug choked out, making a gesture that she wasn’t sure the meaning of. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Is that how your father taught you to groom?”
They tried not to give away too many personal details—they did try—but sometimes things slipped out. That was why Ladybug knew Chat’s mother was out of the picture and his father wasn’t that good at his parenting job.
“Uh…” Chat hesitated. “He…never taught me…?”
“He never—” Ladybug hissed lowly, suddenly glad there was an akuma so she didn’t have to reign in her probably unheroic murderous urges. No—trying to figure out Chat’s identity just so she could kill his dad wasn’t a good idea—she had to calm down, or she wouldn’t be able to help anyone.
Ladybug took another deep breath, counted to three, and released it. She pressed her fingertips together and said, emphatically. “Chat. Chaton. You’re gonna end up with bald spots before you’re thirty if you groom like that.”
Chat frowned again, his leather ears flicking around his head. “Uh. What?”
His parents seriously never taught him to properly groom, Ladybug thought with gritted teeth. She was going to tear Chat’s father’s heart out and feed it to Jagged’s crocodile—no. Calm. An asshole’s heart probably wouldn’t be healthy for a crocodile anyway.
“Here, turn around.” Ladybug said instead of the myriad of Wenzhounese curses Maman could never learn she knew. “I’ll help you.”
Bemused, Chat complied. Gently, Ladybug began to clean the mud from his wings. She wished she had a brush and cleansing oil to give her partner the first proper grooming experience in who knows how long. A bucket of water probably would not be remiss, but considering Chat’s hatred of water when transformed…maybe not. She almost reached for her yo-yo to summon a Lucky Charm before remembering there was still an akuma on the loose, and Tikki would never forgive her if she used her power so soon.
With every stroke of her fingers, Chat seemed to relax further. The two heroes sat in silence, and despite the akuma still hiding in some corner of the city, Ladybug felt at peace in this little corner of the roof.
Gradually, a soft rumbling sound seemed to emit from her partner. Ladybug blinked, “Chaton, are you…purring?”
She regretted her question when Chat’s shoulders immediately stiffened, the rumbling coming to a halt. “Hey, it’s not—it isn’t embarrassing or anything!” She quickly reassured. “I…I quite like it, actually. I can…feel the vibration through your wings, and…it’s comforting.”
“You—really?” Chat asked, his belt tail perking up.
“Really.” Ladybug promised, and was awarded by the return of the rumbling—softly at first, before growing gradually louder.
Ladybug smiled. The two of them sat together in peace, until screams began to ring in the distance and Ladybug and Chat Noir had to return to their job.
Their project topic was body binding throughout the ages, Marinette’s history teacher explained, with a pointed look towards Adrien, Chloe and Sabrina. M. Lebeau then made them draw lots to decide which country their project should be focused on. Marinette’s research focus was—through a twist of fate—China.
As the class settled down for a study period until the end of the school day, Marinette frowned at the websites displayed on her laptop. Apparently, there weren’t many instances of wing binding in ancient China, as people believed wings were gifts from the Heavens, and large wingspans were associated with a more fortunate fate.
However, there were many instances of foot binding.
The story scarily reminded Marinette of Adrien’s situation. According to the website, some emperor in the Ming dynasty had a foot kink, and decided a small-footed girl in his dance troupe was beautiful. From then on, it became a favourite pastime of nobles to bind their daughters’ feet, so that they would grow small and elegant. The binding left the women’s feet permanently disfigured, to the point they had to fly instead of walk if they wished to go anywhere independently.
Marinette swallowed her bile at the images displayed on the screen, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Was this how Adrien—and Chloe and Sabrina—would end up one day, disabled and in chronic pain for some unachievable beauty standard?
Something soft nudged against her thigh. Marinette glanced down to see Tikki frowning at her in concern.
Right. Marinette swallowed, closing the tab. She wished she could do something—anything—to help, but the truth was that wing binding was a problem much bigger than the three classmates sitting in front of her. She couldn’t simply cast Miraculous Ladybug and set the world back to rights. Right now, as much as it chafed at her, the only thing she could do was return her focus to her research project.
“Okay, so—” Marinette stared at Adrien’s royal blue binders critically. “Nobody except rich people and wannabes wear wing binders. If you want to go undercover successfully, we have to take your binders off.”
Immediately, Adrien stiffened. “What—but—I—” He stammered, his eyes filling with panic. “My—Father would never let me.”
Nino was right—Gabriel Agreste sucked as much as Hawkmoth. In terms of people she hated the most, Marinette put Adrien’s father right below Chat’s father and above Hawkmoth. Lila Rossi had fallen down to no. 4 ever since she vanished out of Marinette’s life for good. Chat’s father was now the reigning champion in the competition of people she wanted to kill the most.
“Sneaking away from your bodyguard to infiltrate a movie theatre is already against your father’s wishes.” Marinette pointed out, “Besides, we’re secret agents now. They don’t care about fulfilling orders from fathers. Right, Agent Agreste?” She winked.
Adrien did not look amused. If anything, he seemed even more panicked, breathing heavily at the reminder that he was going against his father right now.
Marinette quickly backtracked. “Right. Um—Adrien, breathe with me. Yes, like that. In two three, out two three. Here we go. I—uh—you don’t actually have to take off your binders if you really don’t want to, you know? I can find us a cloak. We can be wandering warriors instead of secret agents! Hey, if we find a brown cloak, we can even be Jedi.”
“I—thanks, Marinette.” Adrien smiled at her shakily. “But…maybe you’re right. Why should I care what Father thinks?” He reached behind his back to unlatch his straps.
“Oh—” Marinette’s eyes widened as she realised what Adrien was trying to do. “Are—are you sure?”
Adrien nodded, though his eyes darted around the street as if he expected his father to stalk out of the shadows and catch him red-handed. “Can you—can you help me? Before I lose my nerve.”
Marinette nodded. The two of them made quick work of Adrien’s binder, which Marinette stuffed into her duffle bag. Adrien stretched out his wings experimentally. The golden feathers glimmered like real gold as Adrien’s wings caught the morning sunlight, but it couldn’t hold a candle to the brightness of Adrien’s grin as it finally set in that his wings were unbound and free.
Marinette smiled in return.
It seemed like no time at all before they were disguised and running to the movie theatre so they could watch the film Adrien’s mother starred in, Solitude.
The movie was pretty good. Forgetting that Adrien was the only person in Paris with such vibrant golden wings? Not so much.
Marinette and Adrien panted as they ducked into the empty water fountain, listening as Adrien’s army of fans stormed past their hiding place. Marinette sighed in relief as the crowd ran past them with no one the wiser; that had been too close. She could practically feel the ground shaking under the stampede of so many feet.
She leaned back against the side of the stone fountain. “I can’t believe we remembered to disguise everything except your wing colour.” She groaned. “Should’ve gone with the cloak idea. Now we’ve got your fan army after us and your day is ruined.”
“Hey,” Adrien nudged her. Marinette glanced over, surprised to find Adrien’s green eyes shining with exhilaration and a wide grin that threatened to split his face in two. “I haven’t had this much fun as—this much fun in a long time. Plus, we got further than I expected. I totally thought the Gorilla would catch us before we even made it to the theatre.”
Marinette smiled weakly, unsure of how to tell Adrien he should’ve been able to watch his late mother’s movie without being ordered around by his father or harassed by fans. But maybe Adrien knew all of that already. Maybe this was his way to cope.
Her eyes slipped past Adrien onto his wings, mussed and dirty from their chase around the city. She didn’t need to check to know her wings were in the same state.
“Hey, at least our wings won’t get us recognised now, huh?” She joked.
Adrien glanced behind him, and Marinette immediately knew she misspoke again by the way his face drained of colour. “Oh, kw—akumas. Father’s going to flip when he sees this.” He whispered, eyes wide.
“Hey,” Marinette reassured, the tip of her wing brushing Adrien’s for comfort. “Your father won’t find out.” She promised, digging through her duffel bag to find a bottle of rose-scented oil and a brush. She had been carrying them around since that time with Mudborn, and now they can finally be put to good use. Marinette pressed the two items into Adrien’s hands. “We’ll fix this before he learns anything.”
Adrien stared at the two items, perplexed. “Um.”
Marinette’s brows furrowed, uncomfortably reminded of Chat’s ineptitude with wing grooming. “Do you…not know how…?”
“No!” The frantic denial burst out of Adrien’s mouth. He grimaced, glancing over the fountain warily. Reassured that no one seemed to have noticed his outburst, Adrien said in a much softer voice. “No—well…maybe. I…the wingdressers at my fashion shoots usually groom my wings for me.”
Oh. What were the chances she knew two blond boys who didn’t know proper wing care procedure?
“Turn over, then.” Marinette said, “I’ll help you. I’ve heard I’m pretty good at this sort of thing.” Granted, that might be because Chat hadn’t had a proper grooming in who knows how long, but eh. Semantics.
Adrien’s shoulders slumped in relief as he handed the cleaning equipment back to her. He stretched out his wings, and Marinette began carefully brushing his feathers back into order.
She couldn’t help but draw parallel to the time she groomed Chat’s wings for him. On both occasions, they had stolen these quiet moments out of a hectic situation. As a part-time superhero, it probably wasn’t professional, but Marinette couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
Actually, the more she thought about it, the more similarities she could draw between Chat and Adrien. Was Chat a boy like Adrien, someone who—
“Hey, Marinette.” Adrien asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Why did you remember to bring this but forget to change out of your pyjamas?”
Marinette blushed. “…reasons.”
“…okay, sure.”
…so they were discovered by Adrien’s fan army, Adrien’s bodyguard turned into an akuma, and then captured Adrien and was holding him hostage miles above the ground. Oh, did she also mention Chat Noir was currently missing? This was great. Brilliant. Absolutely wonderful.
Part of Ladybug couldn’t help but mourn the loss of her hard work—the effort of half an hour of feather brushing, gone, all because a bunch of inconsiderate fans refused to leave Adrien alone.
At least Adrien’s wings were unbound, right? Even if Gorizilla dropped him, Adrien should be able to escape by himself.
Ladybug darted around Gorizilla’s body like a particularly annoying bug, the akuma being too large and slow to pin her down effectively. As Gorizilla turned to look behind him, where Ladybug had been moments ago, she doubled back to land deftly next to the captive Adrien, hissing, “When I say go, fly away as fast as you can.”
Adrien winced, “…I can’t.”
Ladybug stared, much too stunned to speak.
“My wings are too weak.” Adrien elaborated. Because of my binding, he added, unspoken.
Gabriel Agreste just got fast-tracked to the top of the list of people she hated the most.
Gorizilla turned around, and—with a growl at the pesky bug perched on his fist—shook his hand to dislodge her. Cursing, Ladybug flung out her yo-yo to evade the giant akuma. She didn’t get another chance to strategize with Adrien. She’d just have to trust herself to catch him if he fell.
When Adrien nearly fell to his death anyway because of his crippled wings, and then was locked in his room for an entire week since he ‘clearly can’t be trusted with his own safety’— according to rumours, he would’ve remained there indefinitely if not for Chloe storming into the Agreste Mansion to throw a tantrum—Marinette decided joining Nino in the hate-Gabriel-Agreste-club had been the right decision.
“Chat, duck—” Ladybug shouted, but it was too late.
Sandboy’s plume of multicoloured sand hit her flying partner, and—
Thick, gilded chains sprang up around Chat Noir’s iridescent wings, tightening with every struggle Chat made. Chat plummeted down, a dark comet in an uncontrolled descent, and Ladybug’s breath hitched.
She flung her yo-yo at her falling partner, leaving herself open to the plume of sand that Sandboy shot at her. She didn’t care—Chat was safe, what was more important than that?
Chat collapsed into her arms, eyes wide and shaking. “I—m’Lady—I—”
“Shh…” Ladybug murmured, glaring at Sandboy who was throwing a tantrum about being ignored. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Was losing Chat her darkest nightmare as well? “You’re okay, Chaton. You’re okay. I’m here. I got you.”
“Hey, meanie, I told you to stop ignoring me!” Sandboy screamed. Ladybug barely paused as she turned and fled the scene.
Chat made a terrified whine as Ladybug flew away from the akuma, clinging tightly to her. “He took them, m’Lady. He took them! I can’t move my wings!”
“I know, Chaton.” Ladybug whispered, her mind whirling as she realised the implications of this. “Don’t worry—I—we’ll fix this—we always do—and then you’ll have your wings back. I promise.”
It took longer than it should’ve to defeat Sandboy.
By the time Ladybug cast her Miraculous Cure, she was exhausted, and Chat looked even worse than her. But she knew if she waited for another day before confronting Chat, she would never actually do it.
“Hey, Chaton.” Ladybug called as Chat’s ring gave another warning beep. “Can we meet up later? At our usual spot.”
Chat nodded, a confused furrow to his brow.
Fifteen minutes later, Ladybug was gazing at the glimmering skyline, Chat Noir by her side.
“…so.” Chat said, his voice softer than usual. Despite the Miraculous Cure having been cast, his skin still hadn’t regained its usual pallor. His wings were wrapped tight around his shoulders to form a safe cocoon. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Chat…” Ladybug hesitated. There was no good way to phrase this; she might as well rip the bandage right off. “Are you rich?”
Chat balked, his leather ears flattening. “You—what? I—why would you think that?”
That was the last confirmation Ladybug needed.
“When we first met, you were as clumsy with your wings as a new-born baby.” Ladybug counted. “You don’t know how to groom your wings properly, and your greatest fear is having your wings literally chained. You’re being forced to bind your wings, aren’t you?”
Like Adrien, she silently added.
Chat opened his mouth. For a moment, Ladybug thought he was going to deny everything, but then, Chat deflated. “…yeah.” He muttered, looking away from her. “You got it spot on.”
“Oh, Chaton…” Ladybug murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Chat laughed bitterly, “It’s not like you’re doing this. Besides, I know I don’t have much to complain about. People would kill to have my family’s wealth; what’s a little binding to that? Save your sympathy for people who really need it, m’Lady.”
Ladybug frowned. “It doesn’t change that your situation sucks.” She said firmly. “You shouldn’t be forced to bind, and your father shouldn’t disregard your wishes on that matter.” At least, she assumed that was what Chat’s father was doing. Chat didn’t correct her, so she must be right. “Being rich doesn’t negate any of that, Chaton. It’s doesn’t work that way.”
Chat’s wings tightened around his shoulders. “…I guess.” Hesitantly, he confessed. “Being Chat Noir was supposed to be my chance to break away from all that. But then Sandboy…” He didn’t continue his sentence, but he didn’t need to. The events of this night were fresh on both of their minds.
“Hey, Chat,” Ladybug nudged his shoulder with her wing gently. “Have you ever exchanged feathers?” She overheard once Adrien wasn’t supposed to do that, and Chloe didn’t have any feathers other than her own as well. Sabrina had a single feather from her dad, but none from Chloe. Was this a rich people thing, or an Adrien and Chloe thing?
“I…” Chat frowned at the non-sequitur. “…no? I’m not allowed to.”
So it was a rich people thing. Good to know.
Ladybug smiled. “You know, being Chat Noir can still be your refuge from all that rich people bullshit. I’d love to exchange feathers with you. The feathers from my friends and family don’t show up when I transform, so our feathers should be hidden safely when we de-transform.”
Chat blinked. “I—really?”
Ladybug nodded. “What do you think? Let’s rewrite the memories of tonight with something happier.”
“You—you aren’t doing this because of—pity, right? I don’t want you to feel pressured into this just because—”
“Don’t be silly, Chaton.” Ladybug giggled, reaching over to flick his bell. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. I’ve actually been thinking about this for some time; it’s just that in my civilian life I’m not usually the one to initiate the exchange, and you didn’t seem to have any interest, so…” She shrugged.
“I’ve never really thought about this possibility.” Chat confessed. Ladybug would’ve gotten mad at his father again, but this occasion was about Chat—his very first feather exchange, it would’ve been heart-warming if it wasn’t so sad. She wasn’t going to allow thoughts of Chat’s father to taint this special moment.
“So,” Chat rubbed the back of his neck. “How do we do this?”
“Just choose a feather that you want to gift me. I have some string here,” Ladybug flipped open her yo-yo to pull out a roll of transparent jewellery cord. She had put it in the yo-yo’s pocket dimension when an akuma attacked right after a trip to the craft store, and never remembered to take it out. “We’ll tie the feathers to our wings.”
In demonstration, she stretched her right wing out in front of her, selecting a feather with more red spots than the others. It was about the length of her forearm.
Chat nodded, stretching out his right wing like her. He frowned in concentration, and Ladybug had to try hard not to giggle at the serious expression on his face.
Finally, Chat selected a feather from his secondaries, about the same length as hers. “Is this one okay?”
Ladybug smiled as she nodded. The two exchanged their feathers, and Ladybug broke off a piece of string with her bare hands. There were many benefits to having superstrength.
Now, where should she hang it? Ladybug’s hand hovered over her outstretched wings. They weren’t a couple, as much as she wished otherwise, but placing Chat’s feather in the friend zone felt…wrong. They were so much more than that; they were partners, ying and yang, two halves of a whole. Ladybug trusted him more than anyone else in the world.
Coming to a decision, Ladybug tied Chat’s feather to the inner side of her left scapular, the closest location on her wings to her heart. Now, whenever she flared out her wings, people would see what Chat Noir meant to her.
Chat gaped, “That—but that’s for family, right?”
Ladybug nodded. “That’s what you are to me.” She smiled, but another glance at Chat’s gobsmacked expression made her falter. “But—uh—if you think this is too much, I can—oh, I should’ve asked you first—I’m so sorry. I’m ruining your first exchange, aren’t I? Here, I’ll—” She moved to remove Chat’s feather, only to be stopped by a hand clasping around her wrist.
Chat looked at her, his green eyes glittering. “M’Lady,” he gasped, wonder and delight shining on his face. “Thank you.”
Before Ladybug could blink, he surged forward, brushing his lips against hers.
Chat Noir’s lips were as soft as she remembered.
Almost immediately after, Chat seemed to realise what he was doing. He pulled back, his cheeks flushing. “Sorry, that was presumptuous, wasn’t it—”
“Chat?” Ladybug rushed out before either of them could doubt themselves for another second. “I love you.” She leaned forward, planting a much firmer kiss on Chat’s lips.
That night, under the witness of the city-lights-turned-artificial-stars, Ladybug gained not only a new family, but also a new boyfriend.