Chapter Text
Marinette tapped her spoon on the rim of the minestrone pot, setting it down and turning down the heat, swiveling toward the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing. She wiped her sweating hands on her apron.
"Amore mio, how was—" she saw what Adrien was wearing and whipped back around. "Take it off."
"Oh, but princess—" Adrien said, with a smile.
"I said, take it off," Marinette said firmly, returning her attention to the minestrone and stirring vigorously.
"Mari, you know I didn't mean to—"
"You know my rule. Show your wife some respect."
Adrien sighed and removed his suitcoat and hidden chest holster. He also removed his domino mask; his personal mark as a mafioso.
"Happy now, princess?" He said, coming up behind her and kissing her on the cheek. She wasn't appeased.
"Get them out of my sight." Hardly moving from her side, Adrien tossed the bundle into the hallway and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning in, closing his eyes, and enjoying the smell of her cooking.
"You shouldn't throw guns around," Marinette grumbled. Adrien whipped her around to face him and kissed her deeply as though missing the taste of her lips.
"The safety was on," he said removing himself from her. "Soup smells fantastic as ever, princess!" He snatched his bundle from the floor and bounded up the hallway stairs.
Marinette sighed, switched the heat completely off, and lidded the pot. Grabbing a hot pad, she lifted the pot from the stove and moved toward the dining room table.
"Are we expecting any guests tonight?" she called up the stairs.
"Not likely!" Adrien hollered back from the second floor as he untied his green tie and removed the matching pocket square from his blazer, putting everything away. He stowed his .357 revolver in his nightstand; a compromise between spouses. He shucked his shoes and headed back downstairs where Marinette had laid a beautiful spread.
"It looks fantastic, Mari," Adrien said, pecking her on the cheek. Marinette smiled and dished some soup into his bowl. Just as they were about to take their first bites, a knock sounded at the front of the house. Adrien dropped his spoon and hastily made his way to the door. Marinette set her spoon down in silence, her hands in her lap, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.
"Ah, Nino! How good of you to stop by! Marinette has made some fantastic minestrone, you should join us. And where is Mme. Lahiffe?"
"I'm afraid she's at home. I'm calling on business..." Their tones turned muffled and serious, hidden in the entryway. Marinette sighed, taking a long sip of her Pinot Noir. After a few moments, they walked out into the space and Adrien turned to Marinette.
"I'm sorry amore mio, something urgent has come up and it needs to be dealt with. It will only be a few minutes." Adrien spoke apologetically.
"Can I not enjoy one uninterrupted evening with my husband, Nino?" she teased. Nino took off his hat, apologetically, having the decency to look sheepish.
"My apologies Mme. Agreste. If only your husband weren't so employed." He winked. "If you'll permit me to steal him away for a few minutes—"
"Take all the time you need," Marinette said with a smile. She swirled her glass of wine and watched them move to the office, where Adrien took his usual leaned perch atop the desk and Nino paced. They were far enough away that their voices were mere murmurs.
Marinette watched them for a while before turning back to her wine. Minutes passed. She stared into her soup, listless, contemplating the drifting oregano. Voices raised and she turned to the office door only to watch it swing shut. Lips pursed, she topped off her glass with a heavier hand than she permitted her spouse.
An hour later, Adrien emerged from the office, guiding Nino through the house and out the front door. Neither spoke. Bidding short farewells, Adrien shut the door and leaned against it, rubbing his palms against his eyelids. For a moment he pondered existence. The next, he stepped beyond the wall dividing the entrance from the dining room and stopped short.
His bowl sat, stone cold, on an empty table. Sounds he hadn't noticed previously echoed softly from the kitchen. Checking his watch and only then realizing how much time has passed, he grimaced and made his way to the kitchen where Marinette stood, washing the dishes.
He stepped forward, intent on righting his wrong.
"Don't." Her voice sounded in warning.
"Mari, I'm sorry—"
"I'm sure you are." She said simply.
"I am!"
"That's what I just said." She turned over her shoulder to look at him. He looked so distraught standing there. So nervous. It almost made her want to laugh. "When you accepted your place in cosa nostra I knew it would come with certain responsibilities. Which is why I'm not mad."
"But you are disappointed," Adrien smiled sadly.
"Well of course I am!" Marinette threw the dish sponge into the sink and pointed a wild, foam-covered finger at his chest. "My husband, disappearing for some-odd hours of the day, coming home with a mask on his face, blood on his fists, and secrets in his chest! Of course I'm ma—!" The surging anger dissipated as she realized her mistake. "Disappointed." Marinette returned to the sink. "I can't even enjoy one nice night with the man I married. He's disappeared."
"But I haven't, princess. I'm right here," Adrien said, stepping close and rubbing her shoulders. He watched her relax and close her eyes.
"We haven't had a sit-down meal in two weeks," she said quietly.
"I'll make it up to you Marinette, I promise." But they both knew he couldn't.
"We can't keep going like this. It isn't sustainable. Our five-year plan is in shambles thanks to them."
"You don't need to remind me," Adrien said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Actually I do, that's my whole job," Chloe hissed. "And it's rude of you to ignore me."
"He's not ignoring you, he's just—" Nino started.
"I'm ignoring you," Adrien stood just to feel something solid beneath his feet again. The library in which they were meeting was small. Towering oak bookshelves with brass ornamentation took up most of the space, full of books Adrien wished he had the time to read. A matching desk sat in the back of the room, haloed by a beautiful bay window overlooking the street of La Campagne à Paris. The carpet was green, the chairs were leather, and the wood was dark.
Most of cosa nostra was done here. Marinette didn't tolerate any mafia business in their home (at least where she could see) so most of it was conducted in the Lahiffe household in the upstairs quarters. If Alya minded, she didn't show it, choosing to stay away for the busiest hours of the day as mafiosos came and went. Chloe groaned.
"When you asked me to be your consigliere I didn't want to accept, but you convinced me I'd have a purpose here. I'm the only one who knows your system back to front and is legally in the clear. You just try replacing me."
"I'm not going to replace you, I just don't see the point of hammering in the fact that I'm failing as the Don. I have been for two years now," Adrien grumbled.
"You're not failing. It's just—" Nino hesitated and then dove right it. "Ever since your father gave up the organization, the Agreste Family name just doesn't hold the same power anymore."
"Especially since the Coccinelle Family has siphoned it from us," Adrien grumbled.
"You need to make a name for yourself. You can't keep living in the shadow of your father, especially where the public is concerned." Chloe prodded, sitting up in her leather armchair.
"Chloe, I've done everything you told me to. I picked up a nickname, Chat Noir, I adopted a look with the mask, I separated my personal life from cosa nostra life, I don't know what else I can do to separate myself from him." Adrien said, frustration written all over his face. He stopped short and sat down again in his chair.
"It's not about separation, it's about showing that your strength and power surpass your father's," Chloe explained, exasperated. "We want the Agreste name, it separates you from these newbies. You've got a legacy. We just need you to be perceived as dangerously if not more than, Gabriel."
"I don't think that will ever be possible," Adrien mumbled, leaning back, staring at the ceiling.
"I think you need to call a meeting of the heads," Chloe snipped. Adrien sat straight up, deciding whether or not she was serious. "Your father had to call a few back before he squashed the other Families. Now, since you are still the biggest name in all of Paris, you need to do the same. Scope out the other two Families. Have you even met them before?" Adrien shook his head.
"They're very secretive. It's nothing like I've ever seen before. They keep their personal identities a complete secret from their organizations and no one knows who they are in their day-to-day lives." Adrien shook his head again, as though trying to understand. "If I invited them to a meeting between the Heads I don't think they would agree to it."
"You need to try. Like I was saying, your father had to conduct many Don meetings in his time. You need to prove your name still means something not just to the public, but to these new Families. The sooner you earn their respect, the sooner we can come to agreements about turf," Chloe said firmly, digging her finger into her chair arm.
"We don't even know if they'll agree to it. Again, secrecy," Adrien reminded her.
"We could always offer the option to send one of their capos in their stead," Nino suggested. "They may not be able to agree to any terms, but that's a line of communication at least."
"But how do we invite them? We know a few members from both Families but going to their homes without an invitation is against our code," Adrien reminded them. He seemed determined for this plan to fail.
"Easy," Chloe said, sitting forward. "Your father established a code among smaller crime rings in the city, ones that weren't a threat to him but that he sometimes used. Anyone who is anyone to us knows it."
"Surely you don't mean—" Nino started, but Chloe interrupted.
"I do. There is a corkboard in Bianchi's, the deli on 57 Rue de Bretagne. You put a flyer there and using codes, direct your message to someone specific. Even if they don't see it personally, someone else will, and you know how word travels." Adrien sat back, considering. Chloe plowed on. "You'll need a symbol. Your father used a 'G' insignia. You could reuse this or come up with your own, but I can help you draft the message."
"No, I know the code, my father taught me very young. I'll just have you look over it," Adrien decided.
Before either of the other two could reply, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in!"
Alix stepped in, nodding to the other two in the room.
"Sorry to interrupt, boss, but we've just got word M. Glacier is in shop today."
"Thank you, Alix, this is excellent news." Alix left the room. Adrien stood, buttoning his suit coat. "I don't know about you two, but I'm looking forward to handling this personally."
"Don't worry Monsieur Glacier, I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding. I just need you to cooperate for me, can you do that?"
The sweaty-faced Andre Glacier, owner of Andre's Ice Cream Shoppe in central Paris, nervously nodded to Adrien's masked one.
"I received word from an informant several weeks ago, that you served two known members of the Coccinelle Family in your Shoppe, is that right?" Adrien was in his stride, cold, demanding, sugary sweet, and above all, powerful. When they had arrived, Andre had greeted them usually, until Adrien had guided him through the back of his own shop, sat him down and stood Kim, the muscle, behind his chair.
"I— I can't say for certain. We serve a lot of customers here," Andre smiled, nervously. Adrien reached into his jacket pocket subtly revealing his hidden chest holster. Andre's face turned white as he spotted it, almost missing Adrien slide a print photo in front of him. It showed two customers seated at a table just inside his store window. Two women, one with dark hair with purple streaks, and a blond dressed all in pink.
"These two are known as Juleka Couffaine and Rose Lavillant. Do they ring a bell now?" Adrien asked, stooping closer to Andre's face. A bead of sweat rolled down the man's forehead.
"Yes.. yes they do. I knew they were members, but I didn't think they were high up enough for you to care. Th—that's my mistake M. Agres— uh, Noir, uh—"
"Whichever scares you more," Adrien growled.
"Yes, of course— M. Noir," the man faltered. Adrien took silent note of that.
"Now, M. Glacier. I know you understand what happens if you go against our terms," Adrien's teeth gleamed in a disturbingly feline way. "It would be a shame if something were to happen to our shop if you didn't repay us for our offered... protection."
"I understand M. Noir," Andre nodded, vigorously. "I won't permit them in the future."
"Good, good," Adrien smiled. "If it happens again, you can be rest assured, the punishment will be more... severe."
"Of course, Monsieur," Andre nodded again. Adrien laughed a cold, derisive laugh. He jerked his head to Kim and they walked out of the shop, leaving Andre Glacier in his own backroom. Patrons murmured but avoided the piercing gaze of Adrien Agreste. It was the smart thing to do.
Adrien stalked through his front door in a bitter mood. He slammed the door behind him.
"Difficult day?" Marinette asked from the sitting room to the right. She didn't look up from her book. Adrien breathed a heavy sigh.
"You have no idea," he said, plopping beside her on the couch.
"Want to tell me about it?" She asked, finally setting down her book. She cooed as she pushed him forward and began rubbing his back.
"You want to hear about my day?" Adrien chuckled, shooting her a look.
"I'm going to have to come to terms with it at some point. I can tune you out if it's something I don't want to hear." She smiled softly at him, beginning to knead out a tenacious knot below his shoulder blade. Adrien closed his eyes.
"Well, the beginning was fine, nothing too serious there. It was the end of my day that's frustrating me." Adrien smoothed a hand over his hair. "One of our... patrons was beaten by one of our rival Families, Coccinelle. They got him real good too. He hurt someone they knew and..." he trailed off, wondering if this was something he should leave out.
"Go on," Marinette encouraged.
"The Don of the Coccinelle Family went at him with a pair of brass knuckles. He couldn't talk much. Part of his tongue was missing, he bit on it so hard. I'd be surprised if he comes away without any brain damage. They were vicious," Adrien grimaced. "Silver lining for us, though I wish it hadn't come to us in this way. Their Don goes by a nickname too; Ladybug."
"Seems like a silly name for a mafia boss," Marinette said, nonchalantly.
"That's what I thought too. But even better, the guy was able to give us a minor description of her." Adrien didn't catch the almost imperceptible pause of Marinette's hand on his back. "She wears a mask like mine, but red. Talk about a copycat, am I right?"
Marinette giggled.
"I'm sorry it was a stressful day," Marinette said, removing her hand from Adrien's back. She reached to pick up her book and winced. Adrien noticed.
"Are you okay? Is there something wrong with your shoulder?" He asked, concerned, reaching a hand to it. She deflected it with a smile.
"It's been bothering me all day. I must've slept on it oddly," she shrugged, and kissed him on the cheek, getting up. Adrien watched her, concerned. Marinette grinned with humor. "I'm alright, amore mio! Are you in the mood for leftover minestrone?"
Adrien stood, grinning.
"Do you even have to ask?" and he followed her into the kitchen, addicted to her tinkling laugh.
"You know..." Adrien smiled as he watched Marinette get ready for bed. "I can think of one way I can repay you for last night." He stood and wrapped in arms around his wife, pulling her tight to his chest. She laughed and lightly pushed him away.
"I'm not sure it would, amore mio. And in any case, my shoulder is still sore." Adrien pouted as she kissed his chin. Smiling, she turned away, unbuttoning the back of her slip and sliding it off. Adrien plopped back on their bed, viewing her leisurely from his perch.
"What about tomorrow night?" Adrien asked, continuing to watch the process of her undress. She began folding her worn clothes and opened her top dresser drawer.
"Tomorrow sounds wonderful," Marinette replied, tucking a hidden red mask between the folds of her dress.
