Work Text:
It was almost midnight when David Bitton, avocat pénaliste, returned home from court. His client was cleared on all charges. He probably would have slept in his office, again, if he hadn't forgot to feed his iguana Grégory this morning before leaving for work.
Hanging up his wool overcoat, he expected the draft, as always. This building was constructed sometime in the 1800s and last remodeled after the war. He didn’t expect the loud barking laughter coming from farther in. Crouching… for some reason… he waddled beyond the entrance of his apartment, scanning the darkness with weary eyes. What was he going to do? A lawyer in his late 40s sneaking through his own apartment with his phone in a deathgrip in one hand and the other holding his still-wet umbrella.
The apartment was dark, and the unknown voices carried, though now clearly muffled by something. The kitchen? Empty. His study? Empty. The living room? There was Grégory in her large custom terrarium under the stairs that led to his rooftop patio. She flicked her tongue at him. A loud snort followed by a trill of laughter pulled his attention up the stairs. Whoever it was, whoever they were, they were on his private patio.
The deadbolt and security chain on the steel door were still in place. It was clear that whoever was up there didn’t get there from inside. He stood up straight and turned on the living room light and let out a sigh. It was probably just some neighborhood kids who snuck up the fire escape. He smiled to himself. No harm, no foul.
-----
He returned from the kitchen with a bagel, lox, and a little bit of bourbon. He smiled as he spotted Grégory resting comfortably on her heated log after finishing her salad. Settling down into his armchair he pulled out his phone and browsed the internet. The kids on his roof were still at it, with the laughing and the giggling. He couldn’t make out what really, if anything, they said beyond “Banana suit” which one of them, probably a young woman by the sound of her, shouted several times. And “Shut up” which was also shouted several times by her male counterpart. He wasn’t really paying much attention to anything at the moment, mindlessly scrolling while sipping the last of his drink and hearing the muffled conversation on his roof. When was the last time he had guests? He stood with a grin to start on his bedtime routine. And that’s when something at the window caught his eye.
It was a metal pole that extended suddenly from above and coming in contact with the cobblestone below with a clank. He heard the young man’s laughter once more, but this time it was moving, no longer positioned above him. He walked to the window and peered out, stunned.
That voice belonged to Chat Noir. And beside him, swinging and laughing in a way he recognized for the last hour or so was Ladybug. Empty bourbon glass still in hand, he quickly turned off the light and crouched again, feeling like an eavesdropper in his own home. A pang of guilt washed over him at having inadvertently listened in on some evening ritual. He huffed and shook his head. He was being utterly ridiculous.
-----
He opened the storm door at the top of the stairs in his living room that led to his private rooftop patio. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There were no lights out here. He only used the patio to listen to PSG afternoon games in the summer, if ever. The rain had let up about half an hour ago, though the threadbare canvas awning that stretched some two meters out kept the crushed gravel on the roof mostly dry. It was early spring. And 1 AM. And there were three empty soda cans stashed under his singular piece of furniture, a wooden folding chair. It belonged to his mother.
He frowned, spotting something else behind the chair, in the dark. A first aid kit. He covered his mouth rubbing at his mustache in the way he did when he was thinking. When he was considering his options before speaking with a judge. He took a hesitant step towards the chair. And then another. Mind made up, he used his phone like a flashlight and moved the first aid kit to the chair to inspect its contents.
Gauze. Half a tube of antibacterial ointment. A mostly empty bottle of over-the-counter painkillers. Three large adhesive bandages. An emergency sewing kit. A tourniquet that… looked like it had been used at least once before. He closed the kit and put it back behind the chair.
“Fuck” he said, surprising himself. He wasn’t usually one to curse. He picked up the three empty cans, and went back inside.
-----
The bell above the German delicatessen rang as David walked in. Lina was behind the counter reading her phone when she looked up and greeted him. “Wie geht's, David!” She paused, looking at the calendar on the wall behind her. “It’s Saturday. What are you doing here?”
David chuckled to himself, wondering the same thing. “Hello Lina, I’m well. I have some… guests. Kids from the neighborhood. I’m stocking up a mini fridge and I have no idea what I’m doing. Do you know what kids like?”
Lina smiled as she walked around the counter. She grabbed a basket with one arm and took David by the elbow with the other. “How wonderful for you!” She said with a pat on the forearm of his tweed jacket. “And here I thought you were allergic to people. How old are they?”
“A-ah,” he stuttered. “I’m not sure. Late teens, I think.”
“Hmmm,” she nodded, as they walked down a small aisle jammed with sundries. “Caffeine and sugar it is.” As they walked and talked, Lina filled his basket and, not for the first time, he was taken by her kindness. Her gravelly laughter. The crows feet wrinkled at the corner of her eyes as she reached for another package of vanilla wafer cookies. He paid. She waved. He tipped his hat. He left.
-----
Getting the minifridge up the stairs in his living room to the roof was a bit more of a task than he thought it would be. He should have asked the delivery guy to let him use the dolly. But he’d done it without any major damage to the stairs or the fridge. He smiled, and wiped the sweat from his brow. Returning downstairs for his bags of sodas, cookies, and other snacks from Lina’s shop, he headed back up.
He admired his handy work for just a moment, before suddenly feeling very exposed. He looked around the roof. Protected on three sides by large machinery (Generators? Vents? Air conditioners? He wasn’t sure), his sun-bleached beige wall with the storm door and awning, and the backside of a billboard along the street-side. It was the tallest building on the block, and it would be hard to spy on the patio without a drone or high powered camera lenses from across the river. He plugged in the fridge, looked at the first aid kit again, and headed inside.
-----
He was making dinner. A simple Bolognese, when he heard it. A rumbling. A rumbling that became a roaring crash as the window in the kitchen shattered inward, peppering him with shards of glass. Suddenly he was hip deep in water. Cold water. He gasped as the shock of it forced the air out of his lungs. Before he knew it, he was pressed up against the ceiling. The power cut out, and murky brown water was pushing him harder and harder against the ceiling.
He needed to breathe. To escape. He panicked, gulping in a lung full of water and choking on it as his chest burned. The current, or something, pushed him with great force into the wall head first. Everything hurt. Everything went black. He thought of Lina.
-----
It was 23h, and David was standing in his kitchen. Panting. Bone dry. The pot of water with his pasta in it was merrily boiling on his stove. He heard Grégory thrash about in her terrarium. He gripped the stove with both hands and took what felt like the biggest sweetest gulp of air he’d ever had. He turned off the stove, and walked over to the liquor cabinet.
Brandy in one hand, cell phone in the other, he plopped down in his chair in the living room and started making calls.
“You okay? Yes… Mmm. Yes, I’m okay now. I don’t know, three hours? I’ve never… Was I dead? Oh god, you too? The whole city? Okay… Yes, I’m okay. Take Monday off, okay? Get out of the city. Maybe visit your sister in Orleans? Okay. No, I’ve… Okay. Look I gotta go, Grégory is freaking out in her cage. Yeah. You too. Take care.”
He went to turn on the TV for background noise, to listen to the news and hear what had happened, when he heard a whooping laugh from above.
“We did it!” came a shout, laughing. Female. Ladybug. David put down the remote, and settled back down in his chair, staring into his drink glass. He wasn’t a religious man, but… how to finish this thought. The debt he owed these kids. The city owed these kids. He sipped his drink, and listened to the mumbled joy and garbled banter seeping into his home through drafty walls.
He would pay his debt.
-----
His alarm went off at 11am. It was Sunday. He slept poorly. Dreams of being swept away by uncaring waters. Cold waters. Lungs filled with mud and glass. He swung his legs over the side and stood up. He wanted to stay in bed. But he had things to do today. Important things.
Still in his bathrobe, he was on the roof. He collected the empty cans and cookie wrappers in an unused shopping bag. He’d need more supplies. And a bin would probably be a good idea. He pulled out a tape measure and a small notepad.
-----
It had been three weeks since he started browsing Pinterest for ideas on how to make cozy spaces. Spring was well underway now, as the pigeons did their best to remind him every morning before his alarm went off. He sat curled up in his chair in the living room with a small throw blanket, sipping his morning coffee when there was a buzz at the intercom. He grinned broadly over at Grégory who flicked her tongue back at him as he rushed over to the front door.
“Yes?”
“Hey, is this M. Batton?”
“Bitton, yes. Are you here to deliver the couch?”
“Yessir, that’s us.”
“I’ll be down in a sec,” he said as he buzzed them into the building through the intercom.
Twenty minutes later, he was the proud owner of a new weatherproof three seat couch. He flopped back into it, kicking his legs up on the wicker-style coffee table that accompanied his new purchase. He leaned his head back against the cushion and wiggled. Acrylic Nylon weave. Memory foam. Drainage built in. Sunproof fabrics and materials. Top of the line for the city’s finest.
Standing up, he walked over to the mini fridge with his little notebook and jotted down a quick list of needed refreshments. He smiled to himself as he thought about visiting Lina at the delicatessen. On a Tuesday of all days! She would be so surprised to see him. Tucking the notepad in the inner pocket of his suede coat, he stepped back to admire the small and not so small changes he’d made to his roof.
Their roof.
Three sides were still protected from prying eyes. The fourth was still wide open, though he had a plan for that when he could get ahold of the building owner. He’d been workshopping ideas with Camille at Au Jardin d'Edgar since last weekend, and if it worked out, it would add some much needed foliage and greenery to the space.
Turning to face the patio proper, there was now interlocking teak decking that covered the full area of his patio, which was really just a six meter square portion of the roof, according to the lease. He replaced the canvas awning with a retractable one, the newly installed switch to the left of the door, its white switch plate accenting the new paint job for his wall. Something he did without permission, but he felt it added a bit of class. The color was named ‘sailor sea blue’ or something. A grayish blue green. He rather liked it. It reminded him of the necklace that Lina always wore.
Sitting on the teak decking was his brand new weatherproof couch. Guaranteed to never fade or rust for 30 years. To the right of the door was his mother’s old wooden folding chair. He had pressure washed it and sealed it two weeks ago. Though when he came up the day after applying the sealant, there was a distinctive butt print. One of the poor kids must have sat on it while it was still drying.
The mini fridge was nestled against the wall, just under the switch for the retractable awning. On top of it was a small basket with blankets and hand towels. A small side table by the minifridge had hand sanitizer and a tissue box. Under the table was the first aid kit and a fire extinguisher. Next to the side table was a small bin, half-filled with empty cans, wrappers, and other rubbish.
Around the teak interlocking deck tiles, and sticking out of the crushed gravel were small garden solar lights. He had a dozen of them, spread out at mostly even intervals around the 6 meter square deck. They provided some warm lighting aimed down at the ground to keep prying eyes away.
He clapped once, with some small excitement, and made his way back in with the bin liner. It was time to see Lina.
-----
It was mid summer. August. He awoke with a start. Someone was sobbing. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Lina was already awake, sitting up in bed next to him.
“They’re crying again,” she said. He saw the wetness in her own eyes reflected from the light of her tablet. “It’s three AM.”
He grunted an acknowledgement. “Care for a cup of tea?” he asked as he slipped out of bed, putting on his slippers. She reached over and he took her hand, squeezing it once. “Yes please,” she answered.
Putting on his bathrobe he walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. The urge to go up those stairs and offer some kind of comfort. But that wasn’t his place. It wasn’t his responsibility, and he knew it wouldn’t help.
Probably.
He sighed, and heard Grégory thump in her terrarium. She knew he was awake and she wanted a snack. He grabbed a banana and stumbled into the living room. Standing here, under the stairs, he could more clearly hear their not-so quiet conversation. He slid open the glass panel to the terrarium and held out the banana for Grégory, who lazily took little bites as he stood there.
“I can’t keep doing this,” he heard Chat Noir say, “I love you so much, my lady. And I know I always will. Some part of me always will. But I also love her.”
David rubbed his free hand down his mustache. Trouble in paradise.
“But you can’t love her, Chat. You don’t even know her!”
“Of course I know her! She’s one of my closest friends. I know if I can just tell her who I am, she’ll see me for me! And maybe… maybe she’ll love me back.”
Silence. Perforated by sniffles. Grégory was halfway through her banana.
“She… She’s one of your closest friends?”
There was a drawn out sigh. “In my civilian life… I’ve known Marinette since collège.”
Names. Actual names. David really shouldn’t have been listening to this. This wasn’t his conversation to hear. This should have only been between-
“And I see her everyday. Or at least I try to. Because she’s always there for me. And, you are too, my lady, don’t get me wrong. But… I can sit with her for hours and talk about nothing and my heart feels light. When I wake up in the morning, she’s the first person I think of. She’s adorable and smart and kind and strong and clumsy and I want to be the one standing there to catch her when she falls.”
There was a sob, and David felt it in the pit of his gut. He should not be listening to this. Grégory had finished her banana and he was just standing there with the terrarium door open, banana peel in hand. He knew he shouldn’t be listening to this. But in his heart, he was cheering for them. For both of them. Because of them he had his second chance. He took his shot with Lina. And it worked. They were together because of them. He wanted with all his heart for these two kids to get a fair shake.
“Come on,” he whispered in prayer, unintentionally shaking the banana peel to ward off some… thing.
He hears Ladybug murmur something. The boy gasps. “Marinette,” he hears him say. Again he repeats the name. Less shock, more reverence. Now he’s crying. Laughing?
“Adrien,” the boy says at last. “I’m Adrien, and I love you.”
Well now David is crying. He chuckles to himself, and heads back into the kitchen to retrieve the kettle from the stove as it starts to whistle. He sets the kettle on a trivet to give it a moment before pouring the water. He dries his eyes on the sleeve of his bathrobe and opens the fridge to get the milk.
Cups prepared he heads back into the bedroom. Lina is sitting up in bed, but asleep, her tablet shining up from her lap underlighting her face. He smiles, as he sets her cup on her bedside table, taking the tablet and setting it down screen off beside her.
Climbing back into bed, he sets his own tea on his table and settles down. The sobs are gone, for the most part. Just the indistinct pattern of their conversation, words unheard but tone clear. Love, affection, play. This was how it was supposed to be. He turned his pillow over to the cool side, laid down, and closed his eyes.
-----
“David!” Lina called from the living room as he burst into the apartment.
“I know, I heard! They got him?” he asked, tossing his winter overcoat to the ground, not bothering to take off his boots or scarf as he charged into the living room. The TV was blaring. Live helicopter footage. A bird’s eye view of the Agreste mansion. Gabriel Agreste, fashion magnate, was Hawkmoth. And he’d been captured. The breaking news ticker at the bottom of the screen listed a police phone number and a photo of Adrien Agreste, Gabriel’s son, who was considered a ‘ person of interest.’ A flight risk.
“Oh my god,” Lina said into her hands. David stomped into the room and reached out for her and she reached back. They held each other in the living room, watching the TV. Grégory flopped in her terrarium and climbed up a log, eager for a snack now that she sees him.
“Do you think they’re okay?” he asked. He felt Lina shrug, neither looking away from the TV.
The ceiling shook with a thump. Lina gasped, and he felt her grip tighten on his scarf.
A voice cried out from above. Clear as day. “HE WAS MY FUCKING DAD?!” Another loud thump. The sound of breaking, accompanied by hoarse yelling. Dust fell from the ceiling and Lina’s knees gave out.
David half-carried half-led her to the loveseat and set her down. Before they could speak, there was more commotion up on the roof. Ladybug was there. Talking. Consoling. She was trying to talk him down, and he was having none of it. They continued in this fashion for a time and David moved to sit next to her on the loveseat when he heard Ladybug gasp and frantically shh her partner’s wailing.
Save for the Tsurugi car advertisement playing on the TV, the air was deathly silent. The sound of approaching helicopter blades filling the void.
Lina grabbed David by the arm. “Is the awning retracted?”
Not answering, he spun around and moved as fast as his 48 year old lawyer body allowed. “Lina!” he yelled over his shoulder as he started his way up the stairs. The helicopter was almost on top of them. “Grab your coat, we’re going out for lunch.”
“Was ist?” she asked.
At the top of the stairs, David threw open the deadbolt, undid the security chain, and yanked the door open. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see. But it wasn’t his coffee table broken in half. It also wasn't Chat Noir and Ladybug tumbling in on top of him from their position pressed up against the door.
He braced for the fall down the stairs, but it never came. Ladybug had him cradled under one arm like a sack of flour as she leapt down to the living room below, landing softly on the carpet.
Chat Noir, still at the top of the stairs, shut the door and the four of them looked at each other while the TV blared. The helicopter passed.
David cleared his throat, and Ladybug set him down by way of apology before taking a step back. He brushed himself down, and turned to face the two, Lina now at his side. “We uh…” he started, “The two of us are going to get lunch. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
After a moment, Ladybug nodded. Eyes wide. Mouth open. Nothing else was said between the four of them as David and Lina made their way to the door. The older couple left as soon as Lina had her boots and coat on.
Waiting on the elevator in the hallway, Lina huffed out a breath and leaned into David’s shoulder as she adjusted her hair using the reflection in the hall mirror. “That went well,” she said.
-----
It was snowing. It was late. Not too late. But too late to be hanging out in the lobby of the Préfecture de Police de Paris for their arrondissement. Behind him, two officers held back a sea of reporters. Ahead of him and in the hallway beyond, somewhere, was Adrien Agreste. 15 years old. And he was being questioned for the first time since turning himself in early this morning.
David sat hunched in an uncomfortable plastic chair, the staticky kind. There was a whole row of them along this wall. And beside the occasional officer on a lunch break, eager to see what all the fuss was about, there were only three other people who had been sitting here longer than he had.
There was a large, impressively built man with an equally impressive mustache. He held the hand of a comparatively petite raven haired woman. He would talk to her, and she would pat his arm and whisper reassurances. On the far side of the large man sat a young girl. A young girl who, for the last six hours, would occasionally peak around the large man beside her to stare at him. She had hair much like the older woman's, though it was longer and worn loose instead of in a bun.
There was a familiarity about her that he couldn’t place, until the larger man called her by her name, Marinette, about an hour ago to ask if she was hungry. And it all clicked into place. This nervous girl was his savior. Part of a pair. She and Adrien had given him a second lease on life, and now she and her partner had been thrown into a world she didn’t understand. A world where he could help. Where he could make a difference. He smiled to himself as he continued to count the floor tiles.
“There he is!” came a shout from behind him, and David turned to look down the hall. Adrien Agreste was walking with a police escort, but he was unencumbered. No chains, no uniform. He looked exhausted. David watched as Marinette ran to him, and threw herself at him in a hug.
All around the hallway lights flashed as the two embraced, and made their way over to the two adults who came with Marinette. That’s when Marinette pointed a thumb in his direction while whispering in Adrien's ear. David watched as Adrien’s eyes grew wide with alarm as they found his own. David took a tentative step forward. And then another. Before he was really ready, he found himself standing directly in front of the boy.
He cleared his throat. “M. Agreste,” he said as warmly as he could manage given the shouting behind him and the flashing camera lights. He handed the boy his business card. “My name is David Bitton. I’m a defense attorney." He paused for a moment for his words to settle before continuing. "Adrien, I know you are innocent. If you are ever in need of legal representation, please reach out to me. It would be an honor to help you.” He looked over at Marinette adding “Either of you.”
Adrien nodded, tight lipped. David returned the gesture. The police escort walked Adrien and Marinette around another corner. David turned and walked out the front door and ignored the reporters who shouted questions at and around him.
Just beyond the reporters, standing on a lit street corner under her umbrella was Lina. She was bundled up. Coat, boots, and scarf. Rosy cheeks. She smiled at him and held out her hand. He took it and squeezed it once.