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She enjoys approximately six minutes of peace, quiet, and ass-kicking before he shows up.
That’s when the music starts. The starting drumroll builds up into some near-monotone singing before swinging into jazzy saxophone. That’s when she recognizes what he’s playing; her stomach sinks and her eyes roll.
’It’s going down for real-’
And if Lady Wifi, superheroine of Paris, got an extra punch in when the opening bars of G.D.F.R. distracted the akuma she was brawling with, well then, hopefully he didn’t notice. Her fists connects with The Paddler’s jaw with enough force to knock off his hokey spray tan (difficult to tell if that was a pre- or post-akumatization detail); he topples back a few feet, only to be caught by the seemingly sentient wave trailing him.
“Whoa, dude, surf’s up!”
Could he be any more ridiculous? Suddenly, The Paddler is a second-level priority. Lady Wifi spins on a heel, fists already at her hips, and glares at her partner. Bubbler has his head tipped back in his bridged hands, leaning back and grinning like he knows exactly what’s going through her head - which he probably does. She’s not got much of a filter from brain to mouth, especially when it comes to him.
“You’re a disgrace of a superhero,” she says in greeting.
He has the audacity to not even look mildly fazed, instead bouncing on the balls of his feet to the music he’s blaring from a bubble floating a few meters above his head. Lady Wifi is vaguely aware of The Paddler getting his footing back behind her, but like all of the villains attacking Paris nowadays, he just doesn’t seem to get how this whole thing goes .
“Is this about the puns again?” Bubbler asks, “I told you I’m not good with puns, Ladybro.”
The Paddler taps her on the shoulder.
“Uh, bruh, you wanna just hand over your Miraculous, and like-”
“ Not now .”
Lady Wifi elbows him in the gut for good measure. The Paddler doubles over, and the wave reflexively curls around him, dragging him away - for the moment. She turns her focus back to The Bubbler, who is idly waving his bubble wand around. The bubbles drift past her, then speed up and hit The Paddler’s retreating water blanket with piercing force.
“No self-respecting superhero shows up without at least a few puns in their repertoire, Bub.”
‘Shake for a sheik, I’m throwin’ these Emirates in the sky-’
Sun glints off of the sleek sheen of Bubbler’s suit as he shrugs. The smile on his face shifts into a smirk and - oh no, she knows that look, nothing good comes of that look.
“Who said I was self-respecting? Or even respectable?”
He takes a few steps towards her, and Lady Wifi has to remind herself that he squeaks when he walks and that primary colors were only sexy on Superman. Bubbler ducks in close (it’s been months since puberty gave him a few extra inches on her, and boy, has he not let her forget it) and sweeps back the knobbly antenna on the top of his suit like it’s hair. It springs up a moment later. Right.
Lady Wifi tries to mute the grimace rising onto her face. It’s impossible to feel his cheek under her palm with her suit in the way, but she can assume it’s just as weird and plasticy as the sound it makes when she pushes him away.
“No.”
“Aw, come on, you know you love me!” Bubbler protests. She doesn’t know how the tiny heart-shaped bubbles flutter up around them, as he hasn’t moved his wand. Nonetheless, Lady Wifi waves them away and lets out a grunt when none of them pop.
“If by love you mean it’s a miracle I haven’t left you stranded in the past , then yes, sure.”
“Whatevs, Ladybabe, we can talk once this guy’s been trashed.”
‘ It’s going down for real-’
Because of course The Paddler is back, surfing sans board on a wave that barrels down the street towards them. Wifi snickers with the sudsy little squeak Bubbler’s suit makes as he shifts back into a defensive stance. From there it’s all routine: Lady Wifi sprints forward, steps obnoxiously in sync with the saxophone riff that rips through the air, takes a fantastic leap, and lands on the bubble Bubbler has jettisoned out ahead of her. The bubble plows forward and skirts up the side of the rising wave, following the curve of the water and taking her with it. It drops her down on the other side of the wall of water, and right in front of The Paddler himself.
“You again? Quit harshin’ my vibe, bruh! Gimme your Miraculous and let me live out my dream!” The Paddler exclaims. As far as Wifi can tell, his only attack is the wave, and a slow-moving one at that. She must have a good ten seconds before the hulking water pile finished turning around to smash her across the asphalt. Plenty of time.
“Surfing in the Seine is literally the worst idea ever,” she says, “And you’re an idiot for thinking of it in the first place.”
Before he can ‘bruh’ his way through another stupid comeback, Lady Wifi is launching herself at him, swinging her leg out to catch him at the knees and topple him over. The blue-black wetsuit that covers every inch of the akuma squelches when her heel makes contact. Startled and mildly disgusted, Wifi hops back on one foot. The Paddler regains his balance before she does, conveniently just as his wave rears up above her, ready to crash down.
Her heart gives one concerned thud, and a split second later Flo Rida is pumping out above her, signalling Bubbler’s arrival. The Paddler’s wave crests and breaks, its roar still not loud enough to drown out Bubbler’s just terrible music taste. Fortunately, bubbles seem to insulate from each other; the massive soapy globe encircles her in blissful silence as the water rushes over its nearly impenetrable surface. Bubbler lands delicately on the top of the bubble, saying something to The Paddler that she can’t hear. The sun hits the glossy curve of the bubble so as to halo Bubbler in a ring of rainbow light. Lady Wifi’s chest does not hitch on inhale.
The wave passes and the bubble pops. Bubbler lands neatly next to her and swings his wand out to flood the air with bubbles. The spin and swirl around The Paddler, occupying him with useless swatting and giving Wifi enough time to whip out her phone. Pressing the only app on the screen (a black icon with a familiar white logo) brings up page after page of tool: frying pans, duct tape, bouncy balls, even a yo-yo for goodness’ sake. She really needs to talk to Miino about installing some more practical weapons… like a gun, for starters.
She settles on a long-handled net, used for cleaning debris from swimming pools. There, adequately cheesy for the whole superhero gig. Bubbler would never understand. Swiping up on her phone screen materializes the net in front of it. She grabs it, holsters her phone, and charges.
'It’s going down further than femurs, girls get wetter than Katrina-’
“I hate you and your song choices!” Wifi shouts, bursting through the cloud of bubbles encircling The Paddler to deliver a sharp whack across his head. The Bubbler, floating on a bubble above the fight, laughs and sends another fizzy barrage in the akuma’s direction.
“Look dude, my music taste is sick!” he says.
The Paddler’s learned a new trick: she sidesteps the drenching punch of one of many water-doubles. The net cuts a satisfying line through the nearest one, shattering it into thousands of useless drops.
“Yeah, makes me sick to my stomach!”
“You love it!” Bubbler shouts back. So he may have just caught her hips swinging along to the song - it was just the coincidental tempo of the very important fight in front of them. It was definitely not a catchy song. Another water copy goes down to a glorious saxophone crescendo.
That weird, latex suit wearing-
The next waterboy catches her in the jaw, and its fist erupts on contact. Soaked, WiFi has to blink through stinging saltwater and now-lank strands of hair. She tosses her head, clearing her vision, but it’s too late-
“Lady Wifi, look out!”
Shouting from a familiar voice is not what she needs to focus and, attention split for a moment, Wifi doesn't have enough time to dodge the watery onslaught. She’s hit with a mini-wave that rocks her back onto her butt and carries her out of the street and onto the sidewalk. The foot of the wrought iron bench really hurts when it digs into her back, but at least it stops her little water cruise.
“Lady Wifi, are you okay?”
She likes phones, really. No, honestly, she does - it’s kind of her magical weapon. But what Lady Wifi is not a fan of is the phone camera that’s been shoved into her dripping face. Although he doesn't know it, Adrien Agreste is lucky that he’s in her class, and doubly lucky that he’s managed to drag her best friend along on another one of his absurd fanboy missions.
“Wifi, I run the Ladyblog, I'm a huge fan, and I was just wondering-”
His green eyes shine over the edge of his phone. No wonder Marinette's head-over-heels for him - the kid is practically God’s gift to mankind in a 16-year-old’s body, but boy was she not in the mood. The dark-haired girl at his side must read the obvious danger in Wifi’s face, given the way she only hesitates for a second before grabbing Adrien by the shoulder.
“A-adrien, may-maybe we shouldn't-”
“-just a quick picture for the blog-”
Wifi is saved by a blast of water she spots from the corner of her eye. She leaps to tackle Adrien and Marinette out of the way, but Marinette reacts a second faster, throwing her arm around Adrien’s waist and bodily tossing them both to the ground. With a tuck and roll, Wifi hits the ground and pivots back towards The Paddler, praying on her Miraculous that maybe Marinette landed on top of Adrien. The poor girl deserved something for her awkward suffering.
‘Double entendre, double entendre, while you’re hating I get money-’
“Welcome back” Bubbler grunts when she stops at his side. He’s holding back The Paddler’s onslaught with another wall of bubbles, but it doesn't look they’re going to hold for long.
“Sorry, had to say hi to my adoring fans,” she replies. Her phone comes out again, and this time she summons a toaster. With a huff, Bubbler crosses his arms, but she’s far from fooled - he can't keep the sparkle out of his bright brown eyes.
“Must be tough,” he faux-pouts, “Having all those fans. But I guess every hero has to have a sexy sidekick to keep the press busy while the hero saves the day.”
Bubbler only gets away with the joke because they both know how untrue it is. As it turns out, bubbles were just about as potent of an offensive weapon as one might guess. The fact that The Paddler hadn't handed Bubbler his own ass to him yet was toeing on record-worthy. Looked like he was finally wising up, keeping back while Wifi did the hard work.
And he sticks behind her as she shifts the toaster to one arm and pulls out her phone with the other. The Paddler turns and so do his copies and his still-massive wave, looming overhead. The roar he lets out is seaspray and the crash of nature pummeling sand, of the yank of water and swirling pools shackled to moon cycles. It’s deafening, but after all of this time, the two don't need words to communicate. Bubbler reaches over to give her hand a quick squeeze, and she nods. His grip shifts to her forearm.
“Well you got one thing right, she shouts over the water rushing above them, “I am sexy!”
With one hand, Lady Wifi pulls out her phone and touches the small triangle button on the very bottom of the screen. The phone begins to glow.
“Replay!” Wifi shouts, holding the phone up.
The world around them lurches into stillness - and silence.
“Thank god I don't have to listen to that song anymore,” she sighs, just as Bubbler pipes up with a, “Oh good, we get to hear the end again!” There was no winning. Wifi doesn't get paid enough for this job - she doesn't get paid at all, which considering she has to put up with Bubbler all of the time, is a travesty. She'd have to talk to Mayor Bourgeois about that.
Everything around them moves in reverse: the lapping waves of The Paddler retreat, water-doubles reform, bubbles un-pop. Wifi has a toaster and a plan, she just needs the right moment. Hopefully thirty seconds back will be enough - it’s all they’ve got.
“There!” Bubbler shouts, grip on her arm tightening. She turns in the direction he’s pointing and sees it: Adrien and Marinette, the bench, and outdoor seating of the street front café they’re stationed in front of. Perfect. With a nod, she gives her phone screen a tap.
“You’re gonna have to get me out fast,” she breathes, “I don't feel like being Lady FryFi.”
Bubbler blinks. “You lost me there Ladybro.”
“You are the worst superhero,” she sighs, rolling her eyes.
The world, gone in reverse, starts spinning again.
‘ Put your hands up, it’s a stick up, no more makeup-’
“What? Bruh! How did you-” she hears The Paddler start. Bubbler must coat him with a cloud of bubbles again, giving Wifi enough time to zero in on her destination.
“Lady Wifi, I run the Ladyblog, I'm a huge fan and I was just wondering-”
She shakes her head and shoves past him, looking around at all of the café’s outdoor seating.
“Not now, Agreste,” she snaps. Wifi spare a moment to look over at Marinette. “You, get the two of you off of the street now, otherwise you’ll be in for a serious shock .”
Wifi spots what she needs then, so she doesn't see Marinette's determined nod, though she does hear the pounding of feet a moment later.
“You'd better buy her a coffee later, Agreste!” Wifi shouts. Hey, she could still wing for her friend while on duty.
She kneels over the outdoor socket built into the café’s patio - perfect for business types on their lunch hour who just can't seem to stop working, and perfect for her needs now. Plugging the toaster in and pushing down the button, Wifi has just enough time to turn and see the burst of water - same as the first time - spinning towards her.
“Bubbler, now!”
For all that she rags on him, for as much as he infuriates her, they are intrinsically more than just a team: Lady Wifi runs without looking, hurtles herself into the air off of the seat of the bench, and a moment later feels Bubbler’s arms around her waist, hauling her onto the bubble he’s hurtling by on.
His timing is perfect. The stream of water hits where Wifi was standing a second before, hits the plugged-in toaster, and explodes out. There’s a sharp crackle of electricity and a bit of an all-too-scientifically-improbable-seeming jolt that courses down the water jet and all the way back to The Paddler. Electrified, The Paddler quivers eerily then collapses. The water-doubles sink into puddles.
“Amazing job,” Bubbler whispers, lips close to her ear. He still has her by the waist, making sure she doesn't slip off the bubble’s rounded surface.
“I’m always a-”
But then he quickly presses his lips to her cheek, just below her mask, cutting her off. If she falls into fumbling silence, it’s because she’s surprised that his lips feel warm and soft, not all rubberized like the rest of him. The flush on her cheeks is exertion.
‘It’s going down for real.’ echoes for the last time. The music bubble pops.
Bubbler lands their slippery transport before The Paddler's prone form, a blissful cover for the momentary loss of her mind. Pull it together, it’s hero time. They both slide down next to him.
“Care to do the honors?” he asks.
Back to normal.
“Gladly!”
Wifi bends over The Paddler and rips off the shell necklace at his throat. It splits into pieces, and a purple butterfly emerges from within.
“Looks like it’s surf’s up for you, little akuma!” Lady Wifi says with a wink.
Bubbler’s jaw drops. “B-but I already used that joke!”
“It’s all about the timing. If you were a real superhero, you'd get that.”
“Ugh, whatever. I don't even know why I try with you,” he says.
He pulls his bubble wand out and gives it an artful flick.
“Miraculous Cleansing!” he shouts. His wand begins to glow. With a swing, he traps the escaping akuma in a pearlescent bubble. The purple butterfly bats its wings against its prison for a moment, and then the bubble pops, coating it in cleansing magic. The evil melts away, leaving a stunning white butterfly in it’s place. Freed and cured, it flutters away.
“Later, little butterfly dude!” Bubbler shouts.
A stream of bubbles rushes from his wand, filling the street with more of his magic: cars are righted, streets unflooded, and even her hair is dried perfectly. Satisfied, Bubbler holds up a hand for a high-five.
“Nailed it!” they say in unison.
…
With rising horror, she recognizes the song blasting from Nino’s headphones. So, apparently, does Adrien, who is just sliding into the desk behind her.
“You like that song too, Nino! I just added it to the DJ Bubbler playlist on the Ladyblog last night!”
The two immediately launch into a ‘bruh’ and ‘dude’ filled discourse on the intricacies of that dumb, catchy rap song. Alya groans into her history textbook.
“Did you see the video of yesterday’s fight?”
“Nah, dude, you know I don’t follow that stuff. But I heard you convinced Marinette to go film with you.” Nino leans forward and glances around the classroom. “Where is she, by the way? If you got her killed, you know Alya will kill us.”
She lazily turns around, rolling her eyes. “I’ll definitely kill you if you don’t stop talking about me like I’m not right here .”
Both boys laugh. The skin at the corners of Nino’s warm brown eyes crinkles happily, and Alya has to direct her gaze to Adrien. Something at breakfast must not have settled right with her - her stomach gives a strange twang, and she feels a little warm.
She’s saved by Marinette’s arrival, complete with a box of fresh croissants and stuttering greeting to Adrien. It’s much more rewarding to watch her friend get flustered around her crush. Alya doesn’t ignore Nino while Marinette and Adrien tell them about their encounter with Paris’ heroes last night. She just tries to focus really hard on Adrien and Marinette’s story.
"That sounds insurferable, dude,” Nino quips.
The entire crew melts into groans and laughter. Now that was a pun.