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“I’ve got nothing.”
Ladybug frowned at the small black and red tube in her palm. The sides curved slightly in the middle, like a woman’s figure. Delicate and smooth except where the cap line cut across one end.
“Anytime now, Bugaboo!”
Chat’s nigh-frantic voice broke in between the tinkle-smash of glass displays imploding. She hazarded a glance at her partner. Hoping to high heaven that something besides the akuma would light up in spots.
He was valiantly holding off his attacker with an ice pick he’d absconded with from the tools department. His staff had vanished when he’d been thrown somewhere between aisle four and five of housewares. The cat was on the defensive. For each time he managed to dance away from the claws of the akuma, he tripped over signage or another display.
“What on earth am I supposed to do with this?!”
Ladybug wailed, twisting the cap off to glare daggers at the goopy black brush contained within.
“What is it?”
Chat’s voice had taken on a harried note that pitched his tone a tad higher than usual.
“No samples!” The akuma howled.
Ladybug waved the offending item before her like a fairy wand, “it’s mascara, Chat, what the heck do I do with a tube of mascara?”
Marinette wasn’t sure if the respondent “oh” that followed was meant for her or a reaction from nearly losing his cat ears to a claw swipe.
Certain now that the powers that be that chose her “weapons” were mocking her, she reared back to throw it. She hoped to heaven there was some chemical property to mascara that would save the day for she and her partner.
“I’ve got it! Throw me that tube, my lady!”
To her utter astonishment, Chat lit up like a Christmas tree–A red and black polka dot Christmas tree. Without a second’s hesitation Ladybug hurled the offending item. The boy gave a mighty heave against the flat of his icepick, sending the monster stumbling backwards. He caught the item one-handed.
Confusion layered with a heavy dose of concern twisted in the pit of her stomach as she watched him toss the icepick aside in favor of waving the mascara mere inches away from the hulking beast’s face.
“Is this on sale?”
The akuma paused in mid-snarl. Yellow slit eyes squinted at the tube. It plucked the item from his fingers with two smoking black clawed digits, turning the item this way and that.
“There’s no bar code on this. I’ll have to figure out what brand…”
The great beast harrumphed and drew out a pair of dainty reading glasses from the breast pocket of a pale green smock. It struggled a moment to fit the spectacles on the scaly ridge at the end of its snout.
“This must be from the fall line… what was that skew number?”
Chat noir seized the opportunity to pluck the monster’s name tag from his smock and surreptitiously toss it to his Lady. She caught it, chucked it down to the floor, and gave it a good, hard stomp.
One butterfly and a flick of her wrist later and the department store was set right again.
Chat Noir stood next to her following their traditional congratulatory fist bump with a grin on his face. She slanted a glance his way.
“Nice work.”
His smirk broadened to something softer; a genuine smile as green eyes tracked down to the floor. Ladybug found the look sent an odd little electric trill through her. Dare she say the expression looked cute on him?
Clawed fingers gingerly scratched at the base of his neck, “Yeah, well, I’ve seen a lot of it at work. My poor makeup artists work themselves into spasms trying to find receipts for those things for reimbursement.”
“Makeup artists?” She cocked a slender brow, “what are you, a news anchor or something?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” A shift of his feet brought him close enough for him to drape an arm across her shoulder. “You might, in fact, see my handsome face every day, my Lady.”
Ladybug rolled her eyes and danced out of his embrace. “Ohh, so your real identity is Hawk Skillner? He is quite the catch.”
She clasped her hands to her chest and heaved a breathy sigh. “Be still my beating heart!”
Chat turned a lovely shade of pink as outrage blossomed, “wh-what? That fat bald dude who does the daytime weather? As if! I’ll have you know I’m a mod–”
Both of their miraculous began to chirp a warning in tandem, cutting off his tirade. Ladybug shook her head, a rueful smile graced her features.
“Time to go!”
“Aw man!”
xx
Marinette practically threw herself into her seat. The jog from the department store to school had not been a short one and she pulled in huge lungfuls of air as she fought to catch her breath.
Alya quirked an eyebrow at her best friend, lips parting for the obvious question. Instead, she was interrupted by their teacher as she stormed up to them, hand poised in classic finger waggling fashion.
She never got to lay into her student. Before she had a chance the classroom door slammed open for the second time. Adrien palmed the door for support as he panted.
“S-sorry I’m l-late” he wheezed.
The teacher snapped her gaze back and forth between her two tardy students, her frown etched deeper and deeper lines in her pale face.
They held their breath. Bracing for impact.
It never came. The teacher huffed, threw up her hands and stalked back to her podium. Muttering something about giving up this and teenagers that.
Adrien released his air at the same time Marinette did, then hunched his shoulders and sidled into his chair.
Marinette watched witch budding curiosity as Nino picked up where Alya left off.
“Dude, where have you been?” He hissed into his friend’s ear at first opportunity.
“Got hung up.” Was all Adrien could muster as he wiped sweat from his brow.
“Hung up? That’s it?” The boy leaned back, eyes narrowed. “You’re two hours late and all you can say is— dude, what’s on your face?”
Green eyes blinked uncomprehendingly. “Huh?”
Nino grabbed his chin and jerked it sideways. “What’s this black stuff on your face?”
Marinette, stomach did a strange flip she couldn’t identify as she watched the two boys. Sure enough there was a small streak of black running along the ridge of his right cheekbone.
Ever the investigator, Alya leaned forward to have a look. “Is that… mascara?”