Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damian stopped short just inside the Café, where he had been spending his free time lately. Café Noir, along with its owner, had captivated him from his very first visit. But today, it felt wrong somehow. He had the strangest feeling that there was danger here today. He scanned the little shop, eyes pausing on the owner, who was already smiling at him.

Marinette grinned. "Your usual today, or do you want to be adventurous?"

Her smile faltered when he forced his attention past the woman who had somehow taught his heart to beat too fast in his chest simply by existing in the same space as him. He scanned the familiar space with a wary eye. Finally, he found something out of the ordinary.

He pointed to a small black kitten that didn't belong.

"That is not a cat."

Marinette stepped back, clearly affronted. "Of course it is. That's Plagg. He's the first cat."

"I am well-educated in the breeds and colors of cats from all around the world, and I can assure you that is not a cat."

She rolled her eyes at him. Damian struggled not to be offended as she dismissed the clear danger with all the grace of a teenager annoyed with her parents. "Then your education has a hole in it. Plagg is the cattiest cat to ever cat."

Damian sighed, and the prickle of danger at the back of his neck subsided ever so slightly… he couldn't stop a smile at her response. "Tt. That is not a thing."

The smooth, black blob with enormous acid green eyes that could not be a cat zipped off the cat tree where it had been eying him condescendingly. It didn't leap or run, though.

It flew.

It arced through the air right into his face, where it stopped, hovering, only inches away. It took more effort than he would be comfortable admitting to hold his ground.

Then it did something worse than flying.

It spoke.

"I am the first Cat. The reason cats have ever been and continue to be. The poor wretches whom the pharaohs honored don't know what divinity is. I am not only a cat, I am The Cat. God of Destruction and Kitten of Chaos."

Damian shifted slightly. "That you are a divine being capable of destruction is more believable than you being a cat."

The Cat grinned. "What do you think cats are, kid?"

Damian looked past the Cat to Marinette, though taking his eyes off the Cat made him nervous. "May I ask what is going on here?"

Marinette had skirted past her counter and moved within reach. His heart sped up, as it always did when she was near or did something unexpected. She was holding a ring.

Damian's mouth went dry.

He wasn't just a customer. They had become… friends over time. But most of their time together had been spent within the confines of the café. Damian spent a considerable amount of time there.

But he had imagined a variety of scenarios with the pretty, innocent young woman. Kissing her to silence her rambling thoughts, asking her out for dinner. Spilling all his secrets and still being found worthy… finding out how far her freckles went. Some of those imaginings had involved a ring.

"What are you proposing, Marinette?"

Her eyes widened briefly, her breathing speeding up. "No! No. I mean, I'm not. Plagg is proposing. That is to say…why am I so bad at this?! He chose you."

Damian glanced between the Cat and Marinette.

"Tt." Other than the potential danger, Damian was far more interested in the woman than the Cat. "I think I would have preferred my first assumption to be true."

The Cat began laughing—rolling over and over in the air while it cackled. He was not entirely unlike his friend Jon, who tended to both float and find him amusing at strange and unexpected moments.

"Told you, Pigtails."

Marinette's jaw dropped, the ring clenched behind a tight, white fist. If it were possible to screech and whisper at the same time, she managed it. "Wait, what?!"

With a glower at the Cat, Damian stepped closer, his eyes sticking briefly on the thrum of her pulse at her throat. The thought that his proximity affected her heart rate was not an unwelcome one. "I have enjoyed each of our interactions. Your conversation, while somewhat exuberant, is pleasant and honest. I find you attractive. Beautiful, even. I would imagine that a marriage relationship with you would be… pleasing."

Marinette all but short-circuited. Plagg had identified Damian as his holder the first time the young man had come into the café, spending more time with the animals than any of her other customers. She had made him wait. Because Plagg's power was too great for mistakes to be made, and because Damian had seemed too good to be true.

"You're supposed to feel drawn to him." Plagg insisted after Damian's fifth visit. "The Ladybug and Cat are always connected; no matter what kind of relationship they choose, the connection will be real and deep. Besides, the kid might like cats, but it's you he keeps coming back for."

"That's ridiculous! He's just an animal lover."

Surprisingly, Tikki's opinion had echoed Plagg's. "Plagg might be stinky, but he's right this time, Marinette. That boy only comes when you're working… even when you trade shifts."

"He does?" Marinette had been shocked. Sure, it seemed like he came around a lot, but most of his visits were as predictable as her regular schedule—

"Oh." The idea that Damian might be as interested in her as she was in him was an odd thought. He was too good-looking and too kind to animals for her not to have fallen for him during his lengthy visits.

Tikki was looking at her with a mix of sympathy and amusement, but Plagg was simply impatient.

"Yes, yes. All you humans are ridiculous and filled with hormones. He likes you, you like him. What I want is my holder and a good supply of cheese. So either hand me over soon, or I'll take matters into my own paws."

"Marriage?" It was all she could get out, even with Plagg's ring digging into her palm. Pain usually helped her focus, but it seemed that her thoughts had scattered too far.

"Tt. Until a few moments ago, I would have said I knew everything I needed to know about you before entering into a romantic relationship, but—" He glanced at Plagg, still floating inches from his head with a shit-eating grin spread across his smug little face. "—Perhaps we could start with dinner. If only to discuss the Cat."

Plagg bristled. "What you two get up to doesn't matter to me at all; in fact, I don't want to hear or see any of it, but I am not a thing to be discussed. You're meant to wear my ring, and you will."

Damian frowned. "To what end?"

Marinette sighed before turning the lock and flipping the welcome sign to "CLOSED".

"C'mon up. I live above the building. I can tell you about Plagg, and then, if you still want to, we can talk about dinner… and whatever else you had in mind."

She felt her cheeks flush pink when Damian eyed her slowly, appreciatively, before clearing his throat and meeting her eyes. "Let's start with dinner, lest I suggest something inappropriate."

Her breath caught in her chest. "Oh."

Apparently, it was a day for revelations.

Chapter Text

Marinette made a beeline for her kitchen, promising tea as she went, which gave Damian a moment to study her living space. The apartment was cozy and soft, much like her. The windows were clear and bright, letting in as much natural light as Gotham could boast. Several plants grew in pots around the room, a vibrant counterpoint to the cream and red furnishings.

It suited her, and yet —

"This is not what I expected."

Marinette handed him a cup of green tea before settling into the corner of the sofa, her legs curled beneath her. "Let me guess. You thought it would be all pink."

His eyes flitted over her pink top and black jeans. "Perhaps."

"My bedroom is pink. I might be easy to read, but I like to think there's more to me than meets the eye. There's blue in the kitchen and green in my guest room. My sewing room always looks like whatever project I happen to be working on—it transcends decor."

Damian would have liked to have said that he knew she was multi-faceted and interesting, but the Cat had other ideas.

"Alright! Back to me!" Plagg interjected. "Sip your tea and recenter yourself or whatever, because the Ring needs to be worn to balance all the darkness permeating the city. If the Ladybug is going to be present, we have to curb the imbalance before things get interesting. Nobody wants a war."

Marinette tensed. "That's a bit of a stretch—we have some time still before things get out of hand." She insisted.

"I still don't understand what's going on." Damian was growing frustrated, and he didn't much like it. Visiting Café Noir was usually a respite from the stress of medical school and whatever his family was up to. It was a chance to spend time with Marinette while a lapful of cat gave him something to do with his hands while they spoke. Today had not been that. At least the reason for all his stress, Plagg, seemed to think that he had a chance at pursuing some sort of romance with Marinette. That alone might be worth the upheaval of his expectations… depending on what was up with the Cat, of course.

Marinette sighed once, cast a glare in Plagg's direction, and watched until he slunk away. "Sorry. This will probably be easier without interruptions. From Plagg! Please feel free to ask questions. Since he gave himself away, I can tell you just about everything."

Damian waited while she gathered her thoughts. It was apparent that she hadn't planned on having this discussion today.

"Plagg is a Kwami. A god of sorts, an eternal being tied to a piece of jewelry that can give powers to whomever wears it. He is the first Cat, and kwami of destruction."

Damian stared at Marinette. If anyone—even her—had tried to tell him that an ornery flying cat was the god of destruction, he would have reserved them a room at Arkham. But he had seen the little god before he got the explanation. Barring some sort of delusion on his part, Marinette was telling him the truth.

"What does any of that have to do with me?"

Marinette held out a ring, and his traitorous heart sped up. "Not just anyone can be trusted with a miraculous, and not just every trustworthy person is compatible with any given kwami. Plagg is… particular. And sometimes abrasive, but very loyal, even if he doesn't admit it."

She tapped her earrings. "I carry the goddess of creation. They have a sort of yin/yang relationship, and it's not good for either one to be in use for prolonged periods of time without the other. Plagg's last holder was good, but he had a lot of reasons for giving the ring up. Plagg says the two of you are even more compatible."

"Because I'm surly?"

She shook her head with a giggle and grabbed one of his hands, leaning across the sofa to reach him. "Of course not! Because you know what it is to wear armour to protect yourself. Plagg's heart is as good as yours, but his prickly personality is just a defense mechanism."

It took some effort to pull his attention away from where she clung to him, to remain focused on the task at hand. But he'd had practice in putting aside his own desires.

"And the powers you mentioned?"

She stood, releasing him, and set her tea aside. Damian followed suit even though he wasn't sure why. "Hopefully, I don't have to say that what I've already shared, and what I'm about to share, must be kept a secret."

Damian nodded once. "Tt. I assumed as much when you brought me up here." It must have been the right answer because the look in her eyes was making all sorts of promises he wanted to cash in on. He could read relief and trust and something warm that snaked its way down his spine.

"Spots on."

There was a flash of pink light, and then in Marinette's place stood Ladybug—though her suit was somewhat altered—the once triumphant hero and saviour of Paris some ten years prior. "There is power just in wearing the ring… as time passes, you'll probably develop a sixth sense, faster reflexes, possibly a heightened sense of smell, and a preference for overpriced cheese. But you can also be a superhero."

Damian hesitated. He'd done his time as a vigilante. Had already set it aside to focus on other things.

"I'm in medical school. Nearly finished. I don't have time for—" He glanced at her, then past her through an open door where a pink bed was just visible, and back to the ring in her hand. "—anything really."

Marinette followed his line of sight, her face pinkening as she avoided his gaze. She passed the ring back and forth in her hands a couple of times before whispering.

"Is that why you haven't asked me out, or was Plagg wrong about that?"

He nodded. He had longed to ask her out, to find a way to win her heart before someone else realized that the owner of Café Noir was sweet and lovely and kind to animals, but who had a quiet strength running through her. "He wasn't wrong—not about my feelings for you. Though I don't know that I'm meant to carry a magical ring."

"I know it's asking a lot. It's one of the reasons I tried to make Plagg wait. Damian, I need you to know that you can say no, whatever Plagg says. But if you do accept — You don't really have to worry about the hero thing here. Batman has a whole team of vigilantes taking care of things. Just wearing the ring while I'm wearing the earrings will help ease the darkness in the city and make Batman's job easier."

A small measure of guilt, which he rarely acknowledged, ebbed away. He'd felt bad about shifting his focus to medicine. But only because he felt like he was leaving his family in harm's way… Medicine was his calling. His. Not his mother's or father's.

"So, I can wear this ring, be haunted by Plagg, but otherwise continue my life as is, and somehow, magically help Batman?"

"Yes. Spots off." Light flashed brightly but briefly, and Marinette stood before him again. She offered him the ring. "Will you do it?"

"I have one more question." His mouth went dry, but he spoke anyway. "Will you go out with me? Knowing that Medical school will keep me busier than you deserve?"

She blushed; it was pretty and distracting with the way it heated her cheeks before the color spread down her neck and beyond where he could see. "Yes. I'd like that. Not the busy, but I like you, and I think you'll be worth it."

He managed a small smile, relieved and excited, and she smiled back. She looked happy. He had made her look happy. His smile grew.

The Cat reappeared. "Well?"

Marinette grimaced, but didn't send the god away; instead, she looked at him. "So, will you, Damian Wayne, accept the responsibility and the burden of Plagg, to partner with me in making the world a better place?"

"Tt. Of course." He accepted the ring, watching in shock as it shifted, lengthening into a smooth black chain. "Huh."

Marinette looked only slightly surprised. "I'm guessing you can't wear rings while you're doctoring."

"Certainly not." He fastened the chain around his neck. Plagg grinned, and something about it seemed malicious. "So, kid. What kind of cheese do you have at home?"

Chapter Text

Marinette checked her outfit a third time, groaning at her indecision. Damian liked her. He liked her enough to mention (or assume) marriage before they had even dated. Even if some of their long talks over coffee and kittens had felt like dates.

"Tikki! What do I do? Everything looks like I'm trying too hard, not trying at all, or covered in cat hair."

Tikki stared at her in silence until she stopped wailing. She took a breath. In and out. She was a grown woman, for heaven's sake! She had saved a city and was in position to save another one… in a roundabout way at least.

"I don't think the cat hair is a deterrent, Marinette. That boy did not look like he wanted to leave the other day—and that was mid-shift in all your coffee and cat-covered glory."

Marinette blushed. He had looked at the slightly open door to her bedroom more than once. Pink should make him happy, or at least eager, right? She smoothed the dark pink A-line dress once more before running a brush through her hair. When she was working downstairs, she always wore it up—in pigtails, yes, but also ponytails, or braids, or whatever she had time for. Wearing it down made her feel more dressed up than the smooth skirt she'd chosen.

"Okay. Here we go. Date. With Damian." It was still hard to believe she had a date with Damian Wayne, the studious man who walked a careful line between serious and passionate at all times. She had watched him while he studied. He was dedicated to being the best, but for him, it was about saving lives, not the clout. Her heart started thundering again. If he showed the same intensity about her as he did about becoming a doctor, she might very well spontaneously combust.

Tikki flew into her space to meet her eyes. "I believe in you, Marinette! And you don't have time to change anyway. You don't want to be late!"

With a gasp in the direction of the clock, Marinette bolted out the door. Damian's studies kept him very busy, and she wanted to do everything she could to respect the time he set aside for her—and not waste any of their time together.

Damian was waiting for her outside. He was positively mouthwatering in black slacks, a black button-up, and a pink tie. She stopped abruptly. "You're wearing pink." He had never done that before.

"I like the idea of us looking as if we belong together." She nodded, smiling; she liked that too.

It took another second to unstick her tongue. "You look good. You always do, but tonight—You look really good, Damian."

Plagg chose that moment to stick his head out of Damian's pocket and make a gagging face.

"Are you and Plagg doing okay? I know he can be a lot to handle—"

Damian pressed a finger to her lips. "Tt. Tonight is about us, not the kwami, but Plagg is tolerable. I am fine, Marinette." His eyes caressed her slowly, "As are you."

Desperately hoping her blush was lighter than her dress, Marinette thought about the half dozen rejected outfits strewn over her bed and nearly kicked herself. Next time, she would make sure she was ready with enough time to make sure her bedroom was inviting.

Damian pressed a quick kiss to her cheek—almost a la bise, but not quite—before straightening. "Shall we?"

With a nod, Marinette slipped her hand into Damian's and let him lead her to their destination.

"I can't believe you don't even want to try the hero thing," Plagg muttered.

Damian pulled his attention from his textbook and glanced at him with a raised brow. "Marinette said you don't enjoy doing the hero thing."

"I don't. It's all work, work, work. I've just never had a holder who didn't want to go for a run now and then. Even Pigtails suited up a few times when she got to Gotham."

Damian frowned. Marinette made it seem like she trusted the bats to handle that side of things. They had only been on one official date, but he'd kept up his visits to the café, often with study materials in hand. Because of the semi-public setting, they didn't usually talk in length about the miraculous, but he was surprised she hadn't said anything contrary to her original assessment.

Not that it was any of his business.

"She is a grown woman and is fully capable of making her own choices."

Plagg rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah… all grown women in Gotham are perfectly safe."

His study of contagions suddenly seemed unimportant; he'd seen too many crime scenes to know that wasn't even remotely true. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing! You're right, Pigtails has been handling herself for ages. She can handle a few hoodlums now and again."

Damian growled. He did not like the idea of Marinette in danger. "What hoodlums? Speak."

The Cat backpedaled immediately. "She only suited up when some local thugs tried to mug her. It's not like she goes hunting down the local baddies. I was just bored, not trying to start something." Plagg whined.

Damian snapped his book shut. "When did this happen?"

The Cat waved his paw dismissively, but there was a gleam in his eye. "Oh, it was before you knew us. Still, it would be a shame if her life was in danger and you didn't even know what to do."

Damian groaned. Marinette hadn't mentioned the nagging—or the guilt that came with having a kwami live with you. Because the Cat was right. He would despise himself if he had the power to save her life—anyone's life—and failed to do so because he hadn't accustomed himself to his abilities. Plagg had given him the full rundown, and he knew it all as well as any subject he studied, but he hadn't practiced.

He glanced at Alfred the cat. Alfred was watching Plagg through slitted eyes, feigning sleep even while poised to spring. Plagg and Alfred did not get along (because Alfred was a smart cat who knew that Plagg was far from safe). If he went out for a while, his longtime companion could get some rest.

"Tt. I suppose I should put my knowledge into practice."

Plagg grinned. "Now we're t—

"Claws out."

"—aaaaaaa!"

Plagg vanished with a yeowl, leaving Damian alone to assess his new suit. The lines were familiar, but varied, as if borrowed from both his time in the League and his time as Robin. Solidly black, except for the eyes, which were a shocking combination of green irises and yellow sclera, far more feline and far removed from the earthier emerald genetics had gifted him. Instead of a cape, he had a tail that appeared to double as some sort of grapple. Thankfully, despite the footage he had seen of the Chat Noir of old, the hood that provided obscurity was free of ears. The extendable baton in his hand flattened and sharpened into a decent blade at the push of a button. It was certainly more convenient than rushing off to the cave or hauling his suit around.

It was strange, patrolling Gotham without his family in his ear. It was quiet for one thing—well, as quiet as Gotham with its traffic, sirens, and distant gunshots could be. Damian kept to the endless shadows, moving near silently through the city. He had no intentions of interfering unless it became necessary, planning only to become comfortable with the tools at his disposal.

The weapon—in both its forms—felt comfortable in his hand, like an extension of himself. The extra abilities were entirely foreign. It took several breathless leaps to acquaint himself with the extreme bounds of his movement. While he couldn't fly, the ability to leap from the ground to several stories up with ease was exhilarating.

Damian was ready to head home when things went a little sideways. He had gone out to get a feel for the suit, not to make a name for himself; he certainly hadn't planned on a code name.

Batman—his father, who believed his son had given up crime fighting—stepped out of the shadows directly in Damian's path.

White lenses narrowed, standing in stark contrast to his black suit. It might have been intimidating if Damian hadn't seen him playing the fop as 'Brucie' Wayne at fundraising events. "Who are you meant to be?"

Damian sidestepped the Dark Knight, but he moved with him. "I am no one. You need not be concerned." It was unlikely to work, but Damian had no desire to get into an altercation with Batman, not that he thought he'd fail. Plagg's transformation seemed to imbue him with confidence to go along with his enhanced abilities.

"I am Batman. This is my city. I suggest you answer me."

It had to have been Plagg's influence on him, because Damian would never—

"I. am. Catman." It came out with the same energy and growl Batman was famous for. It was preposterous.

And yet—It worked.

"What." Batman took a step back, surprised and likely appalled.

Damian—Catman, kwami help him—prepped his grappling tail for launch. "You heard me. I answered your question. I'm leaving now."

With a smoothness born of years of practice and enhanced by the magic of the miraculous, Catman swung away before Batman found his tongue.