Chapter Text
The touring of Metropolis, New York City, and Gotham had been going well as far as Marinette was concerned, no matter what Chloé says to her about carelessness and naivety.
She’s glad her, Adrien and Chloé all decided to take this summer trip before they started University in the fall. It sucks that it was just the three of them, she wishes more of their friends could’ve tagged along but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.
Kagami was in the middle of fencing season and couldn’t come. Luka was touring with his father, learning the tricks of the trade and other things. Nathaniel had already been commissioned to paint a mural downtown before they really finalized dates. Nino was in much the same boat as Nath, just with music and pitch meetings for his movie script. Felix hated travelling and Alix was doing… something. Time travelling, probably. Or at least spending more time in the burrow.
Marinette was certainly starting to notice the way she’s begun talking about ancient history like she was actually there when she goes on rants now. Felix also probably noticed but Marinette’s also sure that he’s aiding and abetting her in exchange for insider information so…
She’ll probably have to deal with that later, unfortunately. But not today.
Their tour group was going to Amusement Mile later that afternoon but had been given free roam until then. Marinette decided to spend the time up until lunch at the park near the meetup spot in Gotham Square and Chloé hadn’t complained or vetoed that idea so the trio happily camped out on the grass.
Marinette had returned to her sketch of Lady Gotham in between eating bites of her sandwich. She much preferred the style of it to New York City’s Lady Liberty and Tikki agreed with her. There was just something about the Statue of Justice that inspired her.
She’d been doodling it since they left the marina yesterday and had plenty of pictures of the statue for inspiration later. There’s one she especially likes with the sun peeking out over the statue’s shoulder and starbursting over the image but still allowing her to see the silhouette. She’s thinking of printing it out to put up on her wall at home.
She’s playing with the idea of draping fabrics for formal wear designs like the roman togas both Lady statues seem to wear when a tennis ball rolls up and bumps into her leg. She has only enough time to move her sketchbook out of the way before a large dog bowls into her, tail wagging happily and barking up a storm.
“Oof!”
Adrien’s already halfway up the tree, startled out of his light doze by the barking and Chloé only daintily moved away from Marinette, leaving her to her fate.
Pushing herself back up so she’s not crushed by what feels like one hundred kilos of dog, she comes face to snout with quite possibly the biggest dog she’s ever seen. There was really only one choice of action Marinette could have followed.
“Oh! Well, aren’t you just the prettiest boy?” she tells the dog happily, reaching up to give him scratches. “Such a big boy! You nearly bowled me over, didn’t you?”
If it’s possible, the dog’s tail begins to wag even faster, enough that he accidentally overbalances himself and decides to roll with it, flopping onto his back and letting her rub his stomach. Marinette does so enthusiastically, her baby-talk to the dog devolving into broken not-words and the occasional exclamation of good boy! in both English and French.
The dog was a great dane, and had the softest coat of black fur she’s ever seen. There was a thick red collar around his throat, and Marinette stopped furiously rubbing his belly long enough to look at the silver tag attached to it.
“Titus, huh?” she says to the dog. “Such a strong name for such a distinguished boy, huh?”
“Oh god,” she hears Adrien groan from his spot still up in the tree. When she looks up, she finds him eyeing Titus with distrust, the absolute kitten. “I hope whoever his owner is, they’ve never read Shakespeare.”
Both she and Chloé blink at the strange non sequitur.
“Uh, why? Exactly?”
“Because they have shit taste in his plays if they do! Titus Andronicus is, like, Shakespeare’s worst play.”
Chloé glares up at him. “You’re such a nerd. Now stop being ridiculous and get down from there.”
“But, Chloé! It’s a dog.”
“Adrien Algernon Agreste!”
Marinette tunes out the two blondes as they devolve into sibling-like bickering. It’s a skill she’s had to learn and learn quickly with living in such close quarters with the pair for the last few weeks and also being friends with the pair for the past three years.
“Speaking of your owner, I wonder where they are?” She scratches under Titus’ chin thoughtfully. “Should we go look for them?”
Titus' head flops to the side, almost like he’s listening for something, before he clambers up onto his feet to tower over her. He’s almost twice as tall as she is sitting, which is just ridiculous. Why is everything in America so big?
Getting to her feet herself, Titus still stands almost as tall as her. She can rest her elbow on his back when she grabs his collar to make sure he doesn’t run off. He leads mostly, pulling her along at a steady trot she has to jog to keep up with.
He truly was such a well behaved dog and certainly lived up to his breed’s reputation as a gentle giant.
Or, at least she thought so, until the call of “Titus! Here!” echoes through the park and he goes racing off towards it, dragging Marinette along for the ride no matter how much she tries to slow down.
Titus comes to a skidding stop, and Marinette barely stops herself from falling by keeping her arm around Titus.
“And who are you?”
Looking up, she finds a young man, probably around her age, staring down at her. He doesn’t look happy—but most Gothamites don’t, Marinette’s found. He’s also, despite the glare he’s giving her, very attractive.
When she opens her mouth, incoherent French comes tumbling out, much to her embarrassment.
Ah. ‘Not being able to speak coherently to people she finds attractive’, she had wondered where that particular personality trait had been as of late. Even after so many years hanging around people who should be—and are—supermodels, she still acts like a nervous wreck. Great.
Why is she like this again?
The man raises an eyebrow at her, looking very unamused.
She tries again. “Ah- Je suis- I mean, I am very sorry. Your dog found me sitting over there with my friends and I figured I should find his owner instead of letting him just wander around and I assume you’re his owner because if you aren’t this is very embarrassing for me. Not that it wasn’t embarrassing before but, oh, I’m definitely rambling and I’m going to shut up now.”
Pressing her lips together as tightly as humanly possible so her tongue will stop making horrible life decisions, she holds Titus’ bright yellow tennis ball out to his owner.
The man huffs, taking the ball from her hand. “I didn’t ask for your life’s story.”
Marinette blinks and then frowns. Her hand tightens around where she’s still holding onto Titus’ collar and she has to very carefully unclench her hand before she breaks it or something.
“I didn’t give it,” she says through clenched teeth, embarrassment abruptly forgotten. There’s no need for the man to be rude.
He scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”
She doesn't really have anything to say to that. Instead, she turns to Titus, who’s sitting like the good boy he is. She very seriously leans down to eye level—she does not have to lean down far—and tells him, “Your owner is an ass. But you are still a very good boy.”
She plants a kiss to his forehead that makes his tail wag, gives him one last scratch behind the ears and walks back towards her friends without looking back at the rude man.
In her pocket, she can hear Tikki giggling.
***
Colonel Bug: so I met kagami and felix’s lovechild today
MY HONOR: I would never stoop so low.
the evil twin: I would never stoop so low.
ShutUpTurtleMan: Nettie
the evil twin: Okay first of all-
ShutUpTurtleMan: dearest
sunshine
light of our collective lives and reason I breathe
what the fuCK
YoureUnderAgreste: Kagami, my love, how could you?
The Betrayal™
Queen of Salt: ew
GottaGoFast: ew wtf
sneaky snake: Send pics or it didn’t happen
give me art or give me death: [a photo of the ‘right in front of my salad?’ meme]
Queen of Salt: wait
I was with you all day when did this happen?
was it the owner of the dog that attacked you?
ShutUpTurtleMan: WHAT
Colonel Bug: he didn’t attack me!
chloe stop spreading misinformation!
titus was a sweetheart!
YoureUnderAgreste: incorrect
he was, in fact, a menace
give me art or give me death: wait was Titus the dog or the lovechild
ShutUpTurtleMan: ^^^ ?
Colonel Bug: shut up adrien
all animals are great
stop being elitist
give me art or give me death: okay but seriously what kind of dog was it
the evil twin: why exactly was he our lovechild?
GottaGoFast: because of the dramatic tryst you and Kagami had obviously
keep up
Colonel Bug: because he was as pretty as he was rude actually
And gave me the feeling that he’d rant about his honor and parentage if it given the chance
MY HONOR: you say something once as an unsocialized preteen
GottaGoFast: MARI YOU DOG!
ARE U GETTING TAIL IN GOTHAM OF ALL PLACES????
Colonel Bug: ??? no alix
did you not read the part about how rude he is?
YoureUnderAgreste: i mean,,,,,
Felix is pretty rude and we all still like him
ShutUpTurtleMan: and Chloe
YoureUnderAgreste: oh good point nino
Colonel Bug: i hate it here
Queen of Salt: Okay first of all-
YoureUnderAgreste: so i mean it’s not really a dealbreaker yaknow?
Colonel Bug: this familys a nightmare
i shoulda left you all on the street corner where i found you
YoureUnderAgreste: BUT CHA DINDT
ShutUpTurtleMan: but yA DIDNT
GottaGoFast: BUT CHA DIDNT!!
sneaky snake: but ya didn’t
***
Robinson Park is beautiful. The plants here flourish in a way the rest of the city doesn’t and Marinette isn’t sorry for dragging her friends inside. Chloé loves flowers just as much as she does, even if the stubborn blonde will never admit it.
Being a bug has its side effects, but this is perhaps one of Marinette’s favorites. She just barely stops herself from burrowing into the bushes and vines lining the secluded area she’s found. (Tikki, of course, has no such reservations and dives into a patch of flowers immediately.)
This part of the park is practically deserted. No one walking the paths for this hidden corner of paradise.
It’s not as well-groomed as the rest of the park, a sort of wild and untamed feel to it all, which she assumes is why people ignore it. But Marinette much prefers the unfettered life soaked into the air here, then the clipped and trimmed hedges outside.
There’s a sign at the entrance, that says gardeners welcome. And, truly, that was all the permission Marinette needed.
Uncaring of her clothes, she rolls up her sleeves and begins weeding and watering and digging her fingers into the dirt beneath wilting flowers, making them blossom once more. She gets into the rhythm of it and isn’t really sure how long she’s been there for until a voice speaks up from behind her.
“That’s a neat trick.”
Marinette jumps, heart in her throat as she whips around to find herself staring up at a beautiful woman with red hair and eyes greener than even Adrien’s. She’s looking down at the flowers all around Mari, a sort of knowing in her too green eyes.
Shit. This was bad.
Gotham wasn’t Paris. And even in Paris she shouldn’t have been- what was she thinking?
Metas weren’t allowed in Gotham- well. Meta heroes really. Not that she was Meta, or acting as a hero at that moment. But Meta hate was much worse in America. And she doesn't think anyone is going to ask her questions before they try anything.
“I’m not- I’m not doing anything. No tricks! I don’t know what you’re-”
“Calm down, girlie.” The woman smiles and crouches down next to the flowers.
Marinette snaps her mouth shut and watches, fascinated, as the woman reaches out her hand. Almost instantly, the flowers that were trained on Marinette turn to follow her, straining for the woman like she’s the sun.
Marinette turns to her wide-eyed.
“Your secret’s safe with me. Us gardeners gotta stick together, don’t we?” the woman winks as if sharing a secret. Which, Marinette supposes she is.
Still nervous, Marinette nods hesitantly.
“I- Do you visit this park often?” she asks.
The woman’s lips quirk, the kind that hides an amusing secret. “Yes, I’m quite fond of it. It’s very… natural.”
Marinette beams. “I thought the same! I like it a lot. I wish I had something like this back home. But there’s really only the garden I keep on my balcony.”
“You’re not from here?”
“Non, my home is Paris. I’m here with my friends travelling through America for the summer. We return tomorrow actually, and I’m glad. I miss my city. It is… very different here.”
The woman snorted, but in a way that seemed elegant. Marinette very much wants to know how she does that. Not even Chloé could pull that off.
“You’re adorable,” she tells her and Marinette blushes. “Most Europeans call us a shitshow, so thanks for trying to be nice about it.”
Marinette opens her mouth to dispute that claim and rant about all the wonderful things she’s seen since she’s been here but the call of her name makes her pause. It’s Adrien, and it seems they’re supposed to be heading back to the hotel soon for dinner.
He probably needs her help to drag Chloé and Pollen away from the hydrangeas again.
Marinette gets up to dust herself off and says goodbye to the strange woman.
“Stay safe, little bluebell. I have a feeling we’ll meet again.”
She’s gone the next moment, leaving Marinette alone and with a bouquet of bluebells cradled in her hands, roots tangled between her fingers and all.
Tikki pokes her head out of a rose bush. “She seemed nice.”
***
She returns to Gotham, following behind her whirlwind of an uncle with barely restrained amusement. It hasn’t even been a half a year since she last stepped foot on American soil, but Uncle Jay had been invited to a charity gala and insisted Marinette come along.
“You already visited my hometown without me,” he’d whined, “The least you could do is come with me this time and help fend off all the pompous fat cats. Besides! I can hardly stand to auction off an MDC without her there with me.”
He had then proceeded to go into a whole ten-minute rant on all the reasons she should join him on his trip. He’d been so impassioned about it—he always was when it came to her, the overly affectionate drama queen—that it had taken the combined efforts of her and Penny to get him to quiet down long enough to say that she already agreed to come.
After that, it’d been a madhouse. All the planning and making sure all the pieces she was auctioning off were ready as well as Jagged and Penny’s outfits for the night. She’d already been working on everything but her own dress long before Uncle Jay was suddenly hellbent on her coming along, so there was that at least.
Their plane—private jet actually, Marinette was getting oddly used to the extravagant wealth she seemed surrounded by nowadays—arrived in Gotham a week before the Charity Ball. Which was, admittedly, a strange occurrence. Most guests, if travelling, didn’t show up until the day before.
But Uncle Jay was on a mission.
Officially, they were in Gotham for the annual Martha Wayne Foundation Charity Ball auctioning off items to help fund the charity's education and healthcare programs.
But unofficially, they were here because Jagged was offended Marinette’s first trip to Gotham wasn’t with him and he was going to rectify that by ‘showing her all the real sights any two-bit tour guide wouldn’t have even thought to bring her to.’
She’d heard Jagged speak of his hometown a few times, always with that tone of voice one has when they’re fond despite themselves. He knew how bad his hometown could be but he was one of the lucky ones; grew up on the better side of town, he says, with parents on the straight and narrow.
Bad things happened, but not so much he couldn’t also remember the good of it all.
He left and was glad he did. Glad to leave and explore the world and exist without having to watch his back, but sometimes he spoke as if he missed it. The thai restaurant down the street, the friends he’d made but hadn’t spoken to in years, the graffiti walls he said you could find if you knew where to look.
Marinette couldn’t quite understand, all she’s ever known was Paris, but she didn’t need to understand in order to allow him his fun.
The first three days there were filled with Jagged dragging her all around the city, excitedly showing her everything he could remember and dramatically retelling stories about this place or that thing.
The way he saw the city was practically magical. He wasn’t by any means blind to the pain, and there were certainly stories he told of tragedy or darkness—the sheer casualness with which he told her “and there was the first place I got mugged” was mildly concerning—but it wasn’t long before Marinette found herself falling in love with the city too.
Dark it may be, but hopeless it was not.
***
Somewhere, at the center of the universe, there must be a rule written in the stars that decrees Marinette Dupain-Cheng is forever meant to be late.
Tikki can call her dramatic all she likes, but Marinette knows it exists. Right next to other ones like, ‘Marinette is destined to trip over every crack in the sidewalk’ and ‘Marinette is never to be able to speak coherently around people she finds attractive’.
Exhibit A: the fact that Marinette has just knocked a man on the street over because she’s five minutes away from the restaurant she was supposed to be at five minutes ago. She promised Uncle Jay that she’d be able to get to the reservation on time.
She was a dirty, filthy liar apparently.
Damn the interesting fashion scene in Gotham! She’d gotten too mixed up in all the odd little idiosyncrasies she found in their clothing. Zippered pockets are very popular here. And a lot of other odd things not native to America as a whole if Audrey’s fashion lines are anything to go off of.
But back to the man she’s just accidentally acquainted with the sidewalk pavement. Marinette at least had enough grace to not follow him down, but that kind of just makes her feel even worse.
“Oh, Kwami, je suis désolé. I’m so sorry, monsieur. Here,” she reaches down to help him up, tugging the poor man to his feet with perhaps more strength than she should have. He’s surprised for only a second before a charming grin spreads across his lips.
“Don’t worry about it, sunshine.” The man dusts himself off, laughing. “Where’s the fire?”
Marinette blinks, hands stilling in the air from where they’d been fluttering about his person but not really touching. “The… fire?”
“Yeah, the one that’s got you runnin’ like a bat outta hell?”
“Oh!” she exclaims. One of those American sayings then. “No, no fire. I’m just,” she checks her phone, sighing. “very late and… lost apparently.” She squints up at the nearest street sign with some nonsense names on it. “At least New York streets were numbered,” she grumbles under her breath.
“Where you tryin’ to go?”
“Sprang Bridge?”
“You’re heading the wrong way for that,” The man thinks for a second, then nods. “But it’s your lucky day. I’m heading that way, actually. I can take you there.”
Marinette pauses and takes a second to more fully look at the man. Tan biker jacket, scars where his skin is visible, wild, tousled hair with an odd silver streak at the front. He’s broad and stands much taller than her (a frankly ridiculous amount, if you ask her—nobody needs to be that tall). But he’s not- Marinette doesn’t think he’s dangerous. Or at least, he’s not planning on anything malevolent towards her.
She’s hesitating visibly now, but he doesn’t seem offended. In fact, he looks rather… pleased? Or glad, maybe, that she hasn’t trusted him right off the bat. She’s pretty sure that’s a strange thing to do.
But, again, he seems safe enough and she needs help.
“It’s not a bother?”
The man gives her a lopsided grin. “Nah. C’mon, it’s this way.”
He then takes off down the sidewalk at a jog and Marinette rushes to keep up with him. The pace he sets is brisk but easy and they quickly eat up the city blocks.
“I’m Jason by the way. Don’t think I introduced myself.”
“Marinette,” she says brightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Jason.”
***
‘Covert’ is not exactly a term Marinette believes to exist in her Uncle Jay’s dictionary.
He could, and has, toned it down for the streets of Gotham, but he is still obviously Jagged Stone. Anyone just vaguely familiar with her uncle would see through his ‘disguise’—a trilby hat, sunglasses and forgoing his iconic striped pants—in a heartbeat.
Jagged spots her first, quickly followed by Penny whipping around to face her as the two rush at her like overly protective mother hens. “Rockette!”
The two rush for her, and she can feel Jason stiffen at her side as the pair get closer. She’s practically tackled to the ground by Jagged, much to her fond exasperation, before he holds her out at arm’s length.
“We thought something horrible happened!” he yells at her and Marinette has the good grace to look sheepish.
“I lost track of time.”
Penny breathes a sigh of relief, hand brushing a piece of hair from Marinette’s face. “If you were going to be late, you should have at least texted us. I know you’re an adult-”
“But you worry, I know. I’m sorry. But I’m fine! See!” She waves her hands out at her sides as if to emphasize how okay she is. “All in one piece.”
“Yes. I see that.” Penny’s gaze moves behind her, eyebrow arching. “And who might you be?”
Marinette turns around to find Jason still standing there, watching them all with something like disbelief. Particularly, he’s watching Uncle Jay but she can see his eyes flicker to her, too.
Jason, it seems, is more than vaguely familiar with her uncle.
“Oh! Penny, Uncle Jay, this is Jason. I… kinda ran him over. He helped me get here.”
“Is that so?” Jagged says, eyeing him up and down before a wide smile overtakes his features. “How very rock and roll of you! Thanks for helping my niece, mate.”
Jason blinked. “It, uh. Was no problem. Couldn’t exactly leave her to fend for herself, right?”
“Hey!” Marinette protested. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself! I just… can’t figure out this city. It’s practically a labyrinth!”
“Sure, squirt,” Jagged teases, “We all know how suitably badass you are.”
“Uncle Jay!”
“I’m sorry,” Jason speaks again before Jagged can retort. Three pairs of eyes swivel back towards him. “I’m just- You’re Jagged Stone, right? I’m not just off my rocker or anything? You’re the Jagged Stone.”
Jagged laughs, whipping off his glasses and tucking them into his shirt. “The one and only, kid!”
He’s quiet for a second and then turns to Marinette who’s still tucked under her uncle’s arm. “Sunshine,” he tells her, very seriously. “You didn’t say that one of the people you were meeting up with was Jagged Stone.”
“In my defence,” she says, “I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Not relevant - I-!” Jason sighed roughly, running a hand over his face before extending one to Jagged. “I’m a huge fan.”
“A man of good taste!” Jagged laughs, shaking his hand. Penny rolls her eyes fondly behind him.
“Do you mind if I get a picture?”
“Of course! Especially for the fellow Gothamite with enough of a heart to help my poor niece.”
Marinette pokes him in the side sharply for that, but he and Jason just laugh at her and force her to take dumb pictures of them being ridiculous. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing at their antics. It wouldn’t do to encourage her uncle.
She has to spend the rest of her day with him after all.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Jason,” Penny says smiling, “but I’m afraid we must be going. We’re fifteen minutes late now for our reservations.” she sends a significant look to both her and Jagged who cows a bit under her gaze.
“Sorry, Penny. It was rockin’ to meet you, mate. Thanks for taking care of our little star.”
“No problem,” he waves them off, throwing Marinette a sloppy, two-fingered salute. “Enjoy Gotham, Sunshine. Try not to get into too much trouble. Not all us Gothamites are so kind-hearted.”
Marinette snorts but takes his words for the sound advice they are. “Merci. Thank you again for helping me. Bonne journée, Jason. Au revoir!”
***
Most Gotham visitors don’t see the famed Dark Knight and his gaggle of child vigilantes, much less meet them face to face. He prefers to keep to the shadows and isn’t really one for cameras and press anyway.
There are Gothamites who’ve lived in his city for years that haven’t spoken with him. If they’re lucky, they haven’t even seen him either. (No native actually wants to meet Batman. Because natives understand the only way to meet him is if you’re in a situation that needs Batman.
And no one ever wants to be in those situations.)
Marinette meets him on her second trip to Gotham.
Right after her subway train gets hijacked.
***
Marinette doesn’t know how she gets into these situations.
Tikki tells her that despite her supposed penchant for ‘luck’, as a Ladybug and Guardian, she’s drawn towards mischance and disaster because she is meant to help. And, okay, she can kind of see where she’s coming from. After Hawkmoth’s defeat, she was still drawn to protect the city of Paris as Ladybug and as Marinette she certainly gets into more trouble as a civilian than is perhaps normal. She’s never been able to turn away someone in need but… this is Gotham.
Surely the Bat and his team can take care of this?
This isn’t some creep on the streets or an arrogant customer in need of being put in their place. This isn’t a little kid who just wasn’t looking where they were going as they crossed the street or a person who looked just on the wrong side of too sad.
This is Two-Face.
Marinette doesn’t care what any of the Kwami say. There’s no way that the Powers That Be actually decided that it was necessary for their Chosen to go up against a Gotham Rogue as a civilian. Because that's how The Powers That Be get their Chosen killed.
She watches, crowded between Penny and Jagged and hidden away as much as she can be, as Two-Face starts talking about their odds and teaching someone a lesson, backstabbers and acid throwers and double-crossers.
She doesn’t quite… follow all of it, but he seems angry about something. Marinette doesn’t need to know what. She’s handled powerful adults throwing temper tantrums all throughout her early teens, the fact that this one has a pair of pistols instead of magic just pushes him a little outside her realm of normality.
Then, a little girl is ripped from the arms of her caretaker by a goon and thrown at Two-Face’s feet.
(Marinette would, perhaps, like to think there was ever an option of her not stepping in and getting involved. Because that means she has control over herself and doesn’t just throw herself headfirst into danger like all of her friends accuse her of doing.
In reality, the moment there was a chance of someone who was actually a civilian being thrust in the middle of this particular circus, she’d already made up her mind.)
She’s pushed herself in front of the girl before anyone can blink, and suddenly she’s face to face with the man himself. Her first thought, upon looking at him point-blank, isn’t fear—hasn’t been fear in years, really—and it’s not any kind of disgust at the state of his looks as she’s heard people express.
Her first thought, after looking at the burned and scarred remains of his face, is that it must be incredibly painful.
“Oh? And what’s this? A little girl playing hero?”
The muscles and tendons, exposed and healed wrong wrong wrong— the body trying to fix what cannot be fixed—pull and tug as he speaks. Marinette, in all her eighteen years, has never thought about what lies under her skin. Now, it’s laid out before her in horrific detail and she cannot unsee it.
Marinette pulls the girl closer, and from the corner of her eye, she can see Penny holding Jagged back, can see the terror on both their faces. Her heart aches, but there is nothing she can do now. She can’t—and won’t—take back her actions or fade back into the crowd or even send them a reassuring smile.
Looking at them will draw Two-Face’s attention to them and she will not do that.
“Don’t hurt her,” Marinette pleads. The girl, so small, even against Marinette’s short five foot two and slender build, clings to her like a lifeline.
“I’m afraid that ain’t up to me to decide,” Two-Face grins down at her and from his pocket, comes out a coin. The coin.
Marinette furrows her brows and- oh. Oh.
Of all the rogues for Marinette to have encountered, of all the dangerous people to be thrown at her, she’s come up against a man who relies on chance to make his decisions.
Perhaps the Powers That Be weren’t drunk after all. Not that that will stop her from having words with Them when she gets the chance.
She needs to stall him, keep him talking until help arrives. But she has no tools. All she has are her words and she isn’t Felix or Chloé or even Nino. Her words are not the weapons theirs are.
But they are all she has all the same.
“What has she done to you?” Marinette snaps because her brain immediately translates ‘stalling’ as ‘taunt the maniac toting guns’, apparently. Maybe her friends did have a point. “Surely a child couldn’t have pulled one over on you.”
“That’s none of your business, girlie.” Two-Face snaps right back before slipping a hand into one of his pant pockets almost casually. His other still fingers the coin. “But, since you seem to care so much, I’ll make you a deal.”
Her lips purse. She doesn’t think she’ll like this deal much at all.
“Good Heads, I shoot the girl. Bad Heads,” he pauses to grins at her, lopsided and bloody. “I shoot you.”
Sometimes, Marinette wishes that she wasn’t right so often. Just one of these days, she’d like to be happily surprised after a bout of realistic pessimism.
Well, she’s already dug her grave this far. Might as well lean into this whole ‘taunting known criminals’ thing.
She pulls her Ladybug confidence around her like a well-worn cloak and hopes it is thick enough to protect her. “Ah, but Monsieur. It’s a bad idea to bet against me in a game of chance.”
His one eyebrow raises. “Is that so, girlie?”
Oh, all of her friends—and probably Jagged—are going to call her utterly stupid later. She’s going to need to bake so many apology macaroons.
“Oh, yes. I think you’ll find I’m very lucky.”
“So be it, little lady.” The coin flips, soaring up and up and up.
Her gut twists.
“Let it fall!” she cries, “I want to see it!”
His hand pulls back and she watches as the coin clatters down and spins and lands… on its side.
Two-Face jerks back like he’s been slapped. “No. No, that can’t happen.” He reaches down and snatches the coin off the floor, immediately flipping it again.
The coin lands on its side.
“It can’t land on edge!” he shouts, flipping it again. “How can I decide if the coin doesn’t land-”
Two-Face doesn’t get the chance to see what his coin would land as a third time. A flashbang goes off, disorienting him and many others. She can’t see and her hearing goes kind of wonky, but Two-Face is still in front of her.
Seizing the opportunity, Marinette shifts her crouched position, sweeping the girl into her arms and swinging out her leg in a full 360 to slam into Two-Face’s shins. The man goes down with a sharp yell and Marinette hurriedly backs up.
Her vision is spotty—ha—and she could probably take down another goon or two but the Bats can surely handle it from here. She did her part. And there’s still a girl in her arms. Marinette’s first priority has to be keeping her out of the action and safe.
The girl clings to her, shaking hard enough that Marinette worries she just might shake apart. She rocks her gently, trying to be as soothing as possible. She can hear fighting, but she focuses on crooning and comforting the girl.
***
Okay, so, she perhaps hadn’t actually met the Batman, but there was a significant number of his team there. Or… she thinks.
Is three a lot for him? The agreed-upon number of heroes he has varies greatly but she’s sure that’s somewhere around half. She doesn’t know their names but there’s a yellow one whose suit looks more high-tech robot than the others, one with a red and black color scheme and cape, and a third whose only color was the blue bird symbol across his chest who seems much more bouncy than the others.
They quickly deal with everything and the police arrive not long after. Marinette hands the little girl off back to the adult she was taken from and almost immediately Jagged and Penny are upon her.
She doesn’t think she’s ever seen them so upset. She allows them to fawn and worry over her to their hearts’ content, only putting up the barest of resistances to their fretting.
Behind her, she can feel the heroes’ interest in her like a prickle on the back of her neck. She hadn’t noticed them before the flashbang, but they must have been lying in wait for a little while before they jumped in, assessing the situation and such.
She gets the feeling they saw her protecting the girl. Marinette also gets the feeling Gotham doesn’t get many civilians trying to play at hero.
A few police officers ask her some questions and then Marinette is being dragged out of the subway by Jagged and Penny before the three heroes get the chance to talk to her… or something. She gets the distinct feeling she’s been placed on some sort of watch list.
Which is… great. Just what she needs.
***
Later, after Jagged and Penny have gotten all their fretting out of their systems and spent two hours pressed tightly onto either side of her as if to reassure themselves that she’s there—that she’s safe— Marinette bites the metaphorical bullet and calls her friends.
She’s going to get in so much trouble for telling them about it, but she’d get into a lot more if she didn’t tell them, so. (Marinette holds no illusions that her friends wouldn’t somehow find out and then they’d be pissed because she tried to hide it from them.)
It was currently… three am in Paris, but Marinette didn’t think her friends would care very much. Well, Chloé might. But she’d get over it, especially after Marinette started talking.
Colonel Bug: Court is in session
Marinette pauses, thinks about how her friends will take the coded message without context, and quickly adds:
Colonel Bug: Nothing bad btw
Just news youll want to hear sooner rather than later
the evil twin: news related to you is almost always something bad
What have you done now?
Colonel Bug: …
no comment
ShutUpTurtleMan: oh my god
Colonel Bug: just get in the call
***
Reasons Marinette had left the Miracle Box in Paris: it was more defensible than her hotel room. She trusted her friends to protect it. She was here on mandatory vacation and needed to relax.
Of all the reasons Marinette left the Miracle Box behind, giving her friends the ability to bribe Kaalki into opening up a portal on the roof of her hotel so they could all yell at her in person was not one of them.
But, she supposes, betrayal was inevitable.
Tikki, at least, was on her side. But then Plagg pointed out Tikki was practically the selflessness to his selfishness and so the arguments she made in Marinette’s favor were abruptly disregarded. Marinette still thanked her for trying.
Her friends yell at her for half an hour until they tire themselves out. Then, they all refuse to leave, saying that the second they turn their backs, she’ll throw herself into oncoming traffic or something.
(“That was one time, Nathaniel!”)
Kagami, ever practical, brought a large, plush blanket with her—likely the comforter off her bed—and lays it out on the hotel rooftop. Then, her friends pull her down and form a puppy pile with her at the center, despite her relevant protests.
She ends up with Adrien and Nino on either side of her, their foreheads pressed tightly into the crook of her neck and arms were thrown over her and tangled together. Chloé’s somehow tucked herself in between her and Adrien and is using Adrien’s side as a pillow. Luka and Kagami have somehow curled around each other in a way that still allows Kagami to lie half on top of Adrien as well. Nath is curled up back to back with Nino, and Marinette just knows the redhead his wedging his too cold feet in between Nino’s legs. Felix, the tall bastard, lies at the top of their pile and somehow manages to wiggle himself under all of their heads like a living pillow. Alix just flops over all their legs and ends up across Chloé’s lap.
The kwami are tucked somewhere between Nath and Nino, she thinks. Probably in their own miniature pile if the sounds of Plagg and Longg purring is any indication.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Marinette says to no one and everyone as she wiggles into a more comfortable position.
Nino burrows further into her side, arms tightening around her. “All I’m hearing, Dudette, is that I need to make you about a thousand more Protection talismans. That way, when you throw yourself at danger, it hurts the danger instead of you.”
“Here! Here!” a few of her friends—sorry, traitors—grumble sleepily.
“But I already have three!” Marinette whines, “Everyone else only has the one!”
“Everyone else has an actual sense of self-preservation.” Felix points out to her then pauses. “Well, no. Adrien doesn’t. But he has significantly more lives than the rest of us, so.”
“This is discrimination. I will not stand for these double standards!”
Someone’s—she thinks it’s Chloé’s—hand suddenly lands on her face, but it’s Alix who speaks. “Shhh, you’re being punished.”
“Now this is victim-blaming.”
“Shhh!” all her friends whisper-shout at her and she grumpily settles in. there’s no getting out of this once she’s in it. Marinette can barely tell where she ends and everyone else begins. And she certainly can’t tell if that’s Kagami’s foot against her leg or Alix’s somehow. But she feels… content.
It’s been a while since they all had a sleepover like this, all piled in as close as they can get. Marinette hadn’t realized how much she missed it. She allows the warmth in her chest and the heat and press of the bodies around her to lull her to sleep.
They’ll all have to go back to Paris in a few hours, but for now, Marinette can bask in the feeling of her Court, her new Order, her friends pressed in around her.
***
She always enjoyed designing for her Uncle Jay. Men’s fashion was normally so restrictive, with no one ever wanting to stray far from the typical suit. It stifled her creativity.
But Jagged encouraged everything.
He hated the ‘prissy high society type’ formal wear. When it came to him and his clothes, the motto was practically ‘the more outrageous, the better.’
Marinette had half a mind just to send him in a dress or half-naked. It’d be so much easier and would likely give everyone in attendance the heart attacks he’s no doubt gunning for. He does so love riling up the ‘boring old fuddy-duddys’ as he likes to call them—normally to their faces, much to Penny and his PR team’s exasperation.
They show up at the tail end of socially acceptable tardiness, just after fashionably late, and the cameras outside the venue flash and pop when Jagged makes his grand show of sweeping out of the car, before reaching back inside to help Penny, then herself out of the car.
It’s utter bedlam. Marinette can barely hear the questions all the press are throwing at them, and Jagged steadfastly ignores almost all of them. It’s only when they get halfway down the aisle, does one reporter ask the lucky question.
“Jagged! Who are you wearing tonight?”
Immediately, he zeroes in on the reporter stopping and giving her his full attention. Marinette knows exactly where this is going and lets her face fall into her open palm. The decorated Colombina mask she’s wearing conceals half her face, allowing her to freely act as MDC—she’s not quite ready to let that secret identity go public yet—but it does very little to hide the blush rising on her skin.
She knows Jagged is peacocking before the cameras now, showing off every angle of her work and pointing out the same intricacies and hidden features she’d gushed over with pride when she’d shown him. An oversight on her part, but she hadn’t expected him to use her iridescent embroidery and custom guitar lace against her.
She missed a bit about what he was saying but is suddenly tuned back in when he throws an arm around her shoulders.
“I’ve never met anyone as talented as this little rocker here. She puts her heart and soul into every piece and I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m lucky to have met her and she inspires me to be a better musician.”
“Uncle Jay!” Marinette says, sounding touched and embarrassed and put upon all at once.
“It’s true, Rockette!”
“Are you saying this young lady is the famed MDC?” a reporter somewhere to their left shouts.
Jagged grins and Marinette gives a small, exasperated smile, waving her hand. “The one and only!”
Finally, Penny deems their time on the red carpet up, linking her arm with Jagged’s she begins pulling them away, picture-perfect smile on her face. She speaks over the press, even as they clamour and riot and Marinette wishes for nothing more than being able to pull off the kind of poise she has.
“MDC will not be taking questions at this time, she’s here to support the Martha Wayne Foundation with her own charitable donations, not debut to the public. It’s against many of her core beliefs to take attention away from such a great cause. Thank you all for understanding and we all hope you’ll think of donating as well.”
The second they’re away from the cameras and prying eyes of the public, Penny slows down her walk and places her hands on Marinette’s shoulders.
“You okay, pumpkin?”
“I- Is it always so loud?”
“Yeah,” Penny tells her, tone blunt but not unkind. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ve never seen someone adapt as easily to chaos as you, Rockette. Your first red carpet is just always overwhelming.”
She nods, even if she only half believes Penny right then. Marinette has never done well as the center of attention, not unless she’s in spots. But she trusts Penny. And Jagged. And neither of them would ever willingly steer her wrong, so.
“Okay,” Marinette breathes in, then out. Centering herself and readying to dive into the belly of the beast. Firmer, she repeats, “Okay. I got this.”
“Atta girl!” Jagged cheers, clapping a hand down on her shoulder. “You’ll knock ‘em dead!”
***
They ended up arriving only a few minutes before the auctioning was slated to start, which meant there was less socializing for Jagged to do. He’d make his rounds after the auction, but for now he just grinned smugly at Penny for so ‘cleverly’ getting out of it this time.
The auction was… interesting. She bid on, and won, a few things like a beautiful painting of the Gotham skyline and a lovely little cat statue she plans to give Adrien for Christmas.
It was certainly a shock to find that the Tim Drake—fortune 500 co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises and certified genius—was a fan of hers.
The bidding war he’d started for one of her commission and consultation slots had been a sight to see and left her almost speechless. Uncle Jay had laughed at the look on her face for a full five minutes, much to her embarrassment and dismay.
***
There’s something to be said about the Eccentric Billionaire Stereotype.
Namely that, from Marinette’s (strangely expansive really) experience, it should be renamed Eccentric Billionaire Children. It’s something she’s been thinking about since she befriended Adrien and Chloé, both of who regularly dress up as animal-themed superheroes and are willingly following her into a magical secret society.
Then there was the addition of Felix. Felix is… Felix. He’s not a superhero in the normal sense, but he’s certainly following her into the magical secret society as well. He's strange enough to run with them and like it which just says enough about him in her opinion.
The Wayne children—or the ones she’s met at least—are just more evidence to her argument honestly.
Granted, she perhaps shouldn’t judge by first appearances but… she’s pretty sure they’re just always like this. The look on Duke’s face—the newest Wayne son, but not the youngest—says it all.
“At least they’re entertaining?” Marinette says to him in way of greeting after he audibly facepalms, looking distressed at the mess his siblings are making at the snack table. Hors d'oeuvres table? That’s what rich people would call it, right?
“Oh yeah.” He still hasn’t taken his head out of his hands, like if he ignores the fact that Tim and Dick are throwing mini quiches at each other they’ll stop or disappear or something.
Oh! Dick just caught one in his mouth. He seems very excited about his grand accomplishment.
“It’ll be super entertaining when the Gotham Gazette covers it tomorrow and Vicky raves about how disrespectful and uncivilized we all are.” Duke groans. “They aren’t going to be allowed out of the house for a week after this.”
Marinette giggles despite herself. “I know the feeling.”
Duke finally raises his head to look at her. “You have siblings?”
“No. Well, not officially. But Jagged is enough to handle, honestly. His PR team works non-stop to tone down his eccentricities for the public.”
Duke blinks at her. “Jagged… Stone?”
Marinette grins brightly. “The one and only.”
“You know Jagged Stone.”
Marinette sticks out her hand, still grinning. “I suppose I should introduce myself. MDC. Jagged Stone’s—among others—personal designer.”
Duke blinks at her again, then abruptly leans back on his heels as his eyes widen. “Oh! Oh my god. The mask makes so much sense now,” he waves a hand around his face as if to indicate one of his own. Then quickly takes her still outstretched hand. “Sorry, sorry. I’m Duke. Duke Thomas.”
“Enchanté. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Duke!”
“Same here. I mean, wow. You’re a lot younger than I expected.”
She gives him a wry quirk of her lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Before Duke can say anything else, a young woman a few years older than her with short black hair in a very pretty cocktail dress—Marinette can’t help thinking she could’ve done better—pops up on her other side without Marinette even noticing. She tries very hard not to startle at her sudden appearance.
She fails.
The woman smiles faintly at the startled eep! she let out as Duke sighs fondly. “MDC, this is Cassandra, one of my sisters. Call her Cass.”
Once Marinette gets her heart rate back under control, she greets the woman. “Bonsoir. It’s nice to meet you.”
Cass stays silent, waving her hand slightly in greeting. Marinette tilts her head but doesn’t ask. Instead, she smiles and waves back. Cass smiles just a bit wider and Marinette gets the feeling she’s passed some invisible test.
“What do you guys normally do at these things?” Marinette asks Duke but directs the question to both of them. “I’ve only been to a few and this is the most high-end one.”
“Well…” Duke trails off, thinking. But Cassandra pointedly looks off to her right where Tim and Dick are still being ridiculous.
Marinette giggles, easily following her train of thought. “Oh?” she gives Duke a sly grin. “And you played so high and mighty about being the good son.”
He frowns, looking over and playing catch up. Then, he rolls his eyes. “Only Cass can get away with causing trouble at these things.”
Something glitters in Cass’ eyes as she looks at her brother. “Make good trouble,” she says in a soft voice, as if the solution was obvious.
Duke shoots her a look, but the corner of his mouth is twitching up like he wants to smile.
From there, Marinette and Duke fall into steady conversation, punctuated by Cass’ laugh or soft word or finger tapping on the table they’ve gravitated towards. Duke looks a little surprised every time Marinette easily picks up what Cass had been trying to say or was careful to not exclude the woman.
Just because the woman wasn’t talking as much as them, doesn’t mean she wasn’t speaking. Luka was much the same sometimes. Words weren’t his strong suit either.
Luka and Cass by no means had the same alternate language, but the principle was the same as far as Marinette was concerned. She did her best to understand Luka when he spoke, and she’ll damn well extend the same courtesy to Mademoiselle Cassandra.
***
When Jason appears to throw an arm around Duke’s shoulders, complaining about how boring everything is and that someone called ‘Demon Spawn’ was being a little shit again, Marinette would be lying if she said she wasn’t very surprised. She hadn’t even known he was here.
She’s even more surprised when it’s revealed that he’s actually Jason Todd. Second eldest of the Wayne clan, presumed dead for a few years after a kidnapping attempt gone wrong.
Duke introduces her and Marinette feels the resignation settle in her stomach.
She sees the exact moment Jason pieces it together—the tiny, beloved niece of Jagged Stone he met only a few days prior and the just as tiny, acclaimed designer to the same man standing before him now. It is, admittedly, not hard to connect the dots when they are as blatant as this.
Marinette is surprised for the umpteenth time that night by herself when, instead of panicking and floundering at the sharp turn this all has taken, all she does is place her finger on her lips and smiles at him as if they’re sharing a secret.
Jason, the clever bastard he is, catches on and smirks back.
“MDC, of course. You wouldn’t happen to be able to get me an autograph, would you?”
Marinette sniffs. “I’m sure you could ask Jagged yourself.”
“Not from him.”
She opens her mouth to say something to that but falls flat, her cheeks heating up underneath her mask. She glares up at him playfully, hands planted on her hips. “You’re ridiculous. You didn’t say you were a Wayne.”
“In my defence,” he parrots her in a horrible imitation of her voice that makes her want to scowl and laugh at the same time, “I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Haha,” she says flatly. “You’re hilarious.”
“So is that a no?”
Duke, who looks very confused by their interaction, leans on the table more fully. “What’s it matter? We all know you’re just going to use it to lord over Tim.”
“And that’d be my business,” Jason snarks, nose raised self-importantly.
Marinette finally lets the laugh she’d been keeping down out. The offended look on Jason’s face only makes her laugh harder.
***
By the end of the night, they’ve all exchanged numbers. Or well, they’ve all given Marinette their numbers. She’s sure they already had each others’.
She knows that, perhaps, it was only meant to be a superficial gesture, but Marinette likes these people, this trio of siblings nestled into a larger whole. And when Marinette likes people she doesn’t let them go unless she has to.
So she keeps up contact, even when she returns back to Paris and they can only really talk for a few hours a day and even when they give her radio silence for days on end. (They, strangely, almost always do it at the same time but all three apologize and respond to whatever her last ignored conversation starter was so she’s never really mad about it.)
They don’t really talk about anything important, and Marinette really only knows the most random, nonsense things about all of them.
She and Cass speak almost exclusively in photos and the odd meme.
Jason tells her the strangest anecdotes and weird internet opinions that mean almost nothing but end up in hour-long ridiculous text arguments anyway.
And Duke is the one she talks with the most consistently and normally. He complains a lot about the craziness of his family and Marinette laughs at his misery and shares tales of her own team-turned-family. They bond over being the only sane ones in their respective groups.
She likens them all to the internet friends Adrien keeps. Or the kind of casual friends normal people who aren’t a part of a superhero team that has to fight for their lives on a bi-weekly basis have. (When you have to regularly trust someone with your life, ‘casual’ kind of gets tossed out the window.)
Marinette, truly, only has three friends and all of them live a whole ocean away.
The rest of the people she fills her life with are family.
***
The next day, Marinette reads a headline that says Talent Runs in the Family: MDC Revealed to be Jagged Stones’ Niece?
She slams her head on the table and releases a high pitched whine as Jagged cackles at her from across the table and Tikki snickers from her sweatpants pocket.
Jagged doesn't even have siblings.
Duke, at least, will be happy. She knocked his siblings’ shenanigans all the way to page five when she got herself plastered across the front page instead.