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Alya Césaire was a damn good journalist, if she did say so herself.
She was tenacious. And thorough. And willing to do just about damn near anything for a story. It was something that all of her journalism professors had drilled into her at university, and most of her bosses had valued over the years, even if it hadn’t always been appreciated by others in her life.
It was hard to keep people around when they knew you’d always put your job first. When you weren’t above using them – your connections – to get a leg up in that job. When you were…how had Etta put it the last time Ella had spoken to her? Morally gray.
Lawful neutral, her first boyfriend had once said. It was one of the reasons Ladybug had stopped trusting Rena Rogue, and it was also the reason that first boyfriend hadn’t been the last.
But Alya was fine with that! She had made her choices, and she loved her life, and she was a damn good journalist. She was living her dream, and being a journalist had always been her dream!
Even…even if ‘journalist’ was sometimes a title in debate.
“You’re a fucking tabby, Alya,” Nora had snorted the last time they’d been at a family dinner and Alya had tried to justify her career to her pro wrestler sister. “You write for sleazy gossip rags, and half the time you’re lying out your ass.”
“I am not! I have sources!” she had argued, but Nora had just waved her off.
“Sources, sure,” she laughed. “Unreliable at best, and you rarely fact check. Tell me, sister dear, who was Luke Stone spotted with at that nudist hotel in Greece?”
“Oh come on – one time, and I had pictures!” she had cried, but Nora had just laughed. They had been grainy at best and photoshopped at worst - any amateur could have seen that, but Alya had been so excited to be the first to drop the bomb about Luke Stone and Clara Nightingale’s torrid affair.
…she’d been posting a retraction to the website within an hour of the article going live, but the damage had already been done. Luke Stone had been caught in an illicit photo with someone, but it had turned out that someone was his new wife, and the press had had a field day. It wasn’t long before the photo showcasing his wife’s ass was on every major celebrity gossip site in the world, and somehow, amidst the hundreds of injunctions she’d been trying to file, Penny Rolling had also been quick to slap Alya with a restraining order.
It hadn’t been the best day of her life…
“That’s your problem, kid,” Nora had said, socking her on the shoulder. She hadn’t meant to actually hurt her, she was sure, but it was still Nora and Nora was a professional athlete, so it still kinda hurt. “You’re always so eager to be the first with the scoop that you print first and ask questions later. It’s gonna get you in trouble some day, mark my words.”
…she didn’t talk to Nora more than was necessary, usually. She could be so damn judgy – as judgy as…still. Nora was going to eat her words one day, Alya was sure of it. She would show her yet.
Hopefully sooner rather than later, she thought as she looked up at the darkened building in front of her. Stone Rolling Records – sorry, Rolling Stone Records, as the marquee above the door proudly proclaimed today (which meant Jagged had pissed his wife off again, Alya knew) – had a secret, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. A new up and comer who was guaranteed to take the music world by storm – possibly even more than Luke Stone had, and Luka had practically been an overnight success back when Jagged had first launched him. He’d been Stone Rolling’s flagship artist, and by far their most successful.
But Alya wasn’t interested in the past. She was about the present these days, and the present promised to be sweet. Penny Rolling had a radio spot set up with Nino at the end of the month to launch the mystery singer – exclusive rights to the first interview and single, which was huge – but Alya was determined to get the scoop first.
Nino would understand. His career was fine, anyway – he was the top radio personality in Paris. It didn’t help that he had some in with Stone Rolling, probably dating back to when he used to be Kitty Section’s sound guy, and got all their exclusive interviews. Some people just…had to work harder for things.
Nino had never been one to hold a grudge, anyway. It’s not like they really talked anymore, either. She should just be grateful they had bumped into each other at that club the other night and he had given her the tip.
…gave you a tip or was just tipsy enough to accidentally let something slip? Nora’s voice taunted in her mind, and Alya grit her teeth, shook her head, and shook it off. Nino would understand.
He would.
With a quick glance around the street to make sure it was clear, she started down the sidewalk until she reached the end of the building, where she quickly slipped into the alley between it and the next. There was a side entrance the new security guard didn’t always remember to lock, and if by some chance Tommy had…Alya had a backup plan, she thought with a smirk as she tapped a finger against the key card in her pocket.
It wasn’t the first time she’d had to resort to less than legal means to get information. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last. Anything for the story, right?
Getting into the building was easy enough. It was just as dark inside as it had been outside, but Alya wasn’t surprised by that. Everyone who mattered should have gone home hours ago, and Alya had it on good authority that the main security guard would not be a problem. As long as she avoided the sightlines of the cameras, she should be fine.
She took the stairs to avoid the noise from the lifts, just to be safe (just in case the security guard wasn’t sleeping), and she climbed to the top floor in short order. She had been to Penny Rolling’s office plenty of times – had been kicked out of it even more – so finding it wasn’t really a problem. That was where anything of use was likely to be found, anyway. Jagged’s office was more for show than anything else. Penny kept all of the important files in her office, but because of that she also kept it locked. Once at the door, Alya still tried the handle, just in case, but when it didn’t twist she sighed and pulled her card back out. Ah well. It was never fun if it was easy, right?
“…Alya?”
She froze at the voice, the card slipping from her fingers to fall to the floor. She winced as the lights flicked on, momentarily blinding her. Shit, shit, shit, shit…
“Alya Césaire?” the voice asked again – a familiar voice. One that Alya, and probably half the world, would know anywhere. She turned stiffly, an equally-stiff smile sitting uncomfortably on her face, and found herself face to face with none other than…
“Luke Stone!” she cried, settling her hands on her hips and trying to look casual. “What a surprise! What are you doing here?”
…he didn’t look like he was buying it. He didn’t look like he was buying it at all. He folded his arms over his chest, his phone in hand, and frowned at her. She didn’t remember him looking so intimidating, when they were younger. Back when he was just Luka, the music nerd who had distracted her best friend from the love of her life. She didn’t remember him looking that intimidating at the various events she had seen him at over the years, either, but he was usually in front of the camera then. Most people weren’t going for intimidating when they were in the public eye.
“Working,” he said, leaning back on the desk behind him. He jabbed a thumb down the hall, where she could see light spilling into the darkened hall from an open door. “Late, but like I’m supposed to be. Since I, you know, work here.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she swallowed as her fingers tapped against her hip. She wouldn’t cave. She would not.
“What are you doing here?” he asked once it became clear she wasn’t planning on answering. When she pursed her lips together, he sighed and shook his head. “You know what? I’m not that interested. I can figure it out. I’ve already called the cops, anyway – you can explain it to them.”
“You what?!” she shrieked. He shrugged.
“Besides the restraining order that’s still in effect, you’re breaking and entering,” he said, as if it was obvious. “I didn’t know who was up here. Anyone who was supposed to be here would have turned the lights on. And there are a lot of people who would be pretty pissed if I turned up dead, so…yeah. Cops.”
She couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy!
“Isn’t your family allergic to the law or something?” she asked, her nose scrunching with a scowl. “Come on, Luka – you know me!”
“Not really,” he said, shrugging. “I know people who know you, but we were never really that close. Anyway, I promised my wife I’d stay out of jail this month, so come on. Be a good sport, take a seat, and wait for the authorities to get here.”
Alya pursed her lips at that, but when he patted the chair by the desk she sighed and did as she was told. She crossed her arms over her chest, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the chair and glared at him.
“Wife, huh? I’d heard you got married,” she muttered. The entire world knew Luke Stone was off the market, but his mysterious wife had always been a fairly private person. She kept out of the spotlight, and while Luka had never been shy about extolling her praises he had also always respected those wishes. He never referred to her by name or gave away too many personal details, instead calling her cheesy things like his melody or the song of his heart. Things his fangirls both ate up and bemoaned in equal parts.
“I know you did,” he said, his expression tightening. “You published her ass for all the world to see.”
Alya winced, recalling the infamous nudist hotel article, and looked away.
“Yeah, well, a story’s a story, right?” she grumbled. He hummed, though he still looked pissed. She supposed he had a right to be. “…for what it’s worth. I am sorry. I…maybe should have been more careful about my sources.”
“…you realize part of the problem is not the fact that you printed false information – or what should have private information – but that the only thing you think you did wrong was not check your sources,” he asked, his frown growing, “and not that you published a private photo of my wife’s ass? I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Alya. Given that you don’t really see the problem, I’m not even sure I appreciate it.”
She rolled her eyes and looked away. Of course he was still like that. As self-righteous and sanctimonious as…but before either of them could say anything else, the lifts dinged behind them. Luka looked up as the doors opened, and his expression immediately softened, a smile she hadn’t seen in person since they were kids lighting his face.
“That was fast,” he said. “Somebody must have been close.”
“Somebody didn’t come home for dinner,” a female voice said. Alya frowned. That voice was familiar, too… “So maybe I was already halfway here with a plate when you called.”
“That’s my girl,” he chuckled, moving away from the desk. Alya’s eyes widened as she turned in her chair, just in time to see Luka take a tupperware container from an officer and bend to press a lingering kiss to her cheek. “Hey, beautiful.”
“…oh my God, you married a cop?!” Alya cried. When Luka stood and the officer’s frowning face came into view, her jaw dropped even lower. The face was older, and her hair was tied back into a low bun instead of her old pigtails, but there was no mistaking her old friend. “You married Marinette?!”
“…does that really surprise you?” he asked, slipping an arm around Marinette’s waist. Marinette’s arms had folded across her chest, but Alya didn’t miss the way she leaned into Luka as she glared at her.
…they hadn’t spoken since collège. Not really. Their friendship had been tense at best after Lila had transferred to their school, and after they’d gone to sperate lycées…it had been too easy, losing touch. She was pretty sure Marinette had gone to the same school as Juleka and Rose (and Luka, if she was remembering correctly), and clearly they had just gotten closer after that. If they were married now. She was sure she had run into Marinette at some point over the years – probably at her parents’ bakery, though Alya tended to avoid that these days, too.
The Dupain-Chengs had seemed…tense the last time she’d stopped by for treats for the office. If Marinette was Luka’s wife…
…shit. No wonder Tom had looked at her like that.
“Well, no, not…not really, I guess…I mean yes, kind of, but…not…” Alya’s mouth snapped shut and she grit her teeth, pulling in a breath through her nose. For the first time in her life, she was completely flummoxed. Absolutely speechless. And what was worse, from the smirk on her face, Marinette knew it. Something about that just irked Alya even more. “Marinette being your secret wife isn’t really surprising. Marinette being a secret cop is.”
“There’s nothing secret about my being on the force,” Marinette said, her eyebrows lifting. “My enrollment in the Ministère is public record, as is my time on the force. And it’s Officer Couffaine, Mlle. Césaire. You’re still in some pretty serious trouble here – let’s try and keep it professional.”
“I love it when you use your Cop Voice,” Luka snickered, though not low enough to keep Alya from overhearing. Marinette…Officer Couffaine’s eyes widened, and she jabbed her elbow into her husband’s side.
“Luka!” she hissed, a blush staining her cheeks. “Behave – I’m working!”
“Sorry,” he said, but he was still smirking at her. “Proceed.”
“…asshole,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes before stepping away from him. Any trace of humor was gone when she turned back to Alya. “Mlle. Césaire. Care to tell me what you’re doing in this closed, private building so late at night? Do I even want to know how you got in here?”
“Ah,” Luka said, snapping her fingers. He moved past them to Penny’s door, where he bent to scoop up the key card. “She dropped this.”
“Thank you, star,” she said, taking it from him. Her eyebrows rose. “Wow, this is official. Did you steal this, Mlle. Césaire?”
“What?! Of course not! A door was unlocked, and I found it once I was inside!” Alya huffed. The look Marinette gave her told her she wasn’t convinced.
“If Nino hadn’t just reported his key card missing – right after mentioning he bumped into you the other day – I might believe that,” she tutted. “So. Thanks, I guess. Saves Penny the hassle of having it reissued. So I’ve got you for breaking and entering, trespassing, and theft.”
“And violating her restraining order,” Luka piped in. Marinette snapped her fingers and grinned at him.
“Right, and that!” she said. “Thanks, star.”
“Any time,” he chuckled.
Alya scowled. Marinette might be right, but that didn’t mean she had to go down without a fight.
“Since when were you such a goody two-shoes, Officer Couffaine?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. “I seem to recall a girl who wasn’t above a little petty crime in the name of true love.”
Marinette’s lips pursed, and Alya felt a brief rush of satisfaction at the annoyed look on her face.
“That was a long time ago, Mlle. Césaire,” Marinette said. “People change. Clearly,” she continued, giving her a scrutinizing once-over, “people change.”
“I don’t know,” Luka said. He sat down on the desk and smiled at Marinette. “Didn’t Nino used to have to haul her away from akuma fights? All those posts on the Ladyblog she later had to retract because her ‘source’ turned out to be a supervillain?”
“The only thing super about Monarch was the Miraculous that gave her super powers,” Marinette snorted, leveling her husband with a pointed look. “At the end of the day Lila was just as incompetent a villain as she was a person. Ladybug took her down in short enough order.”
“Yeah, she did,” Luka said, grinning. Alya’s eyes narrowed at the look that passed between them, but then he glanced at her and cocked an eyebrow and she tried to look neutral. She knew he’d caught the look, though. “My point, though. Seems she was always willing to go pretty far for a story.” He nudged her shoulder with his elbow, that eyebrow lifting a bit higher. “By the way. For what it’s worth. She’s the one you should be apologizing to.”
Marinette’s brow furrowed as she gave her husband a curious look, but Alya just snorted and turned away again. She tapped her manicured nails against the arm of the chair, refusing to meet Marinette’s eyes.
…Luka was still right, though. He wasn’t the one she should be apologizing to. It hadn’t been his ass in the photo – there had been enough potted plants around them to block anything good from him. His wife – Marinette, holy shit his wife was Marinette – hadn’t bee so fortunate.
“…I’m sorry about the photo,” she finally said. She glanced back as she heard Marinette suck in a breath, and she felt slightly guilty at the blush that appeared on her old friend’s face. “I…maybe should have double-checked my sources. Been more discerning. Discreet.”
Marinette’s expression started to soften, but at the end of the day she was still Alya Césaire, and that whole mess hadn’t been just her fault. She wasn’t even the one who had snapped the picture – she had gotten it from a coworker who had happened to be on holiday at the same time!
“But you should be aware that comes with the territory,” she added, her brow furrowing. “Marrying a rock star like you did. I can’t believe you actually married him, Marinette!”
“Alya –” Luka started, sounding angry again, but Marinette cut him off with a bark of his name. His lips pressed together, but he folded his arms across his chest and shut up.
Huh.
It looked like Marinette had finally learned to fight her own battles.
Who would have thought?
“For the record, not that that ever mattered with you, it wasn’t a nudist hotel,” Marinette said, her voice like ice. She walked over and grabbed Alya’s hand, tugging her up and spinning her. Alya’s eyes widened as she felt the cool metal of a pair of cuffs snap over her wrists. “It was Jagged’s private villa. He was letting us use it for our honeymoon, to hopefully get some time together away from the public eye. That photo was taken without our approval or consent, and you had no right to publish it like you did. I guess Luka’s right: some people don’t actually change.”
“Marinette, that’s not fair – I was just doing my job!” Alya huffed. Marinette rolled her eyes and pushed her towards the lifts, indicating she should start walking.
“And I’m just doing mine,” she said. She looked back at Luka and found he was following them. She smiled when he pressed the call button for the lift. “Don’t work too late, ok, star? I want you home before my shift ends.”
“I’ll pack up right now if you let me take your spare cuffs with me,” he teased. Alya wasn’t sure if she wanted to gag or commend him for his brazenness. She was surprised when all Marinette did was roll her eyes, grab the neck of his shirt, and tug him down for a quick, hard kiss. The Marinette she had known would have dissolved into a blushing, stuttering mess at such a suggestion.
“You know Uncle Roger will throw a fit if I don’t turn in all of my gear again,” she whispered against his lips. She winked at him and patted his cheek. “Besides, I keep a spare by the bedside. Now get home – that’s an order, Couffaine.”
The doors opened, and he saluted her as she hauled Alya inside and hit the button for the lobby.
“Aye, Officer!” he called as the doors closed.
“Oh, yeah. Very professional,” Alya grumbled, rolling her eyes. Marinette just smirked at her.
“What? My husband and I are very happy together,” she said, folding her arms behind her back and looking up at the floor sign ticking down. “I’m not ashamed of that.”
“I can’t believe you married Luka,” Alya said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’re a cop.”
“And what’s so hard to believe about that, Alya?” Marinette sighed. “Class president. Always standing up to the Chloés and Lilas of our class. Growing up in a city with a supervillain who left so many people without a choice or justice. Is it really that hard to believe I’d want to do something about it with my life?”
She supposed not, when Marinette put it like that, but it was still a far cry from the klutz with pins in her teeth and ink stains on her fingers.
“I guess I just always thought…fashion was your life, Marinette. You won all those competitions. You were on Gabriel Agreste’s radar, and not just because you liked his son! Audrey Bourgeois personally invited you to work for her in New York when you were fourteen. Fashion was your passion, girl,” Alya sighed. Marinette hummed.
“And I wanted it to stay that way,” she said, shrugging. “I still make things, Alya. But there’s a difference between creating because you love it and creating for work.”
“Don’t you want to love your job, though?” Alya asked. Marinette glanced over at her and smiled.
“Who says I don’t? It might drive my Captain-in-law crazy, but it pays to have a Couffaine on the inside,” she said, and she actually winked at her. Alya’s smile turned bittersweet.
“…that’s kind of why I always thought you’d be good with Adrien. He’d get you that in at Gabriel,” she said. She sighed and looked back to her feet. “I know…I know he had it rough, after the crap about his dad came out, but I guess I also always thought you’d be there for him in the end. Help him pick up the pieces and work through it. Finally get your happily ever after with the guy of your dreams. And I definitely never thought you’d abandon your fashion dreams.”
Marinette grew quiet, and she didn’t say anything for a long moment. The doors opened, and she sighed as she hung her head and finally said: “…Adrien was never the ‘guy of my dreams’, Alya, and he certainly wasn’t my happily ever after.”
She grew quiet again as she reached for Alya’s arm and tugged her out of the lift beside her. They passed the guard at the front, who was definitely not asleep at his desk but was still scowling at Alya, and Marinette waved the stolen key card at him.
“Evening, Frank,” she said cheerfully, smiling at him. His expression turned friendlier when he turned to her. “I need this as evidence for now, but I’ll be sure to get it back to Nino as soon as I can. I’ll send Penny a message, but can you tell her not to worry about the missing card if you see her first?”
“Will do, Marinette,” the guard said, nodding. Marinette grinned at him as she opened the door.
“You’re the best, Frank,” she said. She snapped her fingers before they left. “Oh! I’m pretty sure she used the card to get in, but can you check the side door just to be safe? Make sure Tommy didn’t forget to lock it again? I don’t want my idiot husband getting murdered just because he decided to work late.”
Frank laughed and nodded, and Marinette waved as he bid her a good night. Alya scowled at her as she led her to the cruiser parked by the curb and opened the back door. That brief moment in the lifts was gone – her old friend was gone – and Officer Couffaine had returned to take her place.
“I wasn’t there to murder Luke Stone,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes as Marinette gestured for her to get into the cruiser. “I was there for a story. I didn’t even know Luka would be there.”
“I don’t really care why you were there, Alya. The fact is you weren’t supposed to be, and you stole to make sure you were,” Marinette sighed. She gestured for Alya to get in the car, and when she didn’t she rolled her eyes and reached for her arm and shoulder, twisting her until she’d manhandled her into the seat. Alya shouted the entire time, and Marinette groaned as she slammed the door on her. “Shut up, Alya! This is what happens when you break the law! There are consequences for your actions – or did losing your Miraculous teach you nothing back then?”
There was a moment, a brief moment, where Alya heard the authority in her old friend’s voice and stared up at her hard-as-ice eyes and saw another woman. A younger woman. A woman she hadn’t seen in person in years, and one the city rarely saw at all anymore now that its days of supervillain terrorism were over. The spotted heroine still showed up when she was needed, but she just…wasn’t really needed anymore. No one really knew what had become of Ladybug these days. Just that she was…gone.
And there was a niggling of a memory as Marinette glared down at her, something forgotten and painful, but it was just a moment – just a brief moment – and gone as soon as it had come.
Because of course Marinette knew she had been Rena Rogue. Didn’t everyone? She hadn’t been as public with her responsibilities as, say, Chloé Bourgeois, but when she had finally crossed one too many lines and Ladybug had stripped her of her own Miraculous…when the truth about the Monarch and Lila Rossi had come out…hadn’t Alya shut down the Ladyblog with a very public apology, both to Ladybug and the city, for not being the super she could have been?
Marinette wasn’t Ladybug.
The very idea was preposterous.
Besides. Like someone like Ladybug would grow up to be a cop.
“…whatever,” Alya scoffed, turning to slump against the back seat. “My editor will have me out by morning, Marinette, mark my words!”
“I have no doubt, Mlle. Césaire,” Marinette sighed, walking around the cruiser and sliding into the driver’s seat. “And it’s Officer Couffaine, if you’d please. We’re not friends anymore.” She turned the car on, the engine rumbling to life and almost drowning out her next words. “…I’m not sure we ever really were.”
And that…that hurt. More than Alya would ever admit, especially to her. So she bit back the hurt, scoffed, and turned to glare out the window as the city rolled by.
Somehow, in the back of her mind, even though it had been years since they’d spoken, some part of her had always remained convinced that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was still her best friend. Even when the rest of her life started turning to shit, she knew she could always count on Marinette. Even if they didn’t talk. Even if she knew, deep down, that Marinette had always hated her ambition and tenacity. She’d always called it being bossy and pushy and, sometimes towards the end, even mean. But at the end of the day, Marinette Dupain-Cheng knew her, and she knew she’d never do anything to actually (intentionally) hurt anyone, especially her best friend, and she knew Marinette Dupain-Cheng would always have her back. At the end of the day.
She was starting to realize, as the woman who had once been her friend hauled her ass into the station and shoved her into a chair she quickly cuffed her to, that Officer Marinette Couffaine was a different person entirely.
She didn’t know this person, and there was no doubt in her mind that Officer Marinette Couffaine definitely did not have her back.
What the hell had happened to her friend?
– V –
It was shortly after seven o’clock in the morning when Luka heard Marinette’s keys in the door. He looked up from where he’d been flipping pancakes as she walked into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said. He turned the stove off and held up a plate. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” she sighed, but despite what she’d said she placed it on the counter as soon as she’d taken it from him. Her arms wrapped around his middle, and she laid her head on his chest. When she heard his heart beating loud and strong beneath her ear, she sighed and sank into him. “Better.”
“Always, but I thought you were starving?” he asked with a chuckle. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, smiling when she hummed. He dropped a kiss against the crown of her head and drew lazy lines up and down her back. “Long night?”
“Not really,” she said. “It’s just the people involved. Person. I’ve been wondering when we’d cross paths on the job. I guess I’ve been lucky so far.”
“You usually are,” he chuckled. She giggled and bumped her forehead against his chest. “What? You can’t convince me Tikki isn’t still watching out for you.”
“It’s true!” came the tiny call from the living room, and Marinette rolled her eyes as the tiny giggles of an entire Miracle Box followed.
“Shut up,” she said. She sighed as she laid her ear over his heart again. “…I hate how much I still think about her.”
“Tikki?” he quipped. “I mean. She does still live with us, so…”
“Shut up,” she giggled, pinching his hip. “You know who I meant.”
“She was your best friend at a critical time in your young life,” he said with a shrug. “Of course you still think about her, darning. I’d still wonder about Ding if he hadn’t convinced his parents to stick around.”
She laughed and shook her head, like that was the same thing at all. Dingo might be crazy, but he was still a good friend at the end of the day. Luka and Dingo actually were friends. Alya and her…
“I wonder, sometimes, why we were ever friends in the first place,” she confessed, sighing as she closed her eyes. “There had to be something that drew us together, right? That made me think I like this person I want her around? Or was it really always just Alya saying we were friends and so we were?”
“She’s always been a very strong personality,” he said, nodding. He kissed her head again and smiled. “But so are you. It just took you a little longer to figure it out.”
“She kept asking how I ended up on the force,” Marinette said quietly. “I didn’t really know what to tell her. It’s not like I could just say the city doesn’t need Ladybug anymore, but she still needs the city, not after everything that happened. Everything I did.”
“Hey,” he said, nudging her back. He gripped her shoulder and reached up with his other hand to tilt her chin up. His eyes were firm when she looked at him. “Alya made her own choices, back then and now. She has no one to blame for what happened but herself. You had the weight of the city and an entire Miracle Box on your shoulders. You did what you had to – what she made you.”
Marinette looked down, her lips twisting in a frown as she let his words settle in. She knew he was right: Alya had left her no choice back then, just as she’d left her no choice tonight. She had often wondered, though, if erasing Alya’s memories had been the right call. If she could have changed, grown, if given the chance.
…except she had given Alya every chance, and she had proven time and again that she wasn’t interested in changing. And by the time Marinette had realized that, it was too late. Alya had known too much – Marinette had let her know too much – and she had been a security risk. Marinette knew she had done the right thing – what was required of her – but it still hurt sometimes.
They had still been friends. Once.
…right?
“What did you end up telling her?” he asked. He massaged her shoulder, sighing once he felt some of her tension finally melting away. She looked up at him, and he gave her a roguish grin. “Personally, I always like Ma’s excuse: it’s easier bailing your family out of jail when you’re already working there. You can’t say it hasn’t come in handy.”
Marinette grinned, but she wasn’t about to let him know he was right. Of course he was: he knew her too well to ever guess wrong.
“…not when I’m the one hauling you in half the time,” she laughed, stepping back into his hug and dropping her head back on his chest. She took a deep breath and held it for a beat, soaking in the calm he always gave her. “I told her as close to the truth as I could. Ladybug always inspired the best in people, and after everything with Hawkmoth and Monarch…I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I wanted to help people. You know that.”
“Yeah, but the Marinette she knew would have been running Gabriel by now,” he chuckled. She poked him in the chest.
“She never saw that Marinette after her first internship there,” she said, grinning up at him. She poked him again for good measure. “You did. She accused me of abandoning my dreams, but…God, Luka, you remember. I hated working there. I still wanted to love fashion someday, and there was no way to love fashion like that. No room for love after all the bureaucracy and politics and bullshit. Besides,” she added, stepping back and holding her arms out, “I make this uniform look good, right?”
“Hell yeah, you do,” he laughed, reaching for her hands and pulling her back against him. He dipped her back into a kiss, and she giggled against his lips as she popped her foot and held onto his neck. When he righted them he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth and running along hers, and she sighed as she melted against him. They were both a little breathless by the time he was done. “God, I’ve missed you. I hate when you pull night shift.”
“You love it when you have a gig,” she laughed, stroking her hand along his cheek. He had shaved recently. His skin was still smooth and a little damp under her fingertips.
“I didn’t have a show tonight,” he sighed. “Just an empty bed with not enough you in it.”
“Poor little rock star,” she giggled. She glanced at the pancakes on the counter. They’d probably have to microwave them now. “We could have breakfast and fix that. I’m still hungry, but Alya showing up meant it was too long a shift. I could use some Luka snuggles. Maybe a little more than snuggles.”
“I could handcuff you to the bed,” he murmured in her ear. He grinned when he felt her cheek warm against his. “Tell Roger I lost the key. You can’t go in tomorrow.”
“…you know I’m off tomorrow,” she tutted. She frowned. “…tonight. Whichever. You know I’m off for a few nights.”
“Good,” he said, slapping a hand against her ass as he reached around her for her plate. “I can handcuff you anyway.”
“Luka!” she laughed, but he hooked his arm back around her waist and pulled her into another kiss. She groaned as her hands fisted in his shirt. “…ok. Fine. We can use the cuffs.”
“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Gives me plenty of time to make you forget all about Alya and any ridiculous self-doubts her appearance inspired. You are incredible, Marinette. The most amazing woman I know – even more than my Ma, and I’d say that to her face. Don’t you dare ever let anyone make you question that, especially someone like Alya Césaire.”
“You’re biased,” she said, but she was smiling. He rolled his eyes and started for the table.
“Of course I am,” he said. He pulled her chair out for her, kissing her cheek before she sat down. “Juice or coffee? Water?”
“Juice,” she said. “Do we still have that cranberry apple stuff?”
“Afraid you used it up yesterday,” he said. “I’ll pick you some up later. We still have orange, though.”
“Thanks, star,” she said as he went back into the kitchen. She picked up her utensils and started cutting up her pancakes. “She’s still at the station, you know. I maybe fucked up her paperwork. Just a little. Just enough to make processing her a bitch.”
“Jeanette’s gonna kill you,” he laughed as he put her juice down by her plate. He had a glass of water in his other hand as he took his seat.
“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Marinette said, waving her fork at him. “It’s an easy enough fix when you know what you’re doing, but it will keep Alya tied up through most of the day. It didn’t help that I dropped it in the bin right at shift change.”
“…you’re horrible,” he laughed.
“What?” she asked, a little too innocently. “Luka, she’s the reason my ass was on every tabloid cover in the world. I’m clickbait now. The world has seen my ass, Luka. I had to make her suffer a little.”
He barked out a laugh, and he leaned around the corner of the table to smack a kiss against her cheek.
“Of course you did,” he laughed. “God, I love you. If all she has to deal with is rotting in a cell a few hours, she got off easy. You were too kind to her, darning.”
“Yeah, well,” Marinette said, her smile turning bittersweet as she looked back at her pancakes. She shrugged a little, her heart not really in the gesture. “We were friends. Once.”
He laid a hand over hers, squeezing gently as he brushed his thumb against hers, and when she looked up at him he was smiling. She flipped her hand to thread their fingers together, and she smiled as he squeezed again.
Yeah. He supposed they were.