#damianette

“Oh come on, it’s not like you have a choice,” Alya said cheerfully, grinning when Marinette glowered. “You lost the bet, time to pay up.” 

“Please, just give me something else to do. Anything else,” Marinette begged, seriously considering getting onto her knees. “Didn’t you want me to apologise to Lila for something or other? I’ll do it, no questions asked-” 

“That’s not something that should come from a bet,” Alya cut in, frowning. “Besides, I just want you to get out of your comfort zone a little, and this is the perfect time to do it! Now take that petite little rear of yours over to the guy you’ve been staring at for the past hour and do it.” 

Grumbling and cursing Nino and Adrien for already telling Alya the results of their exams, before they told her. Adrien was supposed to be her best friend! Sure, they’d broken up and weren’t dating anymore, but they were still really good friends, right? It wasn’t fair. Still, a bet was a bet so she was going to have to suck it up. Maybe he wasn’t as difficult to approach as everyone said…who was she kidding? She was going to be eviscerated by his well-known anger and prickliness and she would deserve it. 

Approaching the pretty young man with green eyes and dark hair, she saw the way his friend raised his eyebrows at her, though he looked like he was sympathetic towards her. Clearly this wasn’t the first time someone had come over to say something to Damian Wayne and he already knew how it was going to end. It was a good thing she already knew how it was going to end or she would be getting really upset now. 

“Hi,” she said, pitching her voice just slightly louder than necessary. No way was she giving Alya any way of saying she didn’t do this and making her do something even more humiliating as a result. “I know I just met you, and this is kind of crazy but…call me, maybe?” 

Her hand didn’t tremble as she held out the slip of paper with her number on it, but after several moments of him staring at it like something disgusting rather than an innocuous piece of paper she began to lower it. She was fairly sure he saw when she swallowed hard, though he didn’t immediately start berating her which was a plus. Probably he was waiting for the rest of the room to quieten so nobody would miss the inevitable scathing remarks. 

“Maybe not,” he said, turning away from her and stalking out of the room without a backwards glance. Blushing bright red, Marinette squeaked an apology to Damian’s friend and scurried back to her friends. What a fabulous start to her week in Gotham. 

_ _ _ 

Damian hadn’t had high hopes for the forced friendship week between his school and the French one, but he had at least hoped that he would be given a wide berth based solely on his reputation. Sadly, someone had the audacity not only to approach him, but to use a horrendous pop culture pick up line as she did so. If he’d been in Nanda Parbat, he would have had her tongue cut out and forced her into public humiliation far greater than the dismissal he had decided upon. 

“Aww, she was kind of cute,” Jon said, shaking his head at his best friend as they made their way to the first event of this friendship week. It was going to be a display of athleticism and weaponry, at Damian’s behest because if he was to be forced to deal with these people he was going to get to do things he preferred. He might even deign to take on their most proficient fighter, if they were adequate. “I can’t believe you didn’t take her number.” 

“Please, she was ‘cringe’,” Damian replied, stepping over the threshold into the gymnasium they were to use for the event. “And nobody would respect me any longer if I allowed that sort of behaviour from a stranger.” 

“It was still mean,” Jon argued, walking beside him. Damian rolled his eyes and looked over the motley crowd from two schools. The girl from before was the only one stretching fully, though her friend was giving a half hearted attempt next to her, and a blond boy with a dopey smile was using a skipping rope to warm up. “Don’t you want to make friends with any of the French students? It’s kind of the whole point of this exchange.” 

“To what end? It is hardly as though I need the connections,” Damian scoffed, deciding to do a light warm up in case he did compete. 

The ordinary students were every bit as dull as he had expected, although the blond - Agreste, the model son of a fashion designer - was surprisingly capable with a staff which piqued his interest. He was all but ready to demand to be let out of the hall when the same girl from before - she was announced as nothing more than ‘Marinette, the class president’ - stepped forward when the teacher in charge announced the hand-to-hand events. 

Curious in spite of himself, he lingered, eyes narrowing when one of the more athletic Gotham students stepped onto the mats with a cocky smirk and a leering look. It wasn’t unusual for said student to put himself in the position of manhandling female students, and Damian frowned when the teacher didn’t immediately decline in favour of someone on the same level as the petite Parisian. 

“What is O’Donnell thinking?” Jon muttered, echoing Damian’s thoughts perfectly. “She’s tiny! He can’t expect her to…” 

Damian’s eyebrows rose to nearly his hairline when the match started and the girl - Marinette - pounced. It was the only way to describe what she did, her limbs full of a fluid grace that made Damian itch to face her himself. He wouldn’t - he’d already had to dissuade her interest in him, he didn’t want to change her correct assumption that he wasn’t going to bother with her - but he was curious as to how she would try to counter some of his own moves. 

The match, if one wanted to call it that, was short and direct enough that whispers exploded across the room when it ended. And nobody dared to challenge her again. 

_ _ _ 

At the end of the first day with the French class, Damian was well and truly ready to do something, anything, else. He had felt eyes on him for the entire day, and it filled him with an impotent rage that he couldn’t make an example of anyone. The interaction with Marinette had been mild enough that even his classmates were behaving differently toward him, and he half wished he had fully snapped at her if just to meet their usual expectations. 

He was delayed once more when the French class seemed to be congregating in the entryway, a reluctance to leave and go back to their hotel obvious among them. Huffing and preparing to barge through the middle of them, he was pulled short when Marinette shouted above the babble and commanded silence in the class with only two words. Clearly she had a deft hand for controlling the rabble, and she wielded her power with grace. 

It became apparent very quickly that she was used to herding the group into doing what they were meant to be, and she swiftly succeeded in getting them to pair up and move to the exit for their bus ride to the hotel. Putting herself last, she counted them off as they entered the vehicle, only allowing herself to get onto the bus when she was sure everyone was present. It was fascinating to watch her no nonsense approach, her behaviour almost Alfred like in the way she was listened to almost without question. 

He knew he was staring at her but couldn’t pull his eyes away, his desire to know more about her becoming stronger against his own wishes. Which is why he was caught in her gaze when she evidently noticed his attention and looked over at him. A wariness that he highly respected faded into something more like shame when she noticed who he was, and her cheeks blazed into a charming rouge before she scurried onto the bus herself. 

Glad that most other students had already gone for the day, Damian shook himself from his stupor and headed towards his own vehicle so that he could journey home. 

_ _ _ 

Two days later, Robin was patrolling when he got an alert that five tourists had been spotted near Crime Alley. Cursing under his breath, he quickly worked out that it must be some of the French class because of the descriptions Oracle was able to give him, and he tried to leap faster through the city to ensure they got into no trouble. The last thing he needed was for there to be a tragedy that he could prevent. 

Unfortunately, Gotham did what it usually did and Robin arrived at the scene at least two minutes after the group had been accosted by two older thugs. He immediately recognised Agreste, and Marinette’s friend, neither of which were cowering like two of the others were. But standing in front of everyone with her hands on her hips and her jaw clenched was the only interesting Parisian to be on the trip. The sight of her made him falter for half a second, his foot scuffing the fire escape he landed on. 

The thugs flinched and looked upwards, the usual response at nighttime in Gotham for those up to no good, and Robin thought that he was going to enjoy smacking the hell out of the pair. But, in what clearly should no longer be a surprising turn of events, Marinette leapt into action against them. The second their eyes weren’t on her, she picked up a length of wood that had been discarded at some earlier date and swung it into the closest man’s shins. He swore as he went down but she didn’t hesitate to continue her momentum so that the makeshift weapon arced into his face. 

“You little-” the second thug snarled, but Robin didn’t wait to see what he was going to say - or what Marinette might do to this one. The last thing he wanted was for someone to find out that he had just watched events unfold rather than protecting the civilians. It was rather satisfying to feel his boot crunch through the man’s nose, and he landed gracefully in front of the Parisians.

Marinette succeeded in surprising Robin again. He had expected her to be frightened, or awed, by his presence, as most were when they met the legendary Robin in person. Instead, her eyes were calculating and wary, her grip on the wood tightening rather than dropping it. Stepping back, he reported to Oracle that the police were needed before turning back to the five French students. And he was surprised again, because Marinette had not turned away when he did, her eyes still following him cautiously. 

“Oh my god, you’re Robin! This is so. Cool!” the girl with glasses said, her phone coming up to capture a picture of him as he stood over the thugs. She ignored his glare, questions he didn’t bother to listen to spilling out of her mouth as she pointed the camera at him. He wasn’t going to say what he was thinking, but he really wished she would shut- 

“Alya, stop,” Marinette hissed, turning to frown at her friend. “He’s a person, not just a source for your blog. Apologies, Monsieur Robin, and thank you for stepping in before something terrible could happen. We really shouldn’t be out here right now,” she said, aiming the words at her companions. “Could you perhaps point us in the direction of the Wayne Hotel? I think we are lost because someone said we didn’t need a map.” 

“Marinette, you know my tinnitus messes with my sense of direction,” the last girl in the group simpered, her hand shooting out and grabbing onto Agreste. The model boy grimaced as she did so but didn’t shake her off, which was his own idiocy. It was only common sense that if you wanted people to give you your required space, you needed to vocally - and maybe physically - make them. 

“Tt, tinnitus does not affect your sense of direction,” Robin rumbled, preening slightly at the tired smile Marinette sent in his direction. “Regardless, you are clearly in the completely incorrect part of town, so I shall assist you to your destination. I believe a taxi might be your best opportunity to get there safely, O, if you would not mind-” 

“The only available and reliable taxi has four seats, not five,” Oracle said into his ear immediately, and he scowled at the thought that they would have to wait twice as long, or risk walking through the streets as a group. “It’s on its way to you now, but they’ll need to decide who to leave behind for you to assist to the hotel.” 

An incredibly brief discussion occurred, and Robin should not have been surprised when Marinette volunteered to be the one to stay behind with the vigilante, but he was. And the surprises continued when she turned back to him and told him that she didn’t need him to remain, just to point her in the correct direction. 

“Tt, do not be absurd,” he retorted, securing his sword more fully before turning back to her and motioning for her to step closer. “Come, I shall return you to the hotel via the rooftops. I trust you are not afraid of heights?” 

_ _ _ 

Damian was walking Titus on the Saturday after the Parisian students’ full week at Gotham Academy, finally free of the obligation to bother with them. They were still going to be in Gotham until the Monday afternoon but they were mostly sightseeing now, so the only way he would be forced to deal with them was if they somehow ran into him- 

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” a female voice said after he felt someone bump his elbow. He turned to glare at whoever it was but was greeted by the sight of her crouching down towards his dog instead of him. “Bon chien, pardonnez-moi, s’il vous plait!” 

Surprised into silence, he could only watch as his ordinarily loyal pet sat to attention for the young woman, lifting his paw when she requested it and tongue lolling out happily when she praised him. Then her head came up as she apparently remembered that the dog’s owner was very much attached to him via the leash and he had to work not to let his jaw drop open. 

“Monsieur Wayne, um, I’m very sorry for knocking into you! And for speaking to your dog before asking your permission, it was incredibly rude of me-” she babbled, her accent more pronounced as she clearly got worked up. He refocused on what she was saying and flushed slightly as she said, “-for what I said on the first day of our acquaintance. Honestly, I would never have been so presumptuous normally, but my friend insisted I use that line - but I did use it, so obviously I am to blame for that-” 

“Tt, you are rambling,” he cut in, channeling his haughtier side. Her mouth snapped shut instantly, cheeks blushing that delightful shade of red that made him wonder if she was normally so easily flustered - or if it was just because of him. “I accept your apologies. I am, however, currently attempting to walk Titus so if you will excuse me…” 

Much to his chagrin, she did not react as he expected and accepted his request to excuse him instead of offering to go with him. He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed in the outcome when it was exactly what he preferred everyone to do usually, but he could feel a small drop in his stomach as she apologised a final time before stepping away to walk back through the park they were in. 

Perhaps it was for the best, as Damian didn’t really have time to maintain a civilian friendship, particularly with someone who lived half the planet away. 

_ _ _ 

On the final morning of the Parisian students’ visit, Gotham Academy met with the foreign class to view the most prominent museum as a final parting activity. Damian fully expected to be bored to tears of the event given he spent so much of his free time in the building anyway, usually for inspiration, or to paint. 

Unfortunately, a boring final day was not on the cards, and the whole museum was set upon by Two Face and his thugs. The majority of the students dutifully ducked down and tried to appear small and nonthreatening to the madman but Damian was not so lucky. As a Wayne, he was recognisable to a great many people. Especially villains. So he was dragged forward to be a hostage along with one other student: Marinette. 

She was quiet, but he didn’t get the sense that she was scared as she huddled close to him and he allowed her to slip her hand behind his back so that they were pressed together. It was not unpleasant, but it did restrict his movement enough that he wasn’t sure he would be able to protect her should Dent decide to take a shot at either of them. 

As though his thoughts manifested the scenario, Two Face did decide to shoot them - or rather, his coin did. Damian hated that the man relied on something as unreliable as chance; he couldn’t exactly outsmart a coin. The one small mercy was that the shot went wide from where it was pointing at Damian’s chest and only nicked his arm as Marinette took a firm hold of his waist and dropped to the floor with him. 

At the same time, several vigilantes dropped down from the ceiling, leaving Damian free to try and crawl with Marinette to safety. But she stopped him, her hands moving swiftly and deftly to the bullet graze on his arm. She assessed him with a cool demeanour, hands firm but gentle as she pulled a scrap of fabric from her bag and started to bind it. There was chaos all around them but nothing touched them as she finished her task before grabbing the hand on his uninjured side and pulled him after her and towards the door. 

“Are you alright?” she asked once they were outside where several ambulances were rushing towards them. Her eyes were bright and calm, worry limning them but tempered by her surety that he was at least physically fine. 

Marinette hummed a soothing melody to herself as she waited for the elevator to arrive at her floor. Nerves buzzing under her skin from how her date had ended. Not buzzing in a bad way, no, the compatibility date had gone far better than she had hoped, seeing as her expectations were to walk out of the blind date with a new friend, not to walk out with an actual date, but she was left buzzing with energy nonetheless. She was still slightly flushed from testing their physical compatibility, her mind replaying the moment as she stepped out of the elevator and fumbled with her keys, flicking through the clicking metal for the one that would unlock her apartment door.

She hadn’t expected to like Damian as much as she does, but, well, to say that Marinette wouldn’t mind a repeat of their parting moments would be a blatant lie. It was strange to be looking forward to something as simple as a date again. Especially with someone who didn’t start as a friend, but she was excited to see where this spark with Damian would go, which unfortunately left Marinette a ball of anxious energy. Positive as the feelings are, she still felt the need to do something.

Stepping into the apartment, Marinett is met with the familiar scent of Pomeline’s lavender candles wafting through the air. Something familiar and grounding, welcoming her home as she takes a steadying breath.

Walking further into the apartment, Marinette is surprised to find none of her roommates up and about. She had sort of expected to be interrogated, if not by Olive, the resident psych major, then at least by Maps, who is not only the one who set up this blind date, but also the nosiest of her roommates. Plus, there was also the fact that Damian is a good friend of all three of her roomates, meaning that this was prime time to be interigated, or maybe Marinette was way too used to Alya’s brand of chaos, Marintte couldn’t help but think with a fond roll of her eyes as she locked the door behind herself, and slipped of her shoes.

Padding past the living area, Marinette stopped by her bedroom to grab a change of clothing before heading to the bathroom to shower. Making a pile on the counter of her wet clothing and Damian’s similarly rain-soaked jacket. She’d have to handle the laundry before going to bed, but preferably, after her shower. Right now, she could really use the warmth of a hot shower to chase away the chill that has settled in her bones. Setting the water just the way she liked it, Marinette was quick to step under the shower spray once the steam had started to rise. Breathing out a calming breath, Marinette forced her anxiety-tense muscles to relax. Letting the ritualistic pattern of washing away that day’s dirt, conditioning her hair, letting it sit, and rinsing it out. The familiar movements helped to calm some of the buzzing under her skin, but even as she stepped out of the shower and began drying off, the feeling of needing to do something still buzzed under her skin in a restless sort of way.

Marinette scrunched out the excess water in her hair before wrapping it up in a towel and patting herself dry with a fluffy towel. She quickly dressed herself in fluffy pajama pants and a warm top, hoping to preserve as much of the warmth from her shower as she could. Taking down her wrapped hair, Marinette ruffled her towel through the strands gently a handful of times before letting her hair rest on the towel around her neck.

With a tired sigh, she gathered her damp clothes, Damian’s jacket, and the wet towels into her arms and made her way to the laundry nook. She set about loading them, grateful for the clear, step-by-step structure that doing laundry offered. Sorting out the items that needed extra protection, like Damian’s jacket, her sweater dress, and her undergarments, she slipped each into its own mesh laundry bag, carefully zipping them closed to prevent snags or stretching. The towels, sturdy as they are, were left free to tumble in the drum. Only once everything was properly arranged did she add detergent and softener with practiced precision and set the cycle in motion, following each rule like a lifeline that had been offered in the middle of a storm.

Having properly taken care of the wet clothing, Marinette padded quietly toward the kitchen, only to pause in the doorway at the sight that met her eyes.

Pomeline stood by the stove, her sharp profile illuminated by the soft under-cabinet lights as she poured steaming water into a pair of ceramic mugs. A teapot steamed gently next to a bowl of freshly made strawberry oatmeal, the pink-red fruit bright against the creamy oats. Marinette blinked, genuinely surprised. Of all her roommates, she hadn’t expected Pomeline to be the one waiting for her tonight.

“Pomeline?” Marinette asked, arching a brow as she stepped into the kitchen. “I thought for sure it’d be Maps or Olive lying in wait to interrogate me about my date.”

Pomeline didn’t look up immediately, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Maps and Olive drew the short end of the straw. So, you’re stuck with me.” She finally turned, offering Marinette a mug. “Coincidentally, I made enough tea for two.”

Marinette smiled, accepting the mug and sliding into a seat at the kitchen table, content to be interrogated as it followed what she had expected to happen upon arriving home. Plus, with Pomeline’s dry humor, this interrogation was sure to be interesting if nothing else.

Pomeline sat across from her, stirring her own tea. Her gaze was cool but not unkind, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “So. Did anyone get hurt?”

Marinette blinked, startled by the bluntness, but laughed softly. “No, Pomeline. No one got hurt. No fights, no drama.”

“Did either of you end up hating the other?” Pomeline pressed, tone casual but intent.

Marinette shook her head, unable to hide her amusement as she answered, “Actually, we got along really well.” She said, feeling the flush of her cheeks, and hoping that it wasn’t too noticeable. 

If Pomeline noticed her blush, she didn’t mention it. In fact, Pomeline seemed satisfied with what she saw, nodding once. “Good. That’s all I wanted to know.” She pushed the bowl of strawberry oatmeal across the table toward Marinette. “Eat. You’ve had a long day, and you will have an even longer morning once the other two can get a hold of you.”

Marinette huffed in amusement, bidding her roommate goodnight as Pomeline collected her own mug and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving Marinette with her tea, a warm bowl of oatmeal, and a faint smile lingering on her lips.

Left alone in the soft kitchen light, Marinette ate her oatmeal in slow, thoughtful bites, savoring the burst of strawberry against the creamy oats. She sipped at her tea, feeling the warmth settle into her bones, and once her bowl was empty, she rinsed it and her mug, washing the bowl with soap, leaving it in the drying rack while her mug was left on the counter for later use.

Padded back to the laundry nook, Marinette listened for the familiar click that signaled the washer’s end. She transferred the clean, damp clothes to the dryer, shaking out each piece and tucking delicate items into the mesh bags again. When she started the dryer, she set a mental timer and returned to the kitchen, filling the kettle once more and preparing a second cup of tea, the actions so ingrained she hardly thought about them.

With her cup warming her hands, Marinette set about gathering ingredients. Pulling out flour, butter, salt, and water to make the dough. Measuring and sifting the flour. Dicing the butter into cubes. Tossing them together into a crumbly mixture with a pinch of salt and a splash of icy water, that she mixed together until it combined into something that resembled a shaggy dough. Marinette then gently pressed it into a rectangle before wrapping it in cling film and placing it in the fridge to chill while she cleaned up.

By the time she was done cleaning, the dough was ready to be pulled out. Dusting the counters with flour, Marinette worked quickly, folding the dough over itself, rolling it out, folding it, rolling it, until the dough began to warm and needed to be wrapped back up and placed back into the fridge.

Putting the dough back, Marinette pulled out the apples and lemons for the filling before closing the fridge door and moving to the spice cabinet, pulling out the cinnamon and sugar. With everything gathered, Marinette began peeling and coring the apples, dicing them into small cubes in smooth, practiced chops. Tossing the apple bits, sugar, and cinnamon into a pot, Marinette halved and squeezed the lemon juice into the mix and left that to simmer. Washing her hands and the work space once more before dusting the area in flour again. The dough folding process was repeated until it was smooth and streaked with butter.

Once the apple compote was finished and cooled, Marinette pulled out the chilled dough and rolled it out for a final time, cutting perfect rounds of pastry dough that she then filled with the apple compote. Brushing the edges with egg wash, folding the circles shut and sealing them with a fork, crimping the edges, and arranging them on a tray.

Once the last of the pastries were filled, Marinette covered the trays with cling film and slid them into the fridge, planning to bake them fresh in the morning. The rhythm of the kitchen soothed her, each step familiar and easy, hands moving with the confidence of a long habit.

The dryer beeped just as Marinette finished cleaning up the kitchen, leaving her to unload and fold warm, clean clothing. Sorting her clothes from the towels and Damian’s jacket. She put everything away in its correct spot, leaving Damian’s jacket folded neatly on her desk as a reminder to give it back when she next saw him.

With everything in its place, Marinette poured the last of her tea and gave the kitchen one final glance, the scent of apples lingering in the air as she headed to bed, already looking forward to the morning.

Sleep came quickly, exhaustion and anticipation mingling in her dreams. It felt like no time had passed at all when Marinette was abruptly roused by the unmistakable sensation of someone, or something, perched almost on top of her. Groggy and confused, she blinked her eyes open to find Maps, knees tucked up and chin propped on Marinette’s blanket-covered hip, peering at her with the intense focus of a cat demanding breakfast.

“Maps?” Marinette croaked, voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”

Maps, unrepentant, grinned down at her. "Morning! I need details. All the details. You promised, remember? What did you do, what did he say, how did it go? How long did it last?"

Marinette groaned, squinting at the clock. "Why are you waking me up for this? Couldn't you have asked last night instead of sitting on me like a needy cat?"

Maps pouted theatrically but didn’t budge. "Mel banned us from interrogating you last night. But it’s morning now, so it’s fair game!"

At that moment, Olive appeared in the doorway, a steaming mug in her hands. She offered Marinette the cup with a sympathetic smile. "Hot chocolate. And sorry, I tried to contain Maps, but clearly my powers are limited."

Marinette accepted the mug, her lips quirking in amusement. "You’re not really sorry, are you? Now you get to ask your questions too."

Olive only shrugged, hiding a smile behind her own mug, eyes bright with curiosity.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette slipped out from under Maps’ weight, slipping on a robe and pocketing her phone before she padded to the kitchen, pulling her robe tighter around her. Setting the oven to heat, Marinette hopped onto the counter next to the stove, taking a sip of her hot chocolate drink.

"Alright, you gremlins," Marinette said, shooting Olive and Maps a wry look over the rim of her mug, "Start asking your questions before I cut you off, and I won’t answer anything more."

Maps, of course, was first to dive into asking questions, or reasking in her case, since she had woken Marinette up with these questions. "How did it go? What did you do? How long did it last?" She rattled off once more, barely pausing between questions, eyes wide with anticipation.

Marinette huffed a tired laugh, taking a sip of her drink to buy herself some time before answering. “It went well once we switched to a Parisian dating structure.”

Maps furrowed her brows, clearly thrown off by the unexpected answer. “What does that even mean? What’s a Parisian dating structure? Is that like, an itinerary or…?”

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lighter now that she was surrounded by her friends and the familiar comfort of morning routines. “It means that all expectations of romance were cut from the date. The first date is more of a compatibility interview than anything else. It allows for both parties to ask the nosy, invasive questions that might cause problems later on, and if one of the parties thinks they wouldn’t work as a couple, the date can end before anyone gets hurt.” Marinette explains. “It removes the risk of akumatization later on in most cases.”

Maps blinked, then grinned. "So you interrogated each other the whole date? That actually sounds kind of fun.”

“Definitely something Damian would enjoy." Olive agreed, sipping at her hot chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief. "And what was the result of your interrogation?"

Marinette opened her mouth to answer when the oven beeped, giving her the perfect excused to close her mouth, offering her roommates a slight smile as she jumped off the counter and went over to the fridge, pulling out the trays of chilled pastries, the dough firm and cold beneath her fingers. As she uncovered the trays, Olive and Maps edged closer, clearly not deterred by the short interruption but also curious as to what Marinette had made. Marinette grabbed the small bowl of egg wash from the fridge, dipping her pastry brush and methodically painting each pastry until they gleamed with a golden sheen.

“You’re not getting out of answering- but what are those?” Maps inquired curiously as Marinette put the trays in the oven.

“Chausson aux pommes.” Marinette answered, setting the timer on her phone before turning her attention back to her roommates. “Apple turnovers.” She translated with amusement.

Olive’s eyes widened with delight. “You made homemade apple turnovers? Marinette, you’re spoiling us.”

Maps immediately leaned against the counter, nose twitching as the scent of baking pastry began to fill the kitchen. “I knew there was a reason I liked living with you,” she said, only half-joking.

Marinette rolled her eyes, but affection warmed her smile. “If you want anything freshly baked in the future, then I expect my answers to be respected. One question at a time, no shouting over each other. And your time is up when the timer is.”

Maps and Olive shared a look.

“Deal.” A third voice answered before either roommate could.

“Good morning, Pomeline.” Marinette greeted with a slight raise of her mug and an amused smile.

Maps crossed her arms, already bristling with frustration. “Wait, wait, Pomeline doesn’t get to set the terms! She already got to interrogate Marinette last night. She can’t just waltz in and call the shots now!”

Pomeline fixed Maps with a flat look, unamused. “First of all, I did not ‘interrogate’ Marinette. I merely ensured that her date went well enough that introducing her to our friend group later wouldn’t be a disaster. There’s a difference.”

She set her mug down with a soft clink and arched an eyebrow at Maps. “Second, you know very well that food rights, especially the distribution of fresh treats, are a collective decision. You can’t just leave me out because you’re feeling impatient.”

Olive snorted into her mug, clearly entertained, while Marinette hid a smile behind her cup. Maps looked mutinous, but couldn’t quite argue with Pomeline’s logic.

Just then, Marinette’s phone buzzed loudly on the countertop, cutting through their bickering. Maps whipped around. “Wait! That’s the timer already? I didn’t even get to ask any questions!”

Marinette rolled her eyes and picked up her phone, thumb swiping over the screen. “It’s a text message, Maps. The timer hasn’t even gone off yet.”

She glanced at the message, blinked, then read it again. Pink crept up her cheeks, warming her ears. Olive, ever observant, grinned. “Was that Damian? Did the date really go that well?”

Marinette ducked her head, pretending to fuss with her mug. “Yes, it’s Damian. He’s just checking in with a good morning text, nothing more.” She says while sending a text back.

Pomeline raised a brow, her voice dry. “That’s considerate.”

Olive leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re blushing, Marinette. So, is this a one-sided thing, or should we expect another date in your future? We need to know if we should get invested or not.”

Marinette sighed, tapping her mug, knowing that it was futile not to answer, as her roommates could quite literally just text Damian themselves since he was their friend first. "Yes, we will see each other again. He asked last night, and I said yes."

Maps let out a whoop, pumping her fist in victory. "Knew it! Knew you two would hit it off!"

Olive, ever the calm counterbalance to Maps' exuberance, smiled warmly and nudged Marinette’s shoulder. "I’m glad. You look happy, Marinette. It's nice to see."

Marinette’s blush only deepened, but she couldn’t hide her smile. "I am. It was good,  different. I had never done a compatibility date before, so it was a little intense sometimes, but in a good way."

Pomeline, arms folded and expression unreadable, gave a short nod of approval. "Damian’s intensity is part of his charm, if you can handle it. You’re one of the few people I thought would be able to match him beat-for-beat.” The ‘and it looks like I was right,’ was left unsaid but not unheard.

Maps, never one to let a moment sit, leaned across the counter, her eyes wide and eager. "So, what did you actually do? Did you two just sit there and swap life stories, or was there, you know, actual chemistry?"

Marinette laughed, the last of her embarrassment melting away in the face of Maps’ relentless curiosity. "We talked a lot, actually. We talked about family, future, boundaries, and weird pet peeves, what we want out of life, and yes, I suppose there was chemistry. Enough that we lost track of time until it started to rain.”

Maps groaned dramatically. "Ugh, you two are so mature. When did we all get so grown up?" She pressed both palms to her cheeks, only half-joking, while Olive snickered behind her mug.

"So, what happened after the rain?" Olive prompted, eyes glinting as she leaned against the counter. "Did you two just run for cover or...?"

Marinette offered a small smile, warmth in her eyes as she remembered. "We ducked under one of those covered structures- with the benches?” She tries to explain, making a house shape with her arms.

“A gazebo.” Pomeline supplied.

“Sure.” Marinette assumed Pomeline was correct and continued. “We stayed there long enough to get our bearings, he gave me his jacket to borrow, and then we headed back into the rain so he could walk me back.”

Olive let out a low whistle. “Dramatic and chivalrous.”

Marinette shook her head, but her grin was soft. “It was sweet. He didn’t say much on the walk, but he made sure I didn’t step in any puddles. And when we got to my building, he asked if we could see each other again.”

Before anyone could tease her further, the timer on Marinette’s phone finally went off, its cheerful chime breaking the moment. She hopped off the counter and headed straight for the oven, slipping on her mitts. With practiced care, Marinette pulled out the trays of golden, flaky apple turnovers. The smell of warm pastry and cinnamon-sweet apples filled the air, making everyone in the kitchen go noticeably quiet for a few seconds.

Maps let out a dramatic sigh, unable to contain herself. "Honestly, I did such a good job matching you two up. If it weren’t for me, this whole adorable love story wouldn’t even exist!"

Pomeline, still leaning against the counter, deadpanned, "Marinette and Damian are literally the only successful blind date you’ve ever set up for anyone in our friend group."

Maps just grinned, undeterred. "Hey, I stand by my record. Quality over quantity!"

Olive laughed, reaching for a pastry but waiting for Marinette’s nod. "Well, here’s to the one pairing that worked out, and to Marinette’s baking."

Marinette sighed, cheeks pink but eyes bright, as she placed the trays on the table. Surrounded by the laughter of her friends and the scent of fresh pastry.

Adrien and Marinette look at each other warmly, a bright smile on the former’s face and a much more subtle one on the latter’s. They are sitting a friendly distance apart, their body language clearly conveying that they are comfortable with one another. 

“Honestly, I think it depends what comes at us,” Adrien replies after another second or so. “My père has plans for a final ad campaign for me, and I know Marinette is planning on taking on the fashion world as soon as she can.” 

“A final campaign? Are you retiring from modeling so soon?” the reporter probes, their interest clearly piqued. 

“Not retiring as such. Just…taking a break,” he answers smoothly, the pause natural rather than rehearsed. “And I’d like time to get to know my father again without working for him. Even in the best relationships, working together can add a strain and I’d like to just be Adrien for a while.” 

“Yeah, he has to model at least once more for me, when I get my big break,” Marinette laughs, taking the attention off the blond and nudging him with her knee. There’s an extra sparkle in her eye that morning, presumably excitement for her future after a successful first view of the film for the public. 

“So you didn’t get sick of each other on set?” the presenter jokes, beaming at the pair when they laugh with them. 

“No, and we’ll hopefully have many more years as a team before that happens,” Adrien assures both the presenter and the cameras. 

“Well, thank you both for your time today! Whatever happens from here, we hope you have a miraculous time with it.” 

_ _ _

On the evening that Robin and Nightwing were due to be in Paris to meet Adrien and Marinette as Chat Noir and Ladybug, Damian escaped the manor a solid half hour before they were supposed to go. He had coordinated with Marinette so that they could have as long as possible without anyone else being privy to their conversation. If he had left too early, more than just Richard would descend on the meeting, so it had been a strategic departure with just enough time that it would not have been worth it for Richard to hurry. 

Finding her on the arranged rooftop, he quickly descended and embraced her briefly before speaking. 

“We have only a few moments before Nightwing descends upon us,” he said without preamble, his voice low and urgent as he pulled her over to a shadowy corner. They were alone, for however long it took the next attendee of this meeting to appear, and he was determined to have a decent conversation with her. “How are you? Have you already said goodbye to Tikki?” 

“Actually…” she said hesitantly, fingers lingering on her earrings while his brow furrowed in confusion and concern. “Okay, it’s not that I’ve been coerced…” 

“That makes it sound as though you absolutely have been coerced,” he replied, brushing a hand over her suddenly flushed cheek. “Marinette- Ladybug, you should not do something just because you think it is the proper thing to do, and I know you have reservations about becoming a hero. Good reasons not to take up the cause, and I would- I cannot bear to see you harmed because you chose to be noble rather than give back the earrings.” 

“Adrien-” 

“Is an adult, with money and other things to occupy his time, and does not need you as a babysitter,” he growled in frustration, gripping her chin between his gloved thumb and forefinger. 

“I know that,” she snapped, temper flashing in her eyes for a moment. The sight sparked relief and a little enthusiasm in him, something more clearly behind her reasoning. “But if I give the earrings back, he has to give the ring back. And- you don’t know what it was like for him, after his maman passed away, how his père treated him by closing himself off. And the ring is going to give him freedom, something he hasn’t had much of in his life.” 

“At your own expense,” he said softly, trying to get her to see how absurd she was being. “L- Marinette, don’t give away something of yourself just to appease someone else. Adrien does not need to use the Miraculous to become a hero; my entire family is proof that you need no powers, only the will to train hard.” 

“Yes, but Adrien…the catsuit makes him happy. Living the story we already wrote makes him happy,” she replied just as quietly, turning her head slightly and breaking the contact between them. “And I’ve been talking to Tikki - well, interrogating her, really - and I think I’ve come up with a plan! Because you’re right, Adrien shouldn’t have to use the Miraculous to become a hero, but I think he could train without the ring and then do hero work with it a little bit, and eventually he won’t need it anymore.” 

“But you would still have to wear the earrings and transform to keep the balance,” he said, letting his hand move from her chin to cup the back of her head to make her look him in the eye again. “I will not try to convince you not to do it. You have clearly given it much thought and want to do this for your friend. I only ask that you consider yourself occasionally during this.” 

“I will,” she whispered, leaning into his touch and smiling softly. She leaned into him, and he moved cautiously in her direction as well, eager to leave the difficult conversation behind and explore their own connection a little more. “Dam- um, Robin, I-” 

“Hello~o,” a voice shouted, making them jump apart wildly enough that he had to catch her hand to stop her falling off the building. He turned to glare at his brother, who was grinning wolfishly at them both, humour plain on his features and amusement sure to be dancing in his eyes if he wasn’t wearing the mask. “Nice to meet you, Ladybug! I’m Nightwing, Robin’s brother and best friend-” 

“Tt, Superboy is my best friend, and you are an annoying old man,” he grumbled,  making Ladybug giggle nervously. She stepped forward to greet the older vigilante, who shot him an aggrieved look before accepting her la bise. 

“Enchantée, Ladybug,” Nightwing said, smiling charmingly as he stepped back from her. “I see you two are still getting along well.” 

“Do not tease her,” Robin snapped, putting a hand on her elbow when she squeaked in embarrassment. “I thought the point of Red Hood not attending was because you were concerned he would be overbearing, and yet-” 

“I’m fine, D- Robin,” she said, blushing still but slowly returning to her proper colour. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Monsieur Nightwing. Robin speaks highly of you.” 

“I did, though I shall be rectifying by explaining his shortcomings in future,” he huffed, smirking when Nightwing gave a dramatic gasp and Ladybug laughed properly. “Regardless, we should prepare for Wonder Woman and Chat Noir to join us shortly, so…” 

When the others did arrive, Robin felt like he was ready to throw Nightwing off the edge of the building. Chat Noir, thankfully, seemed to like the older vigilante well enough, and was happy to accept the offer of training while the other three spoke. The pair took off to a more discrete rooftop, and Robin turned to Wonder Woman fully to talk about Marinette’s plans for her future as a hero. 

“It is good to see you again, Ladybug,” she said with a kind smile. “I understand from speaking with Robin that you have come to a decision regarding the Miraculous.” 

“I have, though it has changed since you likely talked with him,” Ladybug said slowly, smiling nervously as she glanced at Robin. “Um, I think I’ll keep hold of them for now, if that’s still okay with you?” 

“That is more than okay,” Wonder Woman replied stoically, her hands clasping together patiently. She didn’t say anything else, waiting for Ladybug to offer more information, which she did after a moment or so. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll keep them, but I think it will be long enough for Adrien to get trained enough to not die when he goes out as a hero,” she said, smiling to lighten the harshness of her words. Wonder Woman nodded patiently, looking pleased with her decision, though Robin doubted Ladybug could see it. “And- Tikki explained that if Chat Noir is out and about, Ladybug has to as well, but I want to change the name and I only want to be a supporting role in those cases. And…” 

She paused, and took a deep breath before forging onwards. “I have some conditions, if you want me to come to Themyscira to train,” she said in a small but clear voice. “The first of which is that I can’t stay for longer than a weekend at a time. I know I won’t be able to immerse myself fully, but I want to be able to do what I normally do, you know? And,” she hesitated, eyes cutting to Robin before moving back to Wonder Woman, “I know you don’t allow males on the island, so…” 

“Of course, I understand,” Wonder Woman conceded, a small, indulgent smile on her face. “And in addition to that?” 

“If I’m ever…if I can’t keep the earrings, I want to be able to give them back whenever, without questions,” she said, biting her lip. “But…if I change my mind…” 

“You are attuned with the Miraculous, possibly the most compatible person I have ever met. I very much doubt I could keep them from you if that is what you wanted,” said Wonder Woman kindly, clapping a hand onto Ladybug’s shoulder and smiling at Robin. “I have no qualms with these conditions, and we can arrange transport from Themyscira to almost anywhere on the planet, so you do not ever need to go back to the place you first travelled from.” 

_ _ _ 

The training session between Chat Noir and Nightwing seemed to go well, and Wonder Woman had checked on them before vanishing. Likely, she had gone to Themyscira to prepare training and a room for Ladybug in the future. Robin knew that Ladybug wasn’t adept at reading the Amazonian’s face but he was and could see how delighted she was that she had decided to proceed. If it hadn’t been so clearly at odds with what Marinette wanted, he likely would have been pleased as well, but he was willing to give it a shot if it was what she wanted. 

“The training schedule won’t be too severe, just enough to keep up with Ladybug when she goes to Themyscira,” Nightwing was saying as they got ready to say goodbye to the Parisian duo. “But we’ll do our best to get you up to standard as soon as possible. Have you given much thought to changing your name or suit?” 

“Not yet, but I think if I’m not using the black cat, I’ll probably go for something less animal themed,” Chat grinned, beaming at Ladybug before readying his staff. “Now, I need to get home before I’m missed. Bugaboo, I’ll call you later? We can start designing.” 

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m talking to Damian when I get home,” she explained in a low voice, glancing around furtively as if worried someone would overhear. What she didn’t do was look at Robin, which he appreciated if only because he had been serious about keeping his identity secret from Chat Noir for now. His family should get to have some say as to whether someone else found out who they were, even if it was an accident the first time. 

“Sure thing, M’Lady,” he chirped, saluting before jumping away towards his home. Which just left one more annoyance to get rid of. 

“Well, I’m famished-” Nightwing began, stretching lightly and glancing at Ladybug with faux innocence. But Robin wasn’t going to let him barge into the limited time they had. 

“You really should hasten home so you can eat with the others then,” he grit out, motioning for Ladybug to follow him and away from his annoying older brother. When Nightwing began to follow as well, he turned back and snarled at him openly. “Go. Home. This is none of your business and I would like time to speak with Ladybug without an audience.” 

“Yeesh, I just thought it would be nice to get to know her,” he snarked, though the fond grin on his face helped to calm Robin’s anger slightly. “Next time, Ladybug?” 

“Maybe,” she said, eyes flickering to Robin before she smiled sweetly and started moving towards the other side of the rooftop. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Monsieur Nightwing!” 

Practically dragging her away before anyone could try and prolong the conversation, they made the short trip back to the bakery. When they dropped through her skylight, she muttered a short phrase and scooted aside so he could make himself comfortable alongside her. Silence spread between them and he wasn’t sure how to break it. So instead, he allowed himself to relax in her presence, gazing at her steadily as she appeared slightly lost in thought. But eventually, he decided he needed to know what she was thinking, and he moved closer to her to gain her attention. 

“So you will be staying in Paris, for the most part?” Robin murmured, capturing her face between his hands and allowing himself to look at her properly now that she was detransformed. Her own hands moved tentatively to his mask and gently removed it. He hadn’t realised that she must be practiced at removing the adhesive, but she was careful and it hurt no more than it ever did. “Can I convince you to make stops in Gotham, on occasion?” 

“I think it would be rude of me not to,” she whispered, tossing the mask aside before grabbing his cape and pulling him close. “Damian, I really, really like you.”