#lightkeykid writes

Settled into the armchair by the window, Eloise kept a wary eye on the gate. She did not want to miss them.

“You are here quite early for tea, Eloise.” Daphne strolled in with her two eldest children in tow. “Usually Hyacinth has to bellow for you to “make haste.” Her elder sister gave her a sly smile as she settled on the sofa. Ambrose and Belinda found some sort of entertainment on the other side of the drawing-room.

Eloise made a face. Of course, she would remember something she did at seventeen years old. “You, dear sister, were about to be late for your own presentation. Hyacinth only has to shout if I am in the middle of writing something. They are completely different subjects.”

Daphne laughed. “So you say.”

“Oh good, you brought the older children today.” Eloise did a little clap of excitement.

Her sister furrowed her brow. “Yes, Caroline and Davina had an art lesson this afternoon. Why is it good?”

She leaned close. “The townhome next door was rented out for the Season. I encountered the children as they were moving in today, and invited them to tea.” Reclining once again, Eloise peeked outside to see if anyone else was arriving.

Daphne hummed. “I wonder who they are.”

“I’ve never met them before. The children gave the last name Crane. I have yet to meet their father.”

“Whose father?” Violet asked as two footmen trailed her with a cart full of pastries.

“Mama, does the name Crane ring a bell? I feel like I know someone with the surname, but I cannot place it,” Daphne pondered.

Violet shook her head. “No, dearest. I cannot either.”

Hyacinth bounded into the room with none of the delicacies of a proper debutante. “Are we discussing the new neighbors? Eloise should know all about them.” She smirked. “She’s the one who met the children today.”

“How did you-”

“I was in your room.”

“Mama!”

“Hyacinth,” her mother warned.

She shrugged. “Eloise has the best view of the street. If anyone wants to learn anything, it’s the best place to start.”

“Stay out of my room,” Eloise hissed. Hyacinth stuck her tongue out at her. Violet glared at them both.

Wickham arrived at the door. “A Sir Phillip Crane has arrived for Miss Bridgerton.” He gestured to the Crane family.

“Sir Phillip?” Daphne murmured as they all stood to greet the Cranes.

“I did not know either,” Eloise mumbled in return.

“Sir Phillip, what a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to our home,” Violet warmly said. Ever the gracious hostess, she did not miss a beat. “Thank you for accepting Eloise’s invitation. I am the Dowager Lady Bridgerton, but you may call me Violet.” She held out a welcoming hand.

“It is a pleasure, Lady Bridgerton.” He bowed over her hand. “May I introduce my children?”

Eloise would have glanced behind him to find the twins. However, she could not move past him. Meeting in person confirmed that her initial observation was true. He was large, and it suited him. Sir Phillip. A strong and sturdy name meant for someone such as him.

“Miss Eloise!” Amanda’s voice pulled her out of her reverie. “Are you glad we came?” The adoration in the little girl before her humbled Eloise more than she expected.

“I am,” she softly said. “Let me introduce you both to my niece and nephew.” She held her hands out. It surprised her how well their hands fit in her own.

~~

So these were the Bridgertons, Phillip thought. He felt awkward in a room full of such beautiful people. Lady Bridgerton made the introductions as Eloise took his children away. Besides herself and Eloise, the other two ladies were her daughters as well. “This is Hyacinth, my youngest, and my eldest daughter, Daphne, the Duchess of Hastings.”

“Your Grace.” He bowed once more. He may be rusty, but from what little he knew, a Duchess deserved at least that.

“Oh, we do not stand for such formality in the Bridgerton household. Please call me Daphne.” She steered him toward a long sofa. “We may still have stragglers. Let us chat.”

Phillip held back a gulp. “Are more guests expected?” Should they have postponed it for another day? “If so-”

“Oh no, Sir Phillip. My mother has an open door policy. With eight children, she stopped counting guests for tea ages ago.”

“Eight?”

Daphne laughed. “Is it possible that we have met the one person in all of London that does not know our reputations?”

Violet gave a sharp glance to her daughter. “We do not have a reputation.”

“Yes, we do, Mama. According to Lady Whistledown, you have four handsome sons and four beautiful daughters. All neatly and alphabetically organized,” Eloise returned to the conversation. She made her way toward the armchair she had before when Daphne tugged her into the remaining space on the sofa. Right in between the duchess and himself.

Alphabetically named children? “How delightful.”

The youngest daughter, Hyacinth, snickered. “Not according to Lady Whistledown. She said it was banal.”

With that comment, all of the Bridgerton ladies launched into a lively conversation. All Phillip could do was watch. He had vaguely heard of this Lady Whistledown, but he did not care much for the musings of a gossip columnist. No, he was far more interested in the young lady seated next to him.

Miss Eloise Bridgerton shared the same coloring as her sisters and mother, but on her everything seemed more. A rich brown hue in her hair, deep blue eyes, and a flush in her cheeks that matched her spirit. From everything he observed, Eloise Bridgerton was far beyond his league. All he sought was a quiet mother for his children. Someone who would not mind him spending more time with plants than the local society. Someone who did not resent him for surviving while his brother did not.

Daphne handed him a cup of tea. “Any sugar or cream?”

“No thank you.” He took a sip. It was a nice blend, and one he had not encountered before.

Hyacinth passed him a plate of pastries. “Get your share in before Colin returns. He is the reason we have two carts,” she said with a grin. “Where is your estate?”

“Hyacinth!” Both her sisters hissed.

It was a neatly tucked question. He rather admired the girl for it. “We reside at Romney Hall in Gloucestershire year-round. This will actually be my first Season in town.” And hopefully last, he prayed.

“Do you have any family in town?” Violet kindly asked.

He shook his head. “Not of my own, unfortunately. My late wife’s cousins do live near here.”

“We may know them. Who are they?”

Before he could answer, two more visitors arrived. One had the first familiar face here in London. He stood quickly to greet her. “Miss Featherington.”

Penelope Featherington had been wrapped in conversation with the gentleman beside her. If he guessed correctly, this was a Bridgerton brother. Lady Whistledown was correct, he admitted. The man was quite handsome.

At the sound of her name, she turned to Phillip and gasped. “Sir Phillip!”

“I am pleased to see you still recognize me after all these years,” he said politely. It was a very slight relation, but it was the only available in the city. It was pure luck that he encountered her in Lady Bridgerton’s drawing-room.

~~

Eloise glanced between him and Penelope, as did every other Bridgerton. How did Penelope know their new neighbor?

Daphne was the first to recover from her confusion. Recognition dawned on her face. “Sir Phillip Crane was married to Miss Thompson,” she whispered, clutching Eloise’s hand.

“Miss Thompson?” Eloise parroted. All the pieces clicked together. “That Miss Thompson?” She covertly gestured to Colin. It had been years since anyone mentioned that fiasco of 1813.

Her sister wore her worry on her face. Eloise watched her brother instead. Obviously, Sir Phillip had no idea who he was in regards to his late wife.

Penelope nervously smiled. “It has been some time since our last meeting. My condolences on Marina,” her voice cracked as she spoke her name aloud.

Violet’s eyes widened at the name while Hyacinth nearly fell out of her precarious seat. Colin showed no particular emotion at all.

To her surprise, Eloise saw Sir Phillip grimace. It was slight, but she was sure it was there. “Thank you, Miss Featherington. Might I introduce you to my children?”

As he went to retrieve Oliver and Amanda, she spied another odd happening. Colin whispered something into Penelope’s ear. Eloise narrowed her eyes. What was going on here today? Penelope spoke quietly to him, and he nodded.

“Colin!” Eloise called out to him. “Have a seat next to me.” Daphne took the hint and moved to a seat closer to Mama.

He complied, swiping two pastries on his way over. Even in this awkward situation, Colin had to think of his stomach.

“I’m sorry.”

Colin coughed at her words. He recovered quickly enough to ask, “Why? It’s not as if you brought him here. Why is he at tea anyway?” Her brother, to his credit, did not grumble or sound put out. He had near a decade to get over Marina Thompson and her actions. From the little Penelope had told her of that summer, Marina did what she thought she needed to do.

“I invited them here,” she admitted. Eloise guiltily looked over to where Sir Phillip stood with the twins and Penelope. Amanda looked like a doll with her sun-kissed curls, and Oliver had a mischievous smile on his face. Some of her guilt melted away when she thought back to the solemn look on his face earlier. No, no matter the awkward situation, she was glad to see that the children had enjoyed themselves.

“Lady Bridgerton, I believe we have spent enough of your time,” Sir Phillip spoke. The twins’ angelic faces turned mutinous at his words.

“Nonsense, you are welcome here,” Violet warmly said.

“Nevertheless, we must take our leave.” He reached to take Amanda’s hand when she backed away.

“No! Can we please stay with Miss Eloise?” She rushed over to sit next to Eloise.

Oliver was not far behind his sister. “Miss Eloise wants us here.”

All eyes turned to look at her. Oh dear, what a situation. Sir Phillip pleaded with the exhausted look on his face. “Amanda, Oliver…” She sighed. “You have traveled a long way. It is a time to relax. Even Ambrose is tired.”

Daphne shot a glance at her son that had him yawning within seconds. It was pleasant to see her sister had not lost her maternal touch.

She took both of their hands. “I enjoyed seeing you both again.”

“You are welcome to come to tea any time you like, dears,” Violet added.

Penelope chimed in. “I must be going as well. Mama will be expecting me home soon.” Eloise resisted raising a brow at her friend. Portia Featherington never expected Penelope for anything. “I can escort you out, Sir Phillip.”

He nodded and held his arm out for her to take. Colin tensed beside her. What was going on with him?

“Come children.” Sir Phillip’s tone brooked no more rebellion. Reluctantly, the twins followed him. Before they fully exited, Amanda turned around and gave a small wave to Eloise. She could not help but smile back at the little girl and give her a little wave in return.

It was a few moments later that Eloise realized that all eyes were on her once again. Hyacinth’s were teasing, Daphne’s warm, and Violet’s motherly as always.

Only Colin seemed reserved. “That was an interesting encounter. Is he the latest in your line of suitors, El?”

“There is no line of suitors,” she shot back, crossing her arms. She loved Colin, but there were times she wanted to strangle him with his cravat.

“If there were, Sir Phillip would be right in front. He could barely take his eyes off Eloise,” Hyacinth added. Maybe she would get the cravat treatment as well.

“He is not my suitor! I barely know him.”

Violet patted her on the hand. “Dearest, they are simply teasing you. Do not take their words to heart.” She heaved a sigh. “Anyway, the ton is a small world. Who could have known of Sir Phillip’s connection?”

“I should have recognized him,” Daphne said.

“Why? When would you have met him?” Colin asked.

“I- um… I contacted the Army on Miss Thompson’s behalf after… everything. It was then Sir Phillip found her.”

“Was he the father of her child? Well, children?” Hyacinth could barely hold her curiosity.

“That’s enough Hyacinth,” Violet sharply said.

Daphne shook her head. “It was his older brother, Sir George. He died in the Peninsular Wars.” She looked at Eloise as she said this.

“It is their own personal matter. It does not involve us.” Violet folded her hands in her lap, signaling the end of this topic.

Her mother was wrong though. After the events of that day, it would involve the Bridgertons personally, whether they liked it or not.

And Eloise was caught in the middle, physically and possibly emotionally.

~~

Later that evening, Eloise sat at her desk and stared at the blank parchment in front of her. She was not sure of what she even wanted to say. All she knew was that she needed to say something.

Sir Phillip,

Thank you for your presence at our house…

---

As always, reply if you want to be tagged in future updates. 

First, he blamed it on his son Oliver. The last governess fled in the dead of night after his most recent escapades. Phillip would have survived if it was only the empty position. No, it was the blacklisting of Romney Hall from all of the local posting agencies. His children earned quite the reputation for themselves. If he was not their father, he might have admired it.

Phillip still heard the echoing rebuke from the last agency that declined to work with him. “Until you find a lady to rein in those children of yours, no one will work with you.” Never before had he wanted to throttle a woman in his life.

His children caused mayhem, but they were his children. Phillip Crane was not the best father in the world. He preferred his plants to people, and speaking to his children was just as difficult as adults. Still, he was all they had after Marina’s death. Even more, they were all he had left.

Even the lack of governess might not have led him here. That honor went to Amanda, his nine-year-old daughter.

One stormy February evening as he worked alone in the greenhouse, a footman came searching for him. “Miss Amanda is nowhere to be found, sir!”

The terror he felt at Marina’s passing was nothing compared to what he felt at that moment. Without a word, he bolted to the manor house. The staff was whipped into a frenzy, and Oliver, the poor child, simply wept in the foyer.

“I didn’t mean to yell at her Father. She usually yells back!” He cried.

Phillip wanted to comfort his son, but there was no time. They had looked for an hour for the girl, but when they could not find Amanda, they retrieved him.

“Amanda!” He bellowed. “Amanda!” Phillip needed to believe that she was inside. If she was not here, then she would be outside and lost in the rain. His heart constricted at the thought of his daughter in that weather.

He tore through the nursery, the library, and even made his way to his rooms when he saw the faint flicker. Had anyone thought to check Marina’s rooms? They had been closed since her death, but the adjoining door still working.

Phillip’s stomach clenched at the thought of entering the chamber. He had not been inside for close to a year. But if there was a chance Amanda was there, he would take it.

Despite his bravery, his heart almost broke at the sight he found. Amanda was curled up against the headboard, clutching a pillow in her sleep. Her tear-stained cheeks were red and blotchy. He rushed to her side and gently woke her up.

“Mama?” The hoarse croak jolted Phillip. Amanda had not called for her mother in years. “Where’s Mama?”

He could not answer her then, but he was determined to have her answer soon. The events of that evening caused him to take the most drastic of measures: looking for a wife in London during the social season.

To make it worse, with the Cranes’ reputation in Gloucestershire, Amanda and Oliver arrived in London with him. He luckily convinced their temporary nurse to travel with them, though it took a hefty bribe. The girl was terrified of what might happen to her in the city. He opted for a townhouse on Bruton Street. His wife’s cousins, the Featheringtons, lived nearby. If needed, he might call upon Lady Featherington for introductions.

True, it had been close to a decade since he had last seen them. Would they even help him?

Phillip did not have a long list of requirements. He was not looking for a Diamond nor did he want one. He did not need a massive dowry. He was not a catch by debutante standards either. Romney Hall was nothing to sneeze at, for sure, but it was no castle. Sir Phillip was only a baronet and a botanist to boot. With the twins in tow, he had his work cut out for the season.

And so, he rode outside of the traveling carriage to arrive at their townhome. Phillip could hear the arguments bubbling inside the vehicle and prayed for patience. All he needed was to find a nice girl who would enjoy a quiet country life. Someone to be a calming influence for the twins. Someone who would be on his side.

After his first marriage, he deserved that much, did he not?

~~

Eloise Bridgerton peered out of her bedroom window at Number Five to see what the ruckus was all about. Naturally, she had the best view of the street. A traveling coach pulled up to the house next door, and a vaguely familiar man rode astride. He stopped and jumped off the horse.

All she could see was that he was large. Not as tall as Benedict, truthfully; no one was. Still, the man fit his coat well, even though it seemed a few years out of date. Eloise leaned closer to see if there was anything else she could glean. It was while she shamelessly studied the man that he looked up at her.

She jumped back from the window, hoping he did not think her a lunatic. The glimpse of his face struck a memory, but she could not name him. Maybe Mama would know. She hastily pinned up her hair and made her way downstairs.

“Mama!” She called out into the hallway. If not her mother, then at least Hyacinth should be around. Her younger sister was just as nosy as she. She stepped out to see if anyone was around their courtyard. A sharp whine caught her attention.

“Oliver, give it back!” A young girl’s voice could be heard.

“No, you had it the entire ride. It’s my turn!”

“Children,” an exasperated voice pleaded. Eloise figured it was a nurse or a governess. “Let us go inside without incident.”

“But Mary, he doesn’t even want it!” The child stamped her foot. “He’s just being a horrid beast.”

She knew she shouldn’t be spying on the new neighbors. Mama would be appalled to find her eavesdropping. Still, there was something about these children that drew Eloise closer.

A glance from their gate revealed that the gentleman was nowhere to be seen near the squabbling children. Where was their mother? Their disagreement grew louder. Well, then, Eloise thought. She had not learned at the feet of Violet Bridgerton to stand by in this situation.

“Hello!” Three wide pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. The younger children, a boy and a girl, looked as if they were twins. “Are you moving into the house next door?”

“Yes ma’am, we are.” Eloise was right. The girl was most likely was a nurse. A governess would have more restraint. Although considering what she heard and saw, Mary was at her wit’s end.

“My name is-”

A shout interrupted her. “Oliver! Amanda! Where are you?” The voice sounded as if it came from the courtyard next door.

From Mary’s reaction, it must have been the gentleman. “Is that your father?” Eloise asked.

The younger girl, Amanda, nodded. “He’s here to find a wife.”

Eloise stifled a giggle as the nurse hurried to stifle Amanda. “Come children. Your father is looking for us.” Mary tried to guide the children inside, but they were obstinate.

Oliver held his ground firmly. “Father knows where we are. He was riding beside the coach the entire time. It is not as if he could lose us.”

Eloise intervened before poor Mary needed to wrestle the boy into the townhome. She crouched lower to meet Oliver’s eyes. “If you two listen to Mary here, then once you are settled in, you are welcome to tea at our house. Even your father is invited if he wants to come. Simply come over and tell Wickham that Miss Eloise invited you. That is me. Eloise Bridgerton.” She held her hand out for an introduction.

Oliver solemnly shook her proffered hand. “I am Oliver Crane. This is my sister, Amanda.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Oliver. We Bridgertons have tea at half-past three. I hope to see you both soon.” And Eloise, who had her fill of nieces and nephews, spoke the truth. A fact that even she was surprised by, and with a promise of tea, the Crane children left for their own house.

~~

“What took you so long?” Phillip sternly greeted them as they entered the house.

Amanda looked up at his face and smiled shyly. “We were talking to Miss Bridgerton. She invited us over for tea.”

Bridgerton… Why did that name sound so familiar?

He sighed. “Amanda, we cannot accept invitations from people we don’t know.”

“But we met Miss Bridgerton. She lives next door, and she invited us over to tea,” Amanda insisted. “Right, Mary?”

Phillip raised a brow at their nurse, who nodded reluctantly. “What prompted this invitation?”

Mary struggled with the words, but Oliver did not. “She expects us to be there at half three. Miss Eloise even said you could come.” He took Amanda’s hand and tugged her forward. “We have to get ready.”

He held back a smile at Oliver’s insistence. He gestured to a footman to lead the children to their room. “A word, if you may, Mary? Tell me what happened in the five minutes I was apart from the children. I cannot have them antagonizing the neighbors so soon.”

The nurse looked heavenward. She had not been long in this position, else she would have known that prayers did not work on the Crane family.

“Sir Phillip, nothing untoward happened. The children were uncomfortable after the trip, and they squabbled. The young lady introduced herself, and the children, well…” She trailed off.

“Well?”

Mary smiled for the first time since they left Gloucestershire. “They liked her.” With that said, she excused herself to see to the twins.

Phillip stood there in the foyer of 6 Bruton Street wondering what he had missed in those five minutes. Who was this Eloise Bridgerton? Why was she interested in his children? He thought back to the moment of his arrival. Was she the pretty woman in the window?

Pretty lady, he corrected himself. They were still in fashionable Mayfair.

“Perhaps tea would be a good start to our time in London,” he mused to no one at all.

~~

Marinette shushed her. "Not so loud!" She took her own look to make sure no one, especially not Adrien, heard her. If she lingered a little longer than necessary, Alya thankfully did not comment.

"Marinette, you've had a few too many late nights. Adrien is not magical to anyone except you." Alya raised a knowing brow. "Is this an excuse to avoid talking to him?"

"No! I talk to him all the time." Marinette maintained eye contact with her best friend. Her tiny crush on Adrien had nothing to do with her suspicions. If anything, the only thing holding her back was her certainty of his elfin origins.

She made the connection three weeks prior, at the start of the Christmas season for Agreste Fine Goods. One of the largest department stores in the city, Agreste Fine Goods catered to every need of the Parisian family. From couture to off the rack, from interior design to furniture kits, the store had it all.

"It all" included the opportunity to intern directly under Gabriel Agreste. Out of the entire city, Marinette was chosen to be the fall intern. Unlike past interns, Gabriel chose her himself. As part of her course, he guided her through everything from designing to marketing to in-store operations. Personally.

She did not mind the extra scrutiny. Gabriel built the business from a tailor's shop to its current state. Any knowledge she could glean from him was worth it. Even if her internship coincided with the dreaded retail season of Christmas.

Gabriel, the Mentor, was tough, but when it came to Gabriel, the store owner, and the Christmas season, he took no chances for disaster. It was the most profitable time of year. Thus he took on dozens of new employees in preparation. Adrien was one of the seasonal hires. He arrived at the store with a cheerful attitude on November 1st.

(Marinette should have started suspecting then; what retail worker was cheerful during the Christmas season?)

"Magical things happen when he's around!"

Alya snorted. "Fine. If you can bring proof that he's a "Christmas elf", then I will believe you. But!" She held up a finger. "If you can't, because he's a human being, you have to ask him to our New Year's Eve party! Either way, I win."

--

Observation Report 1

Date: December 20

Subject: Adrien

Setting: Santa's Workshop

21:00 - Subject observed tinkering with the decorations in Santa's Workshop. I put up those decorations. What did he feel like needed to be fixed? Could those sparks be coming from his fingers?

Note – Upon his exit from the workshop, collided with the subject. The subject smelled of peppermint and marshmallows.

Observation Report 2

Date: December 22

Subject: Adrien and Staff

Setting: Break Area

12:00 - Subject brought copious amounts of hot chocolate to the common area for staff only. Two hours later, the normally hectic, frantic, and grumpy restockers wore grins of joy. The cashiers did not shed one tear that morning. A peek into the customer service room indicated that there was some magic afoot. Upon entering, they wished Gabriel and me a "Merry Christmas". (The last time we ventured to Customer Service, even Gabriel hesitated to cross the threshold into their lair)

Note – he brought me a personalized mug of the chocolate, and there was no aftertaste of any added ingredients. Thus, it must have been magical to calm the staff in their mania.

Observation Report 3

Date: December 23

Subject: Adrien

Setting: Loading Dock

22:00 – Subject found with a large sack of packages in the trunk of his car (a rental). The packages did not have the AFG logo on the wrapping, and thus not packages from the store. When Subject was approached, he had a bashful grin. The packages were going to a local homeless shelter.

Quote: "A benefactor asked me to drop these off to make sure the children have presents to wake up to on Christmas morning. Every kid deserves to have a present to unwrap. Please don't tell anyone you saw me with these gifts." Sidenote: The look in his eyes was heart-melting; how could I not listen to him? Second Sidenote: His ears were looking pointier than normal. Could it be a side effect of Christmastime?

22:45 – After helping Subject stuff the gifts in the car, I returned home to find a similarly packed gift in my purse. Upon inspection, it was far more delicate than the other gifts in his car and had a note attached to it.

[Attached Note Contents]

Marinette,

For all of the cherished memories you’ve helped make since we met. You were the best part of my Christmas, by far.

Love, Adrien

--

She reached the logical conclusion the next night in her makeshift office.

Adrien was definitely an Elf.

Marinette wanted more than anything to inform Alya of her observations. After all, she was right, was she not? Telling Alya was the whole point of the investigation. Still, there was something that held her back.

After all, if Adrien was an elf, then it followed that Santa was also real. Santa Claus, the same jolly fellow that sorted the people of the world into two distinct lists. And if she outed one of Santa's actual elves, then there was no doubt which Marinette would be on for the rest of her life.

Her eye caught the package he had given her the night before. Inside had been a lovely pair of jet earrings. More importantly, she thought as she ran her hand over the note, what would he think of her?

Well, that only left one option didn't it?

--

To tell the truth, he hadn't expected anyone to follow him out of the store on Christmas Eve. At this point in life, Adrien knew better than to lose track of his surroundings. Even in the safety of such a nice neighborhood, anything could happen. Though he could admit, if he had to choose someone to accost him in the street, it would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

A surprisingly strong arm looped through his elbow and pulled him close. "I've been waiting for you!" Marinette gasped.

He looked down into her wide eyes. "Why?”

She furtively glanced around. The back alley of Agreste Fine Goods was not the best place for a conversation. "We need to talk. We can go to my parent's bakery." She tugged him toward Rue Gotlib. "They're closed for Christmas Eve, and we'll have privacy there."

Adrien would have lingered longer on the privacy if the thought of delicious pastries had not intruded. In any case, his feet were following her lead.

Before he realized what was going on, she had him settled in the bakery with two steaming mugs of coffee and the end of day croissants.

“Sorry, it’s not much.” She grinned and took a sip.

On a cold and snowy night like this, he was in a cozy bakery with the cutest girl from work. He thought it was perfect.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Adrien." Marinette placed her mug firmly on the countertop and sighed. "I need to confess."

He met her gaze. She seemed burdened by something. What on Earth could she need to confess? On Christmas Eve no less?

"I know your secret."

In hindsight, maybe drinking something hot was not the best choice when having such a conversation. "My what?" He choked. How could she have found out? He thought he had been so careful.

To be fair, he wasn't surprised Marinette found out. Over the last few weeks, she paid closer attention to him than any of the other seasonal workers at the store. Only… Only he hoped it was for a more affectionate reason.

"I figured out your identity. I didn't mean to, but it was so obvious. After all, when you're around everything seems more magical," she blurted out.

Magical? "I'm not sure I follow," He said slowly.

Marinette began to pace back and forth. "Alya said I was being silly, but now I know I'm not. You're so beyond my reach, especially with my internship ending and you leaving. I don't want things to change between us."

He felt his stomach hollow. "Does the truth really have to change how you treat me?"

"I don't want it to change," she repeated softly. "You're wonderful."

He grabbed her hands and stopped her pacing. Pulling her close, he gently said, "Marinette, look at me. Does knowing the truth make a difference of how you feel?" Adrien hoped more than anything that she would deny it.

"Feel?" Her breath smelled of mint chocolate.

"Knowing the truth shouldn't change how we feel about each other." He leaned closer and placed his lips on her cheek. "My feelings certainly won't change."

"This probably won't work. The geographical distance is too large." Marinette sighed.

"I won't be that far away."

She giggled. "The North Pole is pretty far Adrien."

"That is true- Wait what?!" He wrenched back.

"The North Pole. Where you live? Isn't that what we've been talking about?" She sat down on a barstool.

This girl had a way of knocking his world off-axis in more ways than one. "Not to my knowledge." His voice came out higher than he expected. "What exactly did you find out?"

To her credit, she turned redder than a tomato. She mumbled her next words, but he could swear he heard "elf" somewhere. Were his ears deceiving him?

A small spark of mischief entered his voice. "Come again?" He teased. He had a feeling they would enjoy this in future Christmases.

"That you're a Christmas elf on assignment from Santa Claus. Now I realize that might sound far fetched, but I had my reasons!" Marinette quickly said. She narrowed her eyes and held up a finger before he could speak. "And before you say a word, Mister-" The fire from her voice died down. "What is your last name anyway?"

Oh this was going to be great. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned down to her ear. "I realize that I never properly introduced myself. My name is Adrien Agreste."

Her body stiffened in his embrace. He slowly turned her around to see the dumbfounded look on her face. Adrien took the few moments of silence to study the enigma of Marinette. He saw the gears working behind those expressive eyes of hers. She blinked once, then twice. He braced for anger and possibly humiliation.

But Marinette never reacted how one would expect. Her mouth widened into a grin. "It's slightly disappointing, to tell you the truth." She batted her eyes at him.

He scrunched his mouth in confusion. "Disappointing?"

Marinette grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer. "Don't you think flirting with a Christmas elf would be rather exciting?" She heaved a sigh. "I guess I will have to settle for the boss's son. Although, I did hear a rumor that he was some kind of model."

If he hadn't seen the wink, he might have taken a bit of offense. Instead, he played along. "Take me out of my misery, Miss Dupain-Cheng! I adore you."

"I might adore you as well. But please explain a few things to me before we continue with all our adoration." She released him, and patted the seat next to her.

“Ask away, milady.”

She pulled out a small notebook from her bag. Flipping to the back, she began, “What were you doing in Santa’s Workshop four days ago?”

He was impressed. She had notes. Real notes. Only Marinette, he thought with a smile. “I was fixing the lights on the chair. The photographer was complaining that the bulbs were interfering with his “art.” It made more sense to rewire the lights to not twinkle.”

“That explains the sparks…” Marinette murmured.

“What else do you have for me, Secret Agent Elf?”

“What about the hot chocolate?” She smirked.

Adrien felt his ears burn. He had heard enough about that from his father that day. “I… Um…”

“Yes?”

“I brought spiked hot cocoa to the break area. My roommate wanted to play a prank on my dad, and there was some collateral damage.” The Customer Care department in particular was hit hard. Their antics tipped Gabriel off to what happened.

“I drank the same cocoa, and nothing happened to me!”

Marinette stared him down with her big blue eyes, and he couldn’t help but tell the truth. “I made yours by hand,” he mumbled and dropped his face in his hands.

“That is so sweet.” She rubbed his shoulder. “One more thing, and then we’re done. Where did all the gifts come from?”

He groaned once more. “You really can’t tell anyone about this. Father and I use the “wages” that I earn to send those gifts to the shelter. My mother, she used to volunteer there. He does not want anyone to know we are the donors.”

“Why not?”

Adrien lifted his head and shot her a cheeky grin. “To be fair, in any other conversation, the explanation wouldn’t be nearly as funny. He made a deal with the director at the shelter. They would keep his name private, and instead, I would deliver the gifts dressed as an elf in lieu of Santa Claus.”

She snorted, which led to her bursting into laughter. Even her laugh was enchanting. Before long, he joined in, thinking of the silliness of it all.

When they had a chance to relieve all their tension, Adrien wore his jacket and scarf once more. “I should probably head out. Your parents probably want to see you at some point this evening.”

“If you must,” she wistfully said, walking him to the door.

“Hey.” He lifted her chin and leaned close. “Since I will be closer than the North Pole, would you like to go on a date? A real one? A date nowhere near Agreste Fine Goods?”

“Of course I would. I still need to ask you to Alya’s New Year’s Eve party.” She tilted her head higher.

---

One week later, Marinette found herself in an empty office across the road from the Vanily Building. A projector displayed a 3D model of the building on the wall. She had a clear line of sight to most of the floors. Luckily, the Vanily’s preferred a clear glass design. Very modern and helpful.

She had her plans ready, her binoculars out, and her ear piece in. All she could hope now is that the others cooperated.

"Is everyone set?" She spoke into the comm. Peering through the binoculars, she found figures blending into the dark roof.

"What are these earbuds? They are 90s tech at best. I've got something way better, dude." Ah, Nino Lahiffe. Famous in the criminal world for hacking the Bank of Iceland at the age of 16, he was a young computer prodigy. "I've got something better." He handed Chloé a new comm.

"No surprises, Nino," she said sternly into the comm.

"Don't worry, I'm Captain Discipline," he scoffed. She held her tongue. From what Marinette knew, he was undisciplined, but skilled. Whatever he did to their comms, they sounded cleaner than before.

-

(6 Years earlier, New York City)

The hotel manager and his head of security rushed down the hallway.

“Are you sure that it’s him in there?” The manager yelled over the din in the honeymoon suite.

“That’s what it said on the credit card for check in!” The security guard sputtered.

The manager turned ruddy with anger. “Just get the door open.”

The guard fumbled with his badge and swiped it against the entry. The manager forcefully opened the door to find a single young man with a turntable and a bunch of amplifiers.

Nino took off his headphones and grinned sheepishly. “Sup dudes?” He greeted them with a peace sign.

Instead of directing his ire at the erstwhile DJ, he glared at his subordinate. “Does that look like David Guetta to you?”

“To be fair, I do not know what he looks like…”

“Not like that!” The manager shouted, pointing. He turned to find that the youth was gone. leaving behind the amplifiers and the two baffled men.

--

"You're not as useless as you look," a high-pitched voice taunted. Chloé Bourgeois and her signature blond ponytail came into focus.

"I don't even know what you do," Nino shot back at her.

Marinette intervened."Don't snipe at each other."

"You don't have to babysit us, Dupain-Cheng," Chloé sneered. Marinette rolled her eyes. Out of everyone Agreste could have chosen as a hitter, he chose Paris's fallen rich girl. It wasn't her reputation that put a bitter taste in her mouth, but rather Chloé's personality as a whole. She and Chloé had been classmates in their younger years, and there was no love lost between them. When Chloé’s father lost his business and reelection in the same year, she vanished from the social scene. The same society that adored the mayor’s daughter shunned her in her time of need. Not until she joined IYS did she find Chloé again. It gave her joy to thwart her old nemesis’ plans; getting paid was a cherry on top.

Still, Marinette accepted that there was no better choice. Chloé was scarily effective.

--

(8 Years earlier, Prague)

The pub was crowded and filled with cigar smoke. Nearly every biker gang in the neighborhood gathered in the small dwelling to see this trade. Milos Doznal, the local crime boss, would finally get his hands on the treasure he had searched for all these years. Now all he had to was wait for the seller.

The door to the pub slammed open, and the crowd fell silent. In walked a woman with a long blond ponytail, dressed head to toe in leather and wore a pair of sunglasses on her head. She swung a pouch from her hands and slowly sauntered over to the large table where Milos waited for his contact. Wordlessly, she took the seat straight across from him.

Milos’s face darkened. “Madam, you are quite bold to walk into a notorious bar alone.”

The woman placed the pouch on the table. “Oh good, I was worried I walked into the wrong seedy establishment. I would hate to waste my precious time.” She pushed the pouch toward Milos. “I believe this is for you.”

He opened it to find what he searched for inside. The sealed Joe DiMaggio mint condition trading card. This beautiful woman was his seller? He almost regretted what he had to do next.

“Thank you madam.”

“I take my thanks in euros,” she answered, leaning back against the chair.

Milos pocketed the card and snapped his fingers. The men surrounding him took out their pistols and trained them on the woman.

She sighed and stood up. “You run this side of Prague, and you’re too cheap to pay for a baseball card? How sad,” she taunted.

“It’s a cost-saving measure, my dear.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps I forgot to introduce myself. It’s not dear. I am Chloé Bourgeois.” She then removed her sunglasses and placed them on the table.

For any bystander passing around the bar, they would have smartly ignored the hail of gunfire and grunts inside. Everyone not involved with the business deal escaped out the back door hoping to live another day.

As the chaos calmed down inside, Chloé picked up her sunglasses and placed them on her head once more. She took out a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and wiped the blood off her hands. Not her own of course.

“Mr. Doznal, my payment please.”

Shocked, Milos gave her an envelope full of cash with a trembling hand. She snatched it out of his hands and stepped over the barely conscious bodies to exit the bar. Enough of the night was left to be salvageable.

--

"Can I have one?" A third voice entered the conversation. She saw a figure handspring into view. Alya had arrived with her usual flair.

Marinette could practically hear the blush in Nino’s voice. "You can have the whole box."

"What's gonna happen when she founds out that you live with your mom?" Chloé stage whispered.

"It's the Age of the Geek. We run the world, bro."

"Whatever." Chloé seemed to turn away.

A soft humming entered the comms as the newcomer to the group readied her equipment. Marinette focused her binoculars to get a closer look.She was dressed in all black and her hair was bound in a cap. Typical. A thief couldn’t afford to have her locks all over the place; Alya least of all. One misplaced red hair would clap her in handcuffs.

Alya was a mystery to most, but not to Marinette. She did not make sense in a legal world. For Alya, life was black and white. Stealing was to survive, and stealing was all she knew anymore. Money, art, antiquities, anything was fair game for Alya to steal.

-

(20 Years earlier, Martinique)

Slap.

Alya felt the blow despite its actual target. She looked down at her feet, and above all, tried to avoid looking her foster father in the eye. His wife was huddled in the corner, clutching her red cheek.

He stood in front of her, shaking the fox stuffed animal. “You thought you could take your little toy back without me knowing?” He shouted.

The little girl stood her ground despite her fear. Holding her tongue, she silently rose her gaze and met his fierce look.

“Claude, please. It’s just a toy!” Her foster mother begged.

He pushed her away once more. “No! She needs to learn her lesson.” He dangled the fox above Alya now. “You get Foxy back when I say you can. So be a good girl. Or,” he paused and leered at Alya. “A better thief.”

A few hours later, with Trixx the fox in her arms, Alya walked out of that last foster home. The only memento she left with that couple was a lit cigarette on top of a stack of old newspapers. It was not her fault that Claude smoked irresponsibly. She hugged Trixx and walked away from the burning house. Only the future was ahead of her now.

—

Marinette spoke into her comm and addressed the now complete group. “Now that you’re all here, let’s get started. The next guard rotation will start in 30 minutes. That’s enough for Alya to enter the renovation floor and unlock the service elevator. That will take Nino and Chloé down to the floor below you where the servers are housed.” She glanced back at her plans on the table. “With everything running smoothly, we should get them down to the servers in less than 5 minutes.”

Alya hummed a yes and tightened her rig. She took a step back to prepare for her descent.

Marinette glanced at the roof.“Now on my count. Three, two-”

“YEE-HAW!” Alya swan dove off the roof. All Chloé and Nino could do was watch as she floated down to the target floor.

“That’s 30 kilos of crazy in a 5 kilo bag,” Nino laughed. Chloé rolled her eyes and stepped back.

“I’m here.” Alya’s voice breathed into the comms. “It looks like there is a vibration sensor on the window.”

“Okay, no cutting, Alya. Use the binary laser.”

Less vibration that way, Marinette thought, and less chances of getting caught. She barely trusted these guys to get the job done at all, let alone finishing on Plan A.

A dropped glass pane later, Alya slunk smoothly into the room through the opening. She crouched low to the ground to stay out of the shot of any stray security cameras. No need to alert anybody in the guard room. What was the fun in that? The electrical room was right down the hall, and she could pick that lock in six seconds flat. Once she entered the room, she turned and locked the door.

“In,” she said out loud.

Marinette chuckled. “3 minutes Alya. Are you losing your touch?”

Alya bristled. “Not at all.” She plugged in the monitor to the security camera feed in the room. It looped the footage for the server hallway. Her connection also sent the visuals to Marinette. “They won’t see a thing. Getting the other two down.” She sent the elevator to the top to collect the other members.

Chloé grabbed their gear. “Copy. Let’s go, nerd.” She pushed Nino into the open elevator and punched the down button. Half a minute later, they arrived to their destination. At the end of the hallway was the server room and their prize. Nino rushed over and attached a device to the electronic lock.

“Three 16-digit passcodes? I salute you, sir,” he gushed.

Chloé huffed. “Can you hurry it up?” He waved her impatience away. Hacking was an art, and this was Nino’s studio. He typed the commands into the keyboard, and the device began cracking the codes. He shot a cheeky grin at Chloé, who leaned against the wall. In return, she gave him a rude gesture.

Back in the other building, Marinette studied the guard room camera. “There are 12 guards on the duty roster, and only 8 in the room,” she said to Alya. “Do you see that?”

Alya glanced at the security footage again. “I can’t even tell who’s in there, and you know how many are there?” she said incredulously.

“Count the haircuts, Alya.”

“I would have missed that,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing!” She flipped through the different feeds and cursed. There were three guards headed straight for Nino and Chloé. “They started their walk through early. What the f-”

Marinette looked at the screens on the feed. “They’re doing their rounds early to watch the England v. France football game.”

Alya gauged their distance. “They’ll be at the servers in less than a minute.”

Nino’s voice broke through. “Hey, what’s happening?”

Both Alya and Chloé began talking over each other, but Marinette blocked all three of them out for a moment. She closed her eyes and thought about their dilemma. One moment of clarity was all she needed.

“Okay, Alya. This is what I need you to do. Send a bug into their comm frequencies and isolate the guards on duty. Don’t give them any backup. Chloé,” she said firmly.

“Yeah?”

“Use Nino as bait.”

Nino sputtered in confusion. “Use me as what?” He looked at Chloé. She wore a feral grin and waved goodbye as she walked away. Nino returned his attention to the lock. “Come on dude, work with me.” He heard the footsteps coming down the hallway. A quick scan showed Chloé had abandoned him. “Forget this!” He grunted and grabbed the bag.

“Hey! Put your hands up in the air.” Nino found four men aiming their guns straight at his face. He raised the bag with his hands.

The guard in front grunted. “Drop the bag.”

Nino complied and relaxed his hand. As his grip released the bag, he found Chloé and her feral grin behind the guards. In the time it took for the bag to fall, the woman had disarmed all four of the guards as well as knocking them out. Nino stood dumbfounded.

As she stood up, she met his eye and smirked. “That’s what I do.”

Before Nino could comment any further, the door to the server room unlocked. “We have access,” he told Marinette and Alya.

“Okay, hurry and get the designs. We don’t have any time to waste.” Marinette let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. So far, so good. Only minor complications. All they needed was to get out of there now.

Nino found the files and deleted them off the Vanily servers. “I even left them a few nasty bugs to deal with tomorrow.”

“Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed their gear from Nino and walked toward the elevator.

“Bad news guys,” Alya groaned. “Those security guards reset the elevator locks when they found it open.”

Chloé growled. “What does that mean?”

“We can’t go up.”

She would not stomp her foot and whine. She was not that little rich girl anymore. “Fine. Every woman for herself,” she huffed.

She felt a tug on her bag. She turned and found Nino’s fuming face.“Hey, I’m the one with the merchandise.”

“I’m the one with an exit!” Alya chimed in.

“And I’m the one with a plan,” Marinette ended the conversation. “I know you three don’t work well with others, but if you stick with me for five more minutes, I will get you out.”

“I don’t trust these guys Marinette,” Alya said first.

Marinette paused a second, and then asked, “Do you trust me?”

A beat later, Chloé answered. “Of course. You’re the good guy here.”

“Then let me do my job. Alya, get down to their elevator. We’re moving to the Star Scam.” All three grunted into the comms and made their way to the elevator. Alya came through the top hatch and landed between Nino and Chloé who were changing.

“Onto Plan B then?” Alya asked.

Marinette smirked at the thought. “More like Plan H.”

“So many plans do you have? Is there a Plan M?” Nino wondered while he buttoned up his shirt.

“Yeah. Nino dies in Plan M,” she quipped as she gathered her papers. Time to wrap this up.

“I like Plan M.” Chloé grunted as she pulled up her stockings. Her favorite sunglasses were perched on her nose. She tied a silk scarf around her neck, and she turned to face the other two. Alya was dressed in a slim pantsuit and wore chic glasses. Nino wore a similar suit and held a portfolio in his hands. She looked them up and down, giving them a slight nod of approval. “Good enough.”

The elevator beeped and signaled the ground floor. Alya led them out into the foyer of the building. The security guard at the desk approached them slowly, his hand reaching for the taser at his side. “There’s not supposed to be anyone in the building.”

Nino opened his mouth to speak, but Alya beat him to it. “We have three weeks until Fashion Week, and you think our designers care about when they should be in the building. If not for them, you wouldn’t have this job!” She scolded.

“I can’t work in conditions like this,” Chloé moaned as she leaned against Nino. She dropped her head pitifully on his shoulder.

“See what you’ve done? All she wanted was to go home to rest. What’s your name? If we lose our contracts, I’ll tell Madame Vanily who distressed her star designer.” Nino peered at the guards badge.

He pivoted away from Nino’s gaze. “I apologize, madam. Please, feel free to come and go as you please.” He gestured for them to walk out the door. Nino pulled Chloé out as she still leaned on him for support.

“You shouldn’t have interfered in the first place,” Alya continued to scold him as she followed closely behind. “You sicken me!” She threw a final parting shot as they exited into the Parisian evening. In front of them on the road, a car pulled up, and Marinette rolled down the window.

“Need a lift?”

Nino chuckled as they hurried into the sedan, and Alya claimed the front seat. Even Chloé had a wan smile on her face. As Marinette drove off into the night, she repressed the feeling of how their success felt.

They gathered under the Eiffel Tower to watch Nino send the files to the Agrestes.

Marinette rubbed her arms up and down. “Come on, what’s taking so long?”

“I’ve gotta do this on the public WiFi, but there’s a lot of crappy bandwidth. I’ll be done in three, two, one. Sent!” Nino pumped his fist in the air.

“Good, your money should be in your accounts by the evening.”

Nino put his laptop in his bag and addressed all three women. “That was actually kinda fun, wasn’t it?”

“Well, this was a one-time job. No encores,” Chloé sneered.

“I already forgot your names,” Alya added.

“And I am not a thief,” Marinette ended.

Chloé raised a brow. “Except you were tonight.”

Marinette didn’t take the bait Chloé lured in front of her. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away. She needed a stiff drink and a long nap.

---

The phone's ringing woke Marinette up. For a second, it felt like she was back in her room at the top of her parent's bakery. Instead of smelling fresh baked bread though, all she smelled was the acrid scent of smoke. She sat up quickly once she registered that this wasn't the bakery. She was in a spartan hotel room with no personality and a blaring phone.

"Hello?" She croaked into the mouthpiece.

"Mr. Agreste is highly disappointed in you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng," Nathalie's voice came through the other end.

"What?"

"We never received the designs that you said were sent."

Marinette rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "I saw them go out myself."

"Well you were fooled."

"It's not my fault. You are the one who hired career criminals to do this job."

"And we hired you to keep them in line," a foreign voice snapped back. It must be the infamous Gabriel Agreste. A chill ran down Marinette’s back at the frost in his tone. "I am freezing the payments right now." A click indicated he ended the call.

Marinette grunted. "Just wait a second. We can discuss this. Let me come to your offices."

"I'll send you the address to one of our textile warehouses in the outskirts of town. We can meet there." With a click, she hung up the phone.

Marinette dropped her head on her pillow. Today was shaping up to be a long day. Hopefully, the other three didn’t do anything rash. She wasn’t kidding when she said that they only worked alone. Three loose cannons like that were just waiting to explode at someone. Marinette did not want to get caught in the crossfire.

An hour later, she walked up to the warehouse. There were two voices loudly arguing inside. Slowly, she stepped inside and attempted to identify who it was. Peering around a corner, she found Nino and Chloé.

“What did you do?” Nino shouted and waved a gun in her face.

Chloé, to her credit, did not respond with anything but a sneer. “How could I have done anything? The designs were with you the whole time.”

Nino sputtered. “You might have done something in the elevator!” His grip on the gun was shaky. Marinette decided it was time to intervene before things got even worse.

“Hey!” She drew their attention away from each other.

Chloe much preferred her as a target anyway. “Was it you? You’re the only one who ever played both sides.”

“You’re awfully calm for someone with a gun pointed at her face.”

She shrugged. “Safety’s off.”

“No it isn’t,” Nino argued.

Marinette agreed with Chloé, “No, it is.” Nino relaxed his stance to study the gun. She took the opportunity to disarm him, and release the safety. “Now we need to figure out what happened last night.”

A sound echoed in the empty warehouse. Another safety being released. The three turned to find Alya walking toward them with a grim look on her face. “My money’s not in my account. That makes me sad, in my special angry place,” she said calmly, eying everyone around her.

Nino backed up awfully quickly for someone who was waving a gun around earlier. “Hey, none of us got paid.”

“This was supposed to be a walkaway. I wasn’t supposed to see any of you again. Least of all you, Dupain-Cheng.”

With her words, the dots connected in Marinette’s mind. All she could do in that moment was double over in laughter. “That’s true. How else would you get us all here in the same place…” she trailed off as the full picture appeared. “If only to tell us that we aren’t getting paid.”

Alarm rose on everyone’s faces as the need to escape was imminent. The sweet smell of an accelerant penetrated her thoughts. “Everybody out now!” Marinette shouted and bolted to open the garage door. The other three followed closely behind. She held the door high enough to let the others out. Alya was out first. Chloé would have been close behind her if she hadn’t stopped to grab Nino who tripped on a loose cable. She hauled him up by the collar of his shirt and supported him out. Once they were clear, Marinette followed them out. They made it to Marinette’s car safely.

“Maybe they didn’t-” Nino didn’t get to finish his sentence before the warehouse blew up.

Alya turned to him. “You were saying?”

“Come on, we need to get out of here. The cops will be here any minute.” Chloé jostled Marinette. “C’mon, Dupain-Cheng. Let’s go!”

For the second time in 24 hours, she found herself driving away with three thieves in tow. This time, however, there was no clear plan of where to go next.

--

"Welcome to the Chateau Lahiffe." Nino led the ragtag group into a large apartment. All of them were dusty from their near escape, but free of too many injuries. Marinette was acutely aware of a drip of blood down the side of her forehead. He went straight to his computer setup. She followed closely behind.

Chloé paced angrily. “I’m going to beat Agreste so badly,” she growled.

Alya leaned against a pillar. “You won’t get within 50 meters. He knows your face. He knows all of our faces.”

“I don’t care. He tried to kill us.”

“More importantly,”Alya mused, “They didn’t pay us.”

Chloé looked at her dumbfounded. “How is that more important?” She hissed. Marinette had to agree.

“I take that personally.”

“There’s something wrong with you.” She pointed at Alya.

Nino grabbed a few freshly printed papers off his desk. “Here are tickets to New York.” He handed one to Alya. “Milan.” Another to Chloé. “And London.” He tried to give it to Marinette, but she gave it back to him.

“You’re running?” She asked.

Chloé sniffed. “What else do you expect? They’re going to find out soon that we didn’t die, and then they’ll try again. I don’t want to be here for them to succeed.”

She stood quietly for a moment and then spoke, “No they’ll expect us to flee, and then Gabriel Agreste will get away with it. No, we got to hit back now while he thinks that we are gone. What exactly was in those designs we stole?” She asked Nino.

“How would I know?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “I did chase you all before. I know how you work. You would have kept a copy.”

Nino sighed and nodded. He pulled up the copy of the designs. “These are definitely Vanily designs. I found watermarks embedded deep inside the code while we were in the server room. No need to fake those.”

“Gabriel Agreste stole the designs and didn’t plan to pay for them,” Chloé said.

Alya added, “And as thieves, we can’t go to the police for breach.”

Marinette agreed. “No, but if you will work with me, one more time, we could possibly teach him and Nathalie Sancouer,” she nearly spat the name, “a lesson they will never forget.”

Chloé stepped forward first. “What’s in it for me?” she asked Marinette.

“Revenge. And if it goes right, a whole lot of money.”

Alya coughed. “And for me?”

Marinette smiled. Of course revenge didn’t interest Alya. “Money. And if it goes right, revenge.”

Nino chuckled. “Well, I was just going to send them a bunch of ugly ass dresses, but this sounds way better, man. Count me in.”

“What’s in it for you?” Alya asked.

The tears sprang forward immediately, but she held them back. “They used my parents against me. For that, they’ll pay.” Marinette surreptitiously wiped her eyes. She turned to face both Alya and Chloé. They both nodded in return, and once again, Marinette let go of that breath she had been holding.

“Okay, let’s go get Adrien.” She waved her hand to beckon them behind her.

Chloé hung back in confusion. “What the hell is an Adrien?”

--

Welcome to my Leverage AU. If any of you have watched the orginal show, you'll notice that this chapter is very similar to the pilot. Don't worry, the second part is a different con! If you haven't watched Leverage yet, you definitely should. It is fantastic. 

She exited the auditorium. This would be easier after the performance.

The four waited in the alley behind the theater. Chloé was still adamant that this was a bad idea. “I vote no!” She whined.

The back-door to the theater opened, and Marinette walked toward it. “Alya’s right. They know us.”

The blond actor walked out and buttoned his trench coat. Marinette clapped loudly, almost in fanfare and grabbed his attention. “I thought you were great.”

He looked up and recognition washed over his face. “My only fan,” he drawled in a British accent. The man slowly sauntered toward her and took her hand. “Pleasure to meet you again, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien Agreste said, before placing a kiss on the back of her hand. He met her gaze and winked.

—

(7 years earlier, London)

Sunlight streamed past the curtains into the dusty room. Clarridge’s, as always, was a goldmine for some wonderful art. Too bad that this would be his final trip here. From what he heard through the grapevine, the revered auction house and its new chief auctioneer will be improving security ten-fold. He was fortunate that he had quite the rapport with one of the art curators. A lovely woman, he mused.

He slid the knife carefully under the canvas. A 200-year old painting deserved the most tender care in the world. He loosened it from its current home. Some fool thought to overshadow the masterpiece inside of this garish frame. He chuckled; he would give it a much better home.

A crash at the door distracted him. He reached for the small pistol at his side. Not an elegant weapon, but a grifter could never be too careful.

“Freeze!” A feminine voice shouted. He turned with his gun and was pleasantly surprised. A younger woman wrapped in a red polka dot coat with striking blue eyes pointed her own weapon at him. Was that a hint of a French accent he detected? “Get away from my client’s property,” she said icily. The woman stepped closer to him, her heels not clacking like the other women in the auction house. This woman wore boots that she could run in; more likely, to chase.

“Oh no, how unfortunate. A lucky little ladybug is here to protect her prize. Whatever shall this black cat do?” He taunted her.

She did not react how he would have liked, such as dropping the weapon. Instead, she trained it on him. “Chat Noir, I presume.”

His reputation preceded him. Maybe he was luckier than he imagined. “So you know me?”

Now it was her turn for a smile, and it was the unholy mixture of dazzling and terrifying. “I do know you. You’ve had more aliases than anyone can count. By my count, you’ve done nearly every grift in the book. The infamous Chat Noir is a ghost that will steal from anyone with money.”

“Knowledge like that is a warning sign. I’ll give you one more.” Chat aimed for her shoulder and fired off one shot. She clutched it immediately. It was simply a distraction. An artful thief like him preferred to leave no blood evidence of his presence. A rubber bullet did the same job for him as a real one.

He felt the pain in his own shoulder before he registered the sound of the shot. His wound, unlike hers, was real. The smoke and dust danced in between them as they both pressed against their wounds. Hers would leave a bruise, while his would scar. How poetic.

The woman re-holstered her gun and withdrew a handkerchief. Gently, she removed his hand from his shoulder and quickly replaced it with the handkerchief. He was surprised there were not guards flocking to the sound of gunshots in the Clarridge’s basement. Yet that was a passing thought; most of his thoughts were spent in puzzling out this woman in front of him. First she shot him, and now she tended to his wound.

As if she could read his thoughts, she lifted her gaze to meet his. He looked once again into those striking eyes. He likened them to bluebells he had once seen in the Lake District as a child.

She spoke softly. “I don’t know everything about you, Chat Noir, but you should know one thing about me. I do not want your enmity nor your rancor. I simply responded in kind to your, how did you say, warning.”

“What is your name, Ms. Ladybug?” He whispered. She shook her head and replaced her hand with his. She left her handkerchief to stop the flowing of the wound. It was more of a nick than a scratch, but he appreciated her care.

“Stay out of trouble, kitty,” she cheekily warned as she left him in the dusty basement.

Chat Noir lifted the handkerchief and examined it. There was a bloodstained monogram in the corner.

MDC

He returned the cloth to his wound. He would find a way to return it to her one day, he vowed.

—

“The pleasure is mine, Adrien,” she said firmly. “Or should I introduce you as Chat Noir?”

The moment she said his alias, Chloé, Nino, and Alya gasped simultaneously. Of all the grifters in the world, Marinette was recruiting the most infamous of them all. Every criminal worth their salt reveled in the Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir. After their initial meeting in London, Chat Noir spread word of his little moniker for her. Once he did, the criminal world was on the lookout for Ladybug the thief-catcher. He made her into a legend to be feared. In return, she spent a good portion of her career thwarting thieves and figuring out his true name. After all they had shared, it was all she could do.

“I’m a citizen now.” Adrien held his hands up. “Honest.”

Marinette tucked a lock of her hair back and met his green gaze. “I’m not.”

Both his brows raised in surprise. “You’re playing my side now?”

She nodded. “Are you in?”

He stared at her for a few seconds. She wondered what he thought of what he saw. Wondered if he saw the bags under her eyes from the last year of drinking. The scar hidden under her bangs from the fire. The weight of the past sitting on her shoulders.

Adrien nodded. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Good seeing you again, milady.”

Refusing to seem flustered in front of the team, Marinette steeled her nerves and faced the rest. “Okay, let’s go break the law just one more time!” Chloé rolled her eyes and began strutting away from the alley. Nino sighed and followed. She didn’t have a key to his apartment, and from his short experience of Chloé, he did not want to replace a broken door. Luckily, the theater was a few blocks away from home base.

Alya hung around for a few seconds. She debated whether or not to leave Marinette alone with this man. Chloé may barely trust her, but Alya judged Marinette on their own interactions. It was obvious there was a past between Marinette and Adrien. He was still holding her hand, for instance, and she let him. She almost left them alone when she heard the low rumble of thunder.

“Let’s go back to Nino’s?” Alya suggested. Both Marinette and Adrien jolted out of their reverie and nodded. Alya turned around and quirked her lips a little. Maybe one day, she could get the full story out of Adrien. He seemed more than willing to tell tales.

—

When they entered the apartment, Nino whisked Adrien away for a tour of the apartment. He pointed things out animatedly and explained all of his equipment. Adrien, to his credit, followed Nino without resistance.

Marinette softly smiled at that. Nino was still a kid compared to the rest of them. Adrien was not a good influence in the least, but he was better than any other man in his life. Better than most men, if she had to admit to herself.

She returned her attention to the papers on the kitchen island. Somewhere in here was the perfect way to take Gabriel Agreste down a peg. And if she could have some peace, maybe she would find it sometime before Fashion Week.

Bang! Slam! Shut!

Alya was making a racket in the kitchen. She opened up every cupboard and drawer. "There's nothing to eat in here." She pouted at Marinette. "Tell Nino to order in."

She opened her mouth to argue when Chloe walked through the door with multiple grocery bags. "I refuse to eat pizza for dinner again.” She shoved the bags into Alya’s arms. “Unpack these.” Chloé heaved a sigh and took off her sunglasses.

The thief scrunched her face when she saw what Chloé brought back with her. She withdrew packets of meat, cheeses, and bread. “None of this is cooked. What good is it right now?” She asked.

Chloé removed her coat and tied her hair out of her face. “I’m going to make dinner. If you’re hungry, you can eat it or leave it.” She eyed Marinette and her papers. Marinette took the hint and removed herself to the coffee table. At least there she wouldn’t be part of this fiasco. Before she settled on the couch, she poured herself a glass of scotch. Sip. The whisky left a trail of fire in her throat.

She peered over her shoulder to watch the girls. Chloé stood at the island and chopped onions. Alya reached for a cube of cheese and was rewarded with a smack on the hand. “Don’t touch that! What, were you raised in a cave?” Chloé grunted. Her harsh words didn’t affect Alya at all. Instead, she swiped a piece of bread and stuck her tongue out. Chloé rolled her eyes.

Marinette chuckled over her glass. She could feel Chloé’s glare boring through the back of her head. “I didn’t know you could cook,” she said back to the kitchen. The Chloé she knew in school would not even boil water. This Chloé was rougher around the edges. Not meaner necessarily; only different. Their interactions over the last decade were sporadic. Before, she was the thief-chaser. Now everything was off kilter, and Marinette simply adapted to reach equilibrium.

“Some of us have changed from childhood, Dupain-Cheng.” Her growl carried through the room. “I can do more than shop and bust heads you know.”

Her words struck a chord in Marinette. She put her papers down and turned around. “Really?”

Chloé picked up the chef’s knife in her right hand. “Hold a knife like this, and you can dice onions.” She twirled the knife into a different position. “Hold a knife like this, and you can cut, like, 8 Yakuza in ten seconds. Knives are like people and require context.”

Alya smiled at the display and grabbed another piece of bread while Chloé was distracted.

Nino and Adrien returned from the apartment tour. “Whoa, dudes, that smells pretty good. Even better than my Nana’s cooking!” Nino exclaimed, while Adrien sat down next to Marinette.

“Quite a team you’ve gathered here.”

“They’re not my team.”

Adrien grinned at her and scooted closer. “You may think so, but they think differently.” He nodded toward Nino. “He thinks you’re some kind of mastermind.”

“And what did you say?” She asked, curious to hear what he had to say.

“Dinner’s ready!” Alya poked her head between them.

Marinette jumped away from both Adrien and Alya. Gently, she placed the papers back in their folder and rose. “Excellent.” She ignored the warmth that was slowly dissipating from her right side. Adrien’s side.

As she washed up, she sighed. Bringing Adrien on was not a mistake. It might have been the best choice she made in a long time. Yet at the same time, Marinette knew that the infamous Chat Noir always had a trick up his sleeve. Nino, Chloé, and even Alya; she understood how each of them worked, what they could do. For Adrien, she knew what he could do. The problem was that she never pinpointed why he did it. Any of it.

It was an uncertainty she could not afford.

---

Here is a bonus chapter for you all! Adrien deserves an introduction fit for the stars. Leave a comment if you would like to be tagged for this fic!