#maribat2k20

| A/N: I'd just like to preface this fic by mentioning I had already written 2k of this fic by the time Miraculous786 posted their First Encounters fic and after reading it considering the similarities (Dick's PoV during the museum bit, Marinette wielding the Cat Miraculous and hunting down a Miraculous from a Gotham Museum) I was kinda disheartened because y'know I was worried I might get accusations of copying but as I had already written 2k I decided to keep going because I had a different enough plot and I didn't want to waste what I had written so far. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then comment or senf me a DM/ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

»‹•›«

The night started out like any other Monday patrol. Except it's Monday, so of course it all goes off the rails not even halfway through the patrol. Because that's just Dick's luck.

 His comm buzzes, as Red Hood of all vigilantes, pipes up. “Just caught sight'a the tiny Catwoman copycat. Looks like she's got her eye on the Gotham History Museum again. O, you got anything on show in there that might pique the kitty's interest?”

 Oracle responds a second later, robotic voice overlay sounding charming as ever. “A bejewelled Armlet, which is the newest piece from the ancient Tibetan Jewellery collection is probably what our copycat burglar's after. She's targeted that specific collection before. Nightwing you're closest to the museum, try to cut her off before she can steal the piece.”

 “Got it!” Nightwing salutes, knowing Oracle is probably watching through a nearby security camera, as you do. He flips off the roof he's on and shoots the grapple mid flip—because he's physically incapable of not being showy, you can take him out the circus but you can't take the circus out of him—to change his route for the Museum in question.

 “Wait isn't that the collection where a bunch of perfectly preserved jewellery pieces were found in a two-hundred-year-old monastery and the pieces themselves are estimated to be thousands of years old?” Robin cuts in, followed by an “Eep!” and a series of crashes and clatters.

 “That's the one,” Oracle responds, sounding faintly amused, most likely watching whatever Robin's doing—which is probably nothing to worry about otherwise Oracle would have alerted them.

 Not that that'll stop me from worrying, Nightwing thinks ruefully.

 Red Hood scoffs. “Pretender, did you fucking seriously memorise facts about some fancy old jewellery?”

 Nightwing can practically hear Robin's frown through the comms, and boy does that make his heart clench.

 He, Robin, hesitates before answering. “I— one of my parent's last few archaeology gigs before they died was in Tibet where they were a part of the team that found a weird frog statue that's now on display at the Louvre. The statue has the same insignia as the box that the jewellery was discovered in.”

 The comms fall silent because well, they've all got their own parental issues so when it's an unspoken rule to not use that as ammo when it comes to bio parents. But the fact that Robin memorises facts relating to digs his parents went on, when they couldn't even remember half his birthdays. It's a painful reminder that the kid still loves his bio parents despite the abuse he suffered from them.

 The comms stay relatively silent (as silent as you can get, with six people's Comms hooked to the same frequency, all echoing in various white noise background sounds from their environments) until Nightwing reaches the Gotham History Museum. When the casual patrol chatter, as opposed to the white noise, starts back up, He filters out the sound out and circles the museum, keeping an eye out for their copycat burglar.

 Twenty minutes pass and there's still no sign of her nearby. Nightwing double taps his comm. “Looks like our kitty cat's a no show. Are there any other places she might tar—” A loud wailing alarm cuts him off. “Shit.”

 He whirls around, searching for the origin of the alarm. There, third skylight over, leading into the ancient Tibetan section added specifically for the bejewelled armlet's appearance at the museum—the section, not the skylight. If the skylight had been added then that would just be bad security choices on the Museum's part.

 “Nightwing. Report.” Batman growls in demands over the comms because Batman's incapable of speaking in something other than growls and guttural grunts.

  “Turns out, Oracle was probably right. I got eyes on the cat.” Nightwing responds, finally catching a glimpse of the copycat burglar, grappling her way out the skylight that the blaring alarm is coming from. Making a split-second decision, he sprint-swings after her. The chase is on kitty.

 “Whatever you do, don't engage,” Batman orders, voice sounding like someone dragged a beat-up thug across a gravel driveway.

 So Nightwing does what any self-respecting rebellious bat does, and ignores the order. “Engaging now.”

 “Nightwing.”

 Of course B tries to use the Robin Listen™ Voice. He pouts, turns off his earpiece midswing and continues to chase after the copycat burglar. He's a good few places behind, but his long legs and familiarity with the museum roof, is slowly but surely helping him catch up to her.

 She glances back at him and puts on a burst of speed, and upon reaching the edge of the museum's roof, pole vaults herself over the edge, just missing the next roof, and hurtling towards the street below—not a dangerous move at all.

 Nightwing has a split second of panic as he watches her as she's seemingly plummeting to her imminent demise, then decides to do the Vigilante Thing™ and dives after her.

 He reaches an arm out and is so close to catching her when the pole she used to vault extends out and wedges itself between the two buildings either side of the street. The copycat burglar then uses the momentum from the fall to perform three pullover flips on the pole-bar—like she wasn't just nearly falling to her death.

 Because of her move, Nightwing's forced to regrapple and swing by her in order to not crash into her. He spots a rooftop with two taller buildings either side and thinks to himself, a good point to ambush her at—provided she heads that way, if not, I can always grapple over to the other side of the street.

 There are gargoyles on both the taller buildings, so it doesn't take much to grapple up to one and hide behind them (like the bat he is)—to keep her from realising he's still here.

 Nightwing watches as the copycat burglar finishes her pullover flips and stabilises on the pole-bar, then walks across it like a tight rope—fortunately heading towards the building that he's planning to ambush her on. Finally, today's luck is looking up!

 Once she reaches the building, she steps onto a window sill and grabs the pole-bar. Nightwing studies her and the pole-bar as it contracts and compacts to a baton size. The copycat burglar attaches it to her belt then scales the side of the building seemingly effortlessly.

 She takes the path of least resistance as she reaches the top. Which is surprising to Nightwing considering she only just "lost" him. She then starts crossing the middle roof with the two taller buildings on either side.

 It's at that moment, he decides to drop in on their copycat burglar. And by drop in on, he means flip over the gargoyles he was hiding behind, and then triple backflips off the roof he's on, so that at the end of his fall he collides with her, pinning her to the ground. Unnecessarily showy, but who's he to not put on a show.

 Nightwing pulls out a pair of manacles and handcuffs her wrists. She turns her head enough to get a good look at him and gives him the most unimpressed glare he's ever seen. And I've lived with Batman, he thinks to himself, surprised at how good her unimpressed glare is.

 He leans down, trying to intimidate her. “Where'd you put the armlet you stole.”

 She hisses—like actually hisses, like a cat or a snake.

 However, having been used to villains making weird noises upon being captured—Manbat anyone?—the sound doesn't startle Nightwing as much as it probably should. That is until he catches sight of her slit pupils, and cat ears and tail twitching. Of course, his immediate thought is and they call Batman a furry.

 Unfortunately, in the split second where his thoughts are distracted, she mutters “Cataclysm,” beneath her breath. There's a horrible creak of metal rusting and warping followed by a clatter, as she yanks her hands away—causing the manacles to shatter in two.

 “Hey, wait a second!” Nightwing protests, he's about to ask what she just did, when she twists underneath his pin and flips the both of them over.

 Having not expected the flip, he's caught off guard once more but his reflexes are too well trained to be completely overwhelmed by the move, so he cartwheels out of the flip and out of her range. “That was my favourite pair of handcuffs you broke!”

 She raises an eyebrow at him and slips into a defensive stance. “You have a favourite pair of handcuffs?”

 Mimicking the action by getting into his own fighting stance, he starts to edge towards her, causing her to edge away from him—forcing them both to circle each other.

 “They were a good pair of handcuffs okay!” Nightwing defends, as he scrutinises her form—Clearly self-trained, considering this stance and her earlier moves. It's similar to Jason and Steph's styles, in the 'learnt to fight to avoid getting hurt worse' kinda way.

 “Emphasis on the were.” Is her dry response.

 He dive forward rolls towards her and jumps up, and using the momentum gained from the roll, throws an uppercut at her. “How about you give me the jewellery as compensation?”

 The copycat burglar narrows her eyes at him and blocks the uppercut with her elbow. “The jewellery is worth way more than your flimsy handcuffs.” She retaliates with a roundhouse kick to Nightwing's chest.

 Dodging with a back handspring, he pulls out his escrima sticks. “No?” He shrugs, “well it was worth a try.”

 She eyes his escrima sticks and gives him a tight-lipped smile. “It really wasn't but go off I guess.”

 That was definitely a twinkle of amusement in her eyes there! Nightwing grins then falters. “Y'know, if you're in trouble, you don't have to do this. I can help you.”

 The copycat burglar scoffs and throws a punch, which he easily blocks with one of his escrima sticks.

 “You don't understand.” She scowls, retracts her punch and spins before trying to jab him in the ribs with her baton.

 He blocks with one escrima stick and strikes back at her with the other. “I don't, but if you explain then I could.”

 Hissing through her teeth in pain, she glares at him, tail whipping viciously back and forth and cat ears laying flat against her head. She counters his block and strike, by swiping at his escrima sticks with her baton, knocking them from his grip.

 “Shit!” Nightwing back handsprings again, to get enough distance between them as to give him enough time to retrieve the sticks.

 She thwacks him in the neck with her expanding baton, throwing him off balance and leaving him breathless.

 With his moment of weakness, the copycat burglar grabs him and throws him at the nearest rooftop wall.

 “Fuck! Me!” He yelps between breaths, temporarily stunned, body aching from the impact.

 “No thanks, I'd prefer to take you out to dinner first.” She mutters, probably not intending for him to hear, as she pins him against the wall before he can recover.

 Blinking and wide-eyed, Nightwing stares at her for a solid three seconds then waggles his eyebrows. “I'd be up for dinner with you, just gotta let me help you with whatever's forcing you to steal the jewellery.”

 She sighs and glances away for a split second, then leans in really close and whispers in his ear. “There's nothing you can do to help me.”

 Leaning back, the copycat burglar places a finger over his lips—silencing him before he can speak.

 Nightwing flushes bright red and his heartbeat spikes.

 “My name is Minou Purrdu, and I'm sorry.” She purrs, pulling something odd out of her baton, a black and yellow spinning top.

 With her finger still over his lips, he's unable to ask what she's apologising for.

 She whispers under her breath, “Venom,” and stabs the spinning top into the side of his neck.

 Gasping, Nightwing is left completely paralysed by whatever the spinning top actually is because it's clearly not your standard spinning top. Unable to move—he can only watch as Minou Purrdu cups his cheek, frowns, pulls away, and begins pole-vaulting her way across the roof and out of sight.

»‹•›«

 Nightwing's not sure how long the paralysis lasted but as soon as it ends, he slumps back against the wall and melts, tipping his head back against the brick. His mind stuck on repeating the encounter as he processes what happened. Shit, he thinks while grinning dopily—face flushing bright red again (not that it faded much whilst he was paralysed), I thought I had a thing for redheads but obviously, I've got a thing for badass ladies instead.

 He's about to get up when Catwoman, original cat burglar extraordinaire, jumps down onto the roof he's on and gives him a very judgemental look. “I'm guessing the kitten got away with the jewellery, hmm? A shame, I quite fancied the look of it.” She stops, tipping her head to the side and raising a hand to one ear. She shakes her head but continues. “Oracle has some things she wants to say to you, I'd recommend turning on your comm unless you want her send Batman, Robin, or Red Hood here to see you like this.”

 Huffing, he rolls his eyes, “thanks,” then taps his comms back on. “Hey.”

 Catwoman nods to him and then takes her leave across the rooftops—Probably to go tease Batman or something.

  The comm buzzes and an unimpressed sounding Oracle greets him. “Clearly the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” She pauses then adds, “I recorded your entire "fight".”

 Nightwing splutters in response. “What.”

 “Awww, did you get your feathers ruffled by the kitty cat, Big Wing?” Red Hood cuts in with a teasing sing-song tone of voice.

 “I hate you both,” Nightwing grumbles, pushing himself up off the ground and wall.

 “Sorry to interrupt, but I was looking through the museum's private notes on the jewellery collection, apparently some of the pieces are thought to be magical artefacts,” Robin interjects, sounding somewhat strained.

 Red Hood scoffs, “so you're saying our copycat burglar's—”

 “Minou Purrdu she called herself.” Nightwing chimes in.

 Red Hood clears his throat. “—Got her hands on multiple magical artefacts and we got no idea why she's doing it or if she's working with anyone.”

 “We might get another chance to catch her, the museum has a few other jewellery pieces from the collection, in the back,” Robin informs them, a familiar thwip of a grapple line in the background.

 “So we'll monitor the museum for any suspicious activity.” Oracle sighs. “Also Nightwing, Agent A's currently dealing with B but he wants to know the extent of your injuries from the fight.”

“Gotcha.” He swipes on his gauntlet computer and sends a quick analysis of his injuries—mostly minor bruising—and sends it to the Batcomputer for Agent A to see. “Done.”

 “B's being grumpy over the stunt you pulled, so I suggest doing a final loop once you finish patrol before heading back.” There's a clacking of keys as Oracle types away at something, most likely checking the security cams nearby.

 Nightwing readies his grapple. “You're a lifesaver O.” Then swings himself off the building to double back to his patrol route.

The clacking pauses and she laughs. “I know.”

»‹•›«

 The next morning, as she's sprinting down the pavement, Marinette's phone starts ringing. She stumbles to a stop, barely managing to dodge the other civilians walking down the path and fumbles to get her phone out her pocket. She curses and glances around her then steps off to the side to take the call. She catches a glimpse of the caller's ID before she answers, “Adrien? What is it?”

 “Ah, you're awake already, mornin' Mari!” He greets cheerfully, sounding far too awake for eight am on a Tuesday morning. Although then again, he wasn't the one who spent last night (morning?) hopping across rooftops at godforsaken hours and getting chased by the local spandex-wearing vigilantes. 

 There's a clatter behind Adrien followed by the whir of an appliance, he pauses, probably distracted by whatever made the noise. There's a faint rustle-woosh as he shakes his head. “I'm just calling to check up on you after your late night last night, after all, today's your first shift at the coffee shop.”

 Marinette huffs good-naturedly, “I woke up extra early so I wouldn't be late,” Translation: I did not get a wink of sleep last night. “I'm less than a minutes walk away right now.”

 Adrien sighs. “Mari, you really need to get better sleeping habits.”

 “Mhmm. Alright, I'm nearly there” She responds, busy checking her surroundings once more.

 “M'kay, chat to you inside?” And she can just hear the feral grin in his voice as he makes the pun.

 Marinette groans at the awful pun. “Really? Whatever, see ya!” And quickly ends the call, before setting off at a brisk pace to get to the coffee shop.

»‹•›«

 Once she reaches the coffee shop, Marinette's just barely on time for her shift. She darts into the back room and throws on the nearest apron of her size and slaps her name tag onto the apron.

 With the apron and name tag on, she stumbles out the back room and scurries behind the counter to join Adrien, who's chatting to a customer; a superhero fan, if I were to guess, from all the superhero badges and patches on their jacket. As she passes by him to get to her station, he raises a hand without glancing back at her. On instinct, she high fives his raised hand.

 Marinette reaches the empty till and waves over the next customer. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Adrien starting on his customer's order. She smiles as the customer she waved over, approaches.

 The customer that approaches, is a pale thin-faced man, with balding grey hair and wearing a shirt and jacket from the latest Gabriel Agreste fashion line. “I need a triple shot, venti, half sweet, caramel macchiato, with three pumps of vanilla and extra whip. And I need it pronto, girly.”

 “Of course.” Marinette's smile turns paper-thin as a wave of fury washed over her. This is not my morning, she internally laments. But at least Adrien doesn't have to deal with this bastard. He doesn't need a reminder of the fact that his sperm donor managed to escape his crimes thanks to being an old, white, corrupt businessman.

 He glares at her, then sniffs pointedly and pulls out his phone.

 Marinette scurries away from the till to go and get started on the order. It's not enough to stop her from wanting to break the customer's nose but it keeps her occupied for the moment being.

 As she passes Adrien, he gives her a concerned glance. She responds with a shrug and the shake of her head, she flicks her gaze back to her customer and then to Adrien; silently conveying it's fine, don't worry. I can deal with it.

 He frowns but doesn't press, instead continuing as he was doing, in taking his customer's order to said customer.

 Sighing, Marinette then gets started on her customer's hell order, carefully making the coffee step by step, to ensure its right. Because as much as I'd love to tamper with his drink, I'd rather not lose my job not even five minutes into my first shift.

 Thankfully it doesn't take too long to make the order but as the equipment isn't that far from the counter, she could hear all the impatient huffs and scoffs from the customer throughout the duration of making the coffee. After she adds the final touches, Marinette carefully carries the order over to the customer and goes through the payment process with him.

 The customer leaves with a scowl. Good riddance, she scoffs internally. She surveys the coffee shop and surprisingly there's no one else in the queue. She shuffles towards Adrien, looking quite pale, as he hands over the change to a customer who then puts the change in the tip jar and leaves.

 Eyeing him carefully, Marinette gently nudges him in the side and softly questions. “Hey, you feeling okay? You're looking kinda pale.”

 Adrien glances back to her and nods. “Yeah, I just…” He takes a second to breathe, “that customer you were serving, he was wearing his brand.”

She makes a pained face. Shit, I was hoping he wouldn't notice.

 He huffs and grins fragilely. “You're doing your 'Heck I had hoped you hadn't realised that' face.”

  Marinette rolls her eyes. “Close, it was a 'Shit, I was hoping you hadn't realised' face but technicalities, technicalities.”

 Just as he's about to respond, three giggling people stumble into the coffee shop, a man and a boy with black hair and blue eyes, and a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes.

 Adrien stiffens as they approach, so Marinette does what any good friend would do and grabs him by the arm to tug him a step behind her.

 “Nuh-uh!” She wags a finger at him, “I'll deal with the next customers, you go take a five-minute breather in the backroom.”

 He wavers and glances between her and the approaching group. He shakes his head and grimaces. “Alright,” then scampers off to the backroom in a very cat-like way.

 Some things just don't change, she muses to herself, and tenses, throwing on a quick but genuine-looking smile to greet the new customers.

 As the three reach the counter, the tallest of the three (the black-haired blue-eyed man), leans on the counter and smirks in a way that can only be described as flirtatiously. The other man groans and the woman bursts into giggles.

 Marinette refrains from mentally calling the flirtatiously smirking one 'The Chat Noir of the three'. “Hi, how may I help you?”

 The blonde girl shoves the men and boy out of the way and flashes Marinette a dazzling grin. “Hey, can I get a grande Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate and a warmed coffee waffle please!”

 Marinette nods, quickly racking her brain for the recipe to the Gotham Special, and adds it to the till. “Anything else?”

 The black-haired blue-eyed boy—Who I really need a better internal nickname for him because he's starting to sound like the blue-eyes white dragon with how much I'm repeating that, Marinette thinks absently—half-heartedly glares at the blonde girl before turning his gaze to Marinette and asks, “could I have a quadruple shot Venti espresso with sixteen addition shots of espresso and one of the add energy packets.”

 “Timmy, no!” Gasps the man.

 “Tim, yes.” 'Tim' responds, grinning mischievously.

 The blonde girl barely holds back her laughter, doubling over from the effort.

 Marinette stares at him in concern but as soon as she spots the very prominent bags beneath his eyes, she nods—in solidarity and adds the coffee order to the till. “Okay, anything else?”

 The blonde girl and Tim share a look before darting off to grab a free table booth, leaving the man at the counter with her.

 The man stares after the two before turning his attention to Marinette. “Can I get a grande White Chocolate Mocha, please.” He pauses, “And I'll pay you triple the price of the entire order in tips if you make Tim's drink entirely decaf. Please, he's had three black coffees already today.”

 Marinette nods her head slowly. “I–uh, sure, okay. And is that all?”

 He nods, “Yep, that's all.”

 She adds the final drink to the order and puts it through the till. “That'll be twenty dollars…”

 The man hums thoughtfully and hands over a twenty-dollar bill, “Cool, so I'll pay you sixty bucks in tips if you make my little brother's drink decaf.” He then adds, “I'm Dick by the way.”

 “Marinette,” she points to the little name tag attached to her apron before getting started on the worst of the drinks, the (now decaf) twenty shot venti espresso. “And that's way too much for a tip, I can't accept that much.”

 “Hey, no, you deserve it for making that abomination of a drink that my little brother ordered and anyway it's not like I can't afford to tip you that much.” Dick divulges.

“Oh.” She responds noncommittally, unsure how to respond and so continues to pour the shots of decaf espresso into the venti cup.

 Just as she finishes pouring the final shots into the cup, a customer switches the café TV to a news channel. “Late last night, there was a break-in at the Gotham History Museum. The only item stolen was an artefact from the new Ancient Tibetan display. Fortunately, the thief was caught on the security camera. From what can be seen in the footage, the thief appears to be a Catwoman copycat.” A news anchor reports before cutting to the footage of the break-in.

 Marinette puts the twenty shot venti espresso on a tray and places the tray and drink on the counter between her and Dick.

 “What's your opinion on Minou Purrdu?” He inquires, with a curious look on his face, head cocked to one side.

 Thanks to anxiety, Marinette's immediate response is to laugh awkwardly as she internally panics—Oh fuck, he must be Nightwing. Don't be here to arrest me, don't be here to arrest, please—turning away from the counter, she gets started on the white chocolate mocha. “Uh, who?”

 Dick rubs at the back of neck somewhat sheepishly, “it's that new copycat thief's name apparently.”

 “Huh. I guess the thief must be a fan of puns then.” She comments, avoiding answering his question as she mixes the relevant ingredients into the cup to produce the drink.

 “Oh? What makes you say that?” He asks, body language showing him to be genuinely curious—probably not here to arrest me then, hopefully.

 Marinette finishes making the white chocolate mocha and carries the cup over to the tray, explaining her reasoning as she did so. “Well, Minou Purrdu is a pun. Minou perdu is french for lost kitty, and so by adding a purr to perdu, the thief made it a pun.”

 Dick makes a noise of contemplation, he then spies his drink and grins in a way that's flirtatiously feral enough to rival Chat Noir (she was definitely spot on when she nearly mentally referred to him as the Chat Noir of the three), then points to the mocha, “hey, you mocha me crazy.”

 Marinette sighs in poorly concealed amusement and it's at that moment, Adrien walks out the employee room and joins her behind the counter.

 He glances around and spots no queue, “need any help with the order?”

 She nods and turns to him. “If you could grab one of the coffee waffles and warm it please.”

 “No problem!” Adrien nods and heads over to the glass food display to get a coffee waffle.

 Dick pokes at up his mocha cup and whistles through at the heat. “This coffee's really hot but not as hot as you.”

 Marinette, midway through turning away from the counter to go grab the ingredients needed for the Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate, chokes and flushes bright red. Nope-nope-nope-nope-no! I am not doing this! Absolutely no way am I getting a crush on Nightwing who's currently a civilian and probably is maybe hunting down my secret identity to arrest me!

 Adrien, the traitor, puts the now warmed up coffee waffle on the tray and grabs a napkin. He quickly scrawls down a string of numbers that look suspiciously like her personal phone number. He waggles his eyebrows at her, winks, then hands the napkin to Dick. “She's too shy to do it herself, so here's her number!”

 She squeaks in surprise—ironic considering the drink she's currently making—and covers her face with her hands, thankfully having not been holding the cup of half-made Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate. Otherwise, she definitely would've spilt it.

 Quickly, she finishes the hot chocolate and puts it on the tray. “Here you go.”

“Thanks! and here's your tip.” He places down three twenty-dollar bills on the counter and winks, before picking the tray up and bringing it over to Tim and the blonde girl.

 Marinette spins around to face Adrien. “Oh my god, why would you do that?”

 He smirks, “because we're in a new city, why not have some fun and follow through with your new crush?”

 She groans. “We need to talk in private as soon as our shifts end.”

 Adrien's smile falters. “Alright.”

»‹•›«

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| A/N: So as I mentioned in the authors note of the previous ficlets, I got mugged in the dark dank alleyway by the Maribat2k20 MariTim prompt calendar and stabbed by the knives of inspiration. However, like VYSUYK, this too was a knife of the angst inspo, also it's sort of slow burn? In the fact that it's 5k and I kinda forgot the ship was the main point of this ficlet. The ship's still there, it's just sorta slow burn for a oneshot. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

 Marinette stares down the Gotham Police Department building and asks herself, first day on the job, how bad can it really it be?

 She's heard rumours, of course. Of how horrible, crime-ridden, crazy infested, rotten, filthy, and decaying the city is, that is Gotham. It's a stark difference to Paris. From its reputation alone, no wonder so many tried to discourage her from doing this—moving here and taking up this job. But it's not like I had a choice, really. I mean I did but ever since I took off the Miraculous for the last time, it's been difficult to adjust to a life with no crime-fighting.

 So here she is, "bright-eyed" (Chat Noir—Adrien always did say no matter how haunted she looks, she can still pull off pretending to be naïve and innocent) and fresh from the police academy. Rookie, fresh blood, fresh meat, newbie, whatever. She's here.

 Marinette breathes in deeply and sighs. She hops up the last few steps leading up to the building and walks in. Someone grabs her by the arm before she's barely made it five steps through the door. Focussing on her breathing pattern, she violently shoves down the instinct to flip the person gripping her over her shoulder. It wouldn't look good for the small female inexperienced rookie from Paris to immediately assault someone inside the precinct. Yeah.

 The someone who has grabbed her speaks up, voice gravelly with the undertones of stressed, tired, and agitated. “Y'lost pipsqueak?”

 Slowly, she shakes her head, chanting a mantra in her head, stay calm. Not an Akuma. Don't fight. I'm not in danger. She catches sight of the person, some ragged looking old white police officer dude, charming. “'Looking for Commissioner Gordon? Is he around?”

 “Why d'you wanna know?”

 Marinette gestures with her free arm towards her clothing—her police officer uniform. “I'm new, got called in to come in now instead of earlier with the rest of the rookies.”

 The grip on her arm loosens somewhat as the person speaks again. “Huh, alright then kid. He's in 'is office.”

 “Not a kid.” She automatically responds—an old habit from her days in sparkling spotty magic Spandex—and takes a step away from him, removing her from his grip.

 The person laughs. “M'name's Harvey, kid. Harvey Bullock. Nice to meetcha.”

 Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Now if you'll excuse me…”

 The man—Harvey waves his hand, “Yeah, yeah, don't wanna keep Gordon waiting.” And walks off. Without giving her the directions to Commissioner Gordon's office. Great. Just great.

 She huffs bitterly and makes her way further in before spotting the glass-windowed room that looks like it's probably the Commissioner's office. Switching directions to head there, it feels like it takes ages but that's just because she's being hyper-aware of her surroundings, not wanting to get caught off guard again by shadow-lurking creeps—and by that she specifically means vigilantes and criminals, and by extension villains too, not that they're likely to be sneaking around a police precinct but point. Once she reaches the office, delicately, she raps her knuckles against the wood of the door.

 “Come in.” Calls the commissioner.

 Quietly, she opens the door and slips through, closing it behind herself. “You asked to see me now, instead of earlier with the other rookies.”

 Commissioner Gordon glances up at her from his mountain of paperwork, “I did,” there's a shuffle of paper before he continues, sounding bone-tired. “We're assigning you to be Detective Grayson's partner. He wasn't here this morning but he, and by extension, you now, have been assigned a difficult case and I'm sorry this is going to be your first case but I need you to head over there immediately. Grayson should be there when you arrive.”

 Marinette nods, not really having expected anything less.

 “Detective McKenna is on a case not far from yours and so will drop you off, so you don't get lost since you're new in Gotham.” He adds on. “She's waiting in the car park.”

 Marinette waits for a second in case he speaks more but all he does is return to the paperwork. She spins on her heel and exits the office.

==–==

 When she reaches the car park she spots who she assumes is Detective McKenna, leaning against a police car. She waves at her and hurries over. “Hi, are you Detective McKenna?”

 “Yeah, now get in. You wanna get to your crime scene before the vigilantes get there, don't you?” Detective McKenna opens the car door to the driver's seat and sits down.

 Well someone doesn't like vigilantes. Marinette thinks, hesitating before going around the other side of the car and opening the door, slips into the passenger seat.

==–==

 She's dropped off by the rest of the police cars parked near the crime scene—Aparo Park—and there's no sign of her partner anywhere. She sighs and gets work, talking over what's already been found and other case-related information to the rest of the officers on the scene. She's yet to see what the actual crime scene looks like but from what's gathered she's not sure she wants to. Apparently, the victim is a meta who could create sparks and small flames from their fingertips—minor pyrokinesis. Ironic, according to the officers and Crime Scene Investigators that have already seen of the state of the victim.

 All too soon she runs out of information to hear and walks over to the scene of the crime—and she blanches at the sight of it. Oh god, It takes her a second to process what she's seeing and compare it to what she had heard about it. It's, it's a sight and a half for sure, and not in a good way.

 In the middle of the bandstand is a twisting structure of orange and yellow glass shards stained red in places where rivulets of blood have dried. The way the shards are arranged makes it look like it's supposed to look like flames. In the centre of the glass piece, there's a corpse with the back cut open in the "blood eagle" style of execution. The way the corpse is positioned, it looks like it's rising from the fire, arms outstretched. The corpse is also wearing a crown of golden feathers.

 Marinette steps away from the bandstand and spots an easel resting unobtrusively against the outside. Oddly enough the canvas on the easel is the wrong way around, only the side with the back and frame is visible. There's scrawled writing on the back which says "Aparo Phoenix Rising". That's when she spots the flecks of red on the edges of the easels frame. She spins around and catches the attention of one of the Crime Scene Investigators, waving them over, and turning to point their attention to the easel. It could just be paint, but it won't hurt to double-check.

 The Investigator turns the canvas over with gloved hands and whistles appreciatively. “Shit, this one fucked up bastard, don'tcha think?”

 Marinette stares at the turned over canvas with wide eyes and a wave of nausea crashes over her as she realises what she's seeing. Because on the canvas is a painted rendition of the corpse sculpture in the bandstand. “Yeah…”

 She's jolted from her shock as she spots three figures a little ways behind the bandstand, lurking in the shadows. So she does the smart thing in this situation, not, and speed walks over to the trio. Once she's close enough to make out the figures a little better, she recognises two as the Gotham vigilantes Red Hood and Red Robin—and dang is the second one cute, she shakes her head, no time to be distracted; job first, hero crush later—and the third figure is wearing GCPD officer uniform.

 The figures all spot her before she can get within two metres, the two vigilantes looking awfully flighty the closer she gets. As if I'd arrest them, I'm no hypocrite. She puts on her brightest smile and stops a few places away. Keeping her main gaze purely at the officer, she offers her hand out for a handshake. “I'm assuming you're Detective Dick Grayson, correct?”

 The man gives her an odd look then a positively dazzling grin and shakes her hand. “Yeah, that's me and who are you?”

 From the corner of her eye, she can see the two vigilantes eyeing her like a threat. “Pleasure to meet you! I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I've just been assigned your partner, I'd say in crime but I feel like that'd be a poor joke to make as a new police officer!”

 Detective Grayson's smile softens around the edges, becoming something more real. He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by the Red Hood striding forwards and presumably glaring her down but it's hard to tell with the whole red helmet in the way.

 “Aren't you gonna arrest me?” He pauses before tacking on, “not that I'm complaining.”

 Marinette shrugs, tilting her head to the side like a confused small baby animal but also returning the (presumed) glare, hands on her hips. “Don't the police here work with the heroes? I mean that's how Paris does things, I didn't think it would be that different here. Especially since Gotham's apparently had its heroes a lot longer than Paris did.”

 “Vigilantes.” All three correct, slightly out of sync, casting glances at each other all the same time.

 Red Robin puts his hand on Red Hood's shoulder and pulls him back, away from her by a few places. “No, the GCPD doesn't really like us for the most part. They're not exactly happy when we complete their cases and make their arrests before them.”

 “Well, you seem pretty familiar with Detective Grayson.” Marinette retorts, raising an eyebrow.

 Detective Grayson splutters and mumbles out a bunch of excuses.

 She shakes her head. “Well as long as you don't impede the investigation and let me make the final arrest then I won't stop you vigilantes poking about.”

 Red Robin hums, head tilted to the side as if thinking the preposition over. “And why should we let you make the final arrest?”

 Marinette grins cheekily. “Think of it as a first police case present from you to me.” She snorts. “I'm kidding, now if you vigilantes are done stalking the shadows, Detective Grayson and I have a case to work on. Au Revoir!”

 Spinning on her heel, she speed walks back to the bandstand, Detective Grayson following a step behind—unbeknownst to her, she turns in time to just miss the flustered look on Red Robin but she does hear the raucous burst of laughter from Red Hood. She rolls her eyes.

==–==

 A fortnight passes and they don't manage to collect enough evidence to find a culprit before the Aparo Park killer strikes again. This time the crime scene is in Puckett Park, centring around the middle of the park's fountain.

 Marinette grimaces, crinkling her nose as she approaches, Detective Grayson isn't here yet, probably late—again. So she had to catch a lift from another officer heading to the scene; luckily it wasn't Detective McKenna again, I don't think I'd be able to keep quiet if she keeps bad-mouthing the local vigilantes.

 Tugging on her jacket in attempts to adjust it whilst keeping herself warm in the chilly Gotham night air, Marinette regards the scene, squinting and subconsciously curling her lips at the sight. Another victim, another corpse sculpture. One more like this and we'll have a serial killer on our hands.

 The main water feature in the fountain has been ripped out of the fountain and the rubble is scattered around the pool in such a way that it only adds to the sculpture.

 The corpse sculpture itself is the same modus operandi as the previous one. Stained glass in a twisted tower with a corpse half impaled on it, back cut open blood eagle style, and the victim's body posed to look as though it's rising (from the water in this case) with their arms outstretched.

 There's even another easel leaning against the stone rim of the fountain, with the canvas turned over.

 This time, the glass shards are white and blue, also with dried rivulets of blood down them. It looks like the shards are arranged to replicate waves as opposed to the previous one's flames. The legs of the victim are twisted together and wrapped in silver scale mail to mimic a fishtail.

 If it wasn't so horrific, it would make for a beautiful painting. Like something you'd find in an expensive art gallery. Marinette muses, paling the longer she stands there analysing. Actually, thinking about it, I wouldn't put it past the rich to try and buy the paintings if—once the case gets closed.

 Marinette shakes her head and steps close enough to the easel to read the scrawled writing on it, "Puckett Hippocampus Rising". As she's reading, a Crime Scene Investigator joins her—surprisingly it's the same one as before. She nods to the Investigator, “hey.”

 “Hey to you too. So the fucked up bastard struck again huh.” The Investigator responds, turning over the canvas with gloved hands to reveal a painted rendition of the corpse sculpture scene before them. “Had any luck narrowing down the perp?”

 She hums noncommittally. “Police case confidentiality, sorry.”

 The Investigator shrugs. “I expected as much. By the way, they managed to ID the vic by the way, a teen who was kicked out of their house for having hydrokinesis, another meta.”

 “Ah…”

 “Yeah.”

 Marinette pauses, narrowing her eyes at the shadows by a cluster of trees off to the side of the fountain. “I think I spot my partner, bye.”

 She jogs over to the trees and lo and behold, there stands Detective Grayson, accompanied by Red Robin and Batgirl. No Red Hood in sight so maybe hopefully she won't get glared at. “Detective Grayson!” She greets with no real bite behind her words, “nice of you to finally arrive.”

 “Ah well, you see…” Detective Grayson starts, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the nape of his neck.

 Shaking her head and waving a hand, Marinette rolls good-naturedly before pursing her lips and side-eyeing the vigilantes, cocking her head to the side. She stabilises her stance and plonks her hands on her hips in an action reminiscent of the pose she took when glaring down the Red Hood. “Look I don't know how or why you're involved with Gotham's heroes—”

 “Vigilantes.” The three corrected, in chorus this time.

 Marinette narrows her eyes at the three of them. “—Vigilantes then but I don't care, you're business is your business and they're certainly doing good for this city from what I can see.” She takes a breath and then continues lecturing. “But my point is, regardless of whatever your reason for being involved with them is, you shouldn't be acting so familiar with each other in such plain view.” She gestures back towards the crime scene, where the Crime Scene Investigator she had been talking to waves at them. “What if a villain saw you and decided to blackmail you into betraying them, kidnap, torture you for information, or kill you just to get at them? Especially if a villain assumes you know their identities. So just be more careful next time.” She finishes with a shake of her head and blows a stray hair away from her face.

 Red Robin and Batgirl valiantly try to quell their giggles and snorts but quickly become forced to lean on each other as they barrel over in laughter. Batgirl even wipes a finger just under the whiteouts of her mask, as if to wipe away a tear.

 Whereas Detective Grayson looks thoroughly chagrined. “I-uh, right…” He pauses and stares at her wide-eyed, “wait I hope you didn't just imply that you think I'm having a secret affair with one of the vigilantes.”

 His response seems to only fuel Red Robin and Batgirl's amusement.

 Marinette shoots him a look of disbelief. “I am well aware that not every relationship a civilian and hero can have is purely romantic thank you very much.”

 It takes a solid minute before the vigilantes are able to breathe without devolving into more giggles. Although their attempts certainly aren't helped by the looks of concern and betrayal Detective Grayson keeps sending them.

 She turns to Red Robin and Batgirl. “Right well if you're both finished—”

 Batgirl raises her hands in defence. “Oh no! We know all about how to properly interact with civilians when in the mask, we don't need a lecture too!”

 Raising an eyebrow at them, Marinette rolls her eyes and deadpans. “—I was going to ask if either of you has had a chance to investigate the crime scene yet?”

 Batgirl glances always and mumbles something under her breath that Marinette can't quite catch but it causes Red Robin to snort.

 He takes half a step forward and shrugs. “No, we haven't yet. We were going to until you and Detective Grayson showed up.”

 Marinette flashes him a humorous smirk. “Well I need to report the updates on the case to Detective Grayson anyway, so you and Batgirl might as well stick around to pay attention.”

 Red Robin smirks back at her, “That would be easier.”

 And Marinette has to stop her heart from fluttering at the sight of his smirk and—is he blushing? Oh no—by mentally reminding herself to not get attached—Stop getting distracted by how cute and pretty Red Robin is! Job first, hero crush later. It does not stop her from blushing as well.

 Beside them, both Detective Grayson and Batgirl facepalm.

 Clearing her throat, Marinette shakes her head and proceeds to rattle off all relevant information to the case and crime scene.

 “Thanks, Officer Dupain-Cheng.” Red Robin says, winking at her.

 Batgirl makes a noise of distress and irritation. “Yeah, thanks…”

 “No problem!” Marinette grins, trying to keep her blush from getting any redder.

 Detective Grayson takes her by the shoulder and starts leading her away from the vigilantes. “Okay, I think that's enough fraternising with the dubious vigilantes.”

 Red Robin and Batgirl make similar noises of offence. “Hey! We're not that dubious!”

 As they arrive at the centre of crime scene again, she catches sight of Batgirl elbowing Red Robin in the side, his face bright red and he's staring after her.

==–==

 Another fortnight passes and no there's been no more progress on their mysterious art park killer. Marinette's on her way back from the fashion district, having gone for a quick shop to grab some more supplies, coffee in hand. She's passing through Grant Park when a familiar structure meets her eyes. She blanches and her shopping bag slips from her grip but thankfully she doesn't drop her coffee. “Shit.”

 She steps closer to double-check it is what she thinks it is. Inside one of the fenced-off flower beds, is another corpse sculpture, same as the previous two. Green and brown stained glass arranged to look like vines and roots in a twisted tower with a corpse half impaled on it, back cut open blood eagle style, and the victim's body posed to look as though it's rising from the flower bed with their arms outstretched. And surprise, surprise. An easel with a turned over canvas is set up on the other side of the sculpture.

 Marinette fumbles for her phone and swipes down to call Detective Grayson, and then Commissioner Gordon, to inform them that she's found another crime scene with the same modus operandi to their park killer case. Elevating their crim from a themed killer to a serial killer.

 She sets going about the protocol for taping off and preserving a crime scene for when the investigation team arrives.

 Ten minutes later, the crime scene investigation team and police squad arrive and Marinette picks up her supplies then sits down on a bench out of sight from the rest of the force but with a view of the scene. She takes slow sips of her coffee. For once Detective Grayson is on time but she still managed to beat him here.

 Marinette watches as he scans the crime scene and bustling team of investigators. She hides a smile behind her coffee as he perks up like a puppy and bounds over to her.

 “Hey, you okay?” He asks, a look of concern furrowing his brow, eyeing her like he's almost expecting her to be hurt.

 If this was an Akuma related situation, she could understand that sentiment but accidentally coming across a crime scene didn't warrant that sort of concern. Marinette shakes her head. “Would you believe if I said I've had a long night?”

 Detective Grayson glances down at his wristwatch and then back to her, looking even more concerned. “It's only just gone eight o'clock.”

 “A very long early night then.” She takes another slow sip of her coffee. It's practically luke-warm at this point but the familiar taste is a small bit of comfort.

 He hmphs and there's a lull of relative silence.

 The Crime Scene Investigator, who she chatted with at the previous two crime scenes, walks over to them. “Killer's M.O.'s the same.”

 “Painted rendition on the turned over canvas?” Marinette checks reluctantly.

 Staring at her, the Investigator adds, “yeah, this one was titled Grant Owlman Rising this time instead though. Also, we've managed to ID the vic.”

 “Already, that's quick?” Marinette frowns, getting a niggling suspicious feeling, not noticing Detective Grayson paling at the title.

 “Uh-huh, they're another meta, got minor geokinesis. I need to return to work now, but I thought you'd appreciate the heads up.” The Investigator waves and walks away.

 “Mhmm, thanks,” Marinette responds on autopilot, mind whirling with thoughts and theories. She chews on her lip and squints at the crime scene. She turns to Detective Grayson.  “I'm starting to think our killer's an AtLA fan?”

 Detective Grayson twists his mouth and cocks his head to the side. “AtLA?”

 Marinette turns her squint onto him. “Avatar the Last Airbender! Have you seriously never heard of it before?”

 Shrugging, he rubs the nape of his neck. “I think I've heard it in passing but being a police detective hasn't exactly left me time to check out new shows...”

 Marinette mock gasps. “Inconceivable!”

 Detective Grayson snorts. “I don't think any of my siblings have seen it either.”

 “Oh, the horror! As soon as this case is over we'll have to remedy that! What better excuse than this for Family plus one co-worker movie night!” She jokes, grinning stupidly.

 Detective Grayson opens his mouth to answer but another Investigator calls him over to the crime scene.

 Barely a second after Detective Grayson's departure, a familiar red and black-clad vigilante hops down from a tree.

 Marinette gives him a deadpan stare. “If you wanted info on the case, you didn't need to stalk us or eavesdrop. Asking politely is an option.”

 Red Robin flushes bright red, looking positively scandalised. “I wasn't stalking!”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

 “You just happen to be sitting at the most strategic place to survey the crime scene without getting caught by the GCPD.” He explains flimsily.

 “Then what is Detective Grayson and I? Chopped liver?” Marinette challenges.

 “I'm not going to answer that.” Red Robin responds with a half-smile.

 “Good idea.” Marinette teases, grinning widely. Then she hesitates, grin faltering.

 He notices this, going straight into concerned™ mode. “Is something?”

 She tilts her head to the side. “There's a pattern with the victims. The first had a fire-themed sculpture and had pyrokinesis, the second had a water-themed sculpture and had hydrokinesis, and the third has a plant-themed sculpture and geokinesis. Meaning there's one more element left, air. So you wouldn't happen to have a way to somehow find a list of all the metas with aerokinesis, would you?”

 Red Robin hums. “I might.”

 Marinette pulls out a notebook and a pen and quickly scribbles down her phone number. “Here,” she says, ripping the note from the book and passing it over to him. “Text me a list if you're able to?”

 He nods. “I'll try.”

 She grins, suppressing the urge to give him a hug in thanks. “Thank you!”

 Saluting, Red Robin disappears into the shadows.

==–==

 Thirteen days later, Marinette finishes up the last of her paperwork. She fires off a quick text tell Detective Grayson that she's going to check on the other half of the people on the list Red Robin provided her.

 Five hours pass, and she's checked through eight names on the list. The next potential target is a young nurse.

 Marinette walks towards the hospital the nurse is working out and spots the nurse leaving. She's about to jog to the nurse instead but a familiar person steps out from the shadows in front of her, the Crime Scene Investigator.

 “Hey. You shouldn't be walking 'round Gotham alone this late.”

 With a tight-lipped smile, Marinette responds, “That's nice of you to worry but I'll be fine. Now if you don't mind, I have to talk to someone and I'm in a rush.”

 The Investigator grabs her by the wrist and it takes all her willpower to not throw him into the nearest wall. He gives her a slow uncurling smirk. “Mhmm, you're looking into people you think might be the next vics, ain'tcha?”

 Several alarm bells are ringing in her head at this point and she carefully sends an SOS message with her location attached to Detective Grayson, without the investigator noticing. “I might be, I might not be.”

 The Investigator chuckles. “You're a bright one. Unfortunately, I can't have you interfering with my plans yet.”

 It takes a second for her to process what the Investi—serial killer just admitted. She sends a message over text to Detective Grayson informing him that she's found the serial killer. Luckily for her, the Investigator seems to enjoy monologuing in her ear about the murders he has committed and lamenting how none of the police force appreciates his genius. In one move she pulls her phone out, snaps a photo of his face, and sends it to Detective Grayson.

 The Investigator snarls. “You bitch!”

 She tries to flip him over her shoulder but he pulls her into a chokehold, sapping away her strength, and then there's a pinprick of pain from the side of her neck.

 Marinette tries to scream and break out of the hold but with her strength gone and whatever she was injected with working too quickly, the chokehold is impossible for her to escape. Her phone falls from her hands and clatters to the pavement, screen shattering while darkness pulls her under and she goes limp.

==–==

 When Marinette comes to, she's blindfolded and gagged, with her wrists and ankles chained together. Everything's numb and fuzzy. She can hear shouting, clanging, and gunfire in the distance but her head and ears feel like someone stuffed cotton wool inside.

 Marinette's not sure if she's drifting in and out of consciousness or not but the sounds seem to be steadily coming closer. The closer the sounds get, the more an achy pain forms.

Then she hears a vaguely familiar voice very close by, “shit, no-no-no! Dick, I've found Marinette.”

 There's a rustle and then a faint pressure against her ribs followed by a flare of red hot pain. Instinctively, Marinette tries to curl up and protect herself.

 The gag and blindfold are removed and Marinette's greeted with the sight of a very worried (and very blurry) Red Robin. She's also in a warehouse—typical villain lair.

 Her vision swims as she tries to speak but her words slurring slightly, not completely convinced what she's seeing is real—why would a hero save me? After all, no one tried to save me when I was hurt as Ladybug so why would anyone care to rescue me as my civilian self? “Red Robin? What're—what are you doing here?”

 “Definitely has bruised ribs, and has been drugged, there's some needle marks on the back of her neck.” He reports, ignoring her.

 Marinette furrows her brow and squints at Red Robin. “'M fine?”

 He turns to her and gives her a wry look. “You're phrasing that like a question. So clearly you're not.”

 She watches as Red Robin fishes a lockpicking set from his utility belt and gets to work unlocking the chains around her wrists and ankles. As the drug wears off, a wave of pain hits her. Marinette yelps and tears spring to get eyes.

 “You're gonna be fine. Not much longer and we can get you to safety.” Red Robin assures.

 “I know,” She mumbles, “you're here after all.”

 Red Robin blushes bright red. “Oh.”

 She goes to say something else but the click of the locks falling off distract her. Stiffly she stands up, partially—mostly leaning on Red Robin for support and rubs at her wrists. “Ow.”

 Gently, he took her by the shoulders and guided her towards the exit of the warehouse. “Come on, you need to be checked by the parameds.”

 Marinette stumbles and stops, refusing to move any further. “Wait!”

 Red Robin freezes. “What's wrong?”

 “Kiss me like a damsel in distress,” Marinette mutters in demand, only half aware of what she's saying—still convinced her rescue is actually just a really vivid dream.

 “What? No, you're drugged!” He responds in horror, stepping away from her then realises his mistake as she sways and grabs her by the shoulders once again before she can fall over.

 Marinette huffs, mildly irritated but finally sounding far more lucid than when Red Robin found her. “It's just ketamines, that's why I'm hallucinating getting rescued. So hallucination Red Robin, gimme a kiss before the hallucination ends because you're cute and I'm a damsel in distress and everyone knows the hero kisses the damsel in distress after rescuing her.” 

 “Oh, Marinette…” Red Robin stares at her, conflicted but will quickly dissolving. “Fine.”

 He takes her breath away with a kiss. Her eyes widen in surprise, not having expected him to comply.

 “Oh.” She says when he takes a half step back, heart fluttering and mind spinning, only just realising that she's fallen head over heels for him, and more importantly realising that this wasn't a hallucination but the actual Red Robin. “Oh.”

 She chews her lip anxiously. “Wow. Okay. Uhh, so you're not a hallucination?”

  “Er, no… sorry for taking advantage of you.” Red Robin responds, looking equally anxious.

 “No, no, I did ask you to kiss me and everything.” She pauses to say something else but a flash of shadows behind them catches both their attention.

 “Dick?” Red Robin stills and asks slowly—tone dangerous. “Did you just take blackmail photos of me kissing Marinette?”

 Detective Grayson steps out of the shadows looking very sheepish. “You forgot to mute your comms. What else was I supposed to do? Interrupt you two? that would be cruel!”

 “Oh my god.” Marinette slaps her hands over her face.

Red Robin wraps a protective arm over her shoulders and pulls her against his armoured chest. “Dick, you should be so glad that you're on duty right now and that I abide by the no-killing rule. Because you're so dead. Delete. The. Photos. Now.”

 Detective Grayson smirks and sprints away. “No can do! Gotta go arrest our killer!”

==–==

|  [Sequel Link]  |

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| A/N: So I really thought SCAB would be my first piece of writing posted on here/for Maribat but then I got mugged in a dark dank alleyway by the Maribat2k20 MariTim prompt calendar and stabbed by the knife of inspiration. So uh yeah enjoy. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

 Heck-heck-heckity-heckles, Marinette chants in her head, desperately needing to find an empty alleyway that she can detransform in. She flicks her yo-yo towards a random skyscraper, and swings her way across the Gotham night skyline, scanning the streets below for somewhere that met her criteria.

 Just as her earrings bleep thrice to signal that she was down to two dots, she spots it, an empty alleyway not in plain view of any roads, or windows. There! She cheers internally, dropping down into the alleyway and whispering a “Tikki, spots off!”

 However, her relief at finding a place to detransform is short-lived, for as soon as the bright pink glow fades away, she's faced with the sight of Red Robin half changed into civvies, domino in one hand. Marinette stares at him in shock, and he stares back. Blinking blankly, she tries to wrap her mind around the fact that one of her "civilian" friends is actually a hero. A hero she's allies with, friends even.

 The two stand there for a solid minute as their brains reboot. Tim cocks his head to one side, gaze flickering between looking her up and down, and staring at her earrings. Marinette also cocking her head to one side but her gaze switches between his bare face and the domino in his hand.

 Once their brains finish rebooting, immediately the two blurt out the first thoughts to come to mind.

 “Tim... You're Red Robin?”–

 –“Wait, Marinette, you've been Ladybug this entire time?”

  Marinette swallowed, blinking back tears, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable she was in the open with her secret exposed and—oh god, Tim's the first person to know my identity bar Master Fu… This is the first time I've ever had my identity revealed and I didn't even get a choice—She manages to choke down a sob before spitting out, “I think we should take this somewhere more private.” The words burning her tongue with the acrid taste of fear.

 He nods sharply—almost more of a jerk than an actual nod. “I agree.”

 Neither makes an attempt to move, both still staring.

 “My place or yours?” She asks, hesitantly, half frowning.

 He nods again, more softly this time, “Mine, but lemme just um…” Gesturing towards the amalgamation that was half his Red Robin suit and half civvies as he speaks.

 Marinette's eyes widen in realisation, practically squeaking, she stutters. “Oh. Uh yeah, sorry!” She stiffly turns her back to him in an act of respect of privacy and cradles her face in her hands as her cheeks flush bright red from embarrassment. God, I'm never going to live this down, am I?

 After about a minute of stewing in her embarrassment, she hears Tim clears his throat from the other side of the Alleyway. “Okay, done.”

 She turns around to face him again, the blush has faded somewhat in the time passed but it's still very clearly noticeable. She can't help but glance at his civilian outfit. “Oh, er, nice?”

 He sort of just blinks at her, rather bemused. “Uh, thanks… I guess?”

 An awkward silence hangs over them as they shuffle and dance around each other on their way out of the alleyway. The walk to his theatre house is just as silent and awkward despite the hundreds of questions on each of their lips. A good thing then—Marinette supposes—that we didn't go to my place, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle an even longer awkward silence.

==–==

 They take the civilian route inside—also known as using the door like a sane person—because apparently, vigilantes will only use windows as entrances provided there are windows to enter and that the vigilantes in question are suited up. Tim spends a good thirty seconds opening his front door, deactivating a bunch of different security protocols most likely. The hallway and lounge lights were already on probably to try and deter potential robbers—the house is in Crime Alley after all—but once they enter said hallway, all the ceiling lights on the first floor switch on.

 Tim guides her to the sofa, which she perches on the edge of, facing the massive fish tank before disappearing into the kitchen. The sound of shuffling feet, cupboards and drawers opening, and the click of a kettle—or perhaps a coffee machine? She can't quite tell from this distance—are the only things to give away what he's doing in there. Marinette has no doubts that he's making the noise on purpose, he's a bat. But she's not quite sure if the noise is because he's comfortable here, or if it's because he's trying to make her feel more welcome?

 A minute later, Tim re-emerges with two teacups in hand. He gently lays both on a coffee table between the sofa and aquarium, one of the cups pushed towards her general direction. He plops himself down on the sofa as well, albeit leaving enough space between the two of them that a third person could sit there.

 She picks up the drink and peers at it, perplexed, for a second, question falling from her mouth before she can stop herself, “Earl Grey? With lemon?” I thought he was a coffee person?

 “Alfred.” Is his clipped response.

 She nods and 'oh's under her breath. That explains it. Marinette takes a sip and her eyes light up. “Oh wow! This is delicious!”

 Tim raises his eyebrows in amusement and snorts but doesn't comment. The conversation lulls again. They sip their tea in silence.

 When Marinette finishes her tea, she carefully puts the mug back down, with an audible clink, on the coffee table. She hesitates and the words Kagami once told her come unbidden to her mind. She grimaces, glances to Tim.

 He's watching her with that calculating gaze of his, however, it seems far more tumultuous in nature this evening. He's hiding his mouth behind his mug like another mask.

 Marinette leans back against the sofa and stares at his ceiling before idiomatically biting the bullet and physical biting her lips. “How long are we going to do this?”

 He freezes. “Do what?”

 She gestures vaguely in the air between the two of them. “This, tiptoe around the elephant in the room or I suppose in our case, the vigilantes in the room.”

 Her phrasing manages to bring a small smile to his face but not a second later it fades and he purses his lips.

 Solemnly, he gives her a once over. “So you're Ladybug then?”

 Marinette huffs. “And you're Red Robin.”

 “Does anyone else know that you're her then?”

 She turns her head away from him, “No, you're…” Her throat closes up and she's forced to blink back tears again. Barely holding back the sniffles, she chokes out the last few words. “You're the only other person to know.”—Not technically a lie, it's not like Master Fu remembers anything about the miraculous, let alone my identity.

 Tim deflates slightly, curling his shoulders inwards. “I wish you had told us before, we could have supported you. You shouldn't have had to deal with all that without help”

 “What? Like Batman didn't start off alone?” Marinette snaps back automatically, no real heat behind her words.

  “Batman's not exactly a pillar of good life decisions or emotional stability.” He retorts with a raised eyebrow.

 Sighing, she shakes her head and whines, “Tim…”

 “Marinette.” His lips twitch upwards like he's in on some joke she doesn't get, “On the bright side, now we know each other's identities, we can help each other on cases and patrols, or cover for the other in or out the masks.” He offers, sounding so calm and nonchalant.

 Marinette shuffles closer to him on the sofa. “That would be useful. I just. I.” She stutters, brain moving faster than her mouth.

 Tim grins ruefully. “You're worried I'm gonna tell the rest of the bats who you are, right?”

 She curls up instinctively. “Yeah…”

 “Don't worry, they're also detectives. If they can't work out your identity then why should I give them the answer?” He tries to joke but it falls flat.

 “The magic of the Miraculous stops people from making the connection between my two identities.” Marinette responds.

 “Ok, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm not going to give you away even if they ask.” He also shuffles closer to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him.

 “Thank you, Tim.”

 “No problem, Mari.”

 Marinette pauses. “So this won't affect our relationship in or out the mask, right? We're still friends?”

 “Of course! This doesn't change a thing.” Tim, emulating Dick, pulls her in for a hug, and if Marinette melts into his arms—well he's not going to say no to that, not when he's so touch starved.

==–==

 When Dick breaks into the house the next morning to check on Tim, seeing as he never checked out for the night nor did he return to the cave, he finds the two cuddled up together—fast asleep on the sofa. He nabs a spare blanket and pulls it over the two of them, snaps a pic to serve as evidence to Tim being okay, and then skedaddles before either can wake.

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

"You brought a kitty to fight for you Batsy, that's funny." He laughed hard at the tied up man. Joker lifted Noir up to his nose and seemed to be debating on what to do with him.

"You know, it's wrong to pick on children Joker." I spouted smiling at him. Teeks and I stood on top of his vehicle of choice with my arms crossed staring down at him. I heard Robin give a "hey" before a groan from being hit by Batman's foot. "I'd like my companion back please." I asked.

"Who are you? You know what I don't care go play superhero some where else kid." He tossed Noir at me then turned his attention back to the birds. Teeks caught Noir in the air and settle him down on her back. Annoyed by the man and time constraint I throw my yo-yo at Joker's arm yanking him back toward me like a spinning top and have him stand in front of me. I won't lie, I'm glad to be standing on something tall because I can lean over him to see his face perfectly.

"I'm Ladybug and you should have a seat." I twitch my wrist then gave him a swift kick as my yo-yo unwound him down to the ground and sat him down dizzy. Teeks walked over to the Batman untying his bindings as Noir untied Robin. "Good work Captain and Black Fang. I'll leave him to you two Batman." I pointed to the now knocked out Joker as I spoke. I felt something under my foot and leaned down to pick it up. It has sharp edges and is shaped as a bat.

"I'll take that back." Batman said his voice gruff and tired. I challenged it with a smile.

"I think I'll keep it. See you around Bat." My voice was stern and tired. The three of us jumped up to the roof and ran off back to the apartment.

The next following morning I cleaned up and made a big breakfast for everyone. The night felt like more of a dream until someone turned the news on and the details of my suit was said through the screen.

"Woohoo! You kicked butt last night!" Kaalki cheered and zipped around the living room followed by Ziggy and Xuppu. I just laughed before sipping my coffee.

"I know right? 'I'm Ladybug and you should have a seat.' That was gold Bug." Plagg said cheerfully.

"Oh geez Plagg it was nothing. Come on eat your breakfast. I won't be feeding you again until just before dinner." I teased as I started cooking eggs and bacon for myself.

The day went by pretty fast between small amounts of customers and working on my new outfit in the parlor. I was just about finished when Tikki nudged me along the cheek that it was an hour 'til Commissioner Gordon showed up. With a smile along my face I finished up the little detail and got ready.

An hour has passed as Teeks and I waited in the bakery cleaning up the final items of the day. The bell chimed and Teeks gave a quick bark was heard over the running water.

"Hello. I'm sorry but I'm closing early today." I called out from the kitchen expecting to hear the door.

"That's a shame, I thought I'd pick up a pretty lady for a date." Jim Gordon said. A smile crept up on my lips and I quickly dried off my hands. Hurrying out to him. "Nice outfit the apron definitely gives it a homey feel." He gave a small chuckle as he smiled.

"Jokes now hm." I gave a smile with a light laugh as I removed the apron, tossing it into the kitchen then grabbed Teeks leash. "Hope you don't mind I bring Teeks."

"Not at all. Where we are going is really pretty and companion friendly." Jim offered me his hand, leading me out the door to his car. "Don't need to lock your door?"

"No sir, it's automatic." I said then pet Teeks as she stuck her head into the middle of the car.

We arrived to our destination a lot quicker than expected. Time flies when you have a lot to talk about it seems. A valet opened my door for me as Jim held his hand out once again helping me up onto the step then Teeks followed behind me holding her leash in her mouth waiting. Jim picked it up from her and handed it to me, leading me through the entrance to the host.

"Welcome to Le Renard Roux, reservations?" The hostess asked in her sweet voice. The name sounded familiar but I couldn't quite pin it down.

"Yes ma'am, a table for three under Gordon." Jim said. He seemed kind of nervous but I was too. After all my last date didn't go very well. The hostess checked through her list then lead us to an elevator taking us up to the second floor. The feeling of cool air felt nice followed by the scent of flowers and candles. The sound of people chattering around us making me more aware that we aren't alone. Our table is close to the terrace engulfed by the smell of purple Wisterias and Ipomoea Alba.

"Your waiter will be right with you. Please enjoy." The hostess said then walked off. Commissioner Gordon pulls my seat back a bit for me to sit down then gently scooted it back toward the table allowing me the perfect spot to "see the view". Teeks sat beside me on my left unseen by others unless looked for. As I listened to Gordon sitting down, I put placed the silk napkin on my lap and smiled.

"So, Monsieur Jim, why did you choose the Red Fox?" I asked leaning forward on the table, resting my chin on top of my interlocked hands.

"I figured you might want a little reminisce of home." He gave me a smile with his words reaching out to touch my hand. The waiter came over, pouring us red wine, then took our order. We spent most of the evening talking about my college days and why I chose to live in Gotham. The evening was going great until Bruce crashed it. Jim had gotten up to take an important phone call when Bruce walked up to our table.

"Ms. Dupain-Cheng are you having dinner alone?" He sounded concern and inviting at the same time. Teeks tail wagged a bit when he spoke, but I refuse to give him an interested response.

"Actually no, I'm here on a date. He stepped out for a call. What brings you here Monsieur Wayne." If my tone was either not clear enough to show I didn't want to see him then he purposely ignored me. He dat down in Jim's spot and asked our waiter for a new cup for wine.

"I saw you sitting alone on my way up here to meet with a client and wanted to be sure you are alright." Some reason his voice sounded sad but he tried to cover it up with his over confidence. "Ah thank you sir." The sound of our wine being poured into a glass made me unsettled. I straighten my back more as I face him directly giving him what I hope was a glare.

"I don't believe I invited you to sit down. I'm sure your client will be worried you missed their meeting." As much as I wanted to apologize to him for the night at the gala, he is making it difficult to feel apologetic by interrupting my date. I was about to say something else when Commissioner Gordon stepped up.

"I'm sorry about that Marinette. It seems I need to take you home. Oh hello Bruce." He had turned his attention slightly to the man in his seat. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Monsieur Wayne said he would pay our bill. Shall we get back so you can get to work?" I stood up taking Teeks leash and then held onto Jim's forearm. We left before Bruce could say anything and headed back to my bakery. Jim let me out, leading me to the door then left placing a light kiss on my cheek. His car roared him down to the precinct and I stepped inside locking the door and head up to my apartment. Plagg and Trixx had the tv on by the time I entered my apartment.

"I guess we don't get a break tonight." I asked listening to the reporter proclaiming that Mr. Freeze was out at the Biolab outside of Joker's territory with Harvey Dent also known as Two Face. "Plagg you, Trixx, and me tonight?" With a happy cheer I transformed with Plagg and fused with Trixx as Noir and Teeks transformed with Nororo and Dessu.

🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞🦇🐞

| A/N: So as I mentioned in the authors note of the previous Ficlet, I got mugged in the dark dank alleyway by the Maribat2k20 MariTim prompt calendar and stabbed by the knife of inspiration. Except this time it was the angsty knife of inspo. So enjoy a nice but of hurt with comfort. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

 Crashing into the Miller Harbour waters after being thrown from the roof of a warehouse is not how Tim thought his evening would go. Then again, earlier, he hadn't realised this drug trade would be a trap, meaning now he just so happens to be the unlucky bat to get caught. Or in this case, dumped in the harbour. Which is great. Lovely. Abso-fucking-lutely spectacular.

 The crack of the armoured suit and gear slamming into the dubiously murky waves is accentuated by the thrumming pain from where his back and neck take the brunt of the impact. Tim arches in pain as the air is knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for breath. It's not helped by the chilly water breaching his suit and stinging his open wounds. I'm going to get so sick from this, urgh. He grumbles internally. Even if he wasn't lacking a spleen, the harbour's waters are polluted enough to make probably even Superman sick.

 Tim kicks upwards and is struck with the realisation of oh no, oh fuck. As the water weighs his suit down even more and he starts to sink. The cold saps his energy and makes him clumsy. Fingers slipping at the straps and zips and security measures on his suit. Grimacing, he struggles, strength waning too quickly. Sploosh-Thwip-thwip-thunk-clink, chunks of his armour detach and sink below, significantly slowing his descent but he's still sinking.

 He fumbles around his belt for his rebreather and manages to get it over his mouth just as his vision loses colour and goes fuzzy around the edges. Breathing heavily, he listens to the creepy sound of the rebreather working and flurry of air bubbles surrounding it.

 Shit, I'm running out of time. Tim curses in his head. He keeps kicking and the water is looking lighter, meaning he's close. So close. But not close enough.

There's a thunderous splash as Tim breaches the surface. He doesn't stop—can't stop, not if he wants to live. His swimming is the only thing keeping his blood pumping and head above water.

 His vision blurts violently and the darkness at the edges of his sight flares. Not enough time, not enough. The bank is closer though, I might make it?

 Tim blacks out.

 One second he was swimming for his life, now he's lying face down on the cement bank, gasping for breath like a dying fish. He pushes himself up, muscles protesting and shaking from cold and pain. There's a shallow pool of watery blood surrounding him—not good but could be worse. Just need to get back to my Nest and I'll be fine.

 Tim fiddles around his remaining armour and gear, tapping the self destruct buttons for the discarded gear, and grasping at the grapple hook in relief—it would be a pain getting back home without it. He limps forward and shoots the grapple, swinging himself home.

 He barely makes it through deactivating his security measures and stumbles through his window. Limping over to his sofa, Tim immediately collapses and passes out—still in gear.

==–==

 The next day, Marinette's halfway through patrol and already fairly banged up—with a particularly nasty headache among other things—when she spots that the window to Tim's Nest is open. She swings by to inspect and sees his handiwork on the deactivation of his security measures. She hums and glanced through the window to look inside, thinking, Probably nothing to worry abo—

 Tim's lying half on the sofa, covered in blood and muck. He's pale—paler than usual—and his hair is plastered to his forehead. Breathing laboured and nasally, and shaking like a leaf. He looks sick and injured and he's not even managed to switch into civvies before passing out—not good, really not good.

 Okay maybe definitely something to worry about. Marinette mentally amends, a spike of worry slamming itself into her chest. Especially since no one's talked to or heard from him since early patrol yesterday... She climbs through the open window, closing it behind her and then resecures the security measures.

 With a whispered “Tikki, spots off,” she drops her transformation and wobbly bolts to Tim's side. Checking his pulse and status. Too-quick heartbeat, infected lacerations to the arms, legs, and torso, bruised or maybe broken ribs—Marinette flinches and takes a second to calm herself down so she doesn't retch—bruising to the side of the head, and a ton of minor bumps, scratches, and grazes from the looks of things. She then checks his other symptoms: rapid and shallow breathing with occasional wheezing, high temperature, sweating and shivering—clammy.

 Marinette chews her lip, eyes watering. “Oh, Tim…” She shakes her head, heart-pounding, and whips out her phone, scrolling down to the contact with shaky hands. It rings twice then picks up. “Leslie?” She cuts in as soon as the call connects, shoving the phone between her ear and shoulder to free her hands. “I'm at Red Robin's place and he's hurt, really bad, I—” She breathes in before recounting all his injuries and symptoms. “He's unconscious, and I think he's either in septic shock or got pneumonia, maybe both…” As she's talking, Marinette grabs the nearest first aid kit she can find and goes about cleaning out and patching up the injuries she can with the equipment she has.

 “I'll be able to treat him at the cave. How quickly can you get there?” Leslie answers in a clipped but calm tone.

 “Uhh…” Marinette pauses both in speech and in movement, “We'll need someone to drive him there because I can't drive. I don't know who's close enough and can drive. I'll call B, O, or Agent A after this.” She continues to apply first aid.

 “I'll be at the cave in twenty-five minutes,” Leslie responds, cutting the call off not a second later.

 She grabs her phone from her precarious ear-to-shoulder position and scrolls to Agent A's number and it only takes him one ring to answer. “A.” Marinette pulls the same thing she did with Leslie's call, cutting in before the other can speak whilst putting it back between her ear and shoulder so she can continue applying minor treatment. She repeats the same thing she told Leslie. “I've also called Leslie, she's heading to the cave now, she said she'll be about twenty-five minutes.”

 She doesn't quite catch all of Alfred's response because Tim wakes with a groan and coughs, his pupils are blown and his gaze is worryingly blank—glazed over. Marinette thinks she hears something about the batmobile and three minutes but she's more worried that it looks like he's concussed as well. “Concussion. He's also got a concussion.” Marinette relays on autopilot, and maybe she hears Alfred inhale sharply but she can't tell. She's not sure when or if the call ends but she's too stressed to care.

 She's fumbling with the first aid and it takes every speck of focus she's got to make sure she isn't making him worse—next thing she knows Nightwing and Red Hood and jumping through the window (security deactivated and opened first, so no broken windows here).

 Red Hood pulls Marinette away from Tim, and Nightwing carefully scoops his little brother up. The world blurs around her and then her vision wavers, going completely colour blind as it goes fuzzy and dark at the edges, getting worse and worse. She thinks Red Hood's talking to her, he's gripping her arm rather tightly, almost painfully but it's giving her something to anchor on to… But it's not enough, her vision spins, going completely black, and distantly she hears panicked yelling and feels the world tipping to one side—

 ==–==

 The world slowly comes to and Marinette's feeling absolutely wretched. She's lying on a medical cot from what she can tell, but her mind's so fuzzy. She doesn't want to open her eyes. People are talking in hushed tones the distance. She thinks this isn't the first time she's woken up here since—

 She has vague memories of opening her eyes and people bustling in and out of view, asking questions and doing things. She doesn't remember much.

 Then she hears a voice closer to her, she can't remember whose voice it is but it's warm and rumbly but not too gruff—familiar. “Hey kid, you awake again?”

 Marinette groans in protest—she would rather not be awake right now.

 “Yeah, yeah, you're in pain, life sucks. I know.” The voice sounds amused.

 She huffs in indignation which only causes the voice to bark with laughter.

 The voice quietens down after a second. “You an' Timbo gave us quite the scare y'know. Don't think I've ever seen B that worried before, when we dragged the both of you to the Batmobile.”

 Marinette hums, unsure how else to respond.

 “You've got a concussion if you're wondering, you were lucky I was already holding you up when you fainted. Could've made your concussion worse if you had hit the ground instead.”

 She groans again, the mention of the concussion brings the full throbbing pain in the back of her skull back to her attention. She huffs again to express her displeasure at the voice reminding her.

 The voice snorts—probably at her pain like a sadist. “Timbo's fine, by the way, surgery went off without a hitch. Even woke up a few times, so if you're up and about the next time he wakes up you can help the others smother him with love and affection.”

 Marinette smiles lopsidedly. “Coo'.”

==–==

 Of course, the first thing she does once she's no longer bed-bound, and Tim's awake and somewhat healed, is take Jason's (it took her a while to recognise it was him who had been speaking to her) advice. In the form of her relentlessly hugging Tim like a clingy koala—much to his joy and begrudging dismay.

 “Mari… please.” Tim begs, staring at the ceiling as if it would somehow save him.

 If anything his words prompt her to hug him even tighter, “Nope! I will hug you for as long as I physically can.”

 In exasperation, he exclaims, “Mari, no!”

 “Mari, yes!” She shoots him a smug grin.

 “Mari please.” 

 “Tim, I will keep hugging you.” Marinette threatens

 “Mari, let go.” He says with no real intent behind his words.

 “No letting go! Only hugs or death!” She declares with an even smugger grin.

 He grins back then dramatically proclaims, “Guess I'll die then.”

 “No!” She half screeches, struggling to contain her giggles.

 “Oh no! I'm dying! Blargh!” He lays back down on the medical bed, pretending to die dramatically. “Marinette, as my dying words I must tell you that—that I—I—” He fake coughs and lets himself go limp.

 “Tim! Nooo! Clearly, the only way to save you from dying is to give you the magical fairytale kiss of life!” As soon as she says that, not giving him any time to react, she pecks him on the lips.

 “Wow, I'm alive again, what a miracle!”

==–==

 Around the corner, unbeknownst to the two, Jason eyes Dick with amusement. “You taking blackmail photos there, Dickiebird?”

 Dick makes an undignified squawking sound and nearly drops his phone. If not for his bat training, he definitely would have dropped it. Trying to pull off an air of nonchalance, he leans against. “Pfft! What are you talking about? Of course I'm not, I'm just collecting evidence that Timmy's okay. For uh Bruce and Alfred's sake. And the Teen Titans too, they've all been worried once they heard how bad he got.”

 Jason snorts. “"For evidence he's okay", sure you are.”

 Dick narrows his eyes. “If you tell anyone, I'll release all the cute photos I have of you when you were still wearing the Robin suit.”

 Jason gasps. “You wouldn't dare!”

 Dick grins. “Try me, Little Wing.”

 Raising his hands up, Jason backs away. “Fine! You win!”

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |