Even the Losers
Chapter 40
Chapter 1 Chapter 39
“I don’t like this,” Marinette groused as she trailed after Roy with hurried, yet ultimately unproductive, movements and a furrowed brow, her too large jacket, or rather Roy’s jacket that hung loosely over his too long shirt on her, decidedly not flapping dramatically behind her as she would have preferred.
It was taking everything in her not to physically shove him forward under the delusion she would be able to force him to rush, maybe not at the pace she wanted, because she wasn’t sure humans were capable of moving at the pace she wanted, but faster than the glacial pace he’d set.
She glared at his red hair, effortlessly, sexily ruffled and not getting messed up in their rush. Why couldn’t she have fallen for a Super? They’d be faster. Or! Or a Speedster. She was in Gotham after all and had already met some Bats. Why couldn’t she have met one of the useful heroes and fallen for them? But noooo. She had to fall for a civilian.
One of the Speedsters had red hair, didn’t they? The old one? Older, she corrected herself grumpily. He hadn’t done anything to earn her ire, unlike the escargot in front of her. She shifted her glare to his shoes. Maybe if she moved his feet for him, he would actually move instead of whatever he called this sedate pace he’d adopted.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he chuckled with absolutely no amusement or sympathy. “Am I going too slowly?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed then looked around quickly to see who they may have woken up.
She glared at him as he seemed to move slower until he stopped and turned to face her. His teasing smile eased into a serious but soft expression. “I’m not going to go faster than I think your body can handle. I’m not going to stop you from doing anything, but I’m not going to facilitate the things I think will hurt you. If you think you can find your way,” he motioned down the hallway ahead of them, “then feel free to limp at the speed you prefer.”
“I’m perfectly capable of walking, running even. Which, please feel free to do as well,” she snipped. “I would love to prove myself.” He raised an eyebrow at her. After a staring contest that Marinette would normally have been more than willing to let continue until she won, she finally groaned then let out a long breath. “Fine.” She motioned ahead of them, her lower lip pulled down into a pout.
With a pointed nod, he moved again, continuing his previous unhurried pace, looking back over his shoulder frequently to assure himself she was keeping up. Instead of being endearing, which she knew it should be, it was making her resentful. She didn’t have time to go this slowly. Even if it did hurt, which she would never admit to Roy that it did, and every movement did, in fact, cause extreme pain, running would probably actually kill her, the pain would be temporary.
They were in a hospital.
She’d be fine. Afterall, she’d come back from worse. But, if something had happened to Adrien, that could be permanent.
“How do you know the hospital so well anyway?” she huffed.
Roy snorted. “Are you kidding me? I’m a Queen and friends with the Waynes and a bunch more friends who have more money than brains I know the layout of every major hospital in every major city in America. And a few in other countries too.”
Marinette froze mid-step and stared at him, her pout disappearing as her jaw dropped. “What?” Roy looked back and blinked like hearing her shock at the bomb he just dropped was unusual. “That’s… that’s… why would you know that?”
He grimaced and his shoulders slumped as he edged toward her. “Yeah, okay. I’m not doing great with words… today.” He sighed and met her eyes offering a wry smile. “I will have you know, typically, I’m charming and the best one on the… of the group with words,” he finished awkwardly. He may be having significant issues over the past day with telling truths that were a bit too deep for the short amount of time they’d known each other, but his status as a hero was definitely one that he knew wasn’t the right time to expose, because it didn’t just expose him, it exposed her entire family.
He gently cupped one side of her jaw, the side that seemed the least colorful, actually it might be the least colorful part of her entire body at that particular point. “I think something about you unsettles me,” he stated in a soft voice. He searched her face for a second before placing a soft kiss on her lips. “In the best possible way. Come on, let’s get to the waiting room.”
Marinette stared after him for a second, her mind warring between focusing on his words and the mission she had only moments before. Roy made it all the way to the next set of doors before one side finally won and she marched toward him, eyes narrowed. He’d win this one. She would let him change the subject, but only because she was so focused on Adrien. If Adrien had been any less injured, she would pursue the topic, but not today, a fact he clearly knew judging by the wide, smug smile on his lips as he held the door open for her.
She glared at him as she passed through the door refusing to acknowledge the way her stomach fluttered, and her chest felt a little less constricted as a result of that smile. He might have won this one, but she didn’t have to be happy about it. She kept the harsh eye contact until she passed him, only then facing forward and immediately freezing.
In front of her, feet from the confrontation just moments before, her friends were sprawled in chairs and a makeshift bed, which Chloe had taken command of after pushing several couches together. Or more likely, which Chloe was resting on after having had Conner push them together for her. Not that she couldn’t, but if there was someone around that she could get to do it for her, she wouldn’t have.
“I hate you so much,” Marinette hissed lowly.
He kissed the top of her head as she stomped toward the trio sleeping or seemingly trying to sleep. “Love you, too,” he chuckled, then froze instantly. “Like you… Care about you, too…” he rushed out. “Not… it was an automatic response.” He glanced up at her desperately, trying to read her expression to make sure he hadn’t screwed anything up with her. They’d already established where they were. She’d made her opinion clear, and he didn’t want her to think he was trying to pressure her or worse take advantage of her distress.
However, she didn’t appear to share his concern about the topic. Either that or she hadn’t heard him, because she was already across the room, descending upon its innocent sentries.
“How is Adrien?” she demanded loudly.
Max jerked up and looked around him anxiously, slumping back into his seat when he recognized his assailant. Marinette standing inexplicably angrily in front of them, Roy quietly closing the door. “Hey, look at that,” he sleepily reached over the arm of the couch to smack Chloe’s arm, “the doors don’t have to slam.”
Chloe batted his hand away distractedly, having risen significantly more gracefully and disdainfully while he was still floundering. “That’s because…” but her retort died on her lips as her eyes laser focused on Marinette’s legs then snapped up to Roy in a dark glare. “Why isn’t she wearing pants?” she demanded.
Max snapped back up in his seat, eyes suddenly wide open. He stared at Marinette’s legs for a few seconds before his head cocked to the side. “I put pants in your bag,” he noted puzzled. “I distinctly remember doing it.”
“Dude,” Conner groaned tiredly. He slowly unrolled himself from his, frankly, torturous looking folded position in the waiting chair. “Really?”
Chloe whirled back to face Max, face thunderous and accusatory. “Did you put… oh,” she interrupted herself and deflating only for a moment before turning her thunderous expression back to Roy. “Why isn’t she…”
“Did I pack the wrong pants?” Max asked, head still cocked to the side as his brain whirred to put the clues in the correct sequence to form a coherent picture.
“The wrong pants?” Conner asked, his voice thick with confusion and sleep. “How would you get the wrong pants out of her bag?”
Max looked uncertainly between Chloe and Marinette’s legs then back again. “She complains about not getting the right combination of…”
“Oh my God!” Chloe snarled. She shoved the second couch away with enough force, the heavy seating scooted back a few feet, so she could stand and glare down at him with more authority. “This is Marinette. She doesn’t care what she looks like. She is perfectly content going around looking like a…”
“Adrien, how is he?” Marinette repeated more loudly this time, frustration rising in her tone. They were all there for a reason and it felt like everyone else had forgotten what that was.
Chloe’s attention shot to Marinette but instantly drifted to Roy standing anxiously behind her. Her eyes narrowed as she scowled and stalked toward him. “I said rested, not happy,” she screeched.
“I did!” Roy exclaimed quickly, jumping out of Chloe’s reach before her nail, chipped at the edges from having been bitten throughout the night, could dig into his chest. “I mean I didn’t. I got her to sleep!”
Chloe’s eyes widened and her entire face morphed into pure fury. “You…”
“Not like that!” he exclaimed. He moved quickly behind Conner, which was pure coincidence. It had nothing to do with the whole body of steel thing. At least nothing he would ever admit.
“Adrien! Now!” Marinette yelled, causing even Markov to bob back in surprise. “How is he?” she continued at a lower volume but no less rancor.
“He’s okay,” Conner answered before anyone else recovered from their surprise. He edged toward her cautiously, hands held out toward her as though he could push down her fear and anger. “No change in status... well, no negative change. He's getting stronger,” Conner assured her.
Marinette’s body relaxed instantly. She collapsed into a chair as a tautness she hadn’t realized was holding her muscles’ position, releasing at the news. “Oh, thank God. Has he woken up?”
“No,” Max answered, his voice soft with concern, “but that is expected. It would be highly unusual, and slightly concerning, if he had. We’ve been keeping a close eye on him. Especially Markov. He’s given an update every time anything changed. So, we’ve been on top of it.”
“Conner Kent is correct,” Markov agreed. “Adrian is stronger, though still in a concerning state. He should remain under doctor watch and care.”
Marinette’s lips curled into a slight smile. “Thank you, Markov. We agree. If anyone suggests changing that, let us know immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Markov bobbed forward in agreement.
“I'm sorry,” Chloe cut in, the tentative edge from Conner and Max’s voices nowhere in her sharp tone, “are we just going to ignore the lack of pants?”
Marinette instantly scowled at nobody, but her eyes immediately found the doors to Adrien’s door. “I forgot to put them back on.”
“Put them back on!” Chloe screeched. She advanced on Roy again, harshly motioning toward Marinette. “Why did she take them off?”
Roy threw his hands up and edged around Conner again. “Back on after she threw them at Bruce when she found out he’d been tracking her through bugs in her clothes.”
“I am right here you know,” Marinette grumbled without looking over to them. “I can also give reports on my life.”
“But not accurate ones,” Roy scoffed. Marinette’s eyes finally moved from Adrien’s door to pin him with a glare. Her scowl deepened when Max snorted in agreement.
“He’d been what?” Chloe asked carefully, emotionlessly. An innocuous tone that would seem innocent to anyone who did not know her. However, to anyone who knew her, anyone who had experienced her outbursts. Those people knew that tone was more dangerous than any venomous, harsh timbre words.
“How did you get here with no pants?” Conner asked curiously, unaware of the chill that had run down Max’s spine.
“With a tight grip and a lot of luck,” Marinette quipped, a bit too lightly, avoiding Chloe’s gaze.
“We should get her some pants,” Max offered, immediately looking around to find pants she could use. He ruled out using the pants of anyone else in the room almost immediately and let his mind move to less traditional options. They were in a hospital; she couldn’t be the first person to come in without pants. They must have options for such cases. He looked for Markov to ask him to run some analytics but was interrupted by Roy.
“It’s fine. She’s going to be in a hospital gown anyway,” he stated, not loudly, but with a definitiveness, it was almost a solid thing.
Conner looked back and forth between Marinette and Roy. “Why will she be in a hospital gown now if they didn’t admit her before?” he asked delicately, like he was afraid the answer might break the straining stick holding up a cracked dam wall and release the flood water.
Chloe cocked her head and stepped closer to Marinette, her eyes running over her like she could run one of Markov’s analyses. “That is your first smart question. Let’s discuss that.”
“Hey,” Conner exclaimed.
But while Chloe, Max, and Markov’s attention was on Marinette, Roy shifted his attention to Conner and shoved him as hard as he could, trying to at least produce a minute movement. “What the hell?” Conner grunted. “Is that your new introduction every time you see me now?”
“You saw how bad she was and didn't say anything,” Roy whisper hissed, he looked around to make sure nobody was listening to them but pulled him away a few steps despite the others having become more focused on Marinette’s legs.
Conner blinked at him shaking his head like shaking the words into a more reasonable order. “She said she saw a doctor and was cleared so I figured you knew. Plus, she's no worse than a few of your latest fights.”
“She not a hero,” he growled through his teeth. “The gage is different.”
Conner opened his mouth to respond but immediately snapped it shut again. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Roy. I’m so used to you guys…” he sighed and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Chloe’s eyes carefully traced the edges of the bruises exposed by Marinette’s impromptu wardrobe, tracking as one deep purple seemed to melt into a lighter purple of the next bruise before deepening so dark, it was almost black and disappearing under the shirt that swallowed her, making her appear even smaller than she already did. Chloe started to lift the hem of the shirt to continue tracking the path but was shocked back into reality when Marinette batted her hand away.
Chloe rolled her eyes and leaned back; arms crossed over her chest with an annoyed scoff. “Oh, come on, it’s not like it isn't something everyone here has seen before.”
“Excuse you!” Marinette shrieked. “It is something NOBODY here has seen before outside of my bikini at your pool party last year.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, that's disappointing,” she huffed.
“What do you…” Marinette stared at her incredulously. “He told you we didn't do anything. You yelled at him for maybe not meaning it.”
“Well, yeah. That’s my job. Can’t let him think it’s okay,” she shrugged off Marinette’s dismay like brushing off annoying lint. “But I thought he meant ‘we didn’t do anything’ like I mean it when I say I didn't do anything.”
Nobody responded for a few seconds, just watching the two women face off, one clearly considerably closer to a breakdown than the other, until Max finally broke the silence curiously. “What do you mean when you say it?”
“That I definitely did something, just not everything… usually… sometimes… okay never,” she admitted flippantly, “but it’s what I expect other people mean.”
“That’s the exact opposite of what that means,” Max pointed out at the same time Roy chimed in with, “Oh... yeah, same.”
“Roy!” Marinette exclaimed.
“Just with clothes on,” he amended, but the contrite tone was countered by his smug grin.
“Well, that’s… slow, but that’s the speed she likes so... Good job. I’m proud… I guess,” Chloe granted grudgingly. She eyed Marinette’s legs again, eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare. “Bitch, what does Ginger Spice mean you didn't see a doctor?”
Marinette let out a long, pained sigh. “I’m fine.”
Chloe’s eyebrow arched and bobbed back like she needed more space in order to properly evaluate the stupidity of the statement. “The fuck you are and according to Lucille Ball’s less talented brother, you didn’t see a doctor.”
Marinette met Chloe’s accusatory gaze with an apparently unbothered one of her own, just the slight tremor of the corners of her lips betrayed her. Finally, she huffed out a breath to glare at Roy. “Teller tale,” she hissed loudly.
Roy blinked once. Twice. Before finally responding, calmly, a harsh streak in his voice. “Tattletale. The word is tattletale. And if you hadn’t done something to tattle on, I wouldn’t have taled.”
“So,” Max started tentatively, drawing the vowel out as he stepped next to Marinette and Roy, almost between them but just to the side, not quite willing to insert himself into the mire, but knowing he had to, “you didn’t see a doctor?”
“I said,” she responded through gritted teeth, but quickly switched to a threadbare smile, “I’m fine.”
“That’s a no,” Max sighed. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Marinette…”
“No, she did not,” Chloe interjected with a sneer. She stepped in front of Marinette, having absolutely no fear of jumping right into the mire and any creatures stupid enough to try to come at her, “the liar.”
Marinette gasped and straightened up instantly. “I am not a liar.”
“Did you not imply you had seen a doctor?” Roy asked, though the tone was harsh leaving no doubt it was more of a disapproving demand.
She opened her mouth to deny, but the steely look in his eyes stopped her. She readjusted her posture trying to find one that fit the new situation. The incredulity of a moment ago felt wrong, like a too tight shirt, but giving in felt like not wearing anything at all and she wasn’t ready for that kind of vulnerability. She straightened again, but with less solidity this time, just the tiniest bit of waver in her posture that felt more like a tsunami wave to her, one she was determined to ride through. “Implication is not a lie.”
Roy’s expression fell into an unimpressed gaze. “Is that really the lesson you want me to take from our interactions? ‘Implication is not a lie.’ It’s okay if I only implied something false?”
Marinette huffed and looked away. “There were more important things to worry about,” she mumbled.
Roy’s unimpressed look somehow flattened even more. “The fucking genetics, man,” Conner grumbled under his breath, but still loud enough to feel like it echoed throughout the room. “If ever there was a doubt…”
Chloe’s scoff, however, was actually loud enough to echo throughout the room. She started to stalk toward Marinette but stopped when a nurse walked into the room, laptop open in his hand and fingers scrolling as his eyes darted back and forth across the screen. “Oh, look how lucky that is,” she sneered at Marinette with an overly wide pompous smile. “Hey, you, Doogie Howser, my girl needs someone to look at her. Bill the Waynes.” She waved her hand flippantly then immediately frowned as her eyes zeroed in on the chipped polish on her fingernails.
“Chloe!” Marinette screeched. She opened and closed her mouth. Her brows furrowed and head cocked to the side as she tried to scrub her brain. “Who is Doogie Howser?” she finally asked after finding no trace of the name.
“Don’t know. Just know it’s an insult for doctors,” she shrugged. Suddenly, she straightened up and leaned closer to Marinette, her eyes alight with glee, like she was sharing a secret. “I heard someone say it a few years ago and the look on the guys face…” she glanced into the distance a blissful expression settling on her face making her look almost innocent, a look that was utterly alien on her features. She let out a longing sigh and shook her head, snapping it toward the nurse when he took a step. “Where do you think you’re going, Hot Lips? We aren’t done here. She needs a bed. In the same room as Adrien.”
The nurse snapped his laptop shut with a loud crack. “That is not how things work,” he stated firmly, just a hint of condescension in his tone. “We will get her on the docket to get checked out and if necessary, we will find an available room that works with the appropriate nurse specialty and rotation for her to move into.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes, but a smirk settled on her lips and her body relaxed as if easing into a role she was intimately comfortable with. “Do you know who I am?”
He looked her over apathetically, eyes settling on her blonde hair. “Well, you’re not a Wayne. Are you a Queen?”
“I am, but not like that. That’s his department,” she scoffed motioning dismissively toward Roy. “For your purposes, consider me a princess. In fact, the princess. The most spoiled, annoying, determined, screechy princess Gotham has ever witnessed.” She took a threatening step towards the nurse. “So, when I say, she will receive a bed in that room, I mean, she WILL receive a bed in that room.”
“Ma’am,” the nurse sighed heavily as if expelling his last, barely grasped reason to live, “if you think you are more annoying than one of the rogues messing with our medical supplies, causing us to have to triple check every single tool, supply, and medicine we use, you are sorely mistaken. Now, if you will excuse me, I will finish my rounds then I can find someone to enter her information into the system so she can be added to the Emergency Room docket. Or you could make it go faster by taking her to the ER yourself.”
“Look you insignificant irritant,” Chloe hissed. “This woman…”
“Chloe, please stop and let the man do his job,” Marinette begged tiredly.
“What do you think that statement will accomplish?” Max asked, voice comprised of equal measures doubt and curiosity. “You know it won’t work. Are you trying to get in the hospital staff’s good graces?”
“No, I’m trying to…” the rest of her sentence was interrupted by a loud bang against the door then immediately a quieter, but deeper thump. The nurse glanced at the door curiously, but Chloe, Max, and Roy immediately moved into battle stances, Roy’s move positioning him in front of Marinette. His body was tense but pliable, ready to react whichever way the situation played out. However, his body eased after a glance to Conner who was stifling a laugh. He glanced at the door curiously as it opened slowly and Stephanie poked her head into the room.
“We brought waffles!” Stephanie announced meekly, holding aloft a bag, splotches where presumably syrup had leaked through.
“Waffles and embarrassment,” Tim chuckled stepping around her into the room. His steps slowed until he stopped midway into the room.
She glared at him, dropping her hand with the bag so quickly the food inside bounced against the sides and a small tear appeared along one of the stains. “That’s your fault,” she hissed. “I was ready to wake up stupidly early for this, but that wasn’t good enough for you. Noooo. We had to come hours earlier than I agreed to so you could feed your paranoia.”
Her eyes widened and she slowly turned toward Marinette and Chloe with a strained smile. “But I wanted... want to be here. It's fine. I'm happy to be here to support Marinette. You.” She motioned toward Marinette like Marinette may have forgotten who she was. “How you doing girl? You doing better? You look... okay you look like death warmed over, not going to lie, but that means you're alive, so fuck Black Mask. And, we brought waffles,” she exclaimed holding the bag out to Marinette. “That makes everything better.”
Tim waved her away, physically trying to push down her distraction. His eyes focused on taking in every detail in order to form an assessment of the situation before he chose a course of action, his eyes lingering on Marinette’s legs and his face contorting for just a second at the sight before slipping into a detached affect. “What… uh, what did we miss?”
“Me doing my rounds,” the nurse grumbled and started toward the ward doors. “Which I’ll perform for you now.”
Chloe smoothly stepped into his path. “I don’t think so, Nurse Ratched. Do you see my friend standing there?”
“My eyes work, yes,” he sighed.
“Then we aren’t done here,” she said slowly yet harshly with all the pomposity of someone explaining to one of their butlers why they were still wrong for not doing something she hadn’t asked them to. A position she was very familiar with. “We will not be done here until you take her to be examined.”
Stephanie straightened up and with significant effort tore her eyes away from Chloe, but her head quirked to the side, concern seeping into her tone. “She needs to be examined again?”
“She needs to be examined for the first time,” Conner grumbled, with absolutely no concern in his tone. There wasn’t room with all the frustration.
“She wasn’t examined?” Tim asked, his head whipped back and forth between Marinette and Chloe then finally landing on the nurse. “How the Hell did that happen? She came in here after a fight with Black Mask and nobody examined her?”
Marinette’s shoulders slumped and she let out a long breath. “I am fine,” she repeated yet again.
Tim stared at her incredulously. “Not with bruises like those you aren’t,” he growled motioning toward her legs. “And from what we heard, your legs were not the part that got hit the hardest.” He turned his glare toward the nurse. “I need Dr. Tompkins here now.”
“I was not on duty when any Black Mask victims were brought in so I cannot speak to what happened. However, I can submit your request,” he agreed, “after I’ve done my rounds. However, if you want Dr. Tompkins specifically…”
“We’ll submit the request now,” he cut in dismissively, already done dealing with him. He sent Stephanie a look, one she instantly understood based on her nod just before she shoved the waffles into Max’s hands and stepped out of the room, phone already in hand.
Chloe nodded at him in approval but narrowed her eyes at the nurse. “Now we just need them to put her in Adrien’s room.”
“This is not a hotel. You cannot simply request a room. There are regulations, requirements, health standards. We have a hard enough time complying amidst all the rogue attacks. We’re certainly not going to acquiesce to you,” he stated with forced, not entirely believable calmness. “Not to mention I have no idea who you are talking about.”
“Adrein Agreste,” Max clarified. “He was admitted last night.”
The nurse nodded slowly. “Right. Mr. Agreste. Severe…” He snapped his mouth shut when the door eased open as Stephanie strode back in with a nod to Tim. “I can’t reveal anything about his condition.” He looked over at Marinette. “And we cannot put her in his room. He is in critical condition and under extensive observation.”
“And she would like to extensively observe him as well,” Chloe snapped. “And she is going to get what she wants because she is of particular interest to the Director of Style Queen, the CEO of Graham Studios, Jagged Stone’s entire team and especially the man himself, Clara Nightengale, the CEO of Tsurugi Industries, the entire Miraculous team of heroes, Wonder Woman…”
“And the Bat family,” Tim cut in, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’ve been watching over her since she was outed as a Wayne,” he added quickly. “As well as the Waynes themselves and every executive of Wayne Enterprises who’s met her.”
“And the Queens,” Roy added in stepping behind Chloe, “and the Arrows.”
“And the Luthors, and the Supers,” Conner added stepping up on Chloe’s other side. “Not to mention the lead reporter for the Daily Planet, and Clark Kent.”
“Oh my God,” Marinette groaned. She dropped her head to her chest and covered her face with her hand as though she could disappear behind it. “Chloe, guys, please…”
“And me,” Stephanie offered after a beat. “I don’t, like, know who else other than the people they mentioned and I don’t have money or anything, but yeah, me too.”
“And none of them like to see her disappointed. So, when I say, you will do everything you can to make sure she and Adrien are cared for and together,” Chloe stepped closer to the nurse digging her nail into his chest, “I mean you. Will. Do. Everything. To. Make. Sure. She. And. Adrien. Are. Cared. For. And. Together.”
The nurse looked down at his chest for a beat then looked back up with a look so over the situation, he could have pointed to this moment as his villain origin story and nobody would have been surprised. “I told you already, I cannot put her in the same room, it would disrupt them both and the room is not able to support two beds and all the ancillary equipment,” the nurse responded tiredly. He looked over them again then lifted his gaze to the ceiling with a silent prayer for serenity before returning his eyes to Chloe. “But tell Dr. Tompkins there’s at least one open room in this ward. I don’t know where it is but it’s at least close.” He nodded to them and left the room, without getting intercepted this time.
Chloe glared at him until the door closed behind him then whirled around on the men who had stepped up to support Marinette, and more importantly her. Her eyes narrowed as she studied them like a legal brief cataloging every weakness, every loophole, every unsaid admission. “Interesting,” she stated.
“That was so fucking hot,” Stephanie whispered to Tim through hard pants, though the slight uptick of Chloe’s lips indicated she heard it.
“Can you guys not threaten and intimidate innocent people who are just doing their jobs,” Marinette asked though her voice lacked heat, instead sounding about as done as the nurse’s had been.
“No,” all four answered in unison. Even Stephanie had allowed herself to take her focus off Chloe long enough to contribute to the chorus of voices.
Max blinked at them. He just barely stopped himself from taking a defensive step back. “Well, that’s just…”
“Fucking creepy,” Marinette finished for him.
“That is an accurate assessment,” he agreed.
“Threatening and intimidating people of all kinds is one of the many, many, many talents I was blessed with,” Chloe commented with only slightly less hostility than she had used on the nurse. “Which you well fucking know so I don’t know why you’re wasting the energy you obviously don’t have to fight me.”
Marinette narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, being careful to make it appear like it was firmly done while simultaneously attempting not to actually touch her still aching chest. “Fighting you is one of the talents I was blessed with,” she leaned in close to hiss through her teeth, “literally.” She maintained eye contact for a few seconds before finally backing away to glare at her from a different position. “And I’m not doing anything that means I can’t monitor Adrien.”
Chloe let out a long breath like she was having to deal with a particularly petulant toddler. “Which is why I said in the same room or across from him.”
“And whatever tests they’re going to do? You think they’re going to just do all of those in that room?” Marinette demanded. “No, they aren’t. They’re going to make me leave. And then Adrien will be left with nobody here to protect him.”
“No, offense,” Max added in quickly giving Tim and Stephanie a strained smile.
“He won’t be defenseless,” Chloe huffed. “He has…” she motioned toward the room and paused a second before continuing like she was looking for a word, “godlike things that float and watch over him.”
“Guardian angels,” Conner provided for her.
“Not what I would call them,” Chloe snorted dismissively, “and Markov, and whatever Bat is outside, and them,” she motioned toward Tim and Stephanie. “And you won’t be far away for long and you’ll have Max’… lucky glasses.” She took a step toward Marinette cutting the distance Marinette had just created. “And because if you don’t, I will tell Kagami.”
Marinette narrowed her eyes at Chloe. “No.”
“Yes,” she chirped back. “And think how much better ‘she saw a doctor finally’ will sound to our heavily pregnant, on bed rest, friend than ‘the stupid fucking bitch still won’t do the very basic, no effort things to stay alive after actively trying to get hurt’.”
Marinette leaned back, arms almost over her chest again, and clicked her tongue. “Oh, if it’s a stupid fucking bitch off…”
“It isn't,” Chloe cut in harshly. “You'd win. I’d win the insufferable but gorgeous fucking bitch off. So, you’re going to get your tiny, likely dark purple ass in whatever room their doctor tells you to go into and get checked out and let them do whatever they say they need to do get you healthy again.” She grabbed her phone and started toward the door, but called over her shoulder as she moved, “And call your fucking parents. They’re worried out of their minds.”
Marinette huffed and pursed her lips but didn’t argue back. She did want to talk to her parents, she was desperate for it, in fact. This had been the longest she’d gone without speaking with them ever. She just hadn’t had the chance or mental capacity to do it since Adrien had been taken. “I still don’t have a phone.”
Chloe turned back toward her with an unimpressed look. “Well lucky for you, you’ll have Markov. And I assume the Red Queen here has a phone as well.”
Roy immediately stiffened. “Red Queen?” he asked carefully, his eyes darted to Conner and Tim quickly and back to Chloe. “Why, uh, why Red Queen?”
Chloe tore her gaze from Marinette to look at him face scrunched with such incredulity she would have scolded herself for causing semi-permanent wrinkles if she could have seen herself. “Do I seriously have to explain the redheaded child of Oliver Queen why I’m referring to you as Red Queen? Is that a thing I need to do? Do…”
She shook her head with a disgusted huff and turned to Markov. “We’re going to have to rely on you more than we thought. Don’t listen to Strawberry Shortcake here…” she turned toward Roy, eyes widened in faux concern, “do I need to explain that one too?”
She turned back to Markov before Roy could respond. “About anything,” she continued. “And when we come back this afternoon, with food, because we care if our friends have eaten or not,” she added pointedly glaring again at Roy, “we will bring your phone. And the charger for you, Markov. Also, I’m putting you in charge.”
“Thank you,” Roy nodded as he stepped forward to place a protective arm around Marinette’s shoulders but only hovered over them so as not to put pressure on her bruises.
Chloe’s face immediately scrunched in disgust. “Not you, snitch.” She motioned toward Markov who had already floated forward to meet her gaze with a bob forward. “Wake us up immediately if anything happens, Markov.”
“Of course, Chloe. I will monitor both of them,” he stated.
“Wait,” Roy interrupted, “it gets a full, accurate name, and I get the snarky monikers?”
Her eyes flicked up and down with a sneer. “I respect Markov.”
“Thank you, Chloe. And I fear you,” Markov stated matter of factly.
“And I appreciate that about you,” she cooed. “Now I need to get some sleep before I start looking like her.” She motioned toward Marinette almost like an afterthought as she made her way toward the door.
“Thanks Chlo,” Marinette deadpanned.
Chloe halted her progress enough to sneer without heat at Marinette. “Well see a fucking doctor and get better and I won’t get to say shit like that.”
Marinette scoffed. “Like that would stop you.”
Chloe shrugged. “True.” She continued walking toward the doors again and froze in front of them to glare at Max who had forgotten he was apparently supposed to go with her. He scrambled to join her and opened the door for her. She continued her glare for another few moments then turned back toward the room. “And let us know if you detect any…” she motioned like bugs flying about, or more specifically a bug and a cat, “messages we should know about.” She moved through the door without another acknowledgement or a thank you.
Max sighed and looked back at Marinette. “And let us know what your doctor says.” Marinette nodded but rolled her eyes and looked back toward the door leading toward Adrien’s room. He groaned and looked toward Roy. “You let us know what her doctor says.”
“Will do,” Roy nodded with a small smile. At least someone trusted him.
Max snorted. “Not you.”
“Yes, Max. I will let you know as soon as Dr. Thompkins enters her report,” Markov answered as he floated forward over Roy’s shoulder. Max nodded and followed Chloe out.
“Fucking figures,” Roy grumbled and dropped into a seat ignoring the snorts from the other people in the room.
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