#in which Chat Noir joins the team dead set on terminating the Agrestes. nothing goes wrong

[miabrown007]

Felonies and Other Love Languages

Adrien Agreste: rich, lonely, freshly aware of the fact that he's expected to take over not a fashion, but a drug empire. Marinette Dupain-Cheng: broke, angry, freshly aware of the fact that bringing down drug empires is a blast. But where would she be without her team, Alya and Nino, and her very good friend, Luka? Not to mention the team’s newest addition, the kind, the funny, the ultra charming Chat Noir. If Marinette likes him, that’s alright, though. It isn’t like she’s dating Adrien Agreste for real. It’s all just part of her ten-step plan to make the Agrestes meet their demise.

Chapter 3 - Pandora’s Box (12,708 words, 3/32 chapters)

Adrien would like to walk along the edge of the curb with his arms outstretched. Like he used to when his mother was there, her palm hovering a breath away from his, ready to catch him anytime.

Instead, he scurries between patches of light on the crushed stone path of Place des Vosges. He doesn't understand why being late fazes him.

He shouldn’t even be here.

He should be up at the office, checking the CCTV footage with Kim to notify the police about the break-in. Or he should be at dinner, informing his father about today’s mishap. He shouldn’t be sneaking out under the disguise of meeting Chloé for drinks. And he definitely shouldn’t, under any circumstances, be searching for Carapace’s hooded figure in the shadows of the park.

In his head, Adrien knows that. But he follows his heart. And his heart rounds a corner with a leap, only to come to a halt in front of a well-lit fountain.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Carapace says, his eyes shining brightly over his green facemask. He has his arms crossed over his chest in what seems to be a futile attempt at keeping himself warm in the spring chill, dressed in nothing but a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt.

Adrien doesn’t hold back his grin. With his own mask in place, it’s not like Carapace can see it. “You know what they say about curiosity and the cat.”

It’s a stupid joke, but if he made up a cat-themed persona for himself, he intends to commit to the bit. Plagg would surely be proud of him. (Even if, realistically speaking, Adrien knows that house cats, much like fathers, are never actually proud. Still, he likes to pretend that what they share is special and goes beyond owning a Blue Ribbon pedigree.)

“You expect you’re walking into your doom and still show up? Admirable,” Carapace chuckles, unaware of the truth those words actually hold. “Now come on, the others are waiting for us. I promise we don’t bite.” He starts on one of the paths leading out of the park, muttering under his nose, “Well, most of us.”

Adrien decides he doesn't actually want to know what Carapace means by that. In his hurry to catch up, the gravel almost slips out from under Adrien’s sneakers, but by some miracle—or years and years of athletic training—he keeps himself upright. “What did you say, who are these people we are meeting?”

The light of a street lamp glinting in Carapace’s glasses as he spares Adrien a glance. “I didn’t.”

It’s more than fair to receive the same non-answer to his question as Adrien had given earlier that day. Still, his chuckle is nervous. He fights the fidgety feeling that urges him to double check that the GPS on his phone is switched on.

“Don’t stress about it, they are friends,” Carapace adds in a softer tone as they exit the park on the northern side and stop in the shadow of the arcades. “We’re almost there, so I’ll have to ask you to put this on,” he says, handing Adrien a baby blue knitted scarf.

“There’s a dress code? This place must be really fancy,” Adrien laughs as he takes the piece of fabric and wraps it around his neck.

Carapace blinks at him, twice, before a chuckle leaves him too. “No, it’s— It’s for your eyes, actually. Just a precaution until we know we can trust you.”

Thank god it’s pitch dark and he can’t see the way Adrien flushes.

“Yeah, I— I knew that. Obviously!”

With much more reluctant motions, he re-ties the scarf around his eyes. He had considered swapping his contacts for glasses—for the sake of an even less Adrien Agreste™-looking disguise—but now he’s glad he’d dropped the idea. Blindfolding himself with them on would be a pain. Actually, merely existing with glasses and a facemask on is a pain, as Adrien was forced to discover this afternoon after much experimenting with the concept.

So, contacts, and anxiety over being only fashionably late it was.

“Sorry, it’s part of the protocol. Let me spin you right round here for a second,” Carapace says, his voice lighthearted. He grabs Adrien by the shoulders and turns him around a few times, until he has no idea what is up and what is down. “Thank you for choosing the Rena Rouge entertainment park, we hope you had a good time,” he says, in the worst imitation of a carnival pitchman.

Still, it somewhat eases the knot in Adrien’s stomach that’s as tight as Nathalie’s hairdo on any given day.

“And now, this way. We’re almost there,” Carapace says, grabbing his upper arm and guiding him forward.

The irony of their first meeting going almost exactly like this—only with their roles reversed—isn’t lost on Adrien, but at this point, he just follows the instructions. He's pretty good at that.

Losing his sight serves to draw his attention to his other senses. He’s acutely aware of the silence stretching between them, the noises of cars and buzzing electric advertisements on shops’ façades.

The pavement under his feet takes a sharp turn, and the city’s noises melt into the background, signalling their approaching arrival. Adrien can’t decide if that or his still spinning head is the reason he feels like he’s going to throw up his supper.

“Who is Rena Rouge?” he asks, despite his nausea.

The beam is evident in Carapace’s voice, even over the sound of a door opening and closing behind them. “Oh, Rena Rouge? Just the most amazing, passionate, talented girl in the whole wide world, who, coincidentally, also makes the best colombo.”

"Your girlfriend?" Adrien guesses.

"For the time being," a cheeky voice slices through the vanilla and pastry-flavoured air.

Carapace comes to a sudden halt. "Hey, what‘s that supposed to mean?"

"Well,” presumably-Rena Rouge says, “we are getting married sometime in the future, aren't we?"

"That's like, the worst way to put that, babe," he argues but laughs along nevertheless.

There’s another giggle, one that eases the trembling of Adrien’s stomach. "Um, guys. The plan."

"Right, the plan!" Rena Rouge confirms, as if she has completely forgotten they are, indeed, in the middle of something that is starting to feel suspiciously like a hostage situation.

Adrien, who at this point would really like to see his surroundings, shifts on his feet. "So, what's the plan?"

Suddenly, someone removes his scarf, two bluebell eyes staring into his soul. "You are the plan, Chat Noir!"

[read the whole chapter on AO3]