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mochinek0 · 6 months

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Daminette December 2023: 18-Hiding in the Shadows

Marinette looked around her pent house in Paris. She had everything she wanted as a teenager. Well, almost everything. She was a well-known fashion designer, to the people that were aware of her. She kept her business a secret and used an alias. Her clients all came from judgement on her other clients. Others designers knew her as 'Passion' after her store's brand. Very few knew her as Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Gabriel Agreste, Audrey Bourgeois, and Jagged Stone.

Marinette had enough money to pay her rent, her fabric, all of her equipment, anything a business woman could need. Marinette herself, not so much. She missed being able to walk out and go sit at a café for a bit. When she saw Wayne Enterprise opened a section in Paris, she came up with an idea.

'Wayne Enterprises is a place that usually pays big. Even a part time job should be fine. A little play money couldn't hurt. A few extra euros so I could eat out, get some comfy clothes so I'm not rushing between orders and messing up wouldn't hurt.'

Damian Wayne sat at his desk, looking through potential applicants. Many of them were attached to big names or had one of their own. As he rang background checks, he could see they were all connected to each other in one way or another. He smirked at his idea.

'Let's put on a show. I want to see what kind of people these applicants are around each other. Would they out themselves?'

Mari was escorted to a waiting room as Damian Wayne got through other interviews. When the door opened, the last thing she expected was to see some familiar faces: Chloe, Adrien, and Lila.

"I don't know why you're even here, Dupain-Cheng." Chloe snarled, after the door was closed, "This is a big company that would love to work with our families. You have nothing going for you."

Marinette sat down and smiled, "Is that right? I guess I must have sent the wrong order to your mother and that's why she wore my design down the red carpet at the MET Gala."

Chloe tensed up and refused to meet her gaze. She could tell Adrien and Lila were surprised as well.

Chloe cleared her throat, "You're lying."

"Call your mother and ask." Marinette shrugged, "Oh, that's right! She doesn't like you; she prefers your half sister, who can actually work and living on her own, instead of leeching off of her Daddy."

"This isn't you, Dupain-Cheng." Chloe declared.

"No. This is me." Marinette shrugged off the concerned looks, "I'm just not being forced to coddle you to make Caline Bustier's life easier. 'Oh, just show Chloe some love, so she'll know what it's like and she'll get better eventually. You'll see.' Even she knew you were a horrible person. She basically thought you were The Grinch. That with enough love, your heart would grow three sizes and you wouldn't be such a bitch anymore."

Everyone was speechless at Marinette's attitude. This wasn't the Marinette that they grew up with.

"Chloe Bourgeois." a security voice called.

Chloe held her head high as she walked into the office.

"Damian Wayne." Chloe stated.

"Sit!" he demanded.

Chloe was shocked by his attitude.

'Doesn't he know who I am?'

"Do you know who I am?" she shouted.

"A spoiled brat; Ive read the articles on the internet." Damian stated, "You are known for crying for your father when you don't get what you want. Even though you are the oldest, your half-sister is who your mother relies on to bring customers for Style Queen in New York."

"My father-" Chloe snarled.

"Isn't the mayor anymore. He hasn't been the mayor in three years." the Wayne heir spoke, "If you're thinking of blackmailing me, you chose the wrong person. Spread whatever lies you want or cry to your father, the hotel owner. I could make one post about how horrid his hotel is and he would go out of business. Could you live with that?"

Chloe stood there, speechless. The only person who talked to her like this was her mother.

"I'm in charge, here, and if it came down to it, your job would be scrubbing toilets all day." Damian declared.

Tears formed in Chloe's eyes.

'He's glaring at me, just like Mommy. He doesn't look happy. He looks at me like he wishes I was gone or someone else.'

"We're done here." Damian stated.

Chloe quickly rushed out of the office. The three saw her rushing away, crying.

'I knew she wouldn't last.'

"Marinette, I can't understand why you're like this." Lila spoke, as she took her seat.

'He made that Daddy's Girl cry. I better go at this carefully.'

"Oh, shove it, Lila." Marinette sighed, "All three of us, here, know you're a lying manipulative bitch. You don't have to fake it."

"I don't know-" Lila continued.

"Adrien already told me years ago that he made a deal with you. He made one with me, too. Did he ever tell you that?" Mari questioned.

Lila glanced towards Adrien, who kept his head down.

"Oh, he didn't." she giggled, "You see, I was already designing for Jagged Stone when you arrived to our school. Adrien even had me autograph things I designed for him."

The model had turned towards Adrien and was now glaring at him.

"I could have made your whole 'tinnitus-kitten bullshit' story go up in flames since day one." Mari smiled, "I could have video called him and you would have been labeled as delusional."

"I took all our friends away!" Lila cried out, in victory.

"No." Mari answered, "You took away people, who were finally talking to me. Chleo ensured that for seven years, I had no friends. Those 'friends' just went back to not talking to me. You didn't actually do anything. If anything, you helped me. You took away the class president duties from me and I had more free time. You turned Alya and Nino away, so I couldn't babysit. I designed more clothes and got more clients. You didn't make my life worse, Lila, you made it better."

Lila fumed. Adrien had played peace maker between the both of them. From what Marinette was saying, she could have won the war in an instant! She thought she had chased Marinette Duapin-Cheng out of school all those years ago and here she was smiling, practially laughing at her, saying it wasn't true. She had thanked her and said she made her life better.

'I need this job so I can rub it in her face! I need to win against her!'

"I do hope you at least did some research into Damian Wayne." Marinette stated.

"I've known Damian Wayne since we were children!" Lila announced.

"Is that what it told you, you should say when you looked up how rich his family is?" Mari inquired.

Lila stood up, in rage.

'How dare she!'

"Lila Rossi." security called out.

Lila smirked, "I'm coming."

"She really should have done her research." Marinette spoke out loud.

"Why do you say that?" Adrine asked.

"Lila likes to play off her tears and looks." Mari declared, "Damian Wayne hates going to galas because of girls that try to attach themselves to him."

"And?" Adrien questioned.

"He broke an Italian model's arm two months ago, for lying to him." the designer stated.

Adrien paled at her words. Marinette merely smiled and pulled out her phone and dialed emergency services.

"Hello, what is your emergency?" the voice asked.

"I think we need an ambulance at Wayne Enterprise." Marinette stated, "I think someone's arm is broken."

"Are you with this person?" the voice questioned.

"No." the designer answered.

"I have sent medical to your location." the voice declared, before hanging up.

"That was pretty extreme, Marinette. I have faith in Lila!" Adrien shouted, "I don't think he would do that! The Waynes have an imagine to uphold!"

"Maybe, you should have done your research." Mari shrugged, "You still have time. Maybe five minutes."

Lila sauntered her way into the office.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne." She spoke, calmly.

"Sit." He demanded, not looking up.

Lila waved off his decleration. She moved past the chair in front of his desk and walked her way to his side.

"Can I sit on your lap?" She asked, "You see, I have tinnitus and-"

"There is nothing in here that would activate your tinnitus. Tinnitus is when you can't here anything for a brief amount of time, but a loud ringing. It's usually followed after hearing an extremely loud sound. I should know; I went to medical school." Damian stated.

'Shit. My usual tactics won't work here.'

Lila nodded and made her way back to the seat.

"Why shoud I hire you?" The Wayne heir questioned.

Lila fluttered her lashes, "I'm a model for Gabriel Agreste."

"Former model." Damian interjected, "You now model on Instagram and Only Fans."

Lila turned red. She didn't expect them to aware of her new lifestyle.

"Now, Miss Lerouch-" he continued.

Lila paled, "Wh-What did you call me?"

"Cerise Lerouch." Damian stated, "Did you think I would not delve into your background? I have to know who I am working with."

Cerise quickly leaped up from her seat and rushed around the desk.

"Don't touch me." Damian demanded.

"I'll do anything." Cerise cried out, grabbing onto his arm.

The Wayne heir growled, "Let go."

"I can help you relieve stress in other ways, you know." Cerise pleaded.

Damian grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back, harshly. Cerise screamed in pain.

"I have no need for whores." Damian spoke.

He grabbed the back of her shirt, arm still twisted, and walked her to his office door. He grabbed the knob and threw her out, in front of his security team.

"Drag this whore out by the hair, if you have too, but I want her off Wayne Enterprise grounds and blacklisted!" Damian shouted.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." they spoke simultaneously, as he slammed his door shut.

"Shit, I think her arm is broken." the one on the left declared.

"She would call an ambulance?" the one on the right asked.

"Please, help me! It hurts so much!" Cerise begged, cradling her arm.

"You shouldn't have pissed him off." the one on the right declared, "Damian Wayne isn't one to mess around."

A man rushed towards them with medical workers.

"Did you guys call for an ambulance and someone with a broken arm?" the new guy asked.

"No, but perfect timing." the one on the left stated, "Girl with broken arm right here."

Cerise was walked by the waiting room. Inside, she could see Adrien looked horrified before turning to Marinette. She was smiling at her. Then, the baker's daughter flipped her off.

'She knew! That bitch knew how this would end!'

Cerise burst into tears as she was carted off.

"I guess that just leaves you and me, Agreste." Marinette stated.

Adrien began to feel uncomfortable.

"I do hope you do better than they did." She spoke, "For your Father's sake."

"Huh?" Adrien asked, confused.

"Damian Wayne isn't one to back down, not even to his father. He can make his father bow down to him. You have no idea how......attractive that is to a woman, Adrien." Mari smiled, "A man with a spine."

The model gulped, watching Marinette lick her lips.

"You should grow a spine." she declared, "Maybe then your father won't force you to model for him. I' sure that's why Kagami chose Felix over you. Your cousin has a spine. It looks good on him. Maybe, that's why Kagami didn't take my advice on how to get back with you after the break up."

Adrien only looked at her in shocked.

"Alya told me you broke up and I went to see her." Marinette continued, "I tried to help, but she didn't want to. She said it was better that way and well, Felix and you did look alike as teens. The same face with a spine; kind of hard to resist. They're so happy and their twins are adorable."

"Adrien Agreste, Mr. Wayne will see you now." the voice spoke over the intercom.

The model looked over at the designer. She waved at him, but said nothing. Adrien stood up and stood tall.

Adrien walked into Damian's office. It was intimidating; Marinette was right. He was scarier than his father.

"Why should I hire you, Adrien Agreste?" Damian questioned.

"I hate modeling. I prefer computers and science. I want to break free of Gabriel." Adiren admitted, "You don't have to worry about me telling him anything because I never learned anything about fashion. I couldn't even tell you the names of two different shades of fabric. If anyting, you should hire Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Marinette has always been an amazing designer. She was recognized by Father and Style Queen when she was only thirteen. She's the one who would know everything about fashion."

Damian hid his smirk behind his hand and looked down at the papers about Adrien again.

'What a miracle worker you are, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Agreste grew a spine.'

"We may have an internship available in our science department." Damian spoke, "Do you still live with your father?"

"Yes." Adrien spoke.

"We have a company home we prefer our interns reside in." Damian continued.

He noticed Adrien seemed relieved about that.

"The internship isn't a guarantee." The Wayne heir continued, "We need to see you commitment and dedication first hand. If you can't keep up, we'll put you in a different department. If you keep failing to meet our expectations, you'll have no choice but to keep modeling for your father."

"Tell him we'll work with him for one year, as a test." Damian continued, "You have one year to get your affairs in order. You'll need to move in one month from now and if not, consider the contract cancelled. I will inform them you are expected."

"Thank you." Adrien smiled.

Damian waved him off and Adrine walked out of the office, happy.

Marinette stood up when her name was called. As she walked towards the office, she saw Adrien smiling at a paper. She entered the office and closed the door.

"Please sit Miss Dupain-Cheng." Damian ordered.

Marinette immediately took a seat in front of him.

"Why should I hire you?" He questioned.

Mari shrugged, "You don't really have to."

"Oh?" Damian pushed.

"I'm only here for a part time job." the designer answered, "You know, helping out on the floor, coffee grabber, secretary gig. That sort of thing."

"Excuse me?" he asked, shocked, " Aren't you a fashion designer."

"With my own clients and I can pay for my own things." She smiled.

"Then why are you here?" Damian questioned.

Marinette sat back further in the chair and got comfortable, "Play money. I spend my own on my deisgns, fabrics, equipment, rent. Why not have a little extra to treat myself to a night out or a night in, for once?"

That was not the answer he had been expecting.

Damian laughed, "What if I decide to keep you?"

"Keep me as in?" Marinette pushed.

"I decide I want to become one of your clients." he offered.

"Are you offering?" the designer asked, "I've seen some of those suits you wear to galas and it doesn't bring you out to your full potential."

"And that would be?" he asked.

"You're outshined by your father, your older brothers, and the company." She spoke, "You can stand out, but maybe you want to fade into the back, less people to grope you."

Damian chuckled and stood up from his seat. He made his way around the desk and rested on it.

"What would you dress me in, right now?" Damian questioned.

"Depends." Marinette smiled, "Do you always wear a suit to work or are you interested in a change?"

"Tell me about this hypothetical change." He demanded.

"Ever heard of quick change wear?" She asked.

"No." he replied.

"It mainly takes woman into factor. Clothes that can go from working at the office to going out on a date or partying." Mari answered, "Just a few adjustments and possibly a new shade of makeup and usually people tend to think they took all day to get ready."

Damian took what she said into account, "And for men?"

"Most don't really have the option." Marinette shrugged, "Shame, but on you.....your figure. Well, there's nothing sluttier than a man wearing a sleeveless turtleneck."

The Wayne heir couldn't help but think of his old League of Assassin's outfits.

"No one at work would know if you have a blazer on and buttoned." She continued, "It is your office so you can always install a closet here and keep an extra pair of clothes. Jeans, if you prefer. Who is to say that this whole time, you weren't wearing sweatpants and just dressed from the waist up."

He chuckled ather way of thinking.

'Effective, but true not the less. I could kick out anyone who entered my office, should I choose to dress comfortably, and there was a closet hidden behind the cabinets.'

"Another thing most people tend to do is incorporate their culture into their clothing, as well." Marinette spoke, "Personally, I use apple blossoms in most of my designs for myself."

"Miss Dupain-Cheng, you are not what I was expecting." Damian declared, "I like to expect everything."

Mari smiled, "I've been known to be...unpredictable."

"You want to work part time in the fashion section." The Wayne heir stated, "Even if it's just grabbing coffee or lunch for others."

"Correct." she answered.

"Fine." Damian spoke, "You can work here, part time, at least three days a week. I f you have a big comission, I want to know about it. You can keep the details to yourself, but I want a time frame."

Marinette nodded, happily.

"I also want you to make me something to relax in the office that could pass for office wear." he suggested, "I'll pay for fabric of course. I can send you the details of my heritage via email, later."

Marinette stood up, "I'll start on that and bring it by Friday."

Damian grabbed her hand and kissed it, "I'll see you Monday morning, at 9AM, for work. We can go over your schedule then."

Marinette felt her face flush as his lips connected with her hand. His gaze was piercing.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." She answered, flustered.

Damian waved his hand, dismissing her, but he still followed her to the door.

"You know, Miss Dupain-Cheng." He whispered, pressing himself to her back, "They may not be able to see it, but I see what lurks in the shadows. I can see what you hide there. I can wait a bit longer for the side of you that wants to come out and play."

"Is that so?" Marinette whispered back.

"I'll enjoy getting to know you, in the future." Damian spoke, before opening the door.

Marinette took a breath before she walked out the door.

"Marinette, did you get the job?" Adrien asked.

"Yes." she answered.

The model sighed in relief, "I told him you were good. I told him about Father and Audrey."

"Did you think I wouldn't be able to get it on my own?" Mari questioned.

"That's not what I meant!" Adrien cried, surprised at the question.

"Then, don't belittle me and my work." Marinette declared, "He already knew who I was. The Wayne keep a check on everyone and everything. Did you seriously not expect him to know about our families? He was probably listening to us in the waiting room."

Adrien gulped in response.

"Besides, I wasn't apart of whatever you three were fighting over." Marinette smiled, walking away.

'What did she mean by that?'

Adrien turned to see Damian Wayne leaning against the door, wearing a smirk on his face. Damian took notice of the model and hardened his gaze. Adrien gulped as Damian stood tall and closed his door again.

'What was he staring at?'

Adrien turned his head back down the corridor and saw Marinette speaking to the receptionist.

'He was after Marinette the whole time!'

'He already knew who I was.'

'He was probably listening to us in the waiting room.'

'Besides, I wasn't apart of whatever you three were fighting over.'

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#daminette december 2023 #daminette #marinette dupain cheng #wayne enterprise #damian wayne #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #lila rossi #chloe salt #adrien salt #lila salt #mommy issues #cerise miraculous #daddy issues #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #hinding in the shadows #mochinek0

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19thsentry-blog · 2 years

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In the Shadows

Miraculous Ladybug Fanfic (Lukanette Endgame)

Chapters

Prelude | Chp 1 | Chp 2 | Chp 3 | Chp 4 | Chp 5 | Chp 6 | Chp 7 | Chp 8 | Chp 9 | Chp 10 | Chp 11 | Chp 12 | Chp 13 | Chp 14 | Chp 15 | Chp 16 | Chp 17 | Chp 18 | Chp 19 | Epilogue | Worlds Not Our Own | Timeline

Epilogue: Valse Sentimentale (AO3 Link)

When time starts to move again, I can hear it. It's like a constant ticking, like the way the watch tick tick ticks against my wrist when it's wound back. After so many resets, so many cities and times and faces, it's like my brain knows this is it. This is where the world starts to move again. The tap lifts, and water beings to pour where before there had only been a drip.

Time ticks and it feels like her heartbeat; I can feel it in her chest when we're pressed together and her blood is pumping and her breath whispers on my skin. There's so many things that I want to say. I want to tell her about fields of wildflowers and little shops of stringed instruments, about warm hands, or about amber eyes. About blood. About kindness.

There's so much time and I'm swimming in it. I'm breathing, living. Finally, finally real.

The first time Luka heard Tchaikovsky's Valse Sentimentale was in 1892. He had snuck up into the rafters of the Opera House, a shadow amongst other shadows, and listened while the musicians practiced for the night's performance. He could still smell the mothy scent of wooden beams and the faint whiff of gas that seemed to permeate the rafters above, even when the lights were turned off during the day. The sounds of the strings and keys of the piano were so beautiful and the moment was so perfectly stolen that he'd nearly begun to cry. It was like the violin's bow was placed right over his heart, gently teasing forth emotion.

That was just a few years after he'd learned to slow his aging to a nearly non-existent crawl; back when time stopped, truly, and Luka knew he was stuck but didn't know for how long. He succumbed to sentiment, and he succumbed to the strings and the heartbreak of the tune--it wasn't just him. The violinist had begun to cry too, and when his fingers finished the final trill, he stood stock still, like he couldn't move or breathe. He was too caught up in just being.

Those notes came for him just like they did that night. They grabbed at his heart, threatening to take hold and freeze him. Luka pushed himself forward, knocking on the sliding glass door of the balcony he stood on while straining his ears to catch the crescendo and diminuendo of the violin. Félix was lounging in a large armchair by the fireplace of what Luka assumed was his room, face closed off to the world, eyebrows drawn down and lips in a frown, but his eyes snapped open immediately at the sound of the knock. The frown deepened when he saw Luka standing outside as Viperion, raven's eyes honing in on him like a red dot from a sniper rifle.

Félix set down his drink and ran a hand down the front of his vest to smooth it, then walked across the plush Persian rug, around the slim table that held the stereo and an expensive-looking vase, coming to stare at him through the glass. Félix was the one inside the room behind the barrier, but how he appraised him made Luka feel like he was really the one boxed in. Félix had that kind of way about him.

Luka watched him shake his head and flip the locks on his sliding glass door. Félix didn't bother opening it--he went back to his chair, knowing Luka would follow. He did.

The glass door opened smooth, with barely a whine against the tracks. Luka closed and locked it behind him. By the time he de-transformed the piece was already over, and for a moment he could remember the hefty weight of silence as the violinist cried on stage with the bow of his violin held delicately down at his side. He stared out the glass door for a moment more, eyes looking across the Thames, where somewhere on the other side of the shore he and Wes used to live. His home with Sangpo was out there, too, buried under a shopping mall.

There was a delicate clink as Félix took the glass top off a decanter and set it down on the low walnut coffee table, followed by a soft splashing of liquid against the side of a glass. Luka finally turned from the door and walked over to the second, dark green velvet armchair. He sat across from Félix, and Félix pushed the wide-mouthed glass in his direction.

Even though it was nearly midnight, Félix was still dressed as if he'd just left for the office. He looked like a proper businessman, platinum hair combed neatly, each strand styled just so, still wearing a pair of warm brown dress shoes (if Marinette were with him, he bet she could tell him exactly what kind of brand they were--she would have told them they were Santoni's, with a cap toe). Félix fit here, in this room with a large, elegantly crafted four-poster bed hidden with deep blue drapes. A tall armoire and a writing desk flanked it. He noted with a small amount of amusement that the desk was the only part of Félix's room that seemed to have accumulated clutter or look lived-in at all; a small lamp did a poor job of trying to light the paper-riddled surface that covered even the laptop sitting there. The grand fireplace with its iron wrought grating filled the room with a comfortable warmth, and the whiskey worked its magic down Luka's throat.

"So," Félix finally started, likely weary of waiting for him to start the conversation, "I suppose now is when I ask just what you're doing here." It had been, all things considered, a very short amount of time between now and when Félix and Amélie left Paris after the funeral. Fall had turned to Winter, and the days were beginning their slow stretch towards Spring.

Luka smiled slightly, the right side of his mouth tilting up as he set the glass on the coffee table in front of him. "Marinette threw me out," he said instead, a bit of humor in his voice.

They didn't live together--he still rented the cozy basement apartment of her grandfather's house. He liked the smell of bread baking each morning, and there was a comforting sense in staying with someone who understood "the Simpler Times", even though Luka knew those times really hadn't been all that simple; they'd just been older. But it was true that she'd all but thrown him out of her city, her small perfect nose in the air and her arms crossed, telling him to get done what he needed to get done and come home to her soon.

"How wonderfully domestic."

"She was tired of the argument, so I guess that means I finally won."

Félix lifted an eyebrow, watching him skeptically as he took another drink. "And I presume this has something to do with me?"

By way of an answer, Luka dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a brooch just smaller than his palm. He set it down on the coffee table, past the decanter with the amber liquid. The change in Félix was instantaneous; his eyes glittered with recognition and want the second the Peacock Miraculous was touched by the light of the iron chandelier above. Luka could see the tremor that passed through the man across from him, the desire to reach out and snatch it before it could disappear again.

Instead, Félix leaned back further in his chair, an impassive mask flitting over his face, one barely enough to contain the impulses that raged beneath. "And what's this, then? I thought Ladybug was too scared to let the dog hold his own leash."

Luka hated that metaphor--he hated most of Félix's metaphors. But that didn't stop the fact that Félix really did feel that way, and it wasn't good to ignore that. He hadn't ignored it at all, really, and that's why he was here. He and Marinette had discussed it for months (he called it a discussion, she called it him driving her bonkers) while they de-coded the pages in the Spellbook and had the necessary ingredients procured to fix the Miraculouses; that had been part of Gabriel's penance, as he'd prepared the 'blank check' for the venture.

It was time to see if Luka was correct or not. "I want you to come with me to New York," he said.

Félix's eyes narrowed. He set his glass on a coaster that rested on the side table next to his armchair, careful not to accidentally knock it into the red and gold hardcover copy of The Importance of Being Earnest that sat next to it. "And what would I do there?"

Luka rubbed his hands together, the black nail polish on his fingernails gleaming slightly under the lights as he did so. "I want to find Ian."

Félix smiled slightly, as if he'd just won a long-standing bet and was already imagining collecting on it. "You want to find him? And for what?"

This time he reached into a different pocket, the one on the inside of the jacket Marinette had designed just for him (she'd told him that while the old leather jacket he had undoubtedly had sentimental value, it smelled like cigarette smoke and looked like someone had dragged it over barbed wire. She had carefully and lovingly taken the patches off the old one and sewed them on the new jacket, then with delicate silver thread embroidered the patterns he'd once drawn with clumsy hands, and now he felt like he was carrying a piece of her with him wherever he went). He dug out the thin, stainless-steel vial that still had the golden drops of the Miracle Potion that he had stolen from Ian this past summer to heal Mullo from her sickness.

"Whoever he's working for is peddling this out."

Félix's eyes flashed with recognition, none of it happy. After what had happened, when they realized they might be able to save Emilie after all—well, it was a shared sin of theirs, now. His and Félix's. "I remember."

"I want to know who they are, and I want to know how they're making it. Whatever's in it is magical enough to cure a Kwami. It's not western medicine, that's for sure. I think it's possible…well, I'm not sure how, but I think it's possible it came from another Kwami, or maybe some other kind of being like them."

A grandfather clock rang out once from somewhere in the hallway, deep and foreboding. Félix sat forward, his hands dangling between his knees. "And you want me to help you?"

Luka tucked the vial back away, nodding. "Yes, I do."

"You want me to be a hero?"

Ocean blue eyes met deep emerald green. "I want to be able to trust you, and have you trust me."

Félix snorted and sat back, reaching again for his glass. "Your Super Honey was right to kick you out. You're a fool." He drank, mouth twisting slightly as the whiskey burned down his throat. "You know who I am."

"I do know you. And I know who you could be," Luka said, intent on not backing down. The Peacock Miraculous sat heavily between them on the coffee table--from where they sat, it felt like it was the center of gravity itself, pulling them both toward it, forcing them to orbit around it. Luka wondered if he was getting through to him, if beneath all the steel walls his voice was reaching the center, to where Félix kept the most vulnerable of his heart.

Félix turned away from the jewel in the middle of the table, looking out the glass door instead. "Is Adrien truly intent on leaving home?" he asked, a blatant demand to change the subject.

It didn't necessarily mean he'd lost yet, so Luka accepted the change. "He's been on Nino's couch for a few weeks now. I don't think he's going back." That had been part of the fall-out of Gabriel's choices. One long year was spent trying to get back his perfect past with his wife, and he'd managed to lose that and his son at the same time. Just a few days after they had buried Emilie, this time for real, Adrien left home. Luka couldn't blame him. No one could.

"He's still too soft for it," Félix murmured, more to himself than to Luka.

Luka picked back up his own drink. "I think his softness serves him. He'll be alright." It wasn't like he was being disowned. After everything, Luka could hardly imagine Gabriel being spiteful enough to punish Adrien for leaving, especially when his actions caused it in the first place. Besides, that was just what kids did. They grew up. They left home. Granted, this hadn't been the most typical "leaving the nest" story, but plenty of them weren't easy either. "What song is this?" Luka asked. The stereo had been playing something new, and he'd been trying to catalogue it in the back of his mind since it had started.

Félix must have thought that funny. He smirked. "Giuseppe Tartini, Devil's Trill Sonata. G Minor."

"Huh. Never thought of you as a music person."

"I'm not," he replied, a bit more forcefully than Luka expected.

Luka shook his head and drank again. The song moved in turns, starting sweet, then quick and playful like a cat chasing a mouse. There were times when he thought he was getting somewhere with Félix, only for him to snap himself back up in his own shell again. He wondered how many other people had conversations with Félix that were entirely honest, where he wasn't bleeding all over them like a stubborn wound that refused to close.

Still, everyone deserved a chance to be afforded better. Life had given him that, over and over, so many times that there was no way to keep track. He could have died in the 1800s, but instead he was alive, alive and allowed to love the world's most miraculous girl. Félix could be good—he knew it. When no one else could, Luka would be the one to give him a second chance. The sonata trickled to its end before Félix finally spoke.

"I'll think on it."

#in the shadows mlb #lukanette #alternate universe #luka couffaine #felix graham de vanily #Nat's Monster In The Box

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