Marinette opened her eyes to the dimly lit room, though it was daytime no-one had opened the thick blackout curtains, keeping the room dark and dingy. She moved one leg, the tell-tale clink of wine bottles alerting her to why she suddenly felt like there was a balloon inflating behind her eyes. She squinted, dry mouth sticky with thick saliva and moaned before retreating under the duvet; closing her eyes once more.

For the first time in months Marinette hadn't woken with the intense need to murder her alarm clock, her awakening coming natural from a good nights sleep... if you ignore the vice gripping her skull. The room was still silent apart from the faint humming of the air conditioning unit overhead, a noise equivalent to a Black and Decker drill repeatedly chisling into her cerebral cortex.

She couldn't help but moan and lower herself deep into the duvet, waves of nausea adding to her misery. Her phone pinged with message after message, each signalling it was Alya; her 'Do Not Disturb' now void on her phone.

Her brain felt like it would swell beyond the capacity of her skull and now her dehydration was too obvious to ignore. She would have to crawl into the bathroom to grab some water, anything to dampen the fuzzy feeling in her mouth. Her stomach lurched and gurgled at the thought of movement; the only inspiration to move being the welcome relief her painkillers would bring.

Marinette raised her heavy eyelids half way only for them to fall shut once more. How much had she drank last night?

She attempted to open her eyes again, her intense headache screaming at her to stop being so stupid and keep her eyes firmly shut. So she did. She lay brain functioning where her eyes wouldn't, and began to piece the previous night together.

It was Sunday...she was almost one hundred percent sure about that, unless she'd slept for two days. No! There wasn't a chance. It was definitely Sunday, which meant yesterday was Saturday.

Saturday, where she'd patrolled with Chat Noir. Yes! That was right. She remembered thinking 'oooo a Saturday patrol? How peculiar!' Because they hadn't patrolled together on a Saturday evening in about six months; Chat was always busy for some reason or another. She never knew the exact reason why, and she didn't ask. You know, secret identities and all that jazz.

But yes! She was certain there was a Saturday night patrol.

They met at the Arc de Triomphe, and Chat Noir wanted Thai food before they set out on their usual route. Neither knew of a decent restaurant, their favourite having closed due to a 'mouse' situation, so they had decided to pull up Google Maps on Chat's baton and look for a suitable restaurant.

Yes! They had definitely searched for a top class Thai restaurant.

And then...oh yes! Chat had said, "M'Lady, if you don't mind travelling I know this ameowsing place" and of course, she trusted her partner wholeheartedly so she said "yes, kitty, let's go to this totally awesome place."

Okay...so maybe she hadn't replied exactly like that. But she'd definitely agreed to go. Which came to the next memory.

They had used Kaalki.

Yes! She had most certainly combined the Miraculous' together becoming 'Pegabug' and led them too...

Las Vegas.

With the time difference they ended up having Thai food for their lunch rather than their dinner, which seemed strange at the time but then they decided that because it was evening in France they could have a glass of wine with it too.

Yes! They'd gotten drunk. Horrendously, unacceptably drunk; because that one glass of wine, slyly turned into a bottle, and then...Well, you catch the drift. They were meant to be heroes, they were meant to take care of the world but they seemed to think singing 'New York, New York' at the top of their lungs was more important at that moment.

Oh my God! They sang 'New York, New York' in public, in a sports bar, when they weren't even in New York! She felt the groan build in her throat. It was one thing for her to sing, but at least she could hold a tune; Chat Noir, however...well, she doubted what he did could be classed as singing. It was more like a cat having its tail pulled; loud and deafening. Last time he'd attempted to serenade her she was quite sure he'd burst at least one of her eardrums.

Okay... time to revisit what she knew;

1. She'd met with Chat Noir

2. They wanted Thai food

3. They'd teleported to Las VegasChat had treated her to (undoubtedly) the best Thai food she'd ever had (at least she thinks it was)

4. They'd drank and attempted to sing karaoke; well Chat attempted. She had a wonderful voice.

5. And now she was in a bed, which she guessed was in a hotel room, unable to remember how she got there.

A stirring movement brought her attention back to the here and now, to the very slow process of building up their Las Vegas jigsaw puzzle.

Come on, Marinette! Think God dammit! What did you do after the karaoke?

They sang and danced...then they...then they...

She moved her legs, the noisy clatter of glass once again bringing her attention to the bottles on the bed. Flaming hell, they'd drank like fish last night. Usually she'd stop after a glass or two, but it seems this trip changed the word 'glass' to 'bottle'. They'd drunk bottles... plural...each, the question remaining: How many?

"Ladybug!" A little voice spoke, drilling through her brain like a chainsaw...wait, could a chainsaw drill? Her head hurt from too much thinking.

"Ladybug!" That damned little annoying voice was back again.

Who the hell was calling her? And why weren't they just using her name? The voice was so high pitched her brain was going to explode. Did she know a friend with a voice like that? Maybe they'd gone to Disneyland.

...of course.

Chat Noir wanted to ride the Matterhorn! He made it quite clear he wanted to eat a churro and ride the Matterhorn. She was unsure if that was the order, and if it was she'd just persuade him to do it the other way round. No big deal!

So the high pitched voice must be...Minnie Mouse. She must have fallen asleep on a ride...yes! That was it! They were at Disneyland! And like the time when she was six and went with her Nona to the park in Paris, she'd fallen asleep. Probably on 'It's A Small World'; the proof that Marinette could actually sleep through anything.

"Pigtails, come on."

Oh, that voice was new. With her eyes still tightly closed Marinette couldn't help but wonder if the voice was more or less annoying. It was nasally and she wondered if they needed some olbas oil to help with the congestion.

"Oh come on! Is she like this every morning?" The awful nasally voice said. Bring back the drill, at least she sounded a little sweeter.

"Shut up, Plagg."

Plagg?

"Tikki, we've got to wake one of them up, and she's the one on top."

Tikki? On top?

She wiggled a little in her bed. She'd have to remember to give this hotel a review on TripAdvisor.

The bed in general seemed comfortable but the pillows! Dear Lord, it was like lying on a brick and it was surprisingly very, very warm. Could you get heated pillows? She rubbed the back of her head against it a couple more times. Okay, so not only was it hard, but it was lumpy too and it...moved? Definitely only three stars out of five.

Maybe she should start making a list.

1. Serves alcohol by the bottle and doesn't seem to consider how much someone orders. Would this be safe on your vacation?Pillows are hard and lumpy, and surprisingly hot. You may want to consider upgrading your pillow choice.

2. Come to think of it, everything was warm - borderline hot. Why the hell was it so warm? The faint humming penetrating her skull was obviously an air conditioning unit, so once again why was the room so HOT?

In a heated rage, Marinette attempted to throw the duvet cover off of her body only to find it wouldn't budge. Whatever was connected to it was not letting go.

3. The duvet seems comfortable, but it seems a little weighty in the middle, and again it was heated; the whole experience was similar to laying in an oven.

She moved again and her head popped out the top, the duvet tucked neatly under her chin, eyes trying to get used to the morning light without making her throw up. She had achieved consciousness. Excellent.

"Ladybug, stop!" Said the sweet voice of... her kwami?

"Tikki, what are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? What am I doing here? I'm always with you!"

A snickering came from...the other kwami?

Oh, she'd forgotten about that little tidbit of information.

"Plagg?" Marinette questioned.

"Hey, pigtails."

Marinette looked towards where the kwamis were currently hovering and her head began to spin, and not in an alcohol induced way.

She gathered her bearings, looking around the room, taking notice of the different items. The room was huge and it looked rather expensive. She continued looking around, examining the pictures and the decor. The green accessories seemed to make the dark woods pop, and a beautiful chaise lounge lay next to her side of the bed - the side the windows were on; and if the curtains were anything to go by, the windows were huge! Finally, she stopped her examination when she arrived back at the kwamis.

Kwamis. As in plural. As in more than one. As in not just hers. Finally the reality was setting in. She was in a hotel room somewhere. It had big windows and needed air conditioning - d'uh she was in Vegas after all. She was in Vegas with Tikki and Plagg. Something still played in the back of her mind that she was missing something important.

Maybe like where her partner was.

"Plagg?" She hissed, only to cause the bed to groan. Wait...the bed groaned.

Looking downwards she noted how she really needed to shave her leg. Her leg, which was a lot chunkier than she remembered; chunkier and hairier. It was almost like it was male! She lifted her hand to her forehead only for something to hit her that didn't feel fleshy. It felt hard and solid, it felt like metal. Was she wearing Chat's ring? Her eyes widened and suddenly the hangover was void, because when she brought her hand down to her eye line there was something there that wasn't there before.

Twisting her hand from side to side, something shiny reflected the light appearing in from the break in the curtains. The lone ray of sunlight hit the object and sent a disco ball of rainbow colours around the room. It was unmistakably expensive and absolutely gorgeous. A delicate platinum band sitting on her finger, the entire thickness engrossed in diamonds and, from the central circles appearing on the walls, diamonds that were excellent quality too. There was no expense spared on this ring.

Had she won the jackpot and treated herself? After all, she was a superhero and a CEO of her own business (nobody needed to know it was a one man show) she deserved a treat every now and then.

So that's what it was then. She'd stayed in Vegas, gambled a bit and brought herself a beautiful diamond ring to wear on her left ring finger. It must have had something to do with the red string tied around her wrist, her hand coming to rest on top of the delicate string feeling each of the charms; the charms which Adrien had selected especially for her lucky charm bracelet, how swe...

Woah...back up!

Left hand.

Ring finger?

No! No! It can't be.

Taking a deep shuddered breath, Marinette lowered her view once again, this time focusing more on what she could see.

On her waist sat two much larger hands. A ring adorned on both. The one on the right was most likely Chat Noir's Miraculous, after all, Plagg was here so whoever this guy was out of the suit, it was obviously her partner. She studied the intricate design, not being able to hold back the twisting feeling in her gut. Had she seen it look like this before? She didn't think she had, so why did it look so familiar?

Her thoughts screamed to be heard, wanting to break to the front and state their claim; their theories and their ideas, the truth, but turning her attention to his left hand sent all those little theorists running and screaming in the opposite direction, arms waving above their heads in fear; as decorating his left hand was a plain platinum band very similar to hers - minus the diamonds.

On his ring finger.

His left hand.

His ring finger on his left hand.

She looked between her hand and his, before placing them side by side.

She looked again; once, twice, three times...

No! They didn't! Did they? Would they actually have been that stupid?

She looked down again, pinching the top piece of the duvet, and slowly removing it from her chest - her bare, naked chest - before slamming it back down.

Oh God!

Oh no!

Sitting up bolt straight and as a result knocking the cat man off her, she scrambled to get out of bed, covering her eyes.

"Tikki, spots on."