ADRIEN HAD BEEN IN LE Grand Paris hotel this whole time.

Ladybug could hardly imagine it. While she did her weekly patrols of the city—weekly instead of nightly now that everything seemed calm on the supervillain front, and each time with a different wielder of the Miraculous to keep them practising their skills—Adrien had been in there.

While Gabriel, the brand, crumbled and while the city's law enforcement mobilised their resources and while the Graham de Vanily's had been constructing their public narrative, he'd been in there.

Some nights Ladybug had walked along Le Grand's rooftop or used one of its balcony railings as the anchor point for her yo-yo. A strange sensation washed through her when she considered how close she'd been to Adrien and never even known it, some invisible string tying them together that she'd finally tripped over.

Before Ladybug left Heloise Hessenpy's office, the investigating judge clarified the exact procedures and responsibilities, handily set forth in the Agreste case ring binder. Adrien Agreste was a legal anomaly—both witness and suspect, a grey smudge between Hawk Moth's darkness and the city of light.

"Currently, there is no evidence to suggest that he was complicit in his father's crimes," Heloise said, tone heavy and cautious with the awareness that time might change her stance. "There is actually a file in here," she flicked through the pages of the binder, "that touches on potential emotional abuse within the family."

Abuse? Ladybug flinched, the reaction uncontrollable like yanking her burned fingers away from a hot oven tray. Heloise didn't notice. The quantum mask saved her, for she knew without it, her feelings would show clear on her face.

"So it's too early to tell whether to treat him as a suspect or a victim. But he has been completely cooperative, so that's why he's earned hotel privileges. Full police protection, and I have a direct line to reception and the mayor." The judge nodded at the landline phone at the corner of her desk. "If anything comes to light in this investigation, I know exactly where to find him."

"And do you think anything will?" Ladybug had murmured, throat tight and chest bursting. "Come to light about Adrien?"

As Heloise spoke—detailing the existing databases of information about Adrien and the areas where they needed illumination, highlighting Ladybug's liaisons in the police force, forensics unit, and corporate law sector—Ladybug realised Adrien was under more intense investigation than his father.

His father was answered, signed and stamped, full-stopped. Bad. Guilty. There was an avalanche of evidence ready to bury him in court.

Adrien was a question mark. Bad? Guilty? Where was the evidence, either way?

"He has been having frequent meetings with my office and law enforcement," Heloise said, sliding a USB over the table. "Those are transcripts and recordings of the interviews he's had with police so far. Polite and charming, but I get the sense that he is hiding something."

"And you want me to find out what it is."

While she had long learned not to let her personal life interfere with her superhero life, in this case, she couldn't be impartial. Adrien was innocent. She knew it. She would make all of Paris, all of the world, know it, too.

The judge's eyes twinkled as they narrowed in a smile. "I have faith you will, Lady Luck."

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Two days later, she was on his balcony.

She, Ladybug, was on Adrien Agreste's balcony, in some Shakespearean parody of her life—complete with fake personas and masked identities and probably a court fool making an ass of themselves. She would be the fool.

She tucked her yo-yo at her hip before raising a hand to knock on the glass. "Adrien?"

No response.

A shaky breath leaked out of her, all self-confidence fleeing in that sigh. Ladybug's stomach squeezed with apprehension, curiosity, drive. Why did she feel so weak in the knees?

She had accepted Heloise's deal because she wanted to help Paris. She would do anything within her powers to help Paris. The last couple of days had been full of progress, Ladybug working quickly to meet with and assign investigatory roles to the Miraculous wielders. She was efficient, articulate, a leader. But every time that Adrien got involved in her duties as Guardian, it was like being unmasked as an imposter.

Suddenly Ladybug forgot that she was a successful student body president and superhero and friend. Suddenly she was a babbling, starstruck teenager in a skin-tight suit.

Take, for example, the disturbing amounts of time spent crafting the perfect messages to him. Short, sweet, and comforting without being overbearingly so. But the length and frequency and content of her texts made her worry that she was coming across clingy, and the fact that Adrien still hadn't replied to her—granted, to anyone, but still, not to Marinette—only compounded it.

Now she was on his balcony.

This reaction would have been warranted if she was putting herself out there and finally asking Adrien on a date. Except she wasn't. This current circumstance was the furthest thing from romantic. So, just—

Get it together.

She got herself together.

"Adrien," she called, knocking again. "It's Ladybug."

Under the pressure of her knuckles, the window gave an inch and rebounded slightly on its hinges. It had been unlatched this whole time. Ladybug tried to peer inside, past the gauzy net curtains, but all she saw was her own uncertain reflection in the glass, red and black and clear blue sky behind her.

She opened the window wider and slipped inside.

The plush carpet met her tentative, searching foot. Ladybug dropped her weight and stepped deeper into the hotel room, finding herself in a stylish lounge room. The only source of light was a lamp on the side table by the couch. The lampshade had a pattern that matched the back of the couch, purple fleur de lis on an indigo wash.

What was that smell? Ladybug scrunched her nose when that scent wormed deeper, clean until it became chemical, foul but familiar. Was it alcohol?

In the dim lighting, she walked away from the window and around the couch. And, there, sleeping on the couch, was the boy at the heart of this maelstrom. She let out a shocked yelp before she could stifle it, unable to tear her eyes from Adrien's mussed hair and chapped-but-still-so-kissable lips and wrinkled clothing.

"Adrien?" she whispered. Ladybug reached out and gently tapped his shoulder. When that didn't stir him, she shook him lightly.

He groaned, a chorus, a symphony of that deep, rustling voice and the huskiness of sleep. One eye cranked itself open. Ladybug saw that familiar green that she'd been missing, and her heart stopped.

Oh, God.

How was she to do this?

Adrien blinked again, and then he saw her, and he jolted upright on the couch. "Fuck."

Before Ladybug even knew what was happening, he was on his feet. This boy was ridiculously agile for someone who'd been napping—

Then he reached for the empty bottles of vodka on the coffee table, shoving them underneath the wood, out of sight, and Ladybug realised he probably hadn't been simply napping. "Sorry," Adrien kept muttering, grabbing and hiding anything glass, "sorry, sorry."

An empty vodka bottle dropped out of his trembling hands, and Ladybug's reflexes dragged her hand there in a split second. But Adrien was quicker. Her palm landed over his around the vessel, wam and strong and sure despite his condition, and Ladybug snatched her hand back.

She chuckled weakly, while Adrien's breath hitched and his expression became oddly still. He tucked the bottle underneath the okay coffee table, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Please tell me this is a dream," he murmured. Was she supposed to hear that?

"Uh. . ." she drawled, her brain sparking but not making any successful connections. "It's not a dream. I'm here. Hello."

Adrien sat back down on the couch, slowly, leaning back into the cushions with a world-weary exhale.

"Hello," Ladybug said again, like the lovestruck idiot she was, ""I— I'm sorry if I'm intruding. I thought you might have been expressing— expecting me." Heloise had called Le Grand Paris reception and told them to tell Adrien the date and time of her visit. Had there been a mix-up?

"Uh, no," Adrien said softly. "I really wasn't expecting this. But it's okay."

He looked at her, those inquisitive eyes too lethal to be wielded by a civilian. Ladybug shifted on the balls of her feet, some weird, embarrassed reflex telling to run to the window and dive out of this room, the site of her latest mortification.

And then Adrien pinched himself. "Fuck," he swore, fingertips tracing his reddening arm. He shrugged at Ladybug's widened eyes. "Had to check."

His gaze drifted to the coffee table, unfocused just enough that Ladybug knew he was envisioning the stash of empty bottles underneath.

"That's okay. I'm working with Heloise's office,"she informed him, voice breathy. "Heloise Hessenpy?" Adrien's tense shoulders but flat eyes told her that he knew what she was talking about. "I'll be helping with the investigation into Hawk Father— I mean, your father."

Adrien nodded once, eyes still down cast. Good going. Ladybug could do nothing but smile and hope she didn't look in pain. Which she was, emotionally.

She lowered herself onto the couch, putting a healthy distance between them. When she tried to speak again, she put word after word like a toddler concertedly trying to walk. "I'm sorry. I bet things have been really hard for you lately."

"It's not your fault," he whispered. "It's his. Consequences, you know. He earned this."

Adrien let his head lull back against the couch, and he slung an arm across his eyes. Ladybug thought he might have been shielding tears, or hiding from the lamp light. Then he swallowed and she was momentarily distracted by the movement of his throat when it flexed.

God. She couldn't do this. Not today.

She couldn't think of an effective way to segue from this fumbled meeting into an interrogation. Someone braver and wiser—like Alya, who was tactful until it became a hindrance—could have figured this out, but she was Ladybug and she was so in love and all she wanted to do was be there for him when he was hurting. Drinking himself into stupors. Embarrassed about it. Grieving the father he thought he knew.

"Are you okay, Adrien?"

"I'm fine," he said, eyes still hidden under his forearm. "Just a headache. Hangover. I'm still listening," he promised, voice thick and indecipherable. "You can say what you came to say."

Tell me everything.

Yeah. No. She couldn't.

Ladybug picked herself up from the couch. "I'm, uh, actually going to come back another time. See, I don't know how long our conversation might take, and you're drunk— Hungover," she amended, wanting to facepalm. "I mean, you probably need to take it easy right now."

She glanced around the room for a glass of water, or perhaps a pack of pain medication, but there was only the newest model of iPhone on the side table. Underneath the lamp light, the obsidian screen was illuminated, and not a streak or fingerprint was on it.

"I'll, um, just. . ." She gestured to the phone, hesitating to touch without permission. "May I?"

Adrien inched his arm away, glancing sidelong at her. "Of course."

Ladybug found that she had to set the device up herself. It had never been turned on. "Brand-new," she said awkwardly, trying for wit.

"Yup," Adrien slurred. Well. That explained a lot about his internet hiatus.

After Adrien's cloud account had been connected to the phone, Ladybug punched in a string of digits. "Here's my number. Let me know a time that works for you."

Did she just give Adrien Agreste her number? Granted, it was to the Bug Phone, but still. Squee.

Adrien took the phone into his hands and stared at the screen for an inordinate amount of time. The harsh light bounced off of his eyes, always so beautiful but never expressive. Ladybug could never tell what he was thinking.

"Will do, Ladybug," he eventually said. "Thank you."

The phone went face down on the couch.

"One more thing." Ladybug nodded her chin at the iPhone. "I don't want to pry, but there's probably a whole lot of people that love you and care about how you're doing."

Adrien scoffed coldly. "Less now that everyone knows who my father is. What he did to Paris. What he tried to do to you."

She shook her head. "More. More now that everyone knows. I bet your loved ones have been going mad wondering where you are and what's been happening on your side. You should let them in, Adrien."

For a moment, his lips were parted and his brow furrowed, and Ladybug thought he would argue. Adrien truly didn't know how beloved he was, both from afar by his fans, and up close by his friends. There was nothing ugly or uncomfortable enough to deter their classmates from supporting him.

"Okay. I'll think about it."

And she left.

It was an appalling effort in terms of what Heloise wanted. She was supposed to talk about Adrien's trip itineraries in Shanghai and New York, Gabriel's parenting habits, the exact authorities and responsibilities of Nathalie Sancouer within their household. She was supposed to rip him open and tear out his secrets.

But Adrien was a tender soul. It would take time. He wasn't coping well on his own. With the pressures of the student body council, preparing for university, searching for the Peacock Miraculous and investigating Adrien without accidentally breaking him further, Ladybug needed help. Someone she trusted.

She paused on the rooftop on Le Grand Paris, yo-yo magically transforming into her Bug Phone. She truly hoped Chat Noir had enjoyed his little break. With all the new Miraculous wielders to delegate tasks to, Ladybug hadn't yet called on her kitty for help. It felt like an overreaction to ask him, with all his experience and strength, to run through CCTV footage or transcribe interviews, so she hadn't reached out. Till now. Till Adrien.

Her call went to voicemail, but it was no bother. He would hear it eventually.

"Hey, kitty."

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Later that night, Adrien came online to thank everyone who'd reached out to him. Personally, and in the class group chat. Marinette slept easily for the first time in two weeks. He's back.

She wouldn't let him go again.

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A / N :

Slightly late update as I settle into a new apartment! Do we like how twisted the plot is getting? Adrien will have a major challenge keeping his identities separate, which we will see in the next chapter (which may come early if this week goes easy on me). 

Also, hungover Adrien was a blast to write. I've thought long and hard about what each character would be like drunk - Adrien is a sad drunk at this time in his life, and a tired hungover person. We might have to wait to see drunk Marinette ;)

Aimee x