MOST PARISIANS ENJOYED THIS PARTICULAR Friday evening indoors while the strong winds—the tail end of a thunderstorm—cleaned out the streets of the city. Rena Rouge fell in an arc through the air, dropping silently onto the rendezvous point rooftop and straightening with a flourish.

"Ladybug," she called.

The woman in polka-dotted red whirled around and rushed closer, throwing her arms around her friend. "Rena Rouge. It's good to see you."

"It has been a while," Rena quipped, not needing to remind her best friend that they'd walked out of school together not eight hours ago. "Why is Chat Noir not here with you?"

"Mm," Ladybug hummed absentmindedly as they set out on their familiar route around the arrondissements. "He's busy."

Sure.

It had been a busy week for all the investigators. Ladybug had cancelled Adrien Agreste's upcoming interview in view of Emelie's discovery, allowing him some time to adjust to the shock. Meanwhile, Rena's area of expertise—Gabriel's international dealings in the USA and China—was demanding less and less of her time, now that she only had loose ends to chase up.

Still, Emelie. It—she—was on everyone's minds.

Rena Rouge found out about the whole mansion fiasco sometime between Ladybug and Chat Noir, who were first on the scene, and the general public. When the report from the Familiar's interrogation of Gabriel Agreste hit the MM drive, she'd called up Nino immediately.

Rena Rouge had never known Emelie. Adrien's mother was simply an idea, an image of silver screen stardom before a tragic end. To have that distant fantasy turned into a grim reality—who the fuck kept the body of their missing wife beneath their house? Hawk Moth, that's who—chilled her to the bone.

Then, an out-of-the-blue text (from Ladybug's encrypted chat box to hers) had asked if she was available to cover Chat Noir's usual shift this Friday. Something was afoot, something larger than the investigation. She could tell just by looking at her best friend, and her carefully averted eyes.

Rena Rouge let herself fall behind, jogging just behind Ladybug. The air was biting cold and whipping roughly around them. Quick as lightning, she reached her fingers out and tickled Ladybug's waist.

The girl in front writhed and croaked out a laugh. "Stop, Rena!"

"You're not telling me the whole story." Rena gave a sly smile, shaking her head as if Ladybug should know better. "Where is Chat Noir, really? The minou has been your de-facto patrol partner ever since he returned, and Carapace hasn't said anything about Chat Noir being busy. I bet I could get the truth from him. You know that they work together, yes? In the Palais office—"

"Alright," Ladybug relented. She took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled in a rush, "I gave Chat Noir leave because I don't want to see him. I'm not ready to see him, not so soon, not after... we kissed."

Rena Rouge nearly tripped. "What?" Oh-ho-ho. This was a shocking development. "When? Tell me everything."

Unable to back out now, Ladybug sighed and placed a palm to her forehead. "We had an argument before the last patrol. Since Chat Noir came back from his hiatus, we've been arguing a lot more. He's more distant somehow—and I thought maybe it was the investigation putting pressure on us both." She waved her hand vaguely in the air. "It just dragged up all the emotions I felt when he was gone."

So they went from arguing to kissing?

There was a flicker of irritation at Marinette having kept this a secret for a week, but flashes of Emelie and the tabloids crowded around the hospital and Adrien's weary smile on a phone screen smoothed it all down. Her best friend was doing her absolute best during the absolute worst.

Rena Rouge's lips curved into a hungry, tight-lipped smile. "Which emotions are those?" she asked, eyes narrowing shrewdly. Love?

The two girls leapt over a gap between two buildings, each landing neatly on one foot without breaking their stride. Around them, the air blustered and carried the distant sounds of vehicles closer.

"Chat Noir's feelings for me have changed," Ladybug reasoned evasively. "He doesn't want me, so it's useless to consider my feelings about it now."

"Ladybug."

"I mean— I care about him, clearly," she said with great difficulty. "Platonically." Rena Rouge fought off another grin.

She was growing more and more convinced by the day that instead of Adrien, it was Chat Noir that was Ladybug's current greatest source of romantic frustration. She saw firsthand what happened when Marinette was without her kitty. It was scary.

"And we talked things through, don't worry. We both agree that a relationship or even repeat incidents are not on the table, but things were still awkward. So awkward. I still couldn't face him this week."

Ah. After their passionate tryst, Ladybug was not ready to face up to her kitty yet. "Enter moi."

"Thank you for coming tonight," she said gratefully. "I know how busy you've been."

"No busier than you," Rena scoffed.

Rena Rouge took a running leap over to the other side of the street, while Ladybug opted to sling herself across with her yo-yo. As the gales slid over her skin, she could hear the faint sound of wind rushing in and out of her flute. A light speckle of rain stung her cheeks.

Her best friend ran like a clockwork girl. Breakfast, school, bakery, investigation, patrol, sleep. Student council meetings. Putting together applications for fashion design courses. Interviewing Adrien. Marinette was a clockwork girl, and anyone who looked at her would say that she was one of the more successful, disciplined pupils at Francois Dupont, but only because clockwork girls felt nothing.

Rena loved that she called on her tonight, that she confided in her about the kiss. She loved being invited over on weekends and holidays to work on the investigation together. She loved scoping out different university campuses around the city.

She loved when her best friend reached out because Ladybug had a tendency to withdraw, enduring something that rocked her world without letting anyone know about it. Denying that she needed support.

One thing that made Rena proud was that Ladybug didn't seem to be torturing herself with her concurrent feelings for Adrien. Her best friend had the tendency, along with extreme independence, to punish herself. Rena'd always been a firm advocate for honesty, for telling Adrien how Marinette felt, but in the absence of that bravery, there was no point in self-flagellating. She had betrayed no-one.

Ladybug cast a plaintive glimpse at her friend beside her, pouting at her still-smug expression. "Ugh! How did you land a boyfriend in one afternoon?"

Rena laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know. Carapace and I think the same way about a lot of things. After the first hour stuck in that cage, we got so bored that the conversation really started flowing."

They took a pause at the top of the Eiffel Tower, both hanging off opposite sides and scanning the cityscape.

"But that can't happen with us. I can't really ask Chat Noir about his personal life," Ladybug remarked, voice raised slightly over the wind and distance.

"Why not?" Rena Rouge asked. "Concrete details, obviously not. But philosophy? Thoughts on life, love, nature? I doubt you could pin his identity down with those tidbits when most people don't even share those with the closest people in their life."

"We hardly have the time to philosophise while working on the investigation,"

"Make time. It feels indulgent when you're unused to prioritising yourself—" a rough, accusatory cough "—but if you work at it, you'll realise it's not so impossible to be a hero and to date."

At the word date, Ladybug made a strangled noise. "I don't—"

"That is, if you want to get to know Chat Noir better," Rena rephrased. "Otherwise, you can keep being avoidant and awkward as long as you like. Stay strangers, if that's truly easier for you."

"Ouch."

"I say that affectionately, with all my love," Rena said sweetly, her lips pressed into a cheeky smile. "You know that I never sugarcoat things." Wait. "Gosh. I haven't even asked the most important question. How was the kiss?"

Ladybug tensed up. Rena giggled.

Ah, this was so refreshing: seeing her best friend like this. There was no small joy in knowing that even when Ladybug wanted control over everything in her life, Chat Noir was always around to cause chaos (in the best way). Make no mistake, she loved Adrien, too. They were close friends, and he was an incredible person going through overwhelming circumstances. Either of these boys would do marvels for Marinette. In fact, if Rena was to pick one for her best friend, she would probably end up equally confused as Ladybug appeared to be right now.

Thank goodness she'd made all her important choices. Nino was an immovable pillar, guiding her back to her true priorities when she relapsed into prizing knowledge and information over everything else, even school, even her health. He was the one who made sure she slept and ate and kept up with her studies and did some exercise.

Rena gracefully scaffolded around the metalwork until she was close enough to see the faint pink flush on her friend's cheeks, spreading out underneath her mask. Ladybug, bound to the Tower by a single hand holding the thread of her yo-yo, cleared her throat, bluebell eyes shining and swivelling around the horizon.

"Nice," Ladybug whispered, at length. The fingers of her free hand absentmindedly brushed her mouth. "Really nice."

Rena nodded, "Good," turned her head and grinned massively into the darkness.

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Chat Noir?

Mm. He was okay.

If pressed, Carapace would perhaps throw out adjectives like capable, considerate, patient, respectable, upstanding—maybe, if there was a gun held to his head—but only if pressed. Their shift hours in the gilded Palais de Justice were starting to whizz past whenever they partnered up.

When he was here with more colourful characters like King Monkey, it was easy to feel cramped in the small space. But he and Chat Noir had a rhythm. They didn't need to make small talk; they swerved and lilted around each other almost like dancers, a floor pattern between the workbench, computers, archive wall invisibly drawn. Unspoken but well-established; they asked each other for advice (Chat Noir with procedure and law, because he was woefully bad with the rules, Carapace with technology or Miraculous lore) without male ego or score-keeping.

Sometimes Chat Noir would walk in with two ice-cream cones to begin their session on a high note, and, determined not to fall behind in courtesy, Carapace started bringing coffee or pastries. Now he'd lost count of how many times either of them had proffered treats. (Turns out, they both had major sweet tooths.)

Were they friends?

Meehhh—

The door to the Miraculous team office in the Palais' basement swung open. Ladybug stepped into the space with a stack of papers in her hands, hole-punched and bound together with a metal clip.

"Ladybug!" Carapace greeted cheerfully. "My favourite spotted heroine."

At the workstation, underneath the Palladian windows, there were boxes and documents spread all along the wooden bench. Chat Noir had frozen up and turned his head over his shoulder, nodding once. "Ladybug," he said courteously, no ounce of his usual feline playfulness to be seen.

Strange.

"Chat Noir," Ladybug returned, equally stiffly. Stranger still. "Carapace. I— uh, this is the transcription of Adrien Agreste's most recent interview. I fell behind typing it up because of last week's development with Emelie Agreste."

Carapace nodded, jerking his head to the shelving unit on the far wall. "Middle shelf, I think."

"Okay, thanks," Ladybug said quickly, strolling to the shelves. Chat Noir had returned to staring at the wall. If he was currently completing a pressing task, Carapace couldn't tell. The pages in front of him sat unread and unedited. "It's not here," her voice called.

Carapace glanced over. There were a few gaps on the middle shelf that would have been filled with archive boxes, but he hadn't—

"Oh, shit," Chat Noir cursed, grabbing one box in his midnight claws and pivoting towards Ladybug. He crossed the corner in the blink of an eye. "Here—"

Ladybug turned around, bumping into the outstretched archive box that was, quite literally, an inch from her hand. The box toppled out of Chat Noir's hands and the contents fanned out all along the ground.

Ladybug covered her mouth with the hand that wasn't holding Adrien's transcribed interview. "Sorry—"

"No, that's my bad," Chat Noir insisted, stooping to the ground to pick up the spilled papers.

Carapace walked slowly to the sea of paper, intent on helping, but more intent on figuring what the fuck had happened between Paris' two premier heroes. Ladybug followed suit, placing her document on an empty portion of the middle shelf. Her hands seemed frantic and directionless as she surveyed the mess of paper in front of her.

She glanced up at Chat Noir, eyes unable to remain on his face for more than a second.

"They have to be in chronological order," Chat Noir blurted, voice a low, tense burr.

"Of course," Ladybug stammered. She picked up an older transcription and read the date, setting it aside on a separate, clear portion of the floor. "Let me just..."

"I can sort them," Chat Noir interjected, frustrated. No. Flustered? "It's okay."

Carapace glanced between them, head swivelling, brows knitted tightly together.

"I bumped into you. I should sort them," Ladybug was saying, reaching for another document.

Chat Noir gently swatted her hands away. "Really, I'm here for the rest of the afternoon—"

A trickle of awareness slid down Carapace's spine. Then it clicked, and he nearly burst out laughing. He took Ladybug's hands in his and stretched to his usual height, drawing her up from the floor with him. "Ladybug," he asked pleasantly. "Are you tired?"

"What?" she asked, perplexed.

Carapace walked with her to the far side of the workbench, the end nearest to the computers, where a carton of danishes was basking in the afternoon sun. He did not miss Chat Noir's suspicious gaze locked onto their joined hands, but he chose to ignore it.

He continued, "I mean, this investigation is sometimes draining for me. I can't imagine how you feel. And—do I see some darkness under your eyes?"

Ladybug shot him a flat look. "You mean my mask?"

"I think you should have a snack and take a siesta. Afternoon naps do wonders, really." Carapace picked up a danish and handed it to Ladybug. "Here." With a gentle touch at her elbow, he guided her to the door of the office and swept her out. "Off you go. Thanks so much for all your hard work!" He grinned at Ladybug when she glanced back, shaking her head helplessly. "You set a glowing example for the rest of us!"

Then he slammed the door closed and dropped the deadbolt.

Still on his knees by the shelves, Chat Noir limply held a paper in each hand. His shell-shocked expression met Carapace's knowing smirk, and then melted into bashfulness, relief, then mirth as both boys burst into laughter.

Chat Noir slumped onto his behind, leaning back against the leg of the workbench. He put his head into his hands, sharp claws covering his eyes. "Oh, my God," he groaned. "What was I doing?"

"We've all been there, man," Carapace chuckled, coming to sit behind him. "Danish?"

Chat Noir took a blueberry-flavoured one and started nibbling, getting his canine teeth at it first. "Christ," he mumbled, a rosy blush on his cheeks. "She walked in and my brain just..."

Carapace performed an excellent rendition of a spluttering, creaking, choking, dying engine.

"Yes. That."

"If it makes you feel better, I think her brain was doing something similar," he comforted. That was probably the highlight of his week. Maybe his month, with all the horrible news about Emelie coming out. "So," he began confidentially, waving a hand at the door, "what's going on there?"

"Nothing. Nothing is going on. We've both agreed we're not in the headspace for anything to happen."

Carapace laughed. "Headspace, shmeadspace. What's the tea?"

Chat Noir shook his head, sighing. He pretended to be occupied eating the danish, but a pastry could only last so long, and Carapace's patience was infinitely unknown to him. The boys sat in silence, one peering intently with smug brown eyes, the other fascinated with a blueberry embedded inside the pastry.

"Fine," Chat Noir broke. "The last time we saw each other, we kissed, and then I told her that nothing could happen. She agrees, I mean, of course she does. She's been saying the same things for years. I just finally caught on. But, yeah. That's all. I told you it was nothing."

Carapace disagreed. "A dynamic has shifted."

Chat Noir a sound that seemed to communicate, you think? Then his head snapped upright, green eyes wide and apologetic. "Anyway, we're all teammates. Sorry for putting this on you, man."

Carapace was having a surprisingly fun time. The sun was warm on his back, falling through the large windows, he was eating a delicious morsel of baking, and Chat Noir was— well, he was showing him a side that Carapace didn't know existed.

"It's not weird," he reassured. "A little post-kiss awkwardness is the most universal thing in the world."

"Well," Chat Noir deadpanned, "that makes me feel a little better." At length: "Can I ask you something?"

"Course."

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Carapace had not been expecting that question. Chat Noir noticed his startled expression and recoiled. "Sorry. I know you and Rena are..."

Carapace interrupted, "Good question. I don't, actually. She definitely doesn't. She's one of those rational types."

Rena was the type of girl to look at the needle going in when she got her flu vaccinations. The first time Carapace heard that—strolling on the banks of the Seine when they first started dating—he couldn't fathom it, but that was her way of responding to conflicts. She would rather hunt her fears than wait for them to ambush her.

Carapace himself preferred no fear at all. Impossible as it was. Slow-paced, stable work, such as administration and data processing in this office, really suited him. He liked being in here, contributing in a consistent and valuable way.

Whereas he could only take a few minutes of scrolling through the news before his mental health plummeted, Rena kept tirelessly charging head-on into the pawnbroking scheme, terrorism charges and post-traumatic testimonies. Her mind was constantly in motion, mapping out future pathways and hypotheses from an ever-growing database. Carapace tried to fill his spare time with Super Penguino and Harry Clown and Jagged Stone, but she remained relentless in her research, absorbing and filing away information about the Agreste case, as if it wasn't their best friend at the centre of it all.

I really miss hanging out with Adrien.

Chat Noir's ears were pitiably droopy, and Carapace felt compelled to inquire: "Why do you ask?"

"Well, if I tell myself that nothing can happen with Ladybug, I'm kind of fucked if she's my soulmate, right?" His eyes were wry, but there was real uncertainty inside them.

"Ah." Carapace admitted, "I actually think soulmates are a cop-out."

Chat Noir blinked, taken aback. "Really?"

"Yeah. That's like saying I'm so glad the universe put us together. You are perfect for me, and I am perfect for you, and we'll never have to question whether we belong together. The decision was made the day we met. But what Rena and I have, I mean, I've questioned it," Carapace explained.

He avoided giving more details that would narrow the experience down to Nino questioning Chat Noir's relationship with Alya Cesairé, which got him akumatized, seeing as it was long resolved. Old news. He could hardly believe he'd gone from hating Chat Noir to having a deep and meaningful conversation with him.

"Wrongly questioned, but still," he smiled secretively. "I think it's more romantic to meet someone and work through all the questions and decisions together. You learn each other, you build a life, and then you get to a point where you say there's nothing or no-one the universe could introduce me to that would make me change my mind about you. I'm choosing her for me, not some cosmic entity, right? I don't if that makes sense. I just like the agency in the way Rena and I approach our relationship."

"No, that makes a lot of sense." Chat Noir stuffed the last of his pastry in his mouth and smiled. "I love that."

"I'm glad. Don't worry," Carapace said, feeling the sudden need to put a comforting hand on Chat Noir's shoulder. He just looked like a kicked kitten. So poorly. "You get to decide if you want Ladybug and all that she comes with, or if you want something else."

"Yeah," Chat Noir agreed quietly, a bolstered smile rising on his face. He directed the smile in Carapace's direction. "Thanks, Carapace."

"No problem, bro."

The boys dusted their hands as they rose from the floor. All the crumbs and grease magically fell away from the quantum suits, leaving all the transcriptions spotlessly clean as they sorted them back into their correct order.

As they worked, Carapace kept thinking about the box clattering to the floor, the wide-eyed tension between Ladybug and Chat Noir, and snickering. This made Chat Noir chuckle self-deprecatingly in return, which just gave him the licence to laugh even louder.

He couldn't wait to tell Alya about this.

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a / n: 

idk i just think these 4 are a bit friendship goals ;)

aimee x