All That Glitters is Not Gold (Sometimes it's Pink)
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Summary:
There's a French exchange student at Gotham Academy. But she has no bearing on Damian's life whatsoever. Until she does.
Damian rounded the corner at breakneck speed only to stop short at the sight that greeted him, but it was too late.
Pink glitter exploded up and out before raining back down to litter the hall, the panicking student who was to blame for everything, and himself.
Damian Wayne was not a passive person. He was a fighter. He was not cordial. He was brusque at best, and liable to hurt anyone who bothered him at worst. But an attack by pink glitter was not something he'd been prepared for. He froze. Livid, but unable to do anything to rectify the situation. Something about the glitter screamed dangerous contaminant, and he felt as if moving would only worsen the situation. Instead of reacting, he glared at the offending girl and seethed. Sparkling pink flecks settled on his eyelashes and skewed his vision. He blinked once, sending the offending pieces of shiny shrapnel swirling down to join the rest.
The exchange student in front of him seemed to be in a similar state. Her eyes were wide along with her mouth, which gaped as she opened and closed it, looking for all the world like she was trying to form words without success.
The bell rang, signaling their mutual tardiness and freeing Damian's tongue, though the rest of him remained frozen. "Dupain-Cheng. What is the meaning of this?"
Her eyes, which had been flitting all around the hall, tracking the still falling glitter, snapped to his face. "I-I- uh… Merde. I am so sorry. Um—Hold still!"
"I am." The words escaped gritted teeth. He knew he was as much to blame for the collision as she…. But the glitter. That was all her fault.
"Right. Let me just—" She pivoted, trying not to move more than necessary, and gently placed the diorama in her arms (well-made but for the new layer of glitter) on the ground behind her and rummaged through her book bag. "Here!"
She presented him with a small, handheld vacuum cleaning device. "You can go first, then I'll take care of everything else."
He felt and quelled a measure of pity as she scanned the hall in despair, but accepted her offer. He certainly hadn't been the one to bring an unholy amount of craft crumbs to an educational facility.
He turned on the vacuum cleaner and began to work his way down from his shoulders.
"Oh! Hold on!" Dupain-Cheng reached up and brushed at his hair. He twitched back with a growl.
"Sorry! It's just — if you don't get it off your hair, you'll get reinfected. And if you walk to the bathroom, you'll track it everywhere."
Damian's scowl deepened until it settled into his soul, but he ducked and allowed the girl to brush at his styled hair.
She looked contrite as she stepped back with a wince. "I got the worst of it… but you might have some in there for a bit. It's sticking to the gel, and it looks like some of it got down into your scalp. Sorry, again."
He nodded curtly and released a long sigh as he sucked up as much glitter from his person as possible. He was forced to let Dupain-Cheng get his back; he hated turning his back on an assailant — even an accidental one — and was grateful when it was over, and he could finally escape to class.
She was still working on cleaning up the glitter, the sound of the mini-vac echoing down the hall, when he escaped down the next hall over and into his classroom. A small, reluctant part of him was impressed that she had been carrying the right tool for the job.
*****
Marinette was appalled. Devastated even. She had been trying so hard to blend in — no easy feat as an exchange student — with her American classmates and stay out of trouble. But now, because of a damaged glitter bottle and terrible timing, she had signed her own death note by angering the most infamous student at school. She'd heard the stories, accepted the warnings, and stayed out of his way since her first day on campus, but it was all for naught. Damian Wayne hated her. By the next passing period, everyone knew some version of what happened. The halls were abuzz with the news of the French student who had dared cross the Ice Prince. She became a social pariah overnight. Nobody wanted to be on Wayne's bad side, and being seen with the girl who had glittered him was considered downright dangerous.
She sat alone at lunch day after day, reminding herself that it was better than Paris. Better than the class that had turned on her. Better than emotional terrorism. Even if she was ignored, no one was unkind—only distant. And bonus! It was okay to be upset in Gotham. Her emotions were hers alone to deal with.
A few tears might have escaped during her solo meals early on, but by the time classes had ended a few weeks later, Marinette was feeling better. The art club she had signed up for at the start of term (held at the local community college, not the high school) was starting up soon, which meant she had another shot at making friends.
*****
Paint covered his shoes. Her paint. Marinette looked up into the angry eyes of Damian Wayne for the second time that month and nearly died on the spot. She'd had no idea he was an artist when she signed up for the after-school art class. No idea it even mattered. But when she'd arrived to find him there with his palette and canvas, her nerves had flared up so hard she was a ticking time bomb for disaster. Which had struck the moment he walked past her station to clean his brushes at the end of the meeting.
Aware enough of his naming preferences, she managed to call him by his last name instead of his first as she tried desperately to apologize.
"Monsieur Wayne! I'm sorry. Again. I swear I'm not targeting you, I'm just a clumsy mess. Here—"
"What could you possibly do—"
She yanked a bottle of leather cleaner and a soft cloth from her bag and handed them to him before bending to clean up the floor with a towel without another word.
Damian fell silent, discontinuing the tirade she'd been expecting to follow his demand. She worked to clean up while he carefully stepped out of his shoes and picked them up to take care of them near the sink and trash bin. By the time Marinette finished dealing with the mess and packing up the rest of her supplies, Damian was the only other person left in the room.
He held out the bottle of leather cleaner with a grunt. "Thank you. I believe my shoes have been salvaged."
Unsure of what to say to that, Marinette simply nodded. He turned and strode out of the room before she managed to remember how to breathe.
*****
Mornings were always rather chaotic at the Leanders' household. Everyone scrambled to leave at about the same time, meaning that they all tripped over each other as they grabbed book bags and projects, keys and purses. It wasn't a bad chaos, though; it was the comfortable kind where everyone was trying to help each other have a good day before they parted.
"Did you girls eat breakfast? There's fruit in the basket and granola bars in the pantry if you didn't!"
"We ate!" Marinette and Joyce called out, both swiping an orange off the counter as they passed anyway.
Marinette gave Joyce a hand with her backpack when the strap got tangled over her shoulder as they paused in the entry before walking out the door. Her host family was one of the best parts of living in Gotham. Joyce was an only child, so they had bonded over similar stories even if Joyce was only in middle school. Unlike Marinette, Joyce had a pet. An oddly talkative cat named Mushu followed the girl around the apartment, only occasionally accepting attention from Marinette when Joyce was busy or distracted. Mrs. Leanders worked near the High School and drove both girls to their respective schools on her way in every morning.
"Thanks, Mari," Joyce said as the backpack finally settled.
"No problem." Marinette liked having a little sister, even if it was temporary.
Mrs. Leanders stood by the door, keys in hand. "Let's go, girls!"
"Coming!" Both of them dashed out the door and towards the elevator that would take them to the parking garage below the building. Marinette was glad that whatever bad luck seemed to plague her at school had spared her host family. In her opinion, the family that had taken her in deserved all of the best things in life.
Once Joyce had been dropped off, Mrs. Leanders headed to the high school. "You have that Junior League meeting today, right, dear?"
"That's right," Marinette answered. She always found it amusing that her JL cover had the same initials as a real after-school club.
"But you'll be home for dinner?"
"I should be. I'll text if that changes." Marinette promised easily. Sometimes JL briefings turned into missions, and she always told her host family the same thing — an unexpected but much-needed volunteer opportunity had been offered — it worked perfectly, was reasonably honest, and looked great on her school transcripts.
The car came to a smooth stop outside the school, and Marinette slid out.
"Have a good day, dear!"
"Thanks, Mrs. L! See you tonight."
She kept a smile plastered on her face until the car disappeared from view. Once the coast was clear, she drooped, dreading whatever accident might happen to embarrass her in front of her American classmates.
*****
School became a non-issue once she received the call. After her recent string of bad luck concerning the youngest Wayne, Marinette was happy to ditch and play hero for the day, no matter the extra homework she would have to deal with after missing all but her first class. The battle with Hawkmoth had lasted right up until the end of school, but in time to make it to the JL mission briefing.
Ladybug breathed deeply on the Watchtower while she watched the earth spin peacefully, suspended in the dark void of star-studded space. Joining the Justice League had been a good call. Kaalki ensured her ability to get to Akuma fights as needed, and a place away from Paris provided a much-needed respite for her and her team. She assisted the JL with missions, and the crack team of heroes was working on finding a way to track Hawkmoth without putting potentially dangerous superpowers in her city. It was a potential win/win all around.
As Marinette, even away from Paris and in the relative safety of Gotham, she was a walking disaster. But among heroes? She was considered capable. A worthy tactician. At least according to—
"Your solution was considerably more than adequate today, Ladybug," Robin said as he joined her at the window. It wasn't the first time the vigilante had all but admitted to watching footage of her work in Paris. It was a fairly common practice to watch mission footage as a way of learning how to work with various team members.
She turned to face the youngest (and closest to her age) of the belfry. "You don't sound as surprised as you used to."
He raised a single eyebrow above his domino mask. "I maintain that your methods are unusual, but the outcome is telling. It would be foolish to avoid utilizing your skills simply because they are different than that to which I am accustomed."
She smiled. Robin wasn't loose with his praise, far from it, but he was honest and professional. Two traits she appreciated greatly in a person and in a partner. Working with Robin after years of Chat Noir's flirting was a breath of fresh air.
"Thank you. I admit that I appreciate the vote of confidence, my civilian life has been trying the past few weeks."
"Ah. Yes. I, too, have been experiencing a certain degree of stress."
"School is an absolute—"
"Nightmare." They spoke together, finishing the sentence on the same word. Most of the JL had long since escaped High School, but the younger crowd was frequently of the same mind about formal education. It got in the way of hero, or as the case may be, vigilante duty.
Ladybug was unique in some ways, though. Among her peers, such as Robin, Superboy, and even her own team, she wanted to be able to experience school. To be a teenager and live a normal life without the stresses of heroism.
Most of the heroes felt as if heroism was a calling. She felt that it was a duty. A weighty responsibility that she was determined to do, but she was loath to give her entire life over to it.
She turned back to gaze at the planet. "It seems peaceful from here."
"It isn't," Robin replied without hesitation.
Ladybug released a sigh. Reality was the reason she was imagining a calmer life. "True. I guess that's why we do what we do."
"Peace in our time?" Robin seemed skeptical. She couldn't blame him.
"Maybe, just on occasion. In little pieces?" She wasn't sure how much hopefulness remained in her pleading statement.
"Perhaps. Are you ready for the brief?"
She straightened and turned her back on the window where earth glowed in its pretended peace. "Right. Yes. Lead the way."
*****
Damian felt something akin to guilt. No. Responsibility. Dupain-Cheng had been gathering friends around her until the incident with the glitter. While it would have been within anyone's prerogative to avoid her knowing the danger she posed, he knew that it was fear of his particular brand of Wayne retribution that had rendered her alone after the fact.
He took a deep breath and crossed the room to her table. He would not be making friends; he would simply make amends for his part in her exile. Not that any of it was his fault. The imbeciles at this school were too cowardly for their own good. Damian sat, ramrod straight, and waited for her to notice him.
A shadow fell over Marinette's table where she was eating with only her sketchbook for company. The table shifted as someone joined her. She looked up and felt the blood drain from her face when she recognized Damian. She racked her brain trying to figure out what she could possibly have done—
"Don't move. Please. While I'm curious about what you'd pull out of your bag if you did spill your lunch on me, I'd rather not deal with the headache to satisfy my curiosity."
Marinette kept her hands on either side of her soup bowl, frozen except for her expression. "What—?"
"You have been abandoned by potential friends because of my reputation… combined with your unfortunate but accidental actions. This is an olive branch. You may smile and wave or whatever banal action suits you as a farewell when I leave—and you should no longer be treated like a disease. Please be careful in the future."
He stood, walking away as casually as she'd ever seen him. When he turned at the edge of the room, she waved goodbye and smiled at his brief but answering nod. She felt foolish as she turned back to her soup; it was unlikely that such a brief interlude would make a difference… but he was right.
As soon as he was out of sight, Miranda Harris took a seat at her table with a smile. Marinette shared a couple of classes with the studious girl, and smiled a welcome. They ate together without speaking a word — Marinette drawing and Miranda going over her math homework — until lunch was over. Miranda waved as she headed in the opposite direction until their last class. "See you in chemistry!"
It was enough. Definitely better than Paris. Marinette almost enjoyed her physics class, even if her teacher's monotone voice all but lulled her to sleep.
*****
A blaring alarm. Smoke. Her host dad's voice was gravelly as he barked out instructions. "Doors' too hot. Don't go that way. C'mon. Living room — The fire escape! Get up on the sill. I've got you. Ok, good. Move! Joyce! Marinette! Careful."
There wasn't time to think or plan or even process what was happening before Marinette found herself barefoot in the street, along with her host family and the rest of the tenants of their building, watching as flames licked the sides of the structure and burst from windows. In her arms was her overfull sewing basket. She hadn't saved anything else. Not that anything else mattered half as much.
The bats and birds had arrived en masse to help people out of the building… and were still helping people out of the building. She watched anxiously at the last place she'd seen Robin. It was one thing to work with him, but when he'd wrapped his arms around her and grappled her to safety before the rickety old fire escape had given way, she had seen him in a new light.
Once there had been an umbrella. A song. Now her life had been saved. Maybe she would always be doomed to fall to a spark.
Marinette hated that she wasn't helping, but while Marinette lived in Gotham, Ladybug couldn't be seen here.
The dark of night and hot light of the fire faded to the background of her notice as closer sounds captured her attention. Joyce was crying, wrapped up in her parents' arms, while the world fell apart around them. Marinette stumbled closer, wanting to help, but feeling other. No matter how welcoming and loving her host family was, she wasn't really one of them. It wasn't her home that was burning away in the night.
It took some effort to get closer to the family. Nightwing and Red Robin had helped Joyce and her parents minutes before Robin had assisted her, and they had been placed a little ways apart in the crowded street. As soon as she was within earshot, she tried reaching out to Joyce. "Are you o—" Marinette winced as a rough bit of pavement bit into her bare foot.
Joyce only cried harder, but before she could do anything about it, Robin appeared out of the smoke, blotting out a portion of the slowly dimming blaze. He shoved a rough gray blanket and a pair of shoes her way before handing more blankets out to the people clustered around her.
He turned back to her the moment she had managed to tug the loose-fitting shoes over her sore feet. "What about that box is more important than shoes?"
Just the fate of the world… which she couldn't say, but it was more than that. She flipped open one side of her sewing box and pulled out a bedraggled black and white cat from within. Normally, he was quite pretty despite his mismatched orange and yellow eyes that had likely saved him from being called something boring like Mittens or Boots. She turned toward her host family with the mewling animal clutched to her chest.
"It was a matter of life and death."
Joyce's voice carried over the sobs, the crackling and crumbling of fire and brick, and even the sirens that still wailed around them. "Mushu!!!!"
Marinette was quickly divested of the animal, but the relieved and grateful looks from her host parents and the choked repetition of blubbering "thank you's" from Joyce more than made up for it. She had her own little friends safe and sound in the secret compartment of her overlarge sewing box.
"You used a sewing box as an animal carrier?" She turned to Robin with a blush that was hopefully concealed by the dimming, but still-flickering firelight.
She shrugged and gestured to him. "Well. Yes. It's not as if he would have held still for a stranger in a bird suit with a grappling gun."
He nodded slowly, almost thoughtfully, as he responded. "You are correct. Cats do not trust easily. You are resourceful."
Marinette stared as he walked away to continue offering aid to the rest of the victims. Never had she expected to be complimented by Robin as herself. Her heart beat a little faster, and she groaned. Rule number one—don't fall in love with a mask—shattered in his wake.
*****
The fire meant changes. Joyce and her parents would be staying with relatives for a while. There would be inspections and quotes and insurance and who knew what else before anything about what was left of the building was decided. There wasn't enough room for Marinette in a place that barely managed to make room for family.
The watchtower became her temporary home while details were ironed out. When the school gave her a list of backup host families, she handed it to Wonder Woman. Whoever she lived with had to be carefully vetted if she were to keep the miracle box under their roof.
Wonder Woman smiled at her, unaware of her student trials as she handed the list back, one name circled. "Good news. There's a family willing to host you that passed the vetting with flying colors."
Marinette stared down at the list in horror.
"Congratulations, Ladybug. You'll be staying with the Waynes."
Paris wasn't that bad, right?
*****
Damian could not believe what his father had done. Dupain-Cheng would be moving into their house… at least for as long as it or they survived.
Father hadn't even bothered to warn him before the day she was meant to move in.
Damian watched from his window as the girl walked from the car to the house along with Alfred. She carried nothing but her mangled sewing box and a small suitcase. She stumbled over something invisible before catching herself and continuing on as if nothing had happened. How did she live like that?
"You'll be sharing a ride to school five days a week. Don't you want to welcome her to the manor?" Father's voice sounded from behind him. "I would appreciate it if you could at least be civil to our guest."
"Tt. She's dangerous." Damian insisted, not for the first time.
Bruce sighed heavily. They had been over this. "She's an exchange student!"
"I didn't say she was malicious… just—"
Father threw his arms up in exasperation. "Dangerous. I know." He sounded fed up with the entire discussion.
Damian sighed, mimicking Bruce. "Tt. You'll see."
*****
Dinner was chaos. Somehow, Marinette managed to trip over her socks as she filled her plate, falling awkwardly into her seat. Her plate, however, slid across the polished table, and only came to a stop because Damian reached out—but of course, inertia being what it is—the food remained in motion until it came to a stop against Damian, covering his chest and lap. Alfred took care of everything while Damian stalked up the stairs to change, but he knew for sure that he had been correct to be wary… and time would only serve to prove him right.
Marinette tried her best to give him a wide berth, but despite the size of the manor, living and attending school together meant that their paths crossed considerably more frequently than either one of them might have liked.
Damian was passing the library a week after she moved in when a bookcase nearly crushed her as it inexplicably toppled over as she reached for a book. Thankfully, Bruce had also been nearby, and between the three of them, they stopped it before anyone was seriously hurt.
Marinette's sincere (but useless) "Sorry, I don't know what happened!" fell on deaf ears, and Damian glared at his father before storming away from the library before anything else could happen.
On their way to school, scarcely more than a week into her stay, Marinette's backpack bumped into the vase by the door, sending it flying. Damian flinched, but the crashing sound of broken pottery didn't come. He looked up from the floor to see Cass holding the vase with a serene smile while Marinette stared at her in awe.
"Careful!" Cass said brightly, depositing the vase back in its place and patting the awestruck Marinette on the shoulder as she breezed past them.
Damian wasn't sure how to feel about Cass's success at thwarting Marinette's impossibly bad luck when he hadn't managed to avoid or derail anything other than the bookcase (which had taken three people). If he were completely honest with himself, he might have admitted that he was jealous of her reflexes… but possibly more mortified by his own failures.
School remained hazardous. Damian didn't dare let his guard down because anytime he thought he might be safe, something was bound to happen.
One day, Marinette informed Alfred that she wouldn't need a ride, and Damian relaxed at the idea of safety—foolishly believing her lack of attendance would save him. But she must have come late, because her face was the last one he saw before his foot connected with an entire box of spilled paperclips, sending him sliding across the hall and into a row of lockers. Luckily (or not), Marinette was there with a magnet to handle the mess. He resisted the urge to rub his sore shoulder while he stalked to class, leaving the cleanup to her.
*****
"It's a good plan," Robin said by way of announcing himself to Ladybug as he left the mission brief.
The upcoming off-world mission was limited to a specific handful of JL members, but all hands had been called for strategic planning, and Ladybug was a skilled tactician, able to see options and viable plans where many could not. Had she been older and not needed in Paris, he imagined she would have been recruited for the mission itself.
"Thanks. I wish I could manage my regular life that well."
Robin shifted. Other than general complaints about school, they avoided speaking of their personal lives. Secret identities were hard to maintain in a group as clever and as curious as the Justice League.
"Is there something specific that you wish to discuss?"
Ladybug shrugged. "I shouldn't."
"Very well."
"Have you ever been despised?"
Robin's lenses widened at her about-face. "Tt. Yes. My social skills are less honed than my… more useful assets. I am accustomed to being unliked."
"Oh."
"Am I to assume that you prefer to have friends?"
"Well, yes. Don't you?"
Damian scowled. He cared little for the opinions of most people the world considered his peers. "Most people annoy me."
"Huh. I like your company."
Robin nodded. "You do not usually annoy me. Your skills are beneficial in many situations."
"Thanks."
The urge to leave was strong, but the younger members of the JL had been encouraged to connect with the Miraculous team, and Ladybug was by far the most preferable ally in the group. "Is there something specific you wish to 'vent' about?"
"You don't mind?"
"Tt. I would not have offered if I did."
Ladybug fidgeted with her yo-yo. "I joined an exchange program to escape the pressures of Paris."
Robin nodded. That was a well-known fact. Wonder Woman had helped her to set up a safe place to stay wherever it was she had chosen to live.
"My host family has been really great, except for the youngest kid in the family. I accidentally did something to annoy him, and now he hates me. If it were only at school, it wouldn't be so bad, but I feel tense all the time now. This," she gestured around the watchtower, "is my only escape."
Robin wasn't sure how to respond. He preferred missions and vigilante work to his "regular" life. But he did know what it was like to be plagued by the attention of people he had no patience for. "Perhaps give him space whenever possible."
Ladybug huffed a wry laugh. "I try, but we live in the same house."
Robin's laugh was as dry as hers. "I, too, have siblings."
"I guess I'm not alone."
"Tt. Certainly not. Brothers seem to be a universal woe."
"Not sisters?"
Robin smiled. "I tolerate my sisters more easily than the idiots who call themselves my brothers. Give it time, and give him space. You are an admirable person. I am sure he will adapt."
"Thanks, Robin."
"You are welcome, Ladybug."
*****
Marinette lay on her bed in her opulent bedroom, wishing she still lived across the hall from Joyce. Most of the Waynes were nice enough, even if they were always busy and dinner was unpredictably attended.
But whatever clumsiness assailed her at school had followed her to the Manor, and she was left wondering what incident would be the final straw for Damian. Because there had to be a limit to what he could handle, and if the stories were true, it was only a matter of time before he took his life back (and quelled hers) by whatever means necessary.
She had tried to follow Robin's advice, but even passing him in the hall or dining room seemed to annoy Damian.
"Tikki! What's going on with me? I'm supposed to be lucky." Marinette grumbled. The paperclips hadn't even been hers. Joshua Schneider had brought them in for his science presentation. But it had been her clumsiness that resulted in the spilling of them. "Why is it always Damian who gets the bad end of… whatever this is?"
"I don't know, Marinette!" Tikki lamented. "All I know is that there's some kind of bad luck that the earrings are trying to circumvent, and they push back on each other."
Marinette groaned. "With devastating results apparently."
"Wellll…."
"Well, what?"
"It hasn't been as bad as it could be!" Tikki exclaimed. "No one has been hurt, and you've been great at grabbing just the right tool for the job."
"What about the fire?" Marinette's voice was soft, scared. She hadn't wanted to ask.
"That wasn't on us! That was faulty wiring because one of the tenants installed a new range incorrectly."
Marinette sucked in a breath. She'd been terrified that it had been her fault that the Leanders' were all but homeless. "Are you sure?"
"Very sure!" Tikki insisted. "There's something else at play. It could be a person, or persons, or even localized magical disturbances."
"What, like ley lines or a hellmouth under the school?"
"Sure. Well, not a hellmouth… but Gotham is tainted with some kind of darkness. So there could be pockets of bad luck under the school."
"And the Manor?" Marinette asked pointedly, "Bristol isn't in Gotham."
"Well, no. But I was thinking. Remember how you were extra clumsy around Adrien?"
Marinette blinked at Tikki. She could not be suggesting — but the little goddess winked suggestively, and Marinette groaned.
"I don't have a crush on Damian, Tikki! I can't. He despises me. I won't even think about—"
"Anyone other than Robin?" Tikki batted her blue eyes at Marinette with an evil grin.
Marinette's eyes grew wide and her face flamed with heat. "No! I mean. I can't fall for a mask. Even if I already have. It doesn't matter."
"Then how is it different from crushing on Damian?"
"Damian's a real person! With a name and address and dangerous green eyes. That's why. Besides, after the glitter and the paint and everything else, he probably wishes that bookcase had crushed me."
"I'm sure that's not true, Marinette. Although I will admit that it's very disconcerting the way the anchor on it broke. Our good luck should have prevented something like that."
Marinette giggled, then she laughed outright. "What if—"
"What if what?" Tikki asked, concern on her face. Marinette falling to pieces was a little unnerving.
"What if it's Damian? What if he's causing the bad luck and we're doing all the work to mitigate it and getting the blame?" She laughed a little longer before catching her breath. "If only it weren't me," she sighed.
Tikki stared at her for a second. "The only way that would be possible is if he had Plagg, or something like a chaos shard on him."
Both of them laughed, then shuddered. Crazy notion.
Marinette shook off the idea of Damian Wayne being afflicted with eternal chaos.
"It's really too bad, because despite our differences, I think we could have been friends if he didn't think I put him in actual peril."
"You're a good friend to everyone, Marinette."
Marinette slumped into her pillows. That had been truer before Lila. "Almost everyone."
"Everyone who deserves it, then." Tikki insisted.
"Thanks, Tikki."
*****
When Monday morning rolled around, Damian was cautious, ready to act at a moment's notice, but they made it to school unscathed. It wasn't until their third passing period that the coffee hit the cleat.
He's still not sure how it happened.
I started with Marinette (didn't it always), walking past a group of jocks, who were laughing and joking about the upcoming game with little regard for anyone in their vicinity. A dropped (and somehow kicked) thermos of hot coffee bounced off a series of locker doors to hit Damian square in the back before exploding all over him. Marinette had jumped into help with a squawk and two red, polka-dotted hand towels. One for the ground and one for his jacket. Seething, Damian had been ready to tear her apart for her clumsiness, but the coffee wasn't even hers.
One of the football players separated from the group and jogged across the hall before Damian could speak.
"Thanks, Marinette." Peter Iredale said, retrieving the dented thermos before helping her with the cleanup. The witless jock hesitated, grimacing as he turned to face Damian. "Sorry, Wayne." Iredale spat out the words before pivoting quickly and running off to class.
Damain turned to Dupain-Cheng, unsure of what to say. Could he even blame her this time?
"Are you okay? It didn't burn you, did it?" Marinette asked, sliding the towels into a plastic bag so they wouldn't drip.
"No. I'm fine." Damian admitted. His leather jacket had been easy to wipe down and had protected him from the worst of the spill. "What happened?"
Marinette frowned. "I don't know… I think maybe they were playing football with the thermos? I don't know exactly how American football works."
"Tt. Not usually like that." Damian growled.
"I didn't think so. Anyway… See you after school." She scurried off and left Damian wondering if it was safe to go to art class if she was going to be in it.
*****
Marinette sighed as she slumped into her chair at art class. Damian entered a few minutes later, even though he'd skipped a few sessions (she'd missed one too because of a JL situation), and looked around before choosing to sit next to her instead of across the room as he'd done last time.
"What are you doing?" She hissed at him.
Damian glanced at her before arranging his art supplies the way he liked them. "Trying something new. Avoidance doesn't seem to help."
Whether or not Damian's proximity to her had anything to do with whatever bad luck seemed to plague her, the art class went smoothly, and both Damian and Marinette breathed a sigh of relief when Alfred arrived to drive them home.
*****
Life at the Manor was strange with Marinette in it. She danced and sang—often pulling a willing Stephanie or Cass to join her. Dick never had to be asked. The usually reserved inhabitants smiled when she was around. Damian remained wary, but found that he liked listening to her when she talked about her art or life in Paris. He hovered on the edges when she was in a room and observed her, eavesdropping on whoever dared speak to her.
Cass appeared to be the only solution to whatever the hell was wrong with Dupain-Cheng. She noticed threads before they could get caught in who knows what, and redirected her with a gentle nudge before she could bump into a table or priceless artifact that Father kept littered around the manor. When Cass was around, Damian dared to enter a room with Marinette in it.
They did art together, largely because Damian knew better than to refuse when she hesitantly asked if he minded her joining him within earshot of Alfred. Damian's pets accepted her, leaving Damian nervous about their well-being until he remembered her bathed in the ashy red glow of a fire, holding a bedraggled cat for a sobbing girl.
She was dangerous, unlucky, or cursed, but she was good.
*****
Marinette hummed as she pulled a tray of macaron shells from the oven and set them aside to cool. She flicked the oven off and turned her attention to the mixer to create the fillings.
Life at Wayne Manor had started off a little rocky, but had improved over the months she'd spent there. Cass was some kind of miracle worker, able to prevent the irrational fits of clumsiness that seemed to plague her whenever Damian was anywhere nearby. She couldn't call the youngest Wayne a friend… but even if he hated her, at least he no longer avoided her.
She heard a squeak, rubber sole against smooth flooring, and looked up to see who might be stopping by the kitchen. It was rare for anyone other than herself to enter Alfred's domain.
No one was in the doorway. With a shrug, she went back to work, but paused when Alfred's voice carried into the room. The smooth surfaces of the kitchen tended to amplify sound.
"Did you need something, Master Damian?"
"Are you sure it's safe to let her near the ovens?"
Marinette's heart sank at the censure in Damian's voice. She knew they weren't friends, but she had thought they might be finding their way to some sort of truce—
"Fret not, young master, she is skilled in the culinary arts. My kitchen is safe."
"Safe? That woman is a walking disaster. Surely you know how she came to live here."
"Master Damian, that is the most ridiculous notion I have ever heard you entertain."
"Are you addled? She burned down an entire apartment complex. Not to mention the glitter."
"Master Damian. That is quite enough. That fire was started because of faulty wiring due to a poor installation job on the other side of the building."
"Tt."
When Damian's footsteps receded, Marinette swallowed a sob and tried to focus on her task through blurred vision. She had thought that things were getting better. Maybe she would never find family outside of her parents' house again.
*****
Damian watched, astounded, as Marinette tripped over her shoelaces and was deftly caught by Cass before harm could come to her or her surroundings. It shouldn't matter. Why would he even want anything to do with Dupain-Cheng?
Marinette ran up the stairs, and Damian turned to find Cass watching him watching their houseguest.
She raised an eyebrow at him. He made an impulsive decision to request aid.
"Cass. Will you teach me your ways? I would like to be able to avoid the disaster that is Dupain-Cheng."
Cass turned all-seeing eyes on him, tilting her head. "Why?"
"For the sake of the manor, the mission, our very lives. That woman is dangerous!"
She blinked at him, a frown turning her face dark. "I'll train you when you can answer honestly."
Damian didn't want to consider what his sister meant by that. Dupain-Cheng wasn't anyone to him. She was nothing more than a menace to life as he knew it… a well-prepared menace, but a menace nonetheless. Cass was likely imagining things.
*****
Marinette took a deep breath as she shifted her bag to one shoulder so she could grab her weeks-long history project as she slipped out of the car. Damian, despite his disdain for her person, was polite enough to wait for her and to walk her into school every day before taking off to his first class on the opposite end of the building.
She grabbed the journal—painstakingly made from suede and homemade paper and sewn together using bookbinding tutorials— all before filling it with the necessary information with a quill and ink. The project represented 40% of her grade, and she was terrified of her special brand of bad luck destroying it before she could turn it in. Carefully, she exited the car. She was wearing flats, no laces, and hadn't even brought a water bottle lest anything spill.
"Tt. Even you can walk across a smooth surface. Let's go, Dupain-Cheng." Damian said impatiently.
"You don't have to wait for me. It's not like I don't know I'm cursed. Just go."
Damian looked momentarily stricken before schooling his features back into his usual scowl. Marinette hadn't fully believed him capable of empathy. His voice was almost contrite, "—I know that I am not easy to socialize with, but—"
"Just go to class, Wayne."
He frowned, nodded once, and pivoted to stride away. Marinette let out a breath. It wasn't that she minded his company; she liked being around him when he wasn't maligning her character. But her bad luck did seem to increase when he was around, and her project was important, and honestly, she just didn't feel up to dealing with any accidents—or his occasional (but waning) vitriol—that day.
Damian stormed through the halls, class after class, everyone giving him a wide berth. There were only two classes left before he could return home, and he couldn't wait for the end of the day. For some reason, he'd been in a foul mood since leaving Marinette that morning. She had seemed happy enough at lunch (not that he had joined her table), and that had made him feel even worse. Why should she be happy when he wasn't? Why should he care?
He'd forgotten about the corner. The one that had first led to crossing paths with Marinette. The one that still had flecks of pink glitter along the edges under the lockers. The corner where he passed by Marinette every day on their way to different classes.
Damian nearly froze when he rounded the bend. She was coming his way.
Marinette still had her journal—it had been very well crafted—tucked against her chest when her foot hit a thin layer of who-knows-what and slid several feet, arms pin-wheeling for balance. The book flew toward him—on a collision course with his face—and she seemed to be reaching for it even as her legs got away from under her.
It wasn't a thought or a plan so much as years of training that spurred Damian into action. He snatched the book before it could impact with his face, and with his left arm, grabbed Marinette by the waist and steadied her by pulling her close. The last—and only—time he had held her had been as Robin. And this time, there was no armored suit, no giant sewing/cat basket between them. She froze against him, breathing hard. He couldn't seem to let go. Marinette was soft and panting in his arms, and he liked it. There was no reason to like holding her unless Cass had been right.
Cass was usually right. Damn it.
"You saved my book. And me." Marinette's beautiful blue eyes were wide. "Thank you, Damian."
His name sounded good in her soft accent, much better than the way she pronounced his last name. "Tt. Of course. You spent too much time and effort to let your hard work go to waste."
She smiled at him, and he forgot how to breathe. What was this? He had to do something. Quickly, but carefully so as not to upset her balance, Damian released Marinette and handed her the journal. He was pretty sure history was her next class.
"I hope you earn the marks you deserve for a job well done."
"Th-thank you." Her words had a breathless quality to them that he wasn't accustomed to.
Damian continued down the hall to class, but it was difficult to resist looking back at Marinette. At least he had managed to burn off his frustration with the adrenaline from his brief heroics.
*****
Cass didn't blink as he approached her after school. "Do you know why you wish to learn how to read Marinette?"
Damian gritted his teeth for a second before heaving a sigh. "I wish to protect her."
A slow smile crept across her face. "But why?"
He hated that she was making him say it aloud. Hated that she was right. Hated that he had probably already destroyed every chance he might have had. "—Because I care for her."
Cassandra grinned widely. "Excellent. Then we shall begin. You will be her hero in no time."
The statement should have made Damian mad… but he craved the idea of Marinette looking at him the way she had looked at Robin. The way she had looked at him when he caught her in the hall.
"Thank you."
Cass's face softened. "But Dami- you must be honest with her when you are ready. She has been hurt by those who failed to be truthful in the past."
Damian swallowed, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest at the thought of telling Marinette how he felt. Perhaps the attraction would go away as quickly as it had come. Either way, learning skills from Cass could only benefit him.
"Tt. Very well."
*****
It wasn't an easy lesson. Oh, learning Marinette's tells was simple. Reading body language was an art and a discipline in one, and Damian was well-trained in learning new and valuable techniques. His newfound fascination with the girl made him eager to watch her, which in turn made it easy to see all the small shifts in the way she moved—she was in many ways quite predictable. Had he been less frustrated by her at the beginning, he likely would have picked up on her telling mannerisms without Cass's help.
Discovering that Marinette tended to get tense in his presence was disappointing. Not that he'd given her adequate reason to feel safe around him. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure what he could do to change their relationship—the damage had been done well before he knew her well enough to care.
He had half-hoped that watching her closely enough to counteract the nearly fatal clumsiness that seemed to plague her would temper his interest, but it proved the opposite. Marinette was kind and hard-working, and whatever qualms he'd had about her in the kitchen were absolutely wrong.
She baked better than Alfred. Generous to a fault, she managed to ensure that there was almost always an assortment of pastries or cookies for the whole family to choose from as they went about their day.
Damian grabbed a fruit pastry one morning on their way to school, sliding between Marinette and the entryway table and vase (that they really should remove while she lived with them) when she wobbled while slipping into her shoes.
"Your old host family must miss you," Damain mused, biting into the pastry.
"What?" Marinette was clearly startled. He didn't usually engage in idle chat.
"If you baked for them, as you do for us? I bet they miss you."
Her smile was wistful; she certainly seemed to miss them. "Sometimes I take a box to Joyce at the middle school for them, and she texts me pictures of Mushu all the time."
Damian wrinkled his brow. He wasn't supposed to know who Joyce or Mushu were. Robin had been the one to rescue her the night of the fire.
"Joyce is…?"
"She was my host sister. She's only twelve, but she liked baking with me, and she shared Mushu—her cat—with me sometimes. I liked living with them."
"Then, I am sorry about the fire that separated you from them."
"Thanks." She looked puzzled, but Damian didn't have time to sort out why. Alfred swung the door open, and he quickly ushered her to the waiting car.
*****
"You want me to what?" Marinette asked. Bruce didn't look like he was joking, but he couldn't possibly be serious. Despite Damian's recent… thoughtfulness, he had never been quiet about his feelings about her dangerous clumsiness.
"Our family always attends these fundraising galas, and since it's known that we have an exchange student staying with us, it would be remiss not to include you." Bruce insisted with a grin. "We can provide you with a gown, or the materials to make your own if you prefer—I know you enjoy the art of fashion design. And it's nothing more than a formal party, really."
She glanced nervously at Damian, who had paused as he passed the room, clearly listening in. For once, he wasn't scowling despite the fact that she would be infringing on his life yet again.
"Will I be expected to dance?"
Bruce considered, answering slowly, as if she were a nervous deer. "Not expected, no. But you might be asked by someone. All the family will be on hand to keep an eye out for you, though."
"I don't really know how to dance." She admitted softly, "Not formally, anyway."
Bruce smiled. "That's easily fixed. I'll get one of the kids—Damian! Come over here."
Marinette felt herself pale as Damian stepped into the room. He looked nearly as startled as she felt.
"Would you be willing to teach Mari the waltz before the gala?"
Damian glanced at her before nodding at Bruce. "Of course. I can do that."
"Good!" Bruce clapped once and patted Damian on the shoulder, before swinging his eyes back to her. "Let me know what you want to do about that dress, okay?"
"S-sure."
She turned nervously to Damian. How could she possibly survive dance lessons, let alone a gala full of breakable and probably expensive crystal and glass and who knows what else? She and Tikki hadn't figured out what the chaos catalyst was yet.
"Do you wish to learn now, or would you like to plan for another day?"
"What if I break the gala, Damian?" Marinette whispered, half panicked.
He frowned. "Cass and I will remain close by you to ensure your safety."
Damian had become rather adept at preventing the worst of her clumsy moments, but she had assumed he was protecting himself and his family. "My safety?"
"Yes, Marinette. Your safety… " He shrugged, "and that of everyone else as needed, I suppose."
"Okay. Ummm…" Her phone dinged with the dedicated chime of an akuma alert, and she edged toward the doorway. "I have something to do this afternoon, but I'm free Sunday for dance lessons if that works?"
"Sunday it is."
Marinette ran up the stairs to make her escape to rescue Paris. Defeating Hawkmoth had to be easier than dance lessons with Damian Wayne.
*****
The ballroom at the manor felt large and empty with just the two of them and the small Bluetooth speaker sitting on the steps of the small stage to occupy it.
“I promise, I’ll try not to step on you.”
Marinette stood rigidly in the cage of his arms, poised to begin her dance lesson. She had become instantly tense the moment she entered the room with him in a way that made the walls around his heart shutter, but her words made him wonder if she wasn’t as scared of him as she was of bothering him.
“Don’t worry if you do. I took a page from your book and came prepared.”
Her brow furrowed, and a question danced in her eyes.
“Steel-toed shoes,” he whispered conspiratorially.
She laughed.
Damian smiled. She had a nice laugh, and he had caused it for once.
“You think I’m prepared?”
“You do not? You always seem to have the right tool for whatever comes your way, no matter how unexpected.”
She bit her lip and glanced away. “Oh. I guess.”
“It is an impressive skill.”
Her hand tightened around his, and he could feel her every breath through his light hold on her back. They rarely stood this close, especially for this long. He should continue the dance lesson, but the current song was near its end; better to wait for the next one to avoid an awkward silence. Not that standing here for a prolonged moment wasn’t already odd.
“… so I think I have this part down,” Marinette suggested nervously.
He huffed a laugh. “Right. Yes. The music is about to shift, give it a moment." He gave an experimental tug of his hand, and she bent awkwardly towards him, but didn't shift her feet. "Though you could relax a little.”
Frustration crossed her face. “I thought I was supposed to have a rigid frame.”
He had gone over the basic steps, her stance, and frame in detail. “Rigid, but flexible.”
She gaped at him. “Those are opposites. And I’m still afraid of breaking something, or stepping on you.”
He let go of her hand long enough to gesture at the empty room. “Unless you plan to hurl yourself at the light fixtures, this room is relatively safe from easy breakage. As for dancing, do not worry about the steps individually. I want you to follow my lead. If I step forward, make room for me by stepping back, if I pull, follow.”
Marinette took a deep breath that seemed to move through his hand and up his arm. “I’ll try.”
"I believe you will be successful. If not today, then before the gala." Damian wasn't sure if he wanted her to need extra lessons or not. There were worse things than forced proximity with the girl he liked. Perhaps he would suggest additional practice if she proved to be a quick study.
*****
"Doesn't Robin have a chaos shard embedded in him or something?" Marinette glanced back through the portal to the recently restored Paris before dropping onto her bed post-Hawkmoth battle. It was always appreciated when she could deal with her responsibilities without skipping school.
Tikki dove for the cookie stash, answering with her mouth full. "Yeah. Why?"
"Why don't I fall apart around him? Wouldn't it be the same as whatever is affecting me here in Gotham?"
"Uh-uh. Nope." Tikki wagged her head emphatically.
"Why not?"
"Your transformation negates it without the clash of luck," Tikki said nonchalantly, biting into a second macaron.
"Does that mean that if I met Robin as Marinette again, I would be as disastrous as I am at school?"
Tikki hummed in thought. "Maybe, if you spent enough time with him. It's not like it's a constant, Marinette."
"I know," Marinette heaved a sigh. "I guess it's just as well. As much as I like Robin, dating, or even fantasizing about dating, in the mask is stupid. At least I come across as competent in the suit."
"You are competent, Marinette! Just clumsy at times."
"At least I didn't fall on Damian during our first lesson." She pouted. "I did step on his feet, though."
"Only twice, and I don't think it bothered him as much as you imagine it did."
Marinette grabbed her sketchbook to finalise the details of her gala dress while they chatted. Bruce had offered to send her to the fabric district with Alfred and a credit card, and she wanted to be prepared to get everything she needed in one excursion. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just wait until the next lesson—but pay attention this time. He's not nearly as gruff as he was when you dumped that glitter all over him."
"Yes, just what he needed, a life so full of disaster that my messes feel normal to him now."
Tikki sighed, but left her to her design work. Damian might have learned to cope with her broken luck, but that didn't mean he liked being around her. She wouldn't soon forget the conversation she had overheard from the kitchen all those weeks ago. He hated her, no matter how good a job he was doing at making the best of a situation he had no control over.
*****
The skirt had been a terrible idea. It made sense in context—she would be wearing a long gown at the gala, so she decided to practice dancing in a long skirt. But now the skirt (and the rest of her) was tangled up in a mussed heap on top of Damian in the middle of an otherwise empty dancefloor.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Marinette tried and failed to get up and off him, but somehow her stupid skirt was both under and on top of him. She dropped back on top of him with a squeak when her skirt remained trapped.
His hands gripped her arms, holding her still.
"I do not mind. Hold on a minute, and I will get us sorted." He did a half-roll, freeing her skirt, before shifting his hold and helping her up in an unfairly fluid motion. Why was she such a disaster while he was so smooth?
"How can you not mind? I nearly flattened you." Marinette nearly sobbed. They had been almost getting along… and now she had probably undone any headway towards friendship they might have achieved.
Damian took a deep breath, shifting uncharacteristically. "There are worse things than having the girl you care for lying atop of you," he mumbled.
Marinette blinked. He couldn't possibly mean — "What do you mean, care for?"
So quickly, she almost couldn't believe it happened, Damian bent and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. She gasped, but he held her gaze, as if that kiss was supposed to explain everything.
What. What? "What! Damian! You can't like me!"
He took a step back, his shoulders dropping in disappointment. "Why not?"
"I ruined your life! Spilled glitter, pink glitter, all over you and took over your house!"
He nodded, but he didn't look angry; he looked pleading, like he wanted her to understand. "You did destroy my life! You turned it upside down and inside out, and it's better this way!"
She blinked at him, rocking backward onto her heels. "What?"
Damian stepped closer, taking her hands in his. "After I got over the inconvenience of having feelings for you… I decided that I enjoy it. Though I do believe the experience would be improved with reciprocity."
"… I thought you hated me."
Damian sighed, dropping her hands. It wasn't a surprise, but a weight settled in his stomach like a stone. "I… am aware. I do not know how to do any of this. But I would rather love you from a distance than return to my life as it was."
She reached up to brush at his styled hair, and it took every ounce of willpower not to lean into her touch. "There's still glitter stuck in your hair."
There wasn't a lot, but a few pink flecks showed up every few days, even though so much time (and so many showers!) had passed. Damian huffed. Then he smiled. "I am aware of the lasting mark you have made upon my person, and on my heart. I would rather keep the offensive craft material in my hair than lose you."
She stared at him, and he held her gaze. "You're serious."
"Frequently."
"I really don't know what to say… I-I truly thought you hated me."
"You are not required to return my feelings. I simply wished for you to know the truth." Damian stepped back to leave her with space to process. "Thank you for hearing me out." He walked away, but couldn't resist glancing back once. She was staring after him, shock still written across her face.
All he could do was be patient and let her make her own decisions with the information she had been given.
*****
Marinette wasn't sure what to do about her life anymore. Everything had changed so completely after she tripped over her skirt and landed on Damian. Yet nothing had.
He handed her a handwritten letter before she went to bed, explaining that nothing had to change. He and Cass would stay near her at the gala if she wished, and he wouldn't change his behavior around her if she wasn't interested in altering their relationship. For the next two days, they went to school, had lunch with their respective friend groups, and returned home like all was normal.
Except now she could see the way his eyes drifted to her when they were in the same room together. She could see the care behind his actions when he kept her from falling off the steps or tripping over Alfred the cat. She could see the truth that she had been completely blind to until his confession.
If not for her feelings for Robin, she might have been tempted to explore the idea of dating Damian. His prickly nature didn't bother her half as much when it wasn't aimed at her, and his protective side was nice. Significantly better than anyone in her class in Paris. It had been a while since she'd felt cared for the way he did.
Lost and confused, she transformed into the girl who always knew what to do and went straight to the Watchtower in hopes of finding the confident version of herself… or perhaps the one person she enjoyed talking to more than Damian.
Robin found Ladybug watching the lazy spin of the earth through the windows. He sat where he could see her, but his focus was elsewhere. His head dropped back to clunk against the bulkhead.
She glanced at him. Her heart still beat faster in his presence. She looked back down at the earth. The east coast of the United States was visible beyond hazy clouds. Damian was down there caring about her, and she was up here thinking about another boy. She felt guilty. If she hadn't liked him at all, it might not have bothered her so much.
"He's in love with me. I don't understand it." She didn't mean to speak, but the words tumbled out in her frustration anyway.
Robin looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Damian did that sometimes; it was cute. "Who is?"
"That guy I told you about. My host family's youngest son. I thought he despised me."
"Tt. You are an exceptional individual and a capable hero. What is there to despise?"
Ladybug's heart fluttered at the praise from Robin. He was so, so… wonderful. "I'm not as exceptional out of the mask. But it doesn't matter. Because as much as I admire him, as much as I thought it would be nice to be friends, as handsome as he is… I did something stupid. Something I swore I wouldn't do."
"You are unusually bright. I do not often think of you and stupid in the same sentence."
Her breathing went quick and shallow. "See! That's why I did something stupid. I went and fell in love with a mask! Why do you have to be so perfect?!"
Robin froze. This was terrible. He admired Ladybug. Appreciated their co-worker/friendship… is this how Marinette had felt when he had admitted his feelings? He did not wish to jeopardize their relationship, but neither did he want to hurt her feelings. "I was unaware."
"I know! I didn't want you to know! Especially if you didn't feel the same. I enjoy working with you. And it's okay if you don't feel the same. I just… well." She sighed, long and deep. "I wasn't going to say anything… but I guess that's out the window."
Robin struggled for a moment to find the right words for the situation. "I am honored by the offering of your heart, Ladybug, but I am afraid my heart belongs to another."
She nodded, swallowing back threatening tears, and looked down to hide her dismay. "Right. Of course. Do they love you back?" She glanced back up, hoping that at least he was happy.
Robin grimaced. He hadn't seen much of Marinette outside of school and family meals since his confession, but had little hope that she would suddenly see him in a new light.
"I'm sorry," Ladybug said softly.
"As am I." Robin felt suddenly weary. He dropped his head into his lap, hunching over in a rare display of poor posture and frustration.
The light shifted across his hair, and Ladybug gasped. Robin snapped back up, ready and alert. "What is it?"
Her eyes were wide, and her mouth worked silently, failing to make words. Robin was reminded of his first encounter with Marinette, but brushed the thought aside to look around for danger.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "LB? What is wrong?"
"There's pink glitter in your hair." Her hand was clutched over her heart, and she was breathing hard.
He huffed with a roll of his eyes and forced himself to relax; while undeniably capable, the spotted hero could be overly dramatic at times. "Tt. It's nothing. An accident in my civilian life."
Ladybug giggled a little hysterically. "What did you do? Run into someone's school project and upend her whole life?"
"What?" It was practically a growl. That is not something that could be guessed. No matter how lucky the guesser was.
Ladybug relaxed as he bristled. "Well, that's what happened to me. It's been months, and I still find random flakes of glitter at the strangest times."
"You—" Robin stopped and really looked at Ladybug while her words played over in his mind. Not just her words, but her voice. Apologetic and kind. Blue eyes. Black hair. Always prepared. Never without just what was needed to solve a dilemma.
Marinette in spots. Identifying him and sharing her own identity in the same breath. Kindness and clumsiness personified. How had he overlooked the confident one and fallen for the klutz?
How had she—? His thoughts tripped again. Ladybug was Marinette, and Ladybug was in love with Robin. He, Damian Wayne, was Robin. Could she still care for him knowing that?
"Me." Her voice was smaller than Ladybug's had any right to be. Exactly like Marinette's when she felt nervous. "It's okay to change your mind. Now that you know."
Robin's mind stopped cataloging all the reasons both sides of Marinette were perfect for him to focus on what she was saying. "Why? I don't want to, I find you appealing no matter what mask you do or don't wear. Do you wish to recant?"
She shook her head. "It tore me apart to let Damian walk away the other day. I was so confused, because I've been falling for Robin… But in that moment, it was my ridiculous, prickly, adorable classmate that I wanted."
Robin fought down a blush. He was not adorable… unless she liked him being adorable. "Tt. Adorable?"
She smiled, bright and a little playful. "Yes."
Maybe adorable wasn't so bad. "I also find you adorable."
She stood, blushing. "Okay, then. In that case. I, uh. I'll see you at school on Monday. Meet me out front?"
Robin stood too, unwilling to let her go. "Why wait?"
"Because I stand by what I said. It's a terrible idea to date in the mask. No matter what my heart wants. So… Monday?"
"Are you not returning to the manor?"
Her cheeks flamed, the color rivaling her suit. "Right. Yes, I am doing that."
"Then I will see you at home."
*****
Damian grabbed Marinette around the waist as she stumbled off the last step in her gown. He clutched her to himself with a smile and a kiss to the forehead.
"I have you."
"You'd better. This is all your fault, you know."
Damian pulled back. "What do you mean? How am I responsible for your clumsiness?"
She tapped his chest. "Chaos shards react to the earrings and create a good-luck-bad-luck feedback loop."
"Wait, what?" Damain was appalled. All of her bad luck was because of him? "I didn't know. I'm sorry, Marinette."
"I know. Just don't let me fall in front of everyone, okay?"
He grinned. "I promise I won't let you go, all night long."
"Such a hardship. I'd leave the earrings if I could."
His arm tightened around her. "Not a hardship… but why can't you? Just for the night? I can keep you safe."
The offer of protection settled warm and welcome over her. Not that she could give in while Hawkmoth was still at large. "I know you could. But who will take care of Paris and sort out the JL's problems if Ladybug is suddenly unavailable?"
Damian stole a kiss. He'd gotten rather adept at it in the last few weeks. Though they had started out as quick pecks, this one was anything but quick. He slid his arms around her, angling her head so that he could kiss her with that deep intensity that made her head spin. "Then I guess I just have to hang on tight to my favorite disaster."
Marinette wasn't about to argue with that.