“So, in payment, we request the following,” Lucinda spoke, holding up a piece of paper to the mayor, after he’d been de-akumatized, which she’d written before she came. “Please read these terms that we’d like you to follow up with.”
The vague sound of music, the Varsouviana polka, was echoing from a distant nightclub, gliding over the rooftops of Paris, and although the mood was one of victorious triumph, the frantic dance number made you feel a tad uncertain.
As if there was something about to happen.
But — there was no time for that now.
“Why the hell should we even listen to you?” Audrey demanded, spinning on her heel, and walking back towards the city hall.
“Fine, it’s none of your business anyway!” John shouted after her, which caused her to turn right back around, and angrily stand next to her husband.
“B-But I can’t—” the mayor stuttered, but Chloé cut him off.
“Daddy, I don’t want you to listen to me, and get me what I want anymore, I want you to get them what they want,” she stated, “because it’s more important.”
“But these people are so unimportant! They do not matter! They provide for us and we give them money in return, that’s all we need from them!” the mayor tried to defend.
His words earned a glare from you, John, Lucinda and even Chloé; Ladybug and Chat Noir, who were standing behind you, also gave the man a disapproving look. “Daddy, without these people you’d be absolutely nothing,” Chloé finally said, with a frown. “None of us would be anything. The entire reason you’re in this position is because you exploited less fortunate people. And the same goes for you, Mum.”
You grinned at her, and shuffled closer to her, glad that she had finally come around to your point of view. Then, you returned your attention to the mayor, and decided to add onto what Chloé had said. “We basically performed a coup,” you spoke firmly, “and now we want some demands back. Also, we saved you, so you owe us some stuff. It’s not even things like closing the school down; we just want some stuff for our community done.”
John cleared his throat, and then read out the list, which Lucinda was showing him — “We request that the minimum wage be raised to thirty euros an hour, the workers at the Pavillion Factory be given sufficient compensation after they were fired for no reason and that all public transport be government owned, because the train and bus fees are ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”
“But I can’t do all that! I’m not the prime minister!” the mayor exclaimed, turning pale.
“You’re part of the government, though, aren’t you? Take the list to the idiot in charge then, this country is supposed to be a democracy.” Lucinda replied, folding her arms. “Are you denying the will of your saviors and the people?”
“Are you really just a dirty, lying, scumbag who doesn’t give a single shit about the citizens of Paris, and only ran for mayor because it would give you money, status and power?” you questioned dryly, leaning towards the man in an intimidating manner.
The mayor sighed in defeat, and took the paper from Lucinda, “Fine. I will do what you’ve asked.”
“You better, or we’re going to convince our whole neighbourhood to go on strike,” Lucinda threatened, with a sweet smile on her lips. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t want your precious, perfect capitalist economy to collapse, would you?”
With that, John and Lucinda saluted to both you and Chloé, before leaving. “This was fun, we should do it again at some point!” John called out, as he made his way towards the streets.
“You bet!” you replied cheerfully.
“Merci!” Chloé cried out, with a huge smile, waving enthusiastically at your two other friends.
(Lucinda had to turn away to hide her very small blush.)
Chloé turned to you, with a grin, her eyes shining with gratitude; then you came up to you slowly, and hugged you carefully. “I guess… if you’re here… I won’t leave,” she spoke quietly.
“I’m glad,” you confirmed, with a relieved laugh, patting her back. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you left.”
Your blonde friend smiled, and then drew away, and turned to Ladybug. “Pollen, buzz off,” she stated, and her disguise fell away, leaving just Chloé, as you knew her. “Here you go, Ladybug,” she handed her Miraculous back to the spotted heroine, and then looked to her parents. “Mum, Daddy, let’s go home,” she remarked tiredly.
Her mother and father glanced at each other, before shrugging, and agreeing wordlessly. Chloé walked over to them, and took both of their hands, in preparation to lead them away; but before she did, she glanced over her shoulder, back to you.
“I’ll see you at school tomorrow, (Y/n),” Chloé mumbled shyly, before hastily striding away, dragging her parents behind her.
You chuckled, before an intense vibration from your pocket startled you, and you winced when you saw it was your dad calling you. You picked up reluctantly, and uttered a meek, “Hello, dear father.”
“(Y/n), where the bloody hell are you?! We’ve tried calling you, and we’ve been searching for ages!” your dad exclaimed, audibly panicked.
“Errr… is saying that I stopped a dictatorship a valid excuse?” you asked weakly.
“What?! Without me?!” you vaguely heard your mother screech in the background.
“Yes and no! Next time tell us before you do anything!” your father scolded, “That way we can not only help, but protect you! I’m pretty sure you’re all bashed up now, aren’t you?!”
“Yeah,” you admitted slowly and awkwardly.
“Christ, you’re a handful,” he muttered. “Now, you listen here! Get home, right now, or you’re going to be in bigger trouble than you already are! As a punishment, you’re going to have to do the cooking for the next week!”
“What?!” you complained, “But—!”
“No excuses! Not one! Just get home right now, we’re going to have a talk about this in the morning!” your dad hung up without another word, and the dial tone rang in your ear depressingly.
“Bugger, now I’ve done it,” you muttered, turning off your phone, and placing it in your pocket.
“Thanks for the help, (Y/n),” Ladybug stepped in front of you. “We couldn’t have done it without you! You’re really willing to go the extra mile for others, huh?” her smile softened, “I’m sure Marinette really appreciates you helping her improve herself.”
You valued the praise, but you wanted to have a little fun with this, since you were 120% sure that Ladybug was indeed your clumsy classmate.
“You know about that?” you questioned innocently.
Ladybug blinked, before laughing nervously, “Uh, yeah! I’m friends with Marinette, so she told me all about it!”
“Huh, that must be nice,” you commented casually. “I can see that you took inspiration from her hairstyle.”
“It is! It is!...” Ladybug trailed off, before waving anxiously, “Bug out!” with that, she was gone.
“Don’t tell me you know who she is as well,” Chat Noir scoffed, now that you were alone.
You glanced from side to side, pursing your lips, and shifting from foot to foot. “If I said that I did, would you be mad?...” you asked, with a feeble grin.
“Mon dieu! (Y/n), you’re too smart for your own good!” Chat Noir exclaimed, pressing a hand to his forehead.
“I’m not smart, you’re just blind! I gave you a fuck ton of clues just in that conversation alone! Can you not pick up on any subtext at all?!” you asked in disbelief, waving your hands around in confusion.
“I am not good with subtext!” Chat Noir retorted, folding his arms and looking away, with a pout. “So, now you know both of our identities, and you’re not going to tell me hers, are you?”
“No, why would I?” you questioned, “You aren’t supposed to know anyway.”
“You’re not supposed to know either!” the blond groaned, and strode over to you, before letting his head flop onto your shoulder in defeat. “You’re too clever, too stubborn, too funny, too…” he let out an amourous sigh, “too complex.”
You paused, and then tentatively stroked his cat ears, with a sad smile. “Oui, mais toi aussi el compliqué,” you retorted gently. “I do wonder, sometimes, if you’re Chat Noir or Adrien.”
“Moi aussi,” Adrien admitted quietly.
The Varsouviana polka became the slightest bit louder, its music rising with sinister rapidity.