He's already four minutes behind Alya's carefully planned schedule when he hears the sirens.

Ears pricking up, Adrien skids to a halt within milliseconds of running a red light and rolls down the window.

"Plagg! Do you hear that?"

The kwami pops out of the glovebox, where he's made himself a disgusting, camembert-smelling nest, and regards Adrien with a cynical eye.

"Are you kidding me? Now?"

Adrien ignores him, fumbling with the radio controls and turning it up as loud as it will go.

…heard gunshots and called the police. Reports of an armed robbery are flooding in…

A grin that Plagg finds all too familiar curls the edges of Adrien's mouth.

"There's no point trying to dissuade you, is there?" drawls the kwami, darting to retrieve an enormous piece of cheese and shoving it whole into his mouth.

Adrien looks at the clock on his dashboard.

"I've got time," he says confidently.

The light changes to green and a couple of impatient cars behind him start honking discordantly. Adrien jumps, and the car screeches off. He takes the first right, down a side road that he knows is usually quiet, and slams on the brakes. Plagg, who wasn't expecting this, complains loudly. Adrien ignores him. He gets out of the car and checks his surroundings. They're alone.

"Alya's gonna kill you, you know," says Plagg, in one last-ditch attempt to change Adrien's mind. In his opinion, his master is far less scared of the journalist than he should be.

"I won't be long," promises Adrien. His eyes are sparkling with the promise of a good fight. "Plagg, transform me!"

It's bliss to be loping across the roofs of Paris again, up in the cool morning air. Though the sun is shining brightly – everyone will be pleased – there's a hint of a breeze that he enjoys as it plays with his blonde hair.

Chat Noir flicks his ears, listening once more for sirens. It takes him only a few seconds to pinpoint the location, and then he's off. As always, the sense of boundless freedom, of sheer independence, goes straight to his head, and he can't help smiling despite the seriousness of the situation. It's been a long time since Adrien Agreste was trapped by a strict timetable and a cold father, but he's never lost the joy that comes with becoming Chat.

He arrives at the bank where the robbery is taking place almost immediately. See, Plagg? Alya won't even notice. Outside, police cars are huddled in a rough semi-circle around the front of the building, men stationed strategically in case anything further goes wrong. Chat wonders if the gunshots actually wounded anyone, or if they were just a warning. In his experience, assailants are generally pretty scared themselves, far more than they let on.

He lands gracefully behind the policemen – cats always land on their feet – and straightens, casually resting his staff over his shoulder.

"What do we have here? A cat burglary?" he says aloud. Internally, he winces slightly. Not one of his best. Ladybug would slap him for that one.

Fortunately, the policemen overlook his terrible pun in their relief to see him. They part to let him through.

"Guy's armed and masked. We reckon he's already been involved with previous bank robberies, though we haven't got confirmation yet. At least three hostages – we got the rest out." The man jerks his head over to where some civilians are being comforted, all of them in various stages of distress. Chat Noir waves cockily to them.

"I'll get the situation under control," he calls. "Thanks, monsieur."

He saunters into the building, ears pricked – literally – for any sounds. All seems to be quiet, no fleeing footsteps or crashes, and the reason quickly becomes clear once he's cleared the foyer. Three terrified people, a man and two women, are cringing together behind a desk. A masked man is pointing a gun at them, and as Chat enters he yells impatiently.

"I know you have the authorisation! Do it!"

"I think it's time someone learned crime doesn't pay," says Chat smoothly from behind the assailant, inwardly congratulating himself on a much better pun. He uses his staff to whip the gun out of the man's hand, catching him completely by surprise. The would-be robber turns to look at Chat, his eyes going wide in recognition, and begins to raise his hands in surrender. Chat gives an internal sigh. It's not like he misses Hawkmoth's reign of terror, exactly, but the akumas were just so inventive…

"Look out!" cries one of the hostages, fear making her voice querulous, and Chat whips round just in time to catch an accomplice in the act of leaping towards him, a second gun in hand. Damn. He should have anticipated more than one. He's swinging his trusty staff round and is about to knock the attacker for six when a blur of red and black whizzes past his head – he jerks back reflexively – and catches his opponent on the side of the head with a resounding clunk. Dazed, the man falls back, and Chat takes the opportunity to dart forward and collect the two dropped weapons.

When he straightens up, his eyes are immediately drawn to a slim figure standing over the fallen gunman, hand on one hip and lips quirked in a challenging smile. The woman has dark hair pulled back into a bun, though as usual strands of hair have escaped and have been tucked behind her ears, and is wearing a red-and-black spotted mask and a matching suit that Chat will never stop appreciating for its… honesty. She's reeling in the yoyo that knocked out Idiot #2.

"Ladybug!" says Chat Noir, crossing his arms in an admittedly poor attempt to look as intimidating as she does.

"Chat Noir," she replies coolly, though her smile slightly ruins the effect. She reaches down to haul the guy into a sitting position against the wall.

"Hey, hey, I've got him," argues Chat, starting forward and forgetting Idiot #1, who is beginning to creep cautiously to the other exit.

"Sure you've got him, I just took him out for you."

"Sure you took him out, his attention was on me!"

"A fact I exploited to do my job." Ladybug's yoyo flicks out again, close enough to make Chat flinch again (merde!), and takes out Idiot #1 just before he reaches the door. She looks back to Chat with a smirk cocky enough to rival one of his.

"Our job," he stresses, though he has to admit that he hasn't done his best work today.

"A simple thank you will suffice," says Ladybug, propping the two idiots together.

"Thanks," says Chat laconically, "but I was doing just fine before you showed up."

Ladybug takes a step closer to him, and he looks down into her blue eyes. The fact that he's gained about six inches since collège while Ladybug has remained the petite size she always has been is an advantage that he shamelessly exploits at every possibility.

"I think you need me more than you let on, partner," says the heroine sweetly.

Chat can't suppress a warm smile, and steps closer still, enjoying the fact that her eyes widen just a little. "Are… you doing anything later?"

He's gratified to see a blush spreading over her cheeks, even under the mask. She finally drops her gaze – yes! I win! – but, as usual, she gets in the last word.

"I have a previous engagement. I'll spot you later, chaton." She winks at him and is gone, leaving him to deal with the dazed men and nervous hostages. He sighs. What a girl.

"Alya's gonna kill you," says Plagg for the sixth time. Adrien grits his teeth.

"I'm driving as fast as I can. It's not my fault they wanted a statement and the press held me up–"

"She's gonna kill you dead. And that means no more cheese for me." Plagg clearly has his priorities straight.

"You know, it's hard to drive properly when there's an annoying little sprite in my face," snaps Adrien, waving a hand in the air to push Plagg away.

"Hmph." The kwami settles on the seat next to him with a frown on his tiny face. "All I'm saying is, you're twenty-nine minutes behind schedule."

"I know! That's the third time you've told me!" Adrien's car swerves dangerously round a corner. "We're nearly there. It's fine."

They reach their destination a few tense moments later, and Adrien hops out the car, opening his jacket. Plagg, with one last disapproving look, flits into the pocket that Adrien made sure was specially sewn there.

"Behave for me, will you?" says Adrien to him.

Plagg doesn't respond for a moment, but then Adrien hears a begrudging, "Good luck." He grins.

Nino is waiting for him, nearly frantic with worry. "Where have you been? You're very late. Alya's–"

"Gonna kill me, yes, I know," interrupts Adrien. He straightens his jacket and cravat. "How do I look? Good?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," says Nino, a smile tugging at the side of his lips. "Good luck, dude. I'm proud of ya."

Adrien nods, feeling unexpectedly overwhelmed with emotion all of a sudden. Nino slaps him on the back. "Come on, you sap. It's show time."

Adrien faces the altar, his feet itching with an unbearable urge to run. Not to run away, but just to run – this interminable waiting (thirty seconds have passed since he was pushed into place by Nino, who now stands beside him, a mixture of irritation and pride) has him jittering crazily. Like a cat on a hot tin roof, he thinks, and snorts in spite of himself.

Abruptly, organ music starts playing, and Adrien thinks his heart might have exploded. He looks down to check. Nope, everything looks normal. Oh God oh God oh God. Nino elbows him.

"Calm down, dude!" he mouths. Then, "You can turn round now."

Adrien gives him a look that's terror or anticipation, he can't tell which. Nino meets his gaze calmly and gives him a nod. Adrien takes a deep, shuddering breath. In his mind he can hear Plagg's sarcastic drawl, as clearly as if the kwami is talking directly by his ear. Seriously, you're not scared of facing down an armed idiot, but this has you petrified?

Adrien turns around.

He's never seen anything as wonderful, as beautiful, as… miraculous… heh… as the sight which greets his eyes. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is walking down the aisle towards him, her blue eyes alight with joy and love and something which looks an awful lot like mischief. In spite of the fact that he's shaking like a leaf, he feels an enormous sense of relief when those eyes meet his. Suddenly, everything falls into place. Not even Alya, a maid of honour with a face like murder at his faux pas, can shake his certainty that right now, the world is exactly as it should be.

Everything feels like it happens too fast for him to take in, and most of his mind is busy occupied with just gazing at the girl he's so desperately in love with. She looks gorgeous – of course she does – and the dress she's made is so perfectly Marinette, in design and execution, that he can't keep his eyes off it. He thinks he says everything in the right place, but he can't really be sure, because it's physically impossible to take his eyes off Marinette as she glows with happiness up at him.

Quite suddenly, and far too quickly, it seems to Adrien, everything is over and the priest is saying the final blessing. Wordlessly, he reaches out a hand to – to his wife. His knees feel shaky. She gives him a huge smile, and they begin to walk down the aisle together, neither of them quite able to believe their luck.

"You were late," Marinette mutters, still keeping her smile bright for the guests. It's the first thing she's said to him as his wife. He thinks this is hilarious.

"I got here, didn't I?" he sasses back, waving at Ivan and Mylène.

"When you asked me if I was doing anything later, I didn't realise you'd actually forgotten. I thought it was playful banter!"

"It was playful banter," he says, indignantly.

"Cutting it kinda close, don't you think?"

"Hey, partner. Don't go yelling at me. We're a team, remember?"

The look Marinette gives him is so wonderful he has to fix it carefully in his memory, so that nothing and no one can ever tarnish this moment of absolute happiness.

"I guess so. As long as we both shall live… no matter what happens." Marinette squeezes his hand.

He looks down at her with his most Chat-ish grin. "Hey. C'mon. We're superheroes. What could happen?"